Episode 2: Hunter or Hunted?

In the remote reaches of the Beta Quadrant, a Borg Sphere emerges from the cosmic shadows, raising alarms throughout the Federation. Its intentions are shrouded in mystery as it skims the border, seemingly on a reconnaissance mission. The USS Blythe is assigned to clandestinely surveil the Sphere, strictly avoiding confrontation.

HoH 1- Highly Unlikely

USS Blythe
Stardate 240106.02

In the boundless expanse of the Beta Quadrant, where the stars ordinarily painted a serene tapestry, an unimaginable horror was unfurling. It was a malevolence of such profound depth that it would eternally haunt the dreams of any soul unfortunate enough to glimpse it. This dark revelation, concealed within the inky blackness of deep space, emerged like a dread-laden tempest before the collective gaze of the universe. It was as though the very laws of the cosmos were being twisted, as though the fabric of existence itself had been tainted by an encroaching, insidious darkness—an ominous presence that dared to defy the very essence of cosmic order.

The Borg had returned.

Their arrival was an eerie manifestation of silent terror, veiled in a suffocating, emerald mist that seemed to smother the very stars around them. The Borg Sphere appeared as if it had been plucked from the darkest, most forbidden corners of the collective human psyche. Its metallic hull bore the mark of an otherworldly malevolence, gleaming with an ethereal, predatory luminescence. As the Sphere materialized, it evoked the image of a phantasmagoric entity rising from the deepest abyss of a cosmic nightmare, beckoning all who had the misfortune of encountering it to surrender to the relentless, bone-chilling embrace of paralyzing fear.

It was not merely a presence; it was the embodiment of a lurking, cosmic dread—an entity that whispered of total annihilation, invoking shivers that reached to the very core of one's being. The eerie hum of its technology, like a choir of lost souls, resonated through the void, serving as a haunting prelude to the cataclysmic encounter that awaited those who dared to defy it.


Captain Silas Crowe strode purposefully into the medbay, his uniform impeccable and his presence commanding. He observed the scene as Dr. Suvak stood by a biobed, engaged in a low-toned conversation with an Ensign who lay there. Suvak's eyes were fixed on a medical display, and his lips moved with practiced precision.

The Ensign, with a pallid face marked by the remnants of anxiety, managed a strained smile as he gingerly sat up from the biobed, almost as if it was an obligatory gesture. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze shifted abruptly when he noticed the entrance of Captain Crowe.

"Thank you, Suvak. I know I can always count on you to keep our crew healthy," Silas addressed his Vulcan friend with an amicable tone.

"Captain, is there something I can assist you with?" Suvak's calm demeanor suggested nothing more than just a simple inquiry, yet, Silas knew this was the Vulcan Doctor's way of expressing curiosity.

"Do I really need a reason to check in on a friend?" Silas responded with a warm, genuine chuckle, his camaraderie evident in the ease with which he interacted with Suvak.

As Suvak turned to face the Captain, his sharp eyes didn't miss the Ensign's hurried exit from the medbay, the hasty retreat signaling his discomfort in the Captain's presence.

"No, Captain, you do not," Suvak acknowledged with a nod, his gaze momentarily still tracking the Ensign's departure before returning to the Captain.

"Good, but in this case, I'm also here with a question," Silas said, the concern evident in his furrowed brows, the inquisitive glint in his eyes. He maintained a reassuring smile to ease the atmosphere. “How is the crew doing, mostly mentally? I know we've removed all traces of Borg DNA and technology from the ship, but I'm concerned that their memories still linger, even after our efforts to negate that.”

The fact that his demeanor seemed even more composed than usual spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation.

"They have not forgotten," Suvak stated, his eyes showing a depth of understanding and concern that words alone couldn't convey.

"Could you elaborate, Doctor?" Silas inquired, leaning in slightly, demonstrating his genuine curiosity about the emotional state of the crew.

"Of course," the Vulcan replied, turning to the console. His precise movements revealed his expertise as he called up a complex usage chart.

"While our holographic counselor's schedule is consistently booked, and we've even had to commission a second holodeck to accommodate the crew's counseling needs, it appears that the usage remains consistent, not decreasing as it should. I fear that many of the crew members are unable to find closure without proper counseling," Suvak explained, his fingers deftly navigating the data on the console, highlighting the concerning trend.

