A few days ago, Lieutenant Junior Grade Eileen Piper stepped aboard the USS Blythe, her anticipation for the fresh assignment palpable. She fondly recollected the recent call to her mother, sharing the joyous news. The title of ‘Chief Flight Operations Officer’ marked a substantial opportunity – an accomplishment made even more remarkable by her not yet having attained the rank of full Lieutenant. This promotion seemed to pave a swift path toward eventual captaincy.

However, recent unfortunate circumstances had led to a multitude of vacant positions. Eileen, aged 27, had luckily evaded assimilation. Regrettably, not all crew members shared her fortune. The day was supposed to be a momentous occasion – the 250th anniversary of the inaugural journey of Starfleet’s pioneer warp 5 capable vessel. Eileen had been aboard the USS Tasman, one of the many ships assigned to showcase the new NX12.11 Fleet Formation Program. As a pilot, this task wasn’t particularly to Eileen’s liking.

Amid the celebrations, Eileen found herself aiding her mentor, Lieutenant Munoz, the Chief Flight Operations Officer on the USS Tasman. She manned the helm station, skillfully navigating through the incoming flotilla of ships. Although the assembled vessels represented only a fraction of Starfleet’s full capacity, their numbers were still staggering. As Admiral Shelby’s speech continued, Eileen lost track of time. Was it ongoing, or had it concluded? Amid the festive atmosphere, the ominous shadow of assimilation dominated her recollections.

Suddenly, an interruption cut through the air—a voice belonging to an elderly man, unfamiliar to Eileen. Among his final words, she recalled the chilling proclamation: “Changeling infiltration of Starfleet has made us vulnerable to our greatest enemy, The Borg…”

‘The Borg’—a name evoking images of beings more deceased than alive, an assemblage of zombie-like cyborgs. ‘The Borg’—sinister entities driven by destruction and the relentless quest for assimilation into their ever-expanding collective. ‘The Borg’-something that was previously confined to the ghost stories of her youth and the historical accounts taught in Federation classrooms.

However, the jubilant expressions and enthusiasm of her fellow crew members soon yielded to nightmarish screams of terror. The screams resonated in Eileen’s body when around half of the crew succumbed to fear. The Screams that still haunted her at night. The remaining half of the crew chanted in eerie and perfect unison, uttering the unsettling phrase: “We are the Borg.” Then came the unnerving command: “Eliminate all Unassimilated.” a haunting sequence that continued, “Eliminate all Unassimilated” over and over, “Eliminate all Unassimilated” a sentence which still send shivers down her spine.

Eileen’s recollection was vivid—a surge of panic, escalating into unadulterated terror as they scrambled to escape. She remembered the gut-wrenching fear, the sense of helplessness as she and Lieutenant Munoz raced against time. It was in those moments they were to witness the Captain and Executive Officer fall to the onslaught of their own junior officers. Confusion reigned in her mind: “What is happening?”

She clung to the hope that it was a mere nightmare, an implausible scenario. But that optimism was shattered when the junior officers locked onto them. It was during those harrowing moments that they managed to break free from the bridge, narrowly avoiding whatever nightmare had consumed their comrades. It was in these heart-stopping moments of their escape, just before the doors closed the cruel reality materialized yet again, as her mentor, Lieutenant Munoz, was gunned down right before her eyes.

But this wasn’t a time to dwell on the past; today was a day of genuine joy. Eileen found herself seated at the helm, a position that was now distinctly HERS. Lieutenant Jansen, the Chief Engineer of the USS Blythe, had recently overseen the refitting of her station. He humorously referred to himself as the Head of the “Tool Department” or something to that effect. 

Much of the time, his explanations proved a bit elusive. One moment, he’d be delving into details about the port nacelle, and then, in the blink of an eye, he’d veer off to grumble about the peculiarities of ‘That damned doctor’s nest.’ It was all rather perplexing. And just as abruptly as he had arrived, Lieutenant Jansen would abruptly depart from the bridge, leaving Eileen with a sense of bemusement and a smattering of half-understood technical jargon. 

The recommissioning of the USS Blythe was rapidly taking shape, with just a scant few days remaining before they could depart from the confines of the Starbase. Eileen’s aspirations were finally within reach—she was poised to fulfill her innate calling: steering a starship into the uncharted realms of the cosmos, venturing into the great unknown, or at least, she hoped. The known was fine too. 

The only thing she really wanted was to ‘head out there and explore quaint weird things, seek out new people, and brazenly go where she hadn’t gone before.’

On this occasion, it seemed to be the day Eileen would be introduced to her new Executive Officer. Captain Crowe, whom she had encountered a few days prior, was leading the tour, showcasing the ship to the newcomer. As they entered the bridge, Eileen promptly rose from her seat, a response that had become customary within the established protocol of most Starfleet vessels. An Ensign’s voice rang out, proclaiming the familiar phrase, “Captain, on the Bridge,” a time-honored tradition deeply ingrained in Starfleet’s culture.

Following a swift introduction of the First Officer, Commander Kiaran Patel, to the bridge at large, attention shifted towards Eileen. Captain Crowe’s words resonated as he introduced her: “Commander Kiaran Patel, meet our Chief of Flight Operations, Lieutenant Junior Grade Eileen Piper, who is as excited as she is talented.”

Eileen and the First Officer exchanged brief pleasantries, though gauging his demeanor proved challenging. His expressions seemed enigmatic. Whether he was on the verge of emotion or simply maintaining distance was elusive. Their slightly awkward interaction was promptly disrupted by Captain Crowe’s announcement: “Speaking of talented, here is someone I want you both to meet! She’s stepping in to address the absence of a Chief of Operations..”

Eileen turned eagerly, anticipation coursing through her, only to be abruptly halted in her tracks. Standing before her was a young Andorian Borg Drone! Panic surged through Eileen, a primal urge to scream welling up within her, yet fear had her immobilized, rendering her unable to move. 

There it was again, coming from all directions of the bridge “Eliminate all Unassimilated.” 

Trapped and overwhelmed, yet again, she wished fervently for this to be a nightmare. 

“Eliminate all Unassimilated” over and over again. 

Eileen knew she couldn’t escape this time. This was it. 

She closed her eyes ready for the end, at least this way she wouldn’t see it coming. 

’It’s so… quiet?’ she thought.

Eileen opened her eyes. Before her dawned the faces of Captain Crowe, Commander Patel, and an Andorian Ensign observing her with quizzical expressions.

Concerned, Captain Crowe queried, “Lieutenant Piper, are you all right?”

Steadying herself, Eileen replied, “Yes, yes, of course. Excuse me.”

She extended her hand towards the Andorian Ensign, offering a handshake, and introduced herself, “Lieutenant Junior Grade Eileen Piper, nice to meet you, Ensign.”

The Andorian Ensign reciprocated the gesture, responding, “Ensign Jazara Koran. Actually, I’m familiar with you. We both served on the USS Tasman.”