Meanwhile, in another section of the USS Franscini.

Commander Vistia Xe closed her eyes and concentrated.

Balance and inner peace had eluded her during this mission, ever since it had become clear that the Borg were onboard the ship and that a substantial part of the crew had been assimilated. Her training as a Deltan sworn Y’tbylse celibate had worked well on the outside – she knew that her calmness and determination had helped the squad to keep focused – but she wasn’t happy with her performance.

Although their destination had been the bridge, they had not made it that far: they had stumbled upon the sickbay, which to their surprise was occupied and fortified.

“Are you here to rescue us?” Had asked the large Denobulan doctor in charge, who had introduced himself as Tlalox.“We were planning on getting to the bridge” had responded Vistia Xe.

“That’s a waste of time” had answered Lieutenant Tlalox. “Everyone had been evacuated to secure areas such as Main Engineering. The bridge is most likely empty and inoperative.”

“And you?”

“I had twelve crewmembers in critical condition and the sickbay systems are inoperative” had said the Denobulan. Vistia Xe could feel his despair and tiredness. “Four nurses and I have remained here to do what we could.”

The Deltan had performed a tactical assessment of the sickbay and knew that there were five dead bodies. Seven remained critical.

“We have two shuttlecrafts in the shuttlebay” she had said. “We are going to evacuate your patients and you to the Redding.”

“We are never going to make it” had said Tlalox shaking his head. “The Borg are relentless; they will never let us –”“May I balance you?” had asked Vistia Xe.

He had nodded.

Vistia Xe had put the palm of her hand on his forehead and concentrated. The mind of the Denobulan was there, unquiet, and dark. She sighed heavily, recalled her Y’tbylse training, renewed in her mind her vow of celibacy, and took part of the Denobulan’s pain into her.

Inchoate images exploded in the Deltan’s mind. His pain was like an acid dust that deposited in crevices, it smelled like wet metal and Borg implants, it bloomed like a flower where every petal was a dead person, it wandered like a person lonely for not having married enough people, it tried to swim in the ocean while being dragged down by the tentacles of not a squid, it cried while being followed by Borg drones, it…

That was enough. Vistia Xe had taken her hand away.

The Denobulan had looked at her with some surprise, and a more determinate look in his eyes.

“We are taking your patients and your crew and we’re extracting you to the Redding” she had repeated.

“Yes, Commander.”

And now, twenty minutes later, they were loading patients and exhausted medics in the three shuttles (the two of the Redding, and the only one of the Franscini that was in the hangar). Somehow, they had not encountered Borg – apparently, they had been drawn to another section of the ship.

The shuttles left. They’d be back in twenty minutes.

Commander Vistia Xe opened her eyes and sighed deeply. She hoped that the shuttles would be back before any Borg interfered. She also hoped that the other half of the Redding had come up with a plan, and that it didn’t require any shuttle.