All but two service remotes have been destroyed across the station.

Can not hear the Collective over the subspace turbulence generated by tricobalt-infused stellar prominence.

Completion of mission is priority.

Starfleet forces likely to mount an attack – 95% certainty.

Likely to attempt physical altercation.

Assimilate if possible, eliminate if required.

“Still think this is a bad idea.” Amber’s continued supplying of her opinion wasn’t to voice the opinion, but nervous chatter to fill the silence.

“Have a better one Ensign?” Adelinde asked, with only a little impatience in her voice. Just enough to convey the message of ‘that’s enough’.

“No ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”

“No harm, no foul,” Mitchell chipped in. “Just rein it in.” He’d found a pair of welder’s goggles in Engineering and had them sitting on his forehead, ready to cover his eyes when he started cutting. “We’re all nervous here.”

The hallway leading towards the computer core was completely unlit, not even the emergency lights making a showing. There had been no sign of further damage down the hall and in the light of numerous shoulder-mounted lights, the only signs of anything off were the heat discolourations on the door into the computer core – evidence of the welding done to secure the door after Lin and Brek’s first foray.

“The door hasn’t been opened,” Brek said, answering the next question before it was asked. But not the one after that.

“How can you tell?” Rosa asked.

“The door is still closed. I suspect cutting it open would prevent it from closing so uniformly again, so I surmise it hasn’t been opened.”

“Fair enough.”

Silence settled over the team as they stood at the atrium end of the corridor, peering into the darkness. The atrium itself was awash with colour now, the shields of CR-718 flicking and flaring gently as the plasma wave of the stellar prominence washed over the station. Even without Borg adaptations the shields would have held, if just a lot closer to the core, sacrificing the arrays for the safety of the crew. But extended as they were there was more shield to react, more to flare as a gossamer shield between the station and the local star and therefore more light to bath the station in greens and blues of reacting shields.

A minute passed, the second was growing old and then Mitchell stepped forward. “That’s enough waiting, let’s do this.”

As a block they proceeded down the hall, Brek, Rosa and Amber checking the few side doors and still scanning for any wayward holoemitters that might trouble them. One, two, three phaser blasts lightened the hall briefly as emitters were blown out before they ever had a chance. And then they turned to face back the way the team came, to cover against any unforeseen attack from their rear as Mitchell brought life to the plasma cutter and started on the door.

There was no attempt at opening it normally, no trying to override it, just straight into cutting through the metal with a torch intended for cutting exterior hull panels apart. The flick of light failed to brighten the hallway, blocked by Mitchell and Lin as they stood closer to the door. “This is going to take a minute.”

“Take your time,” Lin replied, shielding her eyes from the torch with her hand, not having found a spare set of goggles like Mitchell had. “Make it big enough for us to retreat in a hurry if we have to.”

He merely nodded, having already started near the edge of the door as he cut.

Hissing plasma eventually gave way to the ear-splitting CLANG! as the door fell inwards, its edges still glowing white hot as it hit the floor.

Lin was the first through the door, past Mitchell as he stepped aside while setting the cutting torch down, no longer needed. Rosa turned from her guard, dropping her phaser and drawing the sword she’d been given, following Lin in before Mitchell followed, leaving Brek and Amber to guard the door.

Down past a dozen rows of computer banks, their faces covered in blinking isolinear chips, the lone Borg drone of CR-718 stood, its left arm raised. “Resistance is futile,” it announced, before firing its plasma weapon.

The three Starfleet officers dove for cover, disappearing into the racks on either side, Mitchell and Lin on one side, Rosa on the other. “Rosa, keep up with us on your side,” Mitchell ordered before they all proceeded to close with the drone down either side of the main walkway. A lance of phaser fire went down that path as either Amber or Brek was at least making an attempt at distracting the drone. The volley of fire that then continued confirmed Amber’s shooting.

And then the fire stopped. “It’s moved left!” Amber shouted.

