The room was chilly with a tense frost, icicles dripping suspicion and distrust hung in the shadowed corners, whilst a nervous fog rolled across the repurposed bulkhead that had been fashioned into a large central table. Despite the climate-controlled interior of the vessel an icy breeze hovered at the edge of the room as the two groups eyed each other suspiciously, both bitten too many times to be entirely trusting. Oyvo surveyed the assembled conference, Commander Dil, Lietuenant Maine and herself sat on one side of the table, flanked by Ole and Hermira, phaser rifles cradled in their elbows. Between the two, standing statuesque to the rear of the group stood Zaya, her usually waterfall black hair tied up in a tight coif. In comparison to her fellow Starfleet officers she seemed almost relaxed, as if watching a particularly dull market day rather than sitting in the heart of a dangerous enemy. Her towering figure stood sentinel over the team, dark eyes hovering over their counterparts whilst her hand rested on the Bajoran made phase pistol at her waist; she radiated non-chalance. The veteran security team had not yet been asked to relinquish their weapons but they were at a significant disadvantage should things become problematic and Oyvo noticed behind the air of indifference a lioness was planning. Her plump lips muttered noiselessly carrying her plan to the young Xindi woman ‘…left, 500 yards. Across the junction. Unshielded distribution node 150 meters to the right…’

Oyvo felt a shiver run down her spine and into her soul as Commander Dil broke the silence with a subtle cough.

“You’ll have to accept our apologies for the intrusion, we didn’t think there was anyone aboard.”

“You mean anyone not-Borg.” a tall Hirogen male replied, his brow narrowing around his one good eye, the other cloudy and surrounded by scar tissue. “You thought to secure a tactical advantage and broke into our home.”

“That’s hardly fair Aramook.” A Talaxian woman chastised, her long blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder as she turned to look at him. “They could have as easily destroyed us from afar. We’re lucky the came investigating.” She turned her attention back to the assembled sea of mustard uniforms, her focus landing on the Commander dressed in red at the centre of the group. “Even if it is for nefarious reasons.” A wry smile spread across her face, wrinkling the skin around the implants still fitted around her ears. 

“I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a consideration.” Dil replied, his own face settling into an attempt at pleasant conversation.

“I told you Starfleet were honest.” Brynn said smugly, appearing in the rooms entryway, his wide shouldered figure taking up much of the portal. “They’ve got reason to be suspicious, the Borg are hardly a friendly face.”

“And with the events of Frontier Day. Such a shame.” The Talaxian woman lowered her head solemnly. “May they all find their way to the Great Forest.”

“You are aware of what happened?” Maine’s cold tone cut across the room. 

“We are.” Brynn crossed to a small recess in the wall, a gentle yellow light pulsing at the edge. With a few button presses a tray of drinks materialised into being. Picking up the small silver tray he crossed to the table and set down the tall green beakers, each marked with a familiar eagle, wings spread around the waist of the cup. “We acquired this from a Romulan scout. I’m afraid its selection of recipes are somewhat limited.”

“Acquired?” Dil asked, his eyebrow raised suspiciously. 

“I’m sure you’ll appreciate the Borg don’t have designs to produce many creature comforts.” Brynn sat in the open seat at the end of the table. “The chairs you are sat on are Kobali made and this shirt is from an Ankari trader. Even the air you’re breathing has been processed by an atmospheric scrubber produced by the Brunali.”

“All acquired without protest?” Dil’s eyebrows continued to rise, seemingly prepared for orbital lift-off from his forehead. 

“I’d be lying if I said every interaction went smoothly.” Brynn took a long sip from his cup. “We have never given anyone cause for aggression in our journey. We strive for peace.”

“We even allowed you to keep your weapons.” the Talaxian woman offered. 

“I did not vote for that.” Aramook muttered, loud enough for all to hear. 

“Kayax is correct, we could have taken them, and made you prisoners. Aramook has already pointed out that you broke into our home.” Brynn took a deep breath, allowing the air of their perceived beneficence settle into the still chilly room. 

“The Borg do not take prisoners.” Ole announced from the rear of the group, the goliath Bolian stood tense as a cornered wildcat. 

“We are not The Borg.” Kayax spat, rising from the table, her previously congenial tone buried under a stinging venom. For a deathless moment it seemed that she would leap from the table, her fingers curled like talons as she bared her teeth in a snarl. Oyvo found her heart beating aggressively against her ribcage, she had only ever read about the Talaxians and it had never mentioned such primal aggression. Brynn, placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder pulling her back to her seat. 

The room echoed with a sub-zero silence as Brynn loudly took another sip of his drink, the other cups sat untouched across the long makeshift table. 

“Then what are you?” Dil finally broke the silence, leaning forward slightly. “Why are you here in the Talvath cluster, hiding between suns and writing SOS messages on your hull?

Brynn finished his drink, placing the tall cup back onto the shining tray. Leaning forward to meet the Bajoran commander, his face suddenly appearing suddenly tired and desperate, “We are what is left of Unimatrix Zero, we have come to Starfleet for help.”