No, stop, Seven thought, but was unable to find her voice.
The fog behind the wall was now beginning to swirl as well. When it cleared, it revealed a vast, rocky plain of dark-red earth and jet-black rocks beneath a night sky. High above, distant stars cast the faintest of illumination on the scene.
A high-pitched tone sounded all around them, followed by a series of clicks and scratches. Seven felt suddenly light-headed as sweat began to pour down her face. She knew that sound well, a long-banished nightmare.
The scene began to move, as if the viewer were now walking through the barren landscape. A slow turn to the left, then the right, revealed nothing dissimilar as far as the eye could see.
Another series of mechanized grunts and rapid clicks echoed over the plain.
One of two, primary adjunct to submatrix six three nine assessing, Seven translated automatically.
“What are we looking at, Devi?” O’Donnell asked.
“I can’t say for sure, but I would be willing to bet that this was the first recorded moments of Species 001 setting foot on the planet,” she replied.
A quick overlay of unfamiliar symbols suddenly filled the scene, much like the data scrolling over Seven’s faceplate.
Suddenly, a series of quick, loud lower tones, reminiscent of an alarm klaxon, began.
Two of two under attack. Assess and repair, assess and repair, Seven heard with absolute clarity.
The view shifted with disorienting jumps, the movement no longer steady and assured. It came to rest on a figure kneeling on the ground.
“What the…?” Patel said.
The figure was clothed in black from the neck down. Black tubules were wound around its torso. Its head was covered with a black helmet, broken around a single eye, as well as the nose and mouth, revealing sickly, pale green flesh.
More jumpy motion as the individual recording this encounter moved quickly toward the kneeling figure. It appeared to have touched one of the black rocks and where it did, the rock had become liquid, running up its arm.
It tried to pull away, and then made the mistake of attempting to remove the viscous fluid with its other arm. Unfortunately, that arm did not terminate in a hand. Instead, it ended in a pair of black pincers. Seven watched, nauseated, as the victim attempted to sever its arm at the shoulder, but the fluid moved much too quickly for that.
Its face turned now toward the viewer, the victim’s agonized screams could be assumed, but not heard, except as the constant alarm klaxon. Seven heard the warning shift to a new command—termination indicated.
Another arm was raised, now by the viewer, and from the mechanical appendage at its end, a bright green beam of light struck the victim’s arm. This had the effect of slowing but not stopping the fluid’s motion.
The view then shifted down to the ground. More bright flashes of warning visible only to the viewer as it realized it was standing in a pool of the liquid. Soon, it, too, began to be consumed.
Seven stumbled toward the alcove and grasped the sphere with both hands.
“Seven?” Patel said urgently, moving toward her, even as O’Donnell remained transfixed by the horrors still unfolding on the planet’s surface thousands of years ago.
“No,” Seven said as she removed it from its place, tossing it onto the deck, where it rolled a few meters before coming to rest. The scene on the wall and the figure in the column abruptly vanished. Only once they were gone did Seven allow her feet to give up supporting her, opting to rest on her knees instead.
No, no, no, no, she repeated to herself.
The next thing she knew, Patel and O’Donnell had come to rest beside her, urgently peering into her helmet.
“We should get her back to the ship immediately,” Patel was saying.
“Give her a minute,” O’Donnell said. “It’s okay, Seven. Just breathe. They’re gone. They’re not here anymore. Those were nothing but ghosts.”
“Species 001,” Seven began, unable to take a full breath.
“I know,” he said. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? I’m actually surprised it didn’t occur to any of us until now—Species this and species that.”
“Species 001 was…” Patel said, but she, too, trailed off.
“Was the Borg, yes,” O’Donnell confirmed.
VESTA
Admiral Kathryn Janeway hadn’t willingly donned an EV suit in years. But this she might just have to see in person.
When she had first accepted command of the Full Circle Fleet, she had received a briefing on the Borg invasion of the Alpha Quadrant and the subsequent actions of the Caeliar, the species that had unwittingly spawned and eventually absorbed the Collective into its gestalt. Once this had been complete, the Caeliar, now substantially larger than it had been before, departed the galaxy for parts unknown. The overriding mission statement of Janeway’s fleet was to confirm that the Caeliar had spoken the truth and that they and the Borg were no longer present in the Milky Way Galaxy.
What Commander O’Donnell’s team had discovered beneath the surface of DK-1116 was evidence that humanity’s understanding of the Borg and its history remained woefully inadequate.
O’Donnell seemed to be no worse for wear a few hours after his away mission, but Seven sat stony and silent at the end of the briefing room’s table beside Patel, who was equally staid. Captains Chakotay and Farkas, along with Counselor Cambridge, completed the group. Cambridge glanced toward Seven regularly, his concern obvious.
“It makes perfect sense,” O’Donnell said, once he and Patel had completed their initial report. “We’ve always known this was once Borg space. They did find the planet and they did try to assimilate it. But they failed.”
“The question is, Commander, what happened next?” Janeway said. “One of the most comforting things about the Borg was their somewhat binary world view. Anything they encountered was either added to their perfection through assimilation or destroyed. Either way, it ceased to exist.”
“There must have been other options,” Cambridge said. “We
