Tonya D. Price
Inside his temperature controlled space helmet, a single bead of perspiration rolled slowly down Lieutenant Hawk’s forehead as he crouched low against the outside of the Enterprise hull, no more than twenty feet away from five Borg drones. He ignored the distraction as he worked on the deflector dish maglock controls just as he ignored the suspicious looks of the drones as they methodically assembled their interplexing beacon. With each breath Hawk took, a thin mist formed only to be cleared immediately by his air filtration system. Locked in a battle against time, racing against the efficiency of the Borg, his fingers stabbed furiously at the panel before him as he entered the code to release the maglock. He shot a quick glance at the drones while counting the seconds for the magnetic constrictors to disengage. The red panel message flashed to white, “Maglock Servo Control Active.” Now all he had to do was unlock the moorings by moving the heavy hydraulic lever to the open position. Hawk tugged upward on the circular disk. It rose halfway then fell back into place.
“Hawk!”
Captain Picard’s cry of warning could only mean a drone was approaching, but Hawk ignored the call. Just a few more seconds was all he needed and he would be finished. He wouldn’t let his captain down by quitting now when he was so close to success. He could do it. He had to do it. If the Borg had already adapted to the phaser modulation he might not get another chance at manually opening this maglock. Taking a deep breath, Hawk braced himself for another attempt but he was stopped short by the vicelike hand that clamped down on his collarbone with such force that his knees crumbled underneath him from the pain. Like prey caught in the claws of a giant beetle, he cowered motionless, mesmerized by the sight of the two gleaming pincers advancing toward his neck. Fighting the hypnotic effect of the menacing prongs Hawk roused himself to action, twisting furiously, kicking and thrashing as he tried to escape the poisonous spears. Unable to free himself Hawk’s eyes desperately beseeched those of the drone who at one time had been a human male like himself, but he found nothing in those two blank spheres. No consciousness, no compassion, no comprehension on the drone’s part of the horror it was about to inflict.
As the twin needles pricked his skin Hawk felt the warmth of the sedative flow through his veins. His own heart betrayed him as it pumped the venom farther through his body in a seductive caress which left him light-headed, but lucid. He struggled to reach the miniature phaser he had hidden in a pocket above the knee of his spacesuit, but he found his muscles no longer obeyed him.
There was no pain. He hadn’t counted on that. He heard a faint buzzing in his head that grew in volume to a hum. It was a strangely comforting sound, holding the promise of order. Even more than order, of salvation. Individual words began to emerge from the low murmur. Gradually the words coalesced into sentences.
Initiation program. Begin. End line.
Drone identification subroutine initiation. Drone id equal 1701dashEspace587M. End line.
Process. End line.
Subroutine begin.
1701dashEspace587M was Hawk’s new name. He had no idea how he knew it was his new name, but the fact that he could question how he knew he had a new name was his first clue that he wasn’t assimilated—yet. Below the collective’s programming instructions, a thought arose. It was his thought. His alone. I’m not yet a Borg, he told himself.
The Borg collective knew his thoughts. A loud warning sounded in his head, Resistance is futile.
With the innocence of a child he asked, “Who is resisting?”
You will be assimilated, the collective replied.
“But I’m not assimilated yet,” Hawk thought.
The drone hoisted the Enterprise officer above his shoulder, suspending Hawk horizontally as would a slave bearing a heavy load. Hawk had no desire to be delivered to the hive where his body would be mutilated, where Borg implants would be attached to his limbs, where his soul would be trapped forever beneath a zombie’s facade. In the black abyss above him he caught sight of the Moon, a fellow prisoner, trapped by the Earth in its lonely orbit. A silent observer to his plight, it bobbed up and down as if shaking its great white head at his defeat. His defeat. He had never been defeated. He had suffered setbacks before but never defeat, because he had never accepted defeat. There was always a way to turn defeat into victory.
They were headed toward the air lock, the same air lock he, Picard, and Worf had emerged from when this nightmare had begun. At the time he hadn’t thought to fear the Borg. It seemed arrogant in hindsight, but he had assumed he could protect himself from the Borg. He had underestimated them and now he would pay for the overconfidence that had led him to take those extra few seconds. Extra seconds that had led to his capture. His punishment would be assimilation, his soul eternally caught in limbo neither dead nor alive, his body turned into a weapon against everything he had cherished during his life. A fate worse than death, Commander Riker had quoted Picard as saying once. But he wasn’t assimilated yet, maybe there was still a chance to escape. Picard had resisted. Picard had been rescued. If Picard could do it, he could do it.