"What are the potential risks?" Silas asked, his brows furrowing, showing his concern for the crew's well-being.

"It is logical to assume that we may not observe significant issues in the long term, though there is a possibility that some crew members, like Ensign Koran not long ago, could experience emotional breakdowns under extreme circumstances," Suvak clarified, his clinical analysis painting a picture of the intricate emotions hidden beneath the surface.

Silas locked eyes with Suvak, his gaze a plea for deeper understanding. “What do you mean by 'extreme circumstances'?”

"An encounter with the Borg, while unlikely, could trigger dormant memories and emotions in some crew members, potentially leading to distress," Suvak explained, his voice carrying a note of concern for the psychological well-being of the crew, his concern evident in every word and gesture.

"Well, let's hope we secure a counselor before any close encounters with the Borg," Silas remarked, his voice tinged with cautious optimism. He stood within the sterile confines of the medbay, his fingers idly tracing the edge of a nearby diagnostic console, a subtle sign of his unease. His gaze briefly met Suvak's, conveying a shared concern that needed no words to express.

"An encounter with the Borg within Federation space is highly improbable. It would be considered illogical for them to venture to this side of the Beta Quadrant," Suvak replied, his face maintaining its typical Vulcan composure, though a hint of concern could be detected in the subtle raise of his eyebrow.

Their conversation played out in the hushed tones of the medbay, the stark, white light overhead casting shadows that seemed to mirror their unease. The soft hum of medical equipment provided a backdrop to their words, creating an atmosphere charged with an unspoken tension.

Their discussion, however, was abruptly interrupted by Commander Patel's voice, breaking through the ambient hum. It crackled over the comms, the urgency in her tone sending a collective shiver down their spines. “Bridge to Captain Crowe.”

Silas responded immediately, his voice authoritative and determined. “Yes, Commander?”

"Captain, we're receiving a transmission from Deep Space 17. Captain Varro requests a conversation with you," Patel relayed, her words punctuated by a sense of urgency that hung in the air.

Silas nodded, his jaw set with resolve. "I'm on my way. Crowe out." 

With that, he briskly exited the medbay, his footsteps echoing in the corridor as he headed toward the bridge, leaving behind the unspoken concerns about the crew's well-being, at least for the moment.


Silas surveyed the conference room, his eyes tracing the intricate design of the table's polished surface. The room's ambient lighting cast elongated shadows across the faces of the senior staff of the USS Blythe, who had gathered in hushed anticipation. As he dimmed the lights, his fingers gently caressed the control panel, and the room gradually grew darker, intensifying the atmosphere.

In the somber stillness, Silas began to speak, his tone weighed down by the gravity of the situation. “Thank you all for assembling here on such short notice.”

His words were met with attentive nods and subtle expressions of concern. The room felt tense, like the calm before a storm. Silas continued, "Moments ago, I received a message indicating that Deep Space Seventeen had picked up a distress signal from a civilian science vessel near the Coppelius Sector, not far from our current location." His pause seemed to hang in the air, the anticipation thick.

Silas gestured to the holographic display, and a vivid star map came to life, its intricate details illuminated by the dim glow. He pointed to a specific area, where a blinking light marked the region of interest. “Their long-range sensors also detected an object that bore an eerie resemblance to a Borg Sphere in the vicinity.”

A collective gasp seemed to ripple through the room, the visuals on the star map adding a chilling reality to their impending mission. The room grew colder as the icy silence settled in, an unspoken understanding of the perilous task ahead. Silas turned his attention to his crew, observing their faces intently.

"We have limited information on its course, and we're the closest vessel available to investigate," he continued, his voice measured, revealing his apprehension without saying the words.

Taking a deep breath, he went on, “However, should it indeed be the Borg, our directive is clear: observe only. The Blythe lacks the capabilities to engage, and I have no intention of putting this crew in harm's way against the Collective.”

Silas's eyes moved from one crew member to another, each face telling a story of concern, fear, and unwavering determination. His gaze met the resolute eyes of Ensign Koran, who clenched her fists on the table, and then shifted to Kiaran Patel, his first officer, whose thoughtful gaze hinted at a mixture of anxiety and readiness. Finally, his eyes locked onto the Bolian Tactical officer, whose narrowed brows and tightly set jaw conveyed a stern determination to protect the ship and its crew.

