“Keep me updated on the away team’s progress,” RJ ordered Ensign Howell as he considered the tangle of ships in front of them. None of them had moved, not so much as an extra light had flickered on. 

“Anything new from our ship Ratking?” he asked as Harrow, the Resolute’s second officer, took place beside him in Thane’s absence. 

He made sure to keep his eyes forward on the screen. Fuck’s sake… He had no clue how Mason had done it, but most of the legacy crew of the Resolute were either packing 30 pack abs or cheekbones sharper than a bat’leth. Or both. And they were all under his damn command, so he couldn’t chat any of them up in the excuse the ship had for a bar. On the plus side, if it ever came to a throw down on the catwalk, then the Resolute would win hands down. 

“Nothing sir, just that Borg signal.”

He grunted in the back of his throat, eyes narrowed. Nothing on long range, but also no backup in the immediate vicinity. While the Resolute was a tough little ship, and fast if they needed to haul ass, but he was under no illusions. If they went up against the Borg, then they were all dead. History had already witnessed that bigger ships than them had tried and lost that battle. 

So they were running if he saw so much of a hint of a cube or a sphere, or any other geometric shape with an agenda and an attitude. 

“Okay,” he nodded to Howell. “Open a channel… This is Reese-Riggs of the USS Resolute to the ships in the middle of the system. Please respond and identify yourself.” 

Silence and static was their only answer. 

He frowned and looked over at Howell. “Is it getting through? Or is it being blocked by what—“

“Incoming signal, sir.” Howell said quickly. “Audio only.”

RJ nodded. Finally, it looked like they would get some answers. “Okay, open channel… let’s see what they have to say.”

“Hello, this is Ree—“

For the second time within a minute, he was cut off. 

“Go away!” A soft, female voice whispered. It was barely a smudge of sound. “Don’t talk! They’ll hear you!”

RJ blinked, exchanging a glance with Harrow. Oddly, the second officer seemed to be shuffling cards in one hand. He shook it off and turned back to the view screen. It was a habit, even though the channel was audio only. 

“Hey… who is this?” he asked, dropping his voice a little, making his tone warmer and less demanding. It was an instinctive reaction to a frightened woman. RJ was an excellent judge of female voices… this one sounded young, and she was very very scared. He didn’t want to frighten her any more. It wasn’t him being a nice guy though. If she locked up, he wouldn’t get any more information out of her. And they needed information. Badly. “I’m Ryder, my friends call me RJ.”

He didn’t think she was going to answer for a moment. But then there was a small cough, and the rasp of her breathing. “Sarissa. My name is Sarissa.” 

“Hey Sarissa. Thats a lovely name… So, talk to me, tell me what’s going on,” RJ smiled, knowing the expression would carry over to his voice as he sat down next to Harrow. He had two cards in his hand. RJ frowned… They looked like playing cards. A seven of something… and one that looked like a king. But they weren’t like any playing cards RJ had ever seen, and he was very familiar with playing cards. Especially those used for poker. 

He didn’t get a good look at them as Harrow saw the direction of his gaze and folded them away quickly. 

“Nothing,” she whispered, her words punctuated by soft, metallic clunks. His eyes narrowed. It sounded like she was moving in some kind of enclosed space. 

“Nothing’s going on. Go away, before—“ She cut herself off and he frowned. 

“Before what, Sarissa?” he asked. “Come on, talk to me. I’m here to help. Before what?”

“Before they hear you! Before they find me! You need to go!”

He looked over at Howell and sliced his hand over his neck, signaling him to put the channel on mute. “Can you isolate the signal, work out where she is in there? And do we have a Sarissa on any of the manifests for the ships?”

“Not that I can see,” Howell said with a frown. “I’ll give it a try, if I can work around whatever is blocking us.”

“Okay. Put me back on,” he ordered. 

“Sarissa… before who finds you? Why do I need to go? I can help you. Let me help you. I have a ship—“

“That’s what they’ll want!” she hissed in exasperating. “They—“

“Where did she go?” RJ demanded as static filled the channel.

“Sorry sir, we lost the signal, but there’s a new one incoming,” Howell announced. “Audio and visual.

“Where from?” RJ frowned. “Is it Sarissa?”

Howell shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s coming from somewhere on the ships.”

Before RJ could respond, the image on the viewscreen distorted and a face took shape. Everyone on the bridge froze, gazes riveted to the screen. 

It was an older human man, with white hair and the crepey, wrinkled skin of an octogenarian…

And Borg implants embedded in his skin.