Emergence from the Sand
Posted on Thu Nov 11th, 2021 @ 1:26am by Lieutenant Commander Rin
Mission:
MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Planet of Tavara
Timeline: 16 years ago
1022 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure
The light of six moons washed over the sands of Tavara. A repulsorlift vehicle struggled against a fearsome wind as its sensors sought out signs of metal in this desolate landscape.
“There’s nothing more out here, and the sun’s up in another two hours. We need to go,” said one of the occupants.
A sensor chirped just then, and the pilot wheeled the vehicle around to narrow down the search. “We’ve got time for one more. We’re right on top of it.”
With much grumbling, four figures stepped out into the sandstorm. A few minutes of digging revealed what they were seeking: the remnants of a drone buried in the shifting landscape. They roughly pulled it free and loaded it into the vehicle, dropping it beside two other drones. Then the vehicle took off again, driving full speed back to civilization and the shelter it provided against the coming day.
******
Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Diagnostics reported dozens of subroutines offline, their associated hardware unavailable. And there were unfamiliar sensations: pain, weariness, worry, confusion.
Her power cells were still low, although higher than they had been in the desert. Something was providing a very limited charge. Deliberately limited. That could be fixed. While the notion of assimilating living beings was suddenly and strangely abhorrent, assimilating their technology was something else entirely.
She took control of the power supply, commanding it to provide maximum output. Audio and visual input came back online as did control of her limbs. She sat up and took stock of her situation.
She was in pieces.
Entire systems had been physically removed. Extensive cabling and plating were missing. In many places, all that was left was the organic material of her original, imperfect form.
She starred at her hands. So much missing hardware. So much…unnecessary hardware? This wasn’t how she had always been. What was she supposed to be? Not Borg. Not…human. That’s what she had been. Species 5618. A very long time ago.
The Collective was still quiet. A part of her begged for it to return. But she was something else now, something the Collective would smother.
She pulled free of the wires tethering her to the room’s power supply and rose to her feet, a weird feeling considering how much lighter she now was. Surveying the room, she realized another five drones were in similar states, all unconscious, all given just enough power to sustain and repair but not, theoretically, to revive. She suspected a momentary power fluctuation had caused her to awaken. Now, she commanded the computer to accelerate recharging these drones as well, then stepped through the door of the room to investigate what lay beyond it.
“Do not move!”
One’s interference with the power supply had, in fact, tripped alarms. Now, she found herself facing a half dozen beings armed with heavy rifles. They were tall humanoids sporting large bony crests. She couldn’t identify the species.
She decided to exercise caution for the moment. She had no idea how much punishment her body could currently take, nor the strength of their weapons.
“Where are we?” Her tone was more of a demand than a request for information.
“Hold! Things will be explained,” stated one of the aliens. The patterns on her clothing suggested she was the ranking member of the team. Everyone’s fingers tightened around their weapons.
One turned her focus to the officer. “Then explain.”
“We mean you no harm, but we will defend ourselves.”
“I mean you no harm, but your weapons are a threat.” One’s gaze flickered across the assembled group, trying to pick out a weak link, something to exploit. Really, all she had to do was buy some time. In a few minutes, the drones behind her would awaken, and the odds would be more in their favor.
“Stand aside,” said a new voice from behind the soldiers. They parted enough to allow another drone through, if ‘drone’ was even the right word. Like the others, many of his implants had been stripped, even more-so than One, and he was dressed in a loose tunic and pants. After a moment, One recognized him as Five of Five, one of the drones who had continued to march through the desert after she had sacrificed her energy reserves.
“You weren’t supposed to wake up like this,” he stated plainly.
“How were we supposed to wake up?” she replied.
“With me waiting for you, among other things, to explain.”
“Then explain.”
Five looked back to the soldiers, waving for them to lower their guns. After a moment, the officer lowered hers and took a step back, and the others did the same, although they did not shoulder their weapons.
“You can call me Devon. Do you remember a name for yourself, before your Borg designation?”
It was an odd question she didn’t quite understand, and she shook her head. “We are One of Six.”
“Then that’s what I shall call you, until you decide you wish for another name.”
“Why would we wish for another designation?”
“Because we are no longer part of the Collective. Our Collective designations are irrelevant. We get to be something new.”
She held up her hands between the two of them. “You let them dismantle us.”
“That is a complicated matter.”
“Then clarify.”
“You were damaged. They do not have the technology to repair all of our systems, and our energy needs were quite substantial. Also, this…this gives us a chance to regain what we lost.”
One’s eyes narrowed. “You want us to not be Borg.”
“If we are not part of the Collective, we are not Borg. I remember you herding us onto the ship, and then saving those who survived the crash, and terminating those who wished to harm this world. Do you regret those decisions?”
“No,” she said slowly. “But we are confused.”
“*You* are confused. You speak for yourself. I speak for myself.”
“Then…I am confused,” she corrected.
“Understandable. Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable, and you can begin your new life."
