They assimilate your technology and use it against you – and they don’t even need to because they’re already more advanced than you.
They have cloaking technology but they don’t need it. When they come for you, you will see them coming.
One learns something, they all learn it. When they take you, they ALL know your secrets.
Each one has their own shielding. You get ONE SHOT to take one out before the others ALREADY adapt, all before the fallen drone even hits the floor. Each one can be equipped with weaponry. But they don’t need to. They can take you without engaging you in infantry combat.
They can lose 150% of their drone population in a planetary assimilation and actually end up with MORE drones than they started out with by using YOUR people to run their ships. They don’t stop.
They are relentless. When one goes after you, they ALL go after you. And they just want YOU. And when the ship comes to get you, ALL on the ship want to get YOU. Then they will take YOU. And use YOU to take someone else. They don’t care about turning you against your own people. Because they assimilate children. And they don’t stop.
They broke the powerful Federation fleet in just one battle. It took two years to rebuild it. They broke Earth’s defenses and entered orbit of the planet. Twice. They attacked both Earth and Romulan outposts along the Neutral Zone border, because they CAN fight wars on two fronts at once. They forced enemies to become allies. Then they killed them. Star system Wolf 359 is now unnavigable because of the Federation debris.
They don’t care about politics, religion or ideals. They just want you. They don’t even have diplomats. They don’t open a dialogue. They just want you. They are an enemy to 100 percent of the universe. They don’t need allies. They just want you. They don’t ask. They assimilate. They don’t enquire. They assimilate. They don’t learn. They assimilate. They just want you. And they don’t stop.
Their technology is as advanced as the most advanced enemy they ever fought. They can lose 80 percent of their vessel and still maintain 100 percent of ship operations. When they find you, they tell you not to resist. They are so powerful, they expect you not to resist. They don’t UNDERSTAND it when you resist. Then they kill you.
And they don’t stop.
They… are the Borg.
A large, spherical object, damaged and adrift. A sign of darkness. A sign of destruction. A sign of death.
After what felt like an eternity of staring at the destructive force sat directly off the port bow, a quiet voice finally penetrated the tense calm of the runabout’s cockpit. “Sensor analysis?” The Vulcan commander asked from her position towering over the three officers who had joined her for the voyage from New Bajor. Oh how they were probably regretting that choice now. For T’Prynn, however, regret was not an option. All that mattered now was an analysis of the Sphere so that they could ascertain what their options, and likely outcomes, would be.
Shaking off the malaise and anxiousness that had threatened to overwhelm them, Lieutenants Prida and Noli set about their task admirably. Even though the two officers had clear differences, and clearly struggled to get along, their professionalism at crunch time was without reproach. The Cardassian used her sensors to get a complete read out of the Borg vessel and its status, whilst Noli used hers to try and work out what had transpired, leaving the vessel in the derelict state that they now found it in.
The only person who seemed to be visibly struggling with their duties at this point was the pilot, sat at the forward most position with his eyes trained on the mighty implement of destruction mere meters away. Ensign Ilia Mizak, a recent graduate from Starfleet Academy, had joined the Commander on her first away mission as a member of the Santa Fe crew. T’Prynn had , reluctantly, taken the youngster under her considerably knowledgeable wing since his arrival and this was supposed to be an opportunity for the Trill to log some minutes as a pilot of the Mustang-class ship. Oh, how he wished he had remained behind this time. One of his previous hosts, by the name of Jeryn, had been subjected to a rather unpleasant experience with the mechanical monsters just thirty years ago, and it brought back terrible memories for the youngster. Memories had the potential to be be disturbing enough at the best of times, but memories of events that one never physically experienced were even worse.
Placing a hand on her protégés shoulder, as reassuring a move as the normally emotionless Vulcan could muster, was her attempt at putting the youngster at ease. It worked. The tactile gesture from his superior officer drew the Ensign back into the room, looking up at the woman apologetically.
“Sorry Commander,” he whispered, eyes glistening as he talked and gave his head the proverbial wobble it needed in order to compose himself.
Prida was the first to report in. “All major systems are offline and appear to be in a state of regeneration; the Sphere has suffered significant damage to propulsion and defensive systems in particular. Life support is offline in most areas of the ship. I’m not detecting any life signs of any kind,” the Cardassian reported, her voice very matter of fact and calm. Vulcan-like in fact.
“I’m not detecting any sign of weapons damage,” the Bajoran adjacent to her began her own report, but where as the Cardassian had been very factual, the Bajoran could only offer suggestions. “Residual energy spikes and traces of radiation suggest the vessel was engulfed in some sort of plasma or ion storm, but long range sensors aren’t picking up any nearby,” she mused, glancing back at the Vulcan.
After taking a moment of calm to digest what she had been told, the Vulcan let out a most uncharacteristic sigh. “How long until the vessel has regenerated sufficiently to restore life support? she queried of the Cardassian. A plan was formulating in her head as she looked over the sensor display, but she had to know if she had time to carry it out.
A short time later and Prida had the answer. “Approximately one hour,” she told, spinning in her chair to look at the Vulcan, who had now disappeared to one of the aft stations and had begun tapping away furiously.
Whilst the Vulcan silently went about her business, the three officers turned and exchanged concerned glances. They all seemed to have the same question on their lips; what were their orders going to be.
“Very well,” the Vulcan finally spoke up after an eternity at the aft station. “It would be remiss of us to leave this vessel here and allow it to become a danger once again. We must also ascertain why it is here. There have been no recorded sightings or evidence of Borg incursions in the Gamma quadrant for centuries. Why now? What has changed?” She pondered out loud, turning in her chair to look at the team. “We need those answers.”
“I can try and hack in to their computers from here,” Noli began, spinning back to face the controls again, “shouldn’t take me to…”
She was cut off by the Commander. “We shall transport aboard and gain control of their systems. Upon ascertaining the required information, we shall set the ships auto-destruct sequence and destroy it,” the pointy-eared commander declared.
Noli and Prida looked at each other in astonishment, their junior colleague looking more than a little confused.
“Forgive me Commander,” the Bajoran Lieutenant began, “you mean you want us to beam over to a Borg ship undergoing regeneration. You then want us to try and access their sensor logs before setting the auto-destruct sequence and running like hell?” Upon receipt of a nod of acknowledgement, the flabbergasted blonde let out a gasp. “I mean… don’t get me wrong, I joined Starfleet to see and experience new things, but so much could go wrong here!”
“Are you of the same opinion, Lieutenant Prida?” T’Prynn asked of her Operations officer.
“No way. I say we get over there and destroy that thing as quickly as we can,” the Cardassian shook her head.
A glance from the Vulcan to her protege gave the young one permission to speak at last. “I’ll go wherever you order, ma’am,” he told reluctantly. She had never steered him wrong yet, and he was sure she wouldn’t now, regardless of the misgivings he had.
Noli shook her head as she rose to her feet, before shrugging her shoulders. “We only have three EV suits, so someone is going to have to stay behind,” she told, looking around the gathered crew.
“Lieutenant Prida will remain behind to provide assistance using the ship’s computers,” the Commander directed. “Once we are aboard, move the ship to extreme transporter range and plot the quickest route out of the blast radius. Maintain constant communications,” the Vulcan concluded, immediately heading off to the aft compartment to begin getting suited up.
Folding her arms across her chest, the look on Prida’s face suggested she was more than a little miffed at getting left behind, but at the same time, she was also quite impressed at the bold nature of the pragmatic Vulcan’s orders. Watching as Noli and Mizak followed the Commander to the back, the Cardassian turned in her chair and began tapping away.
This was one Borg ship that would learn that resistance was less futile than they thought.