Resistance is futile, the collective repeated. Hawk then felt his flesh tear as something sprang from his temple like a ghastly weed. Its roots took hold beneath his skin and reached out only to curve back on itself and metamorphose into tiny clasps which burrowed into his cheek. You will become as we are.
“What are they doing to me?” he thought.
Miniature nanites contained within the chemical that was injected into you have constructed a device for assessing your environment, superior to your limited human senses.
In his mind a mental picture formed of what he must look like with the miniature sensorscope protruding from his face. His skin itched where the device had spouted, but he was unable to reach inside the helmet to dig out the invader.
Sensorscope initiation routine. Begin. End line.
The drone lowered Hawk to an upright position where he teetered on his own two feet. As he stood motionless he watched the drone activate his magnetic boots, securing him to the ship’s hull. The drone turned to open the air lock. This was his chance to escape. Hawk concentrated on moving, but his muscles didn’t even twitch. He thought of the phaser in his leg pocket, but he could not turn his head downward to see where it lay ready.
1701dashEspace587M forward. End line.
Hawk walked stiffly forward into the air lock chamber obeying the commands of the collective. Through his helmet he heard the muffled sound of the outer door closing. Air hissed as it filled the small chamber. When the pressure was equal to that of the ship, the inner doors parted and Hawk stepped inside. “It’s one of us,” a human voice shouted. “Get down, sir.” Strong hands clamped down on his forearm and threw him roughly to the ground.
Blinding white flashes of phaser fire lit the corridor as the drone was ambushed from all sides by a small platoon of security personnel. The drone’s protective shields went up, but he was outnumbered. Unprepared for such a massive assault the Borg’s shields could not protect him from every angle. Where the shields failed to appear, the phasers penetrated. Collapsing, the drone fell forward onto the floor next to Hawk. Opening his eyes, Hawk stared into the face of the drone who twitched convulsively. Then, for the briefest of moments, the life returned to the blank eyes. It seemed to Hawk that the drone was trying to say something. Its mouth trembled, then it died, a haunting look of relief on its ghoulish face.
Abort subroutine assimilation initiation program for 1701dash Espace587M. Confirm. End line.
Subroutine assimilation initiation program terminated. End line.
Initiate emergency assimilation program for 1701dashEspace 587M. Begin.
Emergency program begun.
From his position on the floor Hawk heard the collective’s instructions. He tried to speak to his former crewmates, to warn them, but no words escaped his lips. Gathered around him, pointing their phaser rifles at his chest, five members of the search platoon peered down at him. Hawk recognized the people he had served with for nearly a year as they stood arguing about what to do with him.
“Shoot him, he’s a Borg,” said a young ensign in a high-pitched voice that cracked as he spoke. His phaser rifle wobbled as he pointed it at Hawk’s chest. His eyes wild from the horrors of the day’s battles shifted between Hawk and the rest of the platoon, then back to Hawk.
“No. Hold your fire. It’s Lieutenant Hawk,” a strong voice announced. It was a commanding voice, one used to giving orders and having them obeyed. Hawk couldn’t make out the identity of the speaker until the Andorian security officer pushed the younger ensign out of the way.
A female ensign bent down, inspecting him. Her hands carelessly rested on her knees, throwing herself slightly off balance as she leaned forward to peer through the faceplate of his space helmet. “Poor bastard. Look at his face. He has a Borg implant. He’s been assimilated. Put him out of his misery.”
“Borgs don’t wear SEWG spacesuits,” the older security officer said. Thoughtfully he ran a finger down one long, blue antenna, then continued, “Picard had a lot more implants than that when they brought him in. Let Doctor Crusher decide what to do with him.”
Entombed in his spacesuit Hawk tried to close his eyes, to avoid the stares of his shipmates, but the Borg controlled his eyes and the Borg decided to monitor the scene before him. He lay stretched out, immobile, lifeless, until he heard a voice order, “Move aside. Let me through.” It was Doctor Crusher’s voice. Dr. Crusher who had brought the dead back to life. Dr. Crusher who had saved Picard from the collective. Now she would save him as well. Her eyes greeted his and softened for a moment as she recognized the helmsman.
“Get back. Give me room to work here.” Impatiently, she pushed aside the phaser rifle that the young ensign was again pointing at Hawk’s head. “Nurse, I need a hypospray. He’s not fully assimilated yet. He still has a chance.”
