“Tate!” a familiar voice called after him amidst the commotion of sparks flying in all directions, the sounds of people weeping or crying out in pain, and the sense of being in an overcrowded space. Looking around what was meant to be a transporter room but could have been a barracks with the number of people lying on temporary bunk beds, Ensign Horin had to recompose himself. He could sense their despair, their sadness, their anger, their hurt. He could hear their nightmares, their trauma, their terrors. It was so much. Closing his eyes, shaking his head and refocusing, he pushed through the crowd both literally and mentally. The situation here was dire. Horin’s heart went out to these people. 

“Lieutenant Hawkins,” Horin said through the hustle and bustle. “Captain Levy said you would return the runabout to the station.”

Hawkins nodded, his grip on Horin’s shoulder tightening as he guided him out of the transporter room and into the corridor, a sea of suffering. For now, Hawkins chose to ignore their plight. “Yeah, I’ll head back shortly, but she needs you on their bridge. Their pilot perished in the attack, and the ship is adrift without a helmsman. We need you, Tate.”

Horin could hear Hawkins holding back what he thought about the ship. It wasn’t state of the art and looked like it had suffered as much as its occupants had. It was held together more by hope and desire. The Caatati were indeed prepared to take whatever it took to stay alive. It wasn’t the nicest situation to be in, and the sooner they got them to the station, the sooner they could give them the care and help they deserved. “I’m happy to help where I can,” Horin answered, trying to remain positive. 

As they approached the bridge doors, they were confronted by two tall Caatati armed with particle rifles. Noticing their uniforms, they let them in, and once again, they were confronted by a packed room. In the centre of the room, Levy and Sturok were with the Caatati captain, Calhmin. 

 “Ah, Captain Calhmin, may I introduce Ensign Tateumm Horin, one of our finest pilots,” Levy introduced.

“Horin?” Calhmin repeated before looking back at Levy. “Didn’t you speak to a Captain Horin a moment ago?”

Levy nodded. “I did; Captain Jaxxon Horin is Tate’s father.”

“Like us, do you work with your families?” Calhmin asked.

“We do,” Levy confirmed. “In fact, Tate’s mother is our chief operations and engineer.”

“Excellent,” Calhmin said with a smile. “Family is important.”

Putting his best diplomatic tone forward, Horin spoke up. “On my homeworld of Betazed, our family house is important to us, sir. I promise you that you are in good company.”

“Excellent, excellent,” Calhmin said, appreciative of hearing that. He pointed towards an empty station to his right. “Here is the helm.”

Horin smiled at the Caatati leader as he made his way over. He overheard Hawkins saying his goodbyes as he called to the runabout to beam him back. As he started reviewing the controls, Horin began to work out what each button did when he felt a presence come closer to him. 

“Are you able to operate this craft, ensign?” Sturok asked in his usual analytical tone.

Horin could not only sense Sturok’s presence behind it but also feel his breath on his neck. He wanted to tell his superior to stop breathing down his neck, but he knew the Vulcan was only being cautious as he supervised Horin’s attempts.

“I believe so, sir,” Horin replied as he took out his tricorder and started to decrypt the Caatati language. Ready to try, he pressed a few buttons, and before anything else could happen, an alarm rang out across the bridge. The lights got dimmer, and every Caatati tensed and took out a weapon from their side. 

“What’s going on?” Levy asked, looking towards Calhmin.

“That’s the Borg detector,” He replied, taking his scanner out. “It’s the computer’s way of telling us that a Borg drone is trying to access our systems.”

“Where?” Sturok asked; he took out his handheld phaser.

Horin was confused at the moment. What the hell was happening now? Borg? Could he really deal with another round with them? He started to feel close to his chest. The sensation of anxiety was beginning to build up within him. He was getting hotter and starting to become flustered. 

Calhmin approached Horin with his scanner and squinted at it. “This can’t be right; it says you’re Borg.” The Caatati leader examined his device one more time and looked at Horin. “It’s detecting trace amounts of Borg resequence DNA. Are you a drone?”

Horin felt his throat tighten up as he tried to respond. 

Thankfully, Sturok stepped in. “Ensign Horin was taken over by the Borg several months ago.”

In a flash, every Caatati aimed their weapon at Horin. Immediately, he raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not a drone!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.  

“Once a Borg, always a Borg!” someone shouted from the other side of the room.

“Get him out of here!” Another shrieked.

