“The time approaches. The way is set.”

As the voice spoke to him, Lieutenant J.G. Adrian Cruz peered through his scope at an unremarkable industrial building. It looked no different than dozens they’d passed as they crept through the colony, except it was guarded by four heavily armed Andorians. And the voice. He could hear it so clearly now.

Lieutenant Syleth Sh’vot and the rest of the team drew up alongside the security chief, crouching behind a large snow berm to stay out of view from their target. “Are you sure this is it?” whispered the Andorian geophysicist as he gazed over the barrel of his rifle. So far, he hadn’t had to use the weapon, but as he stared at the Andorian guards, he had a sense that was about to change. If this building housed the vinculum, he would have no choice. The colonists wouldn’t simply let them waltz on by.

“It’s either that, or I’m going insane,” Lieutenant J.G. Cruz nodded through gritted teeth as he stared at the building. The voice was so loud he could barely hear his own thoughts.

“Open the way to your future.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. The voice that had once before commanded him to do its bidding, it was all but screaming at him now.

“Bring perfection to this imperfect galaxy.”

It was too much for the security chief. He stumbled over, landing on fresh powder as he clutched his temples. He wanted to scream, but he knew he couldn’t. If he screamed, he’d blow their cover. It took every last ounce of willpower just to stay quiet, to curl up in a ball and clench his jaw as the Collective continued to demand his service.

Lieutenant Balan looked down at Lieutenant J.G. Cruz. Her face was awash with concern. She could see the pain and terror in his eyes as he laid there. She reached down and touched him, trying to pull him back from the edge. “Can you… can you proceed?”

All he could do was shake his head through gritted teeth.

That meant it was on her, their two security officers, the scientist and the other diplomat. “Form up,” Lieutenant Balan ordered as she pulled away. “Let’s finish this.” She was no fighter, but her compassion gave her strength. Adrian Cruz was depending on her, and so were these colonists. As the team lined up along the berm, she sighted in her rifle. “Left to right, call your targets.” They all had to open fire in unison, or whoever wasn’t hit might call for help and then the game would be up. “I got number one.”

“Two,” said one of the security officers.

“Three,” said the other.

That left the scientist or the other diplomat to call the last target. Lieutenant Sh’vot looked down the scope of his rifle, lining his reticle up with the fourth guard. He could do it. They were doing this for the Andorian he was about to shoot. “I got four.”

“On three,” Lieutenant Balan commanded. “One…” She took a deep breath. “Two…” She focused on her target and steadying her aiming arm. “Three.” She pulled the trigger in one smooth motion.

In synchronicity, bursts leapt from four phaser rifles. True to their training, all four found their mark. Energized nadions ripped through the four Andorian guards, shorting out their nervous systems. The lights went out in their eyes and their knees crumpled as they fell to the ground.

Lieutenant Balan rushed forward. The two security crewmen and the diplomatic officer were tight on her heels, and aware that their phaser fire had lit up the otherwise quiet night, they swept around with their rifles, looking for targets. But there were none. The howling wind had muffled the sound, and the thick snow had dampened the luminance. They were also gifted by the fact that the colonists still had no knowledge that they’d overtaken the colonial administration building and were now on the hunt.

As his colleagues charged towards the building, Lieutenant Sh’vot stood frozen at the snow berm, just trying to process what he’d just done. A colonist lay there motionless on the ground, courtesy of his rifle. He knew the Andorian was simply stunned, not dead, but he’d never shot a real person before.

Lieutenant Sh’vot looked back at Lieutenant J.G. Cruz. The security chief was curled up in a ball, shaking and clutching his ears. But muffling his hearing couldn’t cut out the voice. The voice shouting in his head came from the imprinting he’d undergone during his assimilation, and it just kept shouting as the wind howled and the snow fell. They needed to hurry. Lieutenant Sh’vot turned and broke into a sprint to catch up with the team. They needed to finish this. They needed to free Lieutenant J.G. Cruz from the voice that haunted him, and they needed to free these colonists from the voice that possessed them.

By the time Lieutenant Sh’vot caught up with the others, he found them standing in a completely utilitarian room absent any finishings or amenities save for a single rhomboidal object resting in its center. The device had a blacker than black finish with a dark green glow ebbing from somewhere deep within. Dr. Brooks and Commander Lee had been right. The colonists had brought the vinculum from Salvage Facility 21-J down to the surface of Beta Serpentis III. They had let the monster into their home.

“Can we disable it?” asked Lieutenant Balan as she stared in horrified awe at the small device. It wasn’t even two meters tall, yet the damage it had done was immense. It was the vinculum from Wolf 359, responsible for the destruction of 39 Starfleet vessels and the deaths of 11,000 crew, and now it was once again threatening the free people of the Federation.

“Disable it?” questioned one of the security officers. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” His mind drifted to his boss, the security chief they’d left writhing in pain as the brutal elements of this frigid hellhole beat down on him. “But I know how to end this.” There was only one answer that seemed appropriate for a device of such immense evil. He reached into his pack and began pulling out explosive devices.

“If we do that, we’ll be sending up a flare as to our location,” Lieutenant Balan cautioned. She looked over at Lieutenant Sh’vot, the only scientist among their group. “You got any ideas, Syleth?”

Lieutenant Sh’vot fumbled with his tricorder, trying to probe and scan the device. “I’m afraid I can’t make heads or tales of these readings.” He had a doctorate in geophysics, but neither that nor his experience in a dozen other disciplines did him any good with the device before him. He did not have Dr. Brooks’ experience with Borg technology, nor was he a digital systems engineering wizard like Commander Lee. “Maybe if I had enough time with it…”

“Lieutenant Cruz isn’t going to last long out there,” protested the security officer, aware that the human security chief wouldn’t survive long as the harsh storm beat down on him. “If we blow it up, it can’t speak to them anymore. Won’t they come back to their senses?” 

“While your reasoning is sound if the vinculum is the root cause of the colonist’s behavior,” Lieutenant Sh’vot cautioned. “But we have no guarantee that it is the root cause.” His mind drifted back to the earlier conversation with Dr. Brooks, Commander Lee and Admiral Reyes. 

“We don’t have a choice,” Lieutenant Balan concluded. They couldn’t leave Lieutenant J.G. Cruz out there in the cold any longer. “We’ll just have to hope it is.” She looked down at her rifle. “And be prepared for if it’s not.”

The security officers got to work rigging the room with explosives.