A chance. He still had a chance. Dr. Crusher had said so.
Run emergency assimilation program.
Emergency assimilation program begun. 1701dashEspace587M escape. Report to the interplexing beacon. Stop Locutus.
Hawk’s legs and arms tingled as the feeling in his limbs returned. Crusher reached down to him. There was no way she could know the emergency assimilation program had started. Responding to his programming, Hawk’s previously paralyzed hand snatched the doctor’s arm and in one smooth motion viciously bent it behind her. Wrapping his other arm around her neck in a choke hold, he used her body as a shield allowing him to back into the air-lock chamber. The security team leveled their rifles at him in unison, but no one dared move with the doctor in the line of fire.
“I can help you, Hawk. Listen to me.” He felt Crusher relax in his arms. Her voice was steady, controlled. “I can save you the same way I saved the captain. Let me go. Let me help you.” Part of him heard her. Part of him believed her, but he had no control over that part.
Humanoid identified. Doctor Beverly Crusher, Chief Medical Officer. No injection device available. Assimilation not possible at this time. Injection not possible. Release prisoner. End line.
Proceed to beacon. Stop Locutus. End Instruction.
1701dashEspace587M shoved Dr. Crusher through the inner air-lock door into the ship corridor with such force she knocked down the big Andorian. 1701dashEspace587M hit the CLOSE DOOR button, then waited as the room depressurized. Turning around, he stepped through the outer hull door as soon as it opened. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, where the Borg had not penetrated, he begged, “Doctor! Help me! Save me too.”
Proceed to interplexing beacon. Await instructions.
1701dashEspace587M obeyed the collective.
Sabotage alert. Proceed to interplexing assembly location.
It was easier to move now that his body was controlled by the collective. His stride quicker than when he had been weighted down by biological reactions to the zero gravity. The sensorscope directed him toward the beacon construction site. At the perimeter of the inverted halfdome that held the deflector dish, 1701dashEspace587M awaited further instructions.
Initiate combat program.
Initiated.
Scan for Locutus.
Located.
Locutus was in view, bending over, straining to lift the remaining heavy maglock. It was the same lock Hawk had been working on when he had been captured.
1701dashEspace587M proceeded to Locutus’s location.
Surveying Locutus’s position, 1701dashEspace587M spotted the phaser rifle beside Locutus. It presented a problem.
Secure phaser rifle.
1701dashEspace587M placed his foot on the rifle just as Locutus instinctively reached for it. 1701dashEspace587M waited for instructions.
Verified.
Eliminate Locutus.
1701dashEspace587M seized Locutus by the shoulder, spun him around and looked Picard in the face. Drawing his tightened fist back 1701dashEspace587M hesitated 0.068 seconds. Plenty of time for the Borg to detect there was a problem.
Program resume. Eliminate Locutus.
Hawk tried to protest, but he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say.
Reinitiate combat program.
Reinitiated.
Automatically 1701dashEspace587M’s fist came forward, connecting with Locutus’s faceplate, cracking the transparent aluminum. The force sent the human crashing headfirst into the side of the ship.
Continue. Eliminate Locutus.
1701dashEspace587M jerked Locutus up, then slammed him down hard against the hull. With his foot raised in midair above Picard’s helmet Hawk froze again.
Resistance is futile. Resume combat program.
Light flashed in front of him, obscuring his view. He felt—pain. Hawk fell backward, staring down at the hole in his stomach. Dazed, he raised his eyes to where Commander Worf stood, his phaser rifle still leveled at Hawk.
Program terminated.
Hawk was free of the collective. Just as a sudden slap rouses a drunk from his stupor, the sudden shock of being shot released Hawk’s mind from the Borg’s control. Immediately, the collective fought back.
Initiation program. Begin. End line.
Drone identification subroutine initiation.
Hawk had only seconds to act as the Borg sought to reestablish their control. He tapped his forearm control pad deactivating his magnetic boots and simultaneously pushed off, tumbling into space.
Resistance is futile. You will be …
Silence followed. The Borg’s communication link died.
Free. As free as the legendary bird whose name he bore, Hawk soared away from his tormentors. Waves of pain enveloped him. He took one last look at the Enterprise as she orbited above the magnificent blue planet which had given him life. Then, his struggle over, he accepted the cold embrace of space, at peace with his private victory.