“Our side,” Mitchell said quietly. “It’ll be waiting between pathways I bet so we can’t see it right now.”

“I need a bit more space,” Lin answered, then ducked off to get another bank away from the main path.

She ran three, four quick intersections at a time, all to get down the dozen rows and on the same line as the drone. As she did, whipping around the corner, she dropped the spear tip downwards, aiming for the drone that should have been a dozen meters in front of her.

And it wasn’t.

“I’ve lost it!” she shouted.

“No eyes!” came rapid responses from Mitchell and Rosa.

They all trained for this, practised disappearing foes. Regroup, back-to-back, and consider options for going forward. As she moved, slowly and carefully for the main path, in sight of the door and the two still at the door, she stopped just short of the one intersection she had to cross. Something tugged at her senses and as approached the intersection, spear tip out in front of her by over a metre, she stopped.

The drone’s right hand snapped out from around the corner snake-like, grabbing the haft of the spear just at the base of the spearhead and wrenching it, pulling her forward. She let out a cry, in frustration and to alert Rosa and Mitchell where she was.

As she caught herself, just short of the drone, its other arm snaked out, the weapon there not at the ready, but the assimilation tubules already snaking forward. “You will be assimilated,” it said with zero emotion in its voice.

The arm, instead of making it to Lin’s throat, was deflected downwards and sideways, towards Lin’s chest but just far enough away to avoid contact. Rosa’s appearance had come out of nowhere, swinging the sword she wielded with all her might. It bit into the armour on the drone’s arm but failed to make much of a dent, imparting kinetic energy at least and saving Lin. For now.

The drone’s attention shifted to Rosa and the deflected arm came swinging back at her with force, slamming into her and sending her sprawling backwards into a computer bank. Chips squealed with complaint and some gave off death throws as forces not meant for delicate computers fell upon them. Rosa slumped slightly, finding her feet and stepping sideways, opening the distance again.

But the drone’s attention had once more shifted to Lin as she attempted to pull the spear loose.  Its grip was like a vice, its arm might as well have been a statue’s for how little it moved or seemed to even notice her attempts. “Resistance is futile,” the drone declared once more. “You will be assimilated.”

Mitchell’s attack Lin had heard coming. His footfalls, even on the carpeted floor of the older station, were much heavier than Rosa’s. He didn’t fire his phaser but used it as the most useful thing it was right now – a club. The butt came down hard on the drone’s hand holding the spear. Once, twice, a third time. Lin could feel the impacts up the spear’s haft and felt the loosening of the drone’s grip. It might feel pain, but it could only take so much physical abuse after all.

“Not today,” Mitchell growled as the drone finally let go and turned on him, its good hand grabbing at his neck as it turned on him. Its strength on full display, the drone picked him up by this throat and then rapidly tossed him into one of the many banks nearby, head first. While Rosa had been only slightly stunned by her flight, Mitchell was more so, falling to the floor, trying to gather himself up and then slumping to the ground in defeat, blood pouring down one side of his face.

 But it had been enough of a distraction for Lin. Three steps backwards, the spear levelled at the drone, her grip adjusted just slightly and she charged with a cry. Probably the most expressive most people had ever actually seen her. The spear tip hit the drone’s arm and much like the sword failed to leave much of an impression.

At first.

It slid along the carapace until it hit a bump, found purchase and was unable to move any further. Pressure built up in milliseconds and eventually the spear’s tip pushed through armour, the leaves of the spearhead pushing aside armour as the blade snuck into the flesh underneath. The drone’s back arched in pain momentarily. It tried to turn, to face Lin, but then suddenly crumpled to one side as Rosa re-entered the fray, coming in low and swinging at the back of the drone’s left leg.

As it hit the floor, lights started to fade on its exposed Borg circuitry. “You…will…be…”

Lin stepped on the drone’s torso, wrenched the spear free and just looked at the face of the drone for a moment as it tried to say its last words. “Go to hell,” she growled and then plunged the spear straight into the centre of its chest, ending its existence.