“The good doctor brought along a mobile blocking shield to prevent their access.  It has been most helpful.”  Baron Nine spoke to Captain Walton as he stood in the same spot, with a nervous Lieutenant Ada Josephs beside him, eyes flicking between the ex-Borg and the structure known as The Constructor.  “They are desperate to commune with a being that understands them and speaks ‌the same language they do.  They called me a ‘compatible node’.  It is not a good feeling to have those words used to describe you.”

Walton shared what they had found, her eyes staring at the misshapen head of The Constructor as she spoke.  Baron Nine listened, nodding his head at certain points, and at others, remaining still, in thought.  She turned to him. “The Vorethi-bots are not wrong.  While they believe they need a new directive, the truth is the directives that were given were missing several protocols.”

Baron faced her, his eyes focused tightly on her.  His face was tight, apprehensive. The usually placid shaped ex-Borg was worried, or better yet, alarmed.  She wasn’t sure which.  He answered, “They made an offer before Lieutenant Josephs activated the shield.  They offered for me to be the bridge between their organics and my, for lack of a better word, heart.  You saw incomplete logs.  I do not think the Blood Guild intended to give them any such thing.  You said the scientists were confused and wondering what they had missed.  They may not have been any the wiser.  The guild, however…they must have known what they were leaving out of the development.  The Borg’s strength was in the Collective, and the resolute nature of assimilation without mercy.  No diplomatic efforts.  No negotiations over systems or trade.  Just death at every turn.”  

He turned to face The Constructor, bathed in its churlish red lights.  “They are at the crossroads my former masters never faced – the chance to restore some level of empathy – a heart, as you say.”

Wren arched an eyebrow.  The hints of what The Constructor had offered, and what it would require were clarifying.  She did not like it.  What mattered, she realized, was what Baron Nine thought.  She asked,  “And you?  What do you think about all this?”

He shook his head, his glittering eyes turning to sadness.  “I do not like it, Captain Walton.  I am well versed in the Federation’s history, and its frequency of self-sacrifice within its ranks – heroes and all.  I intended to live a long life, and serve on the Perseverance for ages to come.”

Ada’s voice reached him. “Baron, you’re speaking as if that dream is in the past.”

“We do not have another option.  Well, we do.  I dislike it as much as the first option.  That is to leave this place, retreat to the Vorethi system, and let the Blood Guild face their creations by force or political maneuvering.  It would place the Blood Guild at risk, but it would also put the Vorethi people at risk.”

Wren grumbled.  “And us in the middle either watching or taking a side.  That is not an idea that I like either.  We can’t upgrade the directive?  They’ve shown the ability to learn.  Can’t we teach them?”

Wallaker had been walking around, tricorder in hand, scanning at certain points and places.  Her face showed deep thought, and she looked up when Walton spoke.  “I doubt it.  They can learn – but only within the limits of the directives currently onboard – survival, replication and adaptation.”  She walked over to the group, reviewing the data in the tricorder.  “I’ve been working to get some of the code – from the lab and here.  They used primitive code, and it’s by nature limiting what it can do.  To reprogram them, we’d have to build the code for the Vorethi-bots from start to finish.”  She glanced back at The Constructor.  “They tolerate us because we can’t be used to supplement their numbers.  If we try to access their computer core, they’ll view us as an enemy.  The Vorethi are their Creators.”

Walton felt her options slipping away. “How much time do we have, Baron?”

He cocked his head to the side.  “The offer that was extended was limited to 24 of your Earth hours.  They are very precise.”

The transporter beams faded as they stepped down onto the deck of the Perseverance.  Walton spoke to Ada. “Get him to sickbay.  Monitor him and see if you can talk to him about all this.”  She turned, stalking out the door and into the corridor.  Hazel Wallaker caught up with her.

“What are we going to do, Captain?”  The terrible choice they had in front of them was stark.  Put an ex-Borg into the heart of a race of biomechanical mining robots that had just been born or gamble with the Montana Squadron in the middle of a fight between the Vorethi and the robots they had born in blood.

Walton skidded to a stop outside the turbolift to the bridge.  “We’re going to tell our fleet captain about it.  And he’s going to decide what to do.  Baron Nine has been a friend to us.  I don’t want to pronounce a death sentence on him.  Especially if it’s just going to be a return to his nightmare as a Borg in the throes of another Collective.”

Wallaker took a deep breath before she spoke.  “What…what if he decides to do it, Captain?”

Wren grimaced. “Then I won’t have much of a choice, Lieutenant Wallaker.”  She stepped into the turbolift.  “Coming?”

“You’ve already decided.”  Ada Josephs said, her tone resigned as she sat across from Baron Nine in her office.  The shield remained in place, and his face was more relaxed given the distance between him and The Constructor.

His tone was plain, and bordered on what she thought was morose.  “I did not decide.  It has been decided for me, Dr. Josephs.”  A long sigh escaped his lips.  “I cannot let the other scenario play out.”

Ada felt her heart climbing into her throat.  She had come to know Baron through his science laboratory work and his insatiable desire to discover the truth, and the reasons behind all of it.  She asked him, “Would you give us 22 hours to seek an alternative?”

A smile, or a Baron-equivalent smile, crossed his lips.  “I do not require sleep as the rest of you do.  I desire to help.  Even if I do not believe it is possible.”

Josephs returned his smile. “Always happy to prove an ex-Borg wrong.”