The silence was finally broken by Silas's unwavering statement, "I understand that we've had more encounters with the Borg recently than anyone would have wished for. If anyone harbors doubts about facing them again, now is the time to voice your concerns."

Still, no one spoke up, and Silas nodded firmly. 

“Very well. Let's make the necessary preparations.”

"Lieutenant Jansen," Silas leaned in, his brow furrowed in deep concentration as he issued his command. His fingers gently rapped on the table's polished surface, a subtle indication of his urgency. “I need your engineering team to dial back our power systems to the absolute minimum. We can't afford to send out any unnecessary energy signals.”

The Chief Engineer's eyes gleamed with a fervor matched only by his determination. “Yes, sir! Komt voor de bakker! We'll make sure those Borg realize the Blythe is the only queen this side of the galaxy.”

Silas tilted his head, perplexed for a fleeting moment by the unfamiliar expression. He quickly attributed it to a yet another translation glitch and pressed on.

"Ensign Koran," Silas shifted his gaze to the young Andorian officer, his tone emphasizing the gravity of the task at hand, “I need your department to collaborate closely with Mr. Jansen’s team. We must ensure that every piece of our technology is fortified against Borg interference to the fullest extent possible.”

Koran's azure skin seemed to pale briefly, and he nodded in silent acknowledgment, her determination shining through.

Silas continued to orchestrate his team, his leadership resonating in his every word. 

"Commanders Patel and Arden," he directed his attention toward the two senior officers, “I require your expertise to lend a hand to our security force in recalibrating our Phaser frequencies, in the eventuality that circumstances take a turn for the worse.”

Both commanders affirmed their commitment with unwavering nods, their eyes reflecting a readiness to face the impending challenge. Silas then turned to Lieutenant Drevan.

"Lieutenant," he spoke with unwavering authority, “I need your security teams to establish a meticulous patrol cycle across the entirety of the ship. I want every nook and cranny under constant surveillance once we enter the Sphere's range.”

Drevan's response was swift and confident, “Aye, sir. My teams will be on high alert.”

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Silas acknowledged, his appreciation evident in his words. After a moment of contemplation, he shifted his gaze to the helm officer.

"Miss Piper," he addressed her with a sense of expectation, “I want you to immerse yourself in the star charts of this region. Study every system and nebula down to the finest detail.”

Piper met his gaze with a fiery determination in her eyes. "Consider it done, sir," she responded, her resolve unshaken.

Finally, Silas directed his attention to Suvak. "It appears that your ‘highly unlikely’ scenario is materializing. Do whatever it takes to avert the situation we discussed earlier."

The Vulcan inclined his head in acknowledgment, his mind already analyzing the variables.

With his orders effectively conveyed, Silas reached for the control panel and gently illuminated the room once more. 

With a mix of determination and hope in his voice he concluded, “You have your assignments. Dismissed, and may fortune favor the bold!”

HoH 2- Lifeline

Stardate 240106.03
USS Blythe

CAPTAIN’S LOG, Stardate 240106.03: The USS Blythe has been meticulously tailing the Borg Sphere for the past 17 hours. Surprisingly, this prolonged pursuit has been devoid of any significant incidents, a fact that has only served to intensify my curiosity. What makes this situation even more intriguing is the peculiar behavior exhibited by the Borg Sphere. It has seemingly disregarded civilian cargo freighters, which are typically easy pickings for assimilation efforts. This deviation from their norm raises questions about their intentions.

As we monitor the sphere’s trajectory, it becomes apparent that it is on a course leading it towards the Talvath Cluster. This presents a potential threat, as it brings the Borg dangerously close to Overwatch Station, a strategic outpost in our region of space.

I must commend the crew for their exceptional performance during this extended period of readiness. They have efficiently prepared the USS Blythe for any potential confrontation with the Borg, setting new records in ship preparation times. However, despite their commendable performance, Commander Patel, Dr. Suvak, and I cannot help but remain vigilant concerning their mental well-being, given the constant threat posed by the Borg. Their resilience in the face of such a formidable adversary is nothing short of impressive.

