–Acting First Officer Bahir’s Personal Log. Stardate 78413.2–

Our solemn work continues at the site of the Borg Sphere’s wreckage. In the last three days we have collected a significant amount of debris Starfleet may find useful but we are no closer to finding a cause for the explosion. Nor have we found any survivors or even remains. We have several theories, Oyvo believes they pushed their transwarp engines too hard and caused a cascade failure; Bib believes the hull damage was simply too much and the subspace resonance of travelling at warp speeds cracked the vessel in two; Ole remains adamant Theta Squad and Commander Dil attempted to secure the vessel and in the process compromised the ship. Captain Tanek has not voiced an opinion. He has voiced very little since we arrived at the wreckage. Whilst all I can seem to voice are worries.

I have worries over the Captain’s state of mind. I believe the loss of our crewmates has struck him deeply. The loss of Dil Khos, whom the Captain saw as a protogé, has been particularly hard, some might even go as far as to say he saw the Commander as a son. Were we aboard a larger vessel I could air my concerns to the ship’s counselling team in the hopes they may help him through the grieving process. Unfortunately, our CMO Doctor Malax, idolises the Captain and believes he is simply ‘processing’. I worry not only for Tanek’s well-being but also the well-being of the crew, it is my responsibility as XO, however temporary, to ensure their physical and mental wellbeing. 

This is no small task currently. 

Oyvo continues to cry beneath her breath at her station as we pour through the wreckage, she feels the loss of Rana keenly; the young woman is one of the few who had broken through the Commander’s tough shell. She was a role model both professionally and personally for Oyvo and she will not be the same without her. 

Ensign Log has not left the shuttle bay since we began salvaging debris, save to eat when I ordered him to do so. We have created a space to collect and examine sections of debris and he rakes the atoms of the shattered hull for any indications of what happened to his friends. The young man has lost a great deal these last few months and there is an absence in his eyes as you speak to him, I worry that he will not stop till we have answers, should that ever happen. 

I do confess a certain sadness myself, it is a tragedy to loose friends. But my father made it very clear when I was growing up that space exploration came with dangers, natural and unnatural. I will not allow emotions to endanger the crew of this vessel. I will have to keep a close eye on them all, if only to keep them safe from their own fathomless grief. 

The USS John James will be onsite in the next few hours to relieve us and then perhaps we can begin to close these wounds when we are not staring at the knife.

The quiet hum of the warp core filled the small engineering bay, as the inconsistent beeps of engineers working at consoles fashioned an unmelodic tune. In a small bay to starboard, surrounded by reinforced bulkheads and separated from the general access, a tall green hexagon hung above antigravity struts, its dull viridian glow creating curious shadows across the grey bulkheads. At a console nearby Sima stood rubbing her temples at the rolling scan data appearing on her screen. 

“Why on earth would this Vinculum still be going.” Sima continued to massage her aching head. 

“I’m detecting some abnormal modifications. What appear to be local batteries, or some sort of backup circuits. Additional digital storage space. Even a few rudimentary organic components, sort of like bio-neural gel packs?” Mitchell’s scruffy mop of hair appeared from behind the ominously hovering shape, his face almost completely hidden behind the curly locks. A tricorder appeared in his outstretched arm, waving towards the Chief Engineer at her console. 

“It’s a Borg Vinculum. How in the great bird do you know what constitutes abnormal? 

“Well… it doesn’t look like any of the vinculums in the database.” A chubby finger began pointing to the tricorder. “Look at these organic pathways, to connect these storage centres and improve signal response time they’ve grown them around the damaged circuits. It’s amazing. It’s almost like a big metal brain.”

“You seem awfully cheery Ensign.” Sima scowled at him through the towering metal device. “Did you forget the cost we had to pay to acquire this level of access?”

A long silence filled the engineering bay as the young scientist’s wild hair disappeared behind the slowly pulsing vinculum. Sima bit her lip as a realisation hit her, her tone now seemed unintentionally cruel. “Lost his friends you idiot.” She muttered to herself as she pressed a button to initiate a different set of scans and stepped away from the console. As she rounded the Vinculum, its huge size taking up much of the workshop, she saw the Ensign, his eyes locked on the screen as he furrowed his fluffy black caterpillar eyebrows. “I’m sorry David, that was unnecessary.”

“I haven’t forgot Sima. I won’t ever forget.” The young man was holding back his tears with a quiet dignity. 