“Protect our children!” cried someone else.

Sturok placed himself in front of Horin, almost covering him with his own body. “Ensign Horin is not a drone!”

“Calhmin,” Levy said in the sternest tone Horin had ever heard her use. “Enough, tell your people to lower their weapons. Tate is not a drone; let us explain!”

“Never!” Calhmin said, aiming his weapon at Levy. “You don’t understand what it’s like to lose everything to the Borg! I won’t allow this abomination to remain on my ship!”

Joining Sturok’s side, Levy protected Horin further with her own body. “You have nothing to fear here, I promise you, do not harm him. Tate is not a drone; he and many of our young were infected by a Borg virus months ago. They have been cured. What you detected is the residual aftermath of us curing them.”

“No!” Calhmin yelled, “I won’t allow it, take him!” He ordered his crew. 

Sturok and Levy tried to push the incoming Caatati off from Horin. Sturok even raised his weapon and fired. Horin could shield himself from the many hands and fingers that were now gripping at him. They pushed and shoved Levy and Sturok to one side. Some held them back as others picked up Horin by every limb. Calling out for his superiors, Horin felt like he was reliving his worst nightmare again. No longer was it the Borg pulling him away, but others that had suffered at the claws of the cybernetic collective.

“Take him to the stocks!” Calhmin declared before he aimed his weapon at both Sturok and Levy. “You brought that monster on board; how dare you!” He fired at both of them and within seconds, both Levy and Sturok fell to the deck plating.

Not knowing what to do, Horin screamed at the top of his voice and, with his mind, called out for both of his parents and even reached out to Hawkins. Someone had to hear him as he was dragged through the Caatati ship. The entire mob that had him had ripped his combadge off him, his weapon, tricorder, and as they pushed him down the corridor, hands were yanking at his uniform. One of the guards that had been protecting the bridge had now picked him up and was dragging Horin by his feet across the deck while others either spat at him, kicked him or shouted abuse at him. All of them hurled swearing aimed at their hatred for the Borg. 

They then entered a large room where there were many Caatati. From what Horin could see, it looked like a huge mess hall. In the centre of the room was a large fire pit. Perhaps this was their way of cooking their food. What the hell were they going to do to him? He pondered every single scenario, and all he could think of was they were going to eat him. Were the Caatati cannibals? 

Seconds later, Calhmin entered the room. “You are Borg; you took everything we had so that we will take everything from you!” He shouted at Horin as the guard picked Horin up from his feet. Others around him cheered as the guard tied Horan’s hands together and then pulled him up onto some hook that hung above the burnt-out fire pit.

As the guard roughly tore off Horin’s uniform, revealing his bare chest, it became painfully apparent that he was not just exposed but also helpless. His arms, bound and stretched above his head, strained against the weight pulling down from the hook in the ceiling. 

Horin’s chest heaved with each laboured breath, the strain evident in the taut muscles of his arms and shoulders. His skin was marked with fresh bruises from those who had kicked him and scratched him as he was dragged through the Caatati ship. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His eyes, wide with fear and pain, darted frantically around the room, searching for any sign of reprieve.

There wasn’t any. Every man, woman and child in the room was filled with anger, all aimed at him. He couldn’t comprehend how they had gone from this frail-looking race, and now they were lusting to hurt him. 

The metallic taste of fear filled his mouth as he hung suspended, his whole body trembling under the strain.

“You created our hell, so welcome to it!” Calhmin said with the utmost distaste in his voice aimed at Horin. Horin didn’t know how to convince them he wasn’t a Borg. Not anymore. He wasn’t even a real Borg. He was a puppet of the Borg Queen’s last-ditch attempt to seek revenge against the Federation. 

Horin screamed, asking to be let go, saying they didn’t understand what had happened. The guard then took hold of a rag of Horin’s former uniform and shoved it in his mouth, stopping him from being able to talk anymore. 

Calhmin approached Horin and sneered at him, “You brought us here to assimilate us all. We won’t let you. We will send a message to your Queen. We won’t bow down any more!”

Before Horin could prepare himself, Calhmin raised his fist above his head and came down hard against Horin’s face. Horin felt the pressure from the punch. The agony and pain ringed through his body, and then Calhmin did it again, this time punching against his bare chest before spinning around and kicking him in the stomach. He screamed out in pain. All alone—no one to help him. 

Horin felt the tears roll down his face as he screamed more.

And more.

And more.