The corridor lights emitted a faint, almost ghostly illumination, setting a somber mood that hung in the air like a shroud of anticipation. The ship was on edge, every detail meticulously attended to, denoting a state of readiness that the crew referred to as “Yellow alert.” But, in this moment, the color green might have been a more fitting descriptor, signifying the subtle undercurrent of silent preparedness.

Hour after hour, a vigilant patrol made its rounds through the dimly lit corridors. Every inch was scrutinized, from the sterile confines of the medbay to the humming machinery in engineering. Their diligence was unwavering, as they combed through the ship’s labyrinthine passages, leaving no room for error.

On the Bridge, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. The sporadic beeping of consoles punctuated the air, and the constant, rhythmic hum of the engines resonated through the deck plating, creating a sonic backdrop to the mounting unease. The crew was engrossed in their duties, and the silence was so profound that you could hear a pin drop. Each crew member bore the weight of responsibility as they readied themselves for the unknown challenges lurking in the darkness beyond.

The weight of responsibility bore down on Jazara too, it seemed like an inherent burden that accompanied her role as the Chief Operations Officer of the Blythe. Precision and unwavering attention were non-negotiable at this point, but for her, it went beyond duty. This was personal—a chance to reclaim what the Borg had taken from her not too long ago, a moment to seize back control over her life.

Her fingers danced across the console, she refused to tear her gaze away from the array of sensors that followed the Sphere. Her determination filled the air as she tracked the Sphere’s every subtle movement. She knew that the system would alert her to even the slightest deviation, she hesitated to rely solely on technology, especially when the Borg were involved. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, but she held firm.

“Jazara?!” A voice cut through Jazara’s concentration—Lieutenant Piper stood on the opposite side of the console, her expression marked by concern.

“Eileen,” Jazara greeted, her eyes flicking away from the console for a moment. The persistent glow from the sensors cast a pale, otherworldly light on her fatigued face. Dark circles clung to her eyes like shadows of the relentless hours she’d spent focused on the Sphere’s trajectory. 

“How are you holding up?” Piper inquired, gently drawing Jazara away from her intense concentration once more.

“Is there something I can help you with?”  She attempted a small, weary smile, acknowledging Piper’s presence without completely diverting her attention from the task at hand. 

“Help me with!? You have been at this for hours!” Piper’s words carried a deeper concern. Her worried expression deepened as she continued, “When was the last time you had a meal?”Jazara’s eyes drifted back to the data chart as she casually said “I had something this morning, before my shift began,”

“Jazara, that was nearly a whole day ago,” Piper remarked.

“It is?” Jazara’s eyes widened imperceptibly, a fleeting shadow of surprise crossing her features. She caught herself, attempting to mask the unexpected revelation with a subtle shift in expression.

“Come on, join me. Let’s grab a bite,” Eileen invited, her voice maintaining its usual friendliness and cheer, yet beneath the surface, a subtle undertone of concern laced her words.

“No, I can’t,” Jazara mumbled, her gaze fixed on the pulsating data streams on the console. The persistent hum of the engines underscored her words, emphasizing the urgency she felt in monitoring the mysterious Sphere. 

“Let someone else handle it,” Piper suggested.

“No! They can’t,” Jazara’s voice echoed through the tense air on the bridge, her eyes never leaving the flickering console. “I… I must do it,” she declared, her fingers dancing with urgency across the controls as if physically tethered to the responsibility that gripped her. The gravity of her words resonated in the silent atmosphere, revealing a personal commitment etched across her determined expression.

Piper’s voice sliced through the intermittent data beeps once more, inquiring, “Jazara, isn’t the computer also tracking its trajectory?”

“Yes, it is,” Jazara responded, her eyes reluctantly tearing away from Lieutenant Piper to re-immerse themselves in the intricate dance of data on the console. The subtle furrow on her brow and the swift movements of her fingers betrayed a profound connection with the information before her as if the data itself possessed an undeniable gravitational pull.

“Come on, Jazara, have B’rik take over the console. Let’s grab a quick bite; we’ll be back in no time,” Eileen urged, her tone inviting yet infused with a gentle insistence.

“I said no, Eileen!” Jazara’s voice sliced through the air, a sharp edge of irritation underlining her refusal. Locking eyes with Piper, she detected the shock etched across her friend’s face. 