The silence continued, underscored by the high trill of tricorders as they both continued their scans. 

“When T’Sal died in Deneb we were all a mess. Doubly so when the base turned out to be an empty distraction. There was only a half dozen of us on Nestus at the time and it was like the hull had been ripped open and all the air sucked out.” He swallowed, a tight and painful clod in his throat. “I could barely move from my bed whilst we hobbled back to 72, it was the first time I had known really someone die so terribly.”

“It must have been hard.” Sima acknowledged, closing her tricorder and giving the young man her full attention.

He nodded sagely. “One night Zaya summoned and in some cases dragged us all into the mess, she had laid out the most amazing dinner. All our favourites dishes from across the Federation, somehow she had even managed to get my mother’s recipe for Yorkshire Puddings.” A smile crested across his face as a mist of memory descended over his eyes. “That night we ate, and laughed, and cried. Ole even sang a Bolian spiritual.” Sima barely held her mouth closed in surprise. “Whilst we had all be a paralyzed with our loss Zaya had found the energy to create love and joy for us. She said it was a ‘Cardassian tradition’.” The mist of memory in his eyes threatened to turn to tears upon his cheeks. “For such an accomplished liar, not one of us believed her. That dinner was her way of grieving, to take the moment and then… carry on.”

“So you’re carrying on?” Sima whispered, she had placed her own sadness in a box high on a mental shelf, one day she would take it down to deal with it. 

“One night soon, I will make a grand dinner. And I will laugh… and cry… and possibly even sing. Then I will wake up and carry on with what I must do.” He wiped the tears with the back of his sleeve. “That seems right.”

The pair stood in quiet memorial as the business of engineering carried on just out of view. As Sima began to reach out her hand, planning to comfort the young man her console trilled loudly. 

“Probably another inexplicable scan.” She smiled as she returned to the wide wall screen. Her eyes widened into a slackening jaw as the data began filling the screen. “Call the Captain down here.”

Ever since Brynn had forcibly separated him from their small Unimatrix Aramook’s body had felt contorted and empty, bereft of what small hope he had kindled. Thy cynical Hirogen felt that, in many ways, the fate of Unimatrix zero was sealed decades ago. The destruction of Exodus and with it the final remnants of the family he had come to love, had finally quenched what little hope he left. 

His lifeless, hollow flotsam had floated alone on the rolling galactic tide. It never occurred to him he might miss the voices, the names of each speaker weighing bitterly on his tongue.

Today however, Aramook felt the numbness begin receding along his brow as the Captain’s words crept through his ears and kindled new hope within his thoughts. 

“We can’t be sure how many signatures are within the Vinculum but we’ve detected at least a dozen different synaptic patterns so far.” Tanek whispered from the doorway of the conference room that had become the Hirogen’s temporary holding room in the absence of proper quarters. “I’ve authorised its transfer to the shuttle bay so it can be powered by one of the shuttles warp core. That should sustain it sufficiently until we reach Starbase 72.”

Aramook opened his dry lips to respond, a pang of panicked stomach acid rising in his throat. “Where we will be prisoners of the Starfleet.”

“Where you will be taken in as refugees, fleeing a threat to their lives.” Tanek took a step forward, his usually warm personality now exuded chilly waves across the table. “Captain Varen has extended no small amount of his favours within the Federation to secure your safety, even now he’s working to find ways to help you restore your… family, to bodies.” His words fell to a whisper. “There is a condition however.”

Aramook did not turn to the Captain, fearing the man’s anger in grief. “We are willing to provide you with what knowledge & technology we can.”

“And we will be grateful but that’s not the price.” Tanek’s long intake of preparatory breath was audible on the lowest decks of Daedalus. “When the time comes, you need to take us back to the Borg. This new, unknown Collective is in a state of flux and we will need Unimatrix Zero to take us to them.”

“As assassin’s?

“As guides.”

A long silence hung on tenterhooks between the two of them, weighted by a Faustian price for an invaluable opportunity. “If you can restore the Unimatrix to bodies, we will guide your blades to the Collective.”

Tanek parted his lips to refute the suggestion but found his tongue unwilling to support him. Instead he turned, departing the conversation to return to his office, where darkened corners remained filled with brooding sorrow.

Alone in the curving conference room Aramook smiled as the small ship turned, filling the room with the light of a nearby star as it came about to it’s new course towards Starbase 72; and then he wept. Infinite tears of joy, flowing unbounded in the light of a new dawn for Unimatrix Zero.