“Captain’s log, stardate seven-eight-zero-zero-three point seven. The Bellerophon has been assigned the duty of searching through the debris field left behind from the destruction of the Borg Tactical Cube. We remain at tactical alert in case we face any booby traps. In the meantime, we have salvaged several Borg data nodes. My crew has been working on decrypting them.”

Walking down the corridor of deck eight, Captain Horatio McCallister had his first officer beside him. Jaz had remained silent on their trip down from the bridge. The Bellerophon’s corridors were busy as the crew went about their work, but the appearance of armed security officers at various points reminded them of their situation. Doctor Corben was currently in surgery with six former Borg drones. Helping these ex-Bs was the right call to make, but it placed pressure on everyone with the heightened security measures. 

Approaching the astrometrics lab, the two command officers stepped through the threshold when the door sensors detected them. Waiting for them inside were Chief Bronden, Lieutenant T’Penni and Ensign Jonarom. Each stood working on the three main consoles in the centre of the lab. 

“Report,” McCallister said as he and Jaz stood just before the workstations. 

“We’ve been able to go through most of the data nodes, sir,” Bronden shared before motioning to the huge, wraparound wall screen.

“That quickly?” Jaz questioned.

Jonarom responded first. “Borg alphanumeric code of this era is quite simple for us to work through.”

“Starfleet has had a long time to interpret Borg terminology,” T’Penni reminded the Trill first officer.

“So it appears,” Jaz said before prompting Bronden to continue his presentation. 

“A group of the data nodes we’ve recovered contained the cube’s manifest, including assimilation reports,” Bronden announced as he showed a long list of Borg designations. Next to them were names and alien designations. “It should make our lives a bit easier in working out identities for those unsure.”

McCallister nodded in agreement. “Make sure you transmit this information to the rest of the squadron.”

“I will, but T’Penni and Jonarom have found something else from the data nodes they’ve been working through,” The muscular Zaldan said before he moved his webbed fingers over the controls to transfer it over to the Vulcan engineer and Ardanan male. 

T’Penni spoke confidently, her hands gripped behind her back and only using the odd hand gesture to swipe the holographic controls. “Another group of data nodes include the last sensor recordings for the Cube before it meant its destruction.”

“The black box?” McCallister asked.

“Black box?” T’Penni queried with a raised eyebrow.

McCallister smirked, but it was Jonarom who translated for her. “The captain is referring to an old Earth device that was used to record flight data and other valuable information that could be used if an aircraft crashed somehow. We used to have similar devices on Ardana.”

“A crude comparison, though I can perceive the similarity on a basic level,” T’Penni said. “Nevertheless, the Cube’s black box records show us that our theory and Three of Eleven’s explanation of how they crash landed here are true.”

“Well, at least that’s one mystery we don’t need to dig further into,” Jaz remarked.

“Agreed,” McCallister said before ordering his chief engineer to forward that to the Odyssey. “Anything else?”

“Yes, sir,” Jonarom took over and activated a new set of information for the screen. “The Cube ejected its Queen’s cell before it crash-landed into the planet.”

Jaz shot a look at McCallister, alarmed to hear that revelation. 

“Where?” The captain asked.

“We think it crash-landed on the fourth moon,” Jonarom indicated as he brought up a sensor scan of the star system. “Sensors aren’t picking up energy signature emanating from the moon; however, there is a faint trail that leads towards it that is consistent with a smaller Borg escape sphere.”

“How’s that possible? I thought the Borg Queen was killed when Admiral Janeway’s future self infected the Collective with the pathogen?” Jaz questioned the group.

“It is logical to assume that when a vessel that contains a Queen’s cell is near to destruction, a Borg protocol may be that they must launch the designated evacuation vessel,” T’Penni suggested. 

“It’s a strong possibility,” Bronden agreed. “But surely, by now, if a Queen had survived by now, we would have seen something. Sensors don’t detect the same subspace frequencies associated with the Collective’s interlink frequencies, especially those associated with the Queen.”

“Let me talk to my brother; in the meantime, let’s launch a class five probe to take a closer look,” McCallister said as he stared at the readings before them. The small moon almost resembled Earth’s moon in its spherical appearance and the hundreds of impact craters. He was now leaning over one of the consoles, considering all the risks with their latest discovery. There were too many. He stood up straight and thanked his officers before he indicated to Jaz for them to leave with a simple head bop.

Once the doors to astrometrics were closed behind them, McCallister looked at Jaz as they headed back to the turbolift, “Quite a find, Lirissa.”

“That’s putting it mildly, Horatio.” She replied. “I hope you’re not planning on another salvage operation?”

“Why not?” McCallister asked. “A closer look at Borg technology, especially where the central figure that brings order to chaos is kept. Starfleet Intelligence could be reviewing our data for years to come.”

“At what risk, though?” She countered with. Approaching the turbolift door, she tapped the call button. “It’s too great, Horatio.” She advised him as they entered the cart the moment the doors opened. “We could all end up with cortical implants before we know it.”

Disagreeing with her, McCallister leant against the wall of the lift. “Or we may get our hands on technology that Starfleet has never dreamed of.”

Jaz sighed. “It’s your call, but can you genuinely see your brother agreeing?”

“Probably not,” McCallister grumbled before standing up straight and calling for them to be taken to deck one.