The tension radiated from Jazara, and her gaze swept across the bridge, where she could feel the weight of eyes upon them. Their disagreement had become an unintended spectacle, catching the attention of the entire crew. The subdued hum of the bridge now carried an added layer of unease, a shared awareness of the discord that had momentarily disrupted the usual calm and focus.

“Ensign Koran, you might be friends outside your shifts, but may I remind you that Lieutenant Piper still outranks you.” Commander Patel’s voice sliced through the charged air on the bridge, his eyes narrowing with disapproval. 

The weight of his authority hung palpably in the atmosphere, emphasizing the breach of protocol. The subtle shift in the crew’s collective posture betrayed their awareness of the reprimand, each member now attuned to the delicate balance that had momentarily been disrupted.

“Yes, sir. My apologies, sir,” Jazara’s voice carried a note of contrition as her eyes lowered to the floor panels. The subtle shift in her posture revealed a mixture of humility and acknowledgment of the authority addressing her. 

The Commander pressed on, his voice steady, “Besides… Lieutenant Piper is correct, you know?”

Jazara’s head remained bowed in shame, reluctant to confront the consequences of her outburst. However, an internal struggle compelled her to raise her eyes. Meeting Lieutenant Piper’s gaze, she discerned a mix of empathy and concern. Simultaneously, her peripheral vision caught the sight of Commander Patel, who had stood up from his chair and was making his way toward them. 

“But… I have to examine the data, sir. It’s my responsibility… What if we overlook something?” Jazara stammered, her words almost stumbling over each other. Only now did her body begin to register the effects of her neglected nutrition.

“Ensign, in vintage aircraft from Earth’s past, they used to release oxygen masks in case of emergencies,” the Commander shared, his words hanging in the air.

Jazara’s brows furrowed, her face a canvas of perplexity. She exchanged a glance with Eileen, who mirrored her confusion. 

Before Jazara could voice her uncertainty, the Commander continued, “If you were on that plane, and let’s say to the left there is a child, and to the right is a struggling Lieutenant Piper, who would you help put on their mask first?”

“The youngling, sir,” Jazara replied, her response flowing seamlessly. A decisive glint sparkled in her eyes, revealing a commitment to prioritizing the child’s safety. 

Without a pause, she continued, “And then I would assist the Lieutenant,” her words carrying a sense of duty extending beyond the initial choice. 

Patel’s eyes, the color of dark clay, locked onto Jazara’s with an unwavering intensity, as if trying to pierce through the layers of her being. The low thrum of the ship’s engines provided an ominous backdrop to his words, each syllable carrying the weight of authority.

“Unfortunately, that is the incorrect response, Ensign,” Patel declared, his voice resonating with a somber gravity. The ambient lighting in the command center cast dynamic shadows on his ever-present frown.

“Sir, shouldn’t I be aiding my fellow crew members?” Jazara’s furrowed brow and the disbelief in her voice painted a portrait of genuine confusion. 

The Commander’s voice rose, echoing across the bridge as though he aimed for every crew member to absorb his wisdom, although the crew’s attention already layed with the discussion at the OPS station. 

“Just like in this hypothetical, In the high-stakes theater of space, or better yet, in life, you must prioritize securing yourself first,” his words reverberated. The intense and dark illumination of the bridge’s alert status added weight to his proclamation. “Only then can you genuinely extend aid to others.” 

A hushed tranquility embraced the bridge, providing a sacred space for the gravity of those words to resonate within Jazara. Her eyes, pools of introspection, sought out the Commander amidst the ambient glow of the command center’s subdued lighting. The distant hum of the ship’s systems served as a subtle, rhythmic reminder of the moment’s significance.

In the silence, Jazara’s nod became a silent acknowledgment, a nuanced expression of her acceptance of the profound truth. The subtle play of emotions on her face told a story of internal transformation, a realization that echoed beyond words in the stillness of the bridge.

“Now, Ensign Koran, Lieutenant Piper, head to the mess hall immediately. That’s an order,” Patel commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Jazara responded, a tinge of reluctance in her voice, as she abandoned her station and trailed behind Lieutenant Piper, exiting the bridge.