Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy

by Kirsten Beyer

  “The voice … it has changed.”

  Seven of Nine, hurry.

  Seven quickly pushed herself off the biobed and moved to the door of the examination room.

  Seven of Nine.

  The voice seemed louder in her head, as if somehow she had stepped closer to it.

  “But that’s impossible,” Seven murmured.

  “Seven, tell me what’s happening,” the Doctor requested more urgently.

  “I don’t know,” Seven heard herself reply.

  The Doctor’s concern for Seven was heightened as she moved quickly from the exam room and returned to the main medical bay. There, he was surprised to find Lieutenant Vorik consulting with Meegan. Atop the large diagnostic station, a solid metal canister was bathed in a soft, blue light, clearly undergoing analysis.

  Seven was drawn to it, her eyes wide as she slowly approached it. She continued to mutter softly under her breath. At first the Doctor assumed that she was carrying on a conversation with the voice, but he couldn’t imagine what she had meant when she said that something had changed.

  As Seven was engrossed with the canister, the Doctor readied a quick hypospray in the event this troubling situation grew dangerous to her. He had left the inhibitor in the examination room but didn’t dare go to retrieve it.

  “Lieutenant Vorik, what is that canister?” the Doctor demanded.

  Unperturbed, Vorik replied, “It was sent to Voyager by the Indign. I have been searching for a way to open it. My scans have revealed a hollow core and a locking mechanism that I cannot access.”

  “Why have you brought it here?” the Doctor asked, not tearing his eyes away from Seven.

  “I have detected faint neural energy within. Galen’s bioscanners are the most advanced in the fleet and they should provide me with a more definitive analysis.”

  The Doctor couldn’t fault Vorik’s logic.

  Seven did not seem to have heard their exchange. She remained focused exclusively on the canister. Suddenly, she disengaged the diagnostic. Vorik began to protest.

  The Doctor stopped him. Moving to Seven’s side he asked, “What are you doing?”

  Seven didn’t answer. Instead, she picked up the canister by its ends and slowly began to turn those ends in opposite directions. There was clearly purpose to her actions, yet she gave the impression of a sleepwalker.

  “I have already made numerous attempts to open it in that manner,” Vorik pointed out. “It is not possible.”

  With a click and a hiss, one end popped open.

  “Apparently it is,” the Doctor corrected him as a blinding white light enveloped the medical bay.

  According to his internal self-diagnostic subroutines, two point one six minutes had elapsed since the Doctor had recorded his impressions of the light. He had not been offline during that time. All indications were that his program had been functioning normally.

  It was impossible to understand, then, why he had absolutely no memory of those two point one six minutes.

  Much as he wished to further analyze this mysterious turn of events, the scene that met his eyes demanded his immediate attention. Seven and Vorik lay unmoving on the floor, clearly unconscious. Meegan stood at the far side of the room, studying the main control panel.

  “Meegan,” he said quickly, “this is an emergency. Why aren’t you tending to our patients?”

  Meegan made no move to turn or answer him.

  “Meegan!” he called again as he grabbed the nearest tricorder and quickly scanned both Seven and Vorik. To his relief, both showed strong life signs and normal neural activity. They would awaken on their own shortly. As he debated formulating a light stimulant to speed this process along, Meegan finally turned and stared at him with cold, merciless eyes.

  “I have come,” she said imperiously.

  “Yes, you reported for duty several hours ago,” he chided her. “And since your shift hasn’t ended, I’d appreciate your help.”

  “I have come,” Meegan repeated.

  The Doctor suddenly realized that nothing in his memory files for Meegan could account for her present, odd behavior. He stepped gingerly toward her, raising his tricorder as he went.

  “Meegan, are you feeling all right?” he asked.

  “Meegan is gone,” she replied. “I have come to speak for the Indign.”

  200 KIRSTEN BEYER

  Admiral Batiste felt his shoulders stiffen as “Meegan” was escorted into Voyager’s conference room, flanked by two security officers. She had been entirely cooperative during her transport from the Galen . Upon entering the room she paused and inspected the officers present: Captain Eden, Commander Paris, Lieutenant Kim, and Counselor Cambridge. Trailing behind “Meegan” were the Doctor and Seven of Nine.

  “Meegan” certainly looked harmless. Slight of frame with an open, heart-shaped face and wide brown eyes, she looked lost. In Batiste’s experience, anything that could possess the body and mind of another sentient creature was both dangerous and unpredictable. The fleet had been at Yellow Alert since the Doctor notified Commander Glenn of the Indign’s arrival.

  “Meegan” was offered the seat between him and Eden. She accepted it with a gracious, almost regal nod, and sat with her back ramrod straight and her hands clasped in her lap. The admiral had already instructed Lieutenant Lasren at Ops to monitor the meeting from the bridge and use the internal sensors to gather as much information about “Meegan” as possible. Grateful that the Indign’s long silence was about to be broken, Batiste firmly believed the best course would be trust, but verification.

  Setting his misgivings aside, Batiste began as amiably as possible, “Welcome aboard the Federation Starship Voyager . I am Admiral Willem Batiste. I appreciate your willingness to speak with us. However, I am concerned about the officer you have compromised to facilitate this communication.”

  “Meegan” replied in a flat, unaffected tone. “The organism currently serving as a conduit for our communication is unharmed. When our communication has ceased, she will be restored to you.”

  Batiste said with a hint of warning in his voice, “Our people place great value on the life of each individual, and her loss would pain us greatly.”

  “There is no cause for concern in that regard, Admiral Willem Batiste.”

  Eden was favoring him with a look he knew all too well. A stranger might have interpreted it as intense curiosity. He understood it as an instruction: Get on with it already .

  “We are curious to understand anything you can tell us of your people. Our observations have been limited, but we gather that you live as a cooperative species.”

  “The relationship that has developed among the Indign began thousands of years ago, when the Neyser first entered this system. They discovered the healing properties of the Greech and sought their assistance, but this process was complicated by their inability to communicate with one another. The darkness between them ended, however, when two species native to this system, the Imalak and the Neela, became curious about the Neyser and Greech. The Imalak were able to understand the Greech, and the Neyser modified the Neela to translate for them. Eventually, the Irsk and Dulaph sought to join our collective and were also modified to do so. We are now as we have been for a hundred generations. Together we have built a society worthy of the respect of our betters and terrifying to our inferiors. We exist in peace and will resist anything that seeks to disturb that peace.”

  “You paint a remarkable picture,” Batiste said sincerely. “The Federation has found that when disparate species encounter one another, the road to peaceful coexistence is filled with conflict as one species seeks to assert dominance over the others. I am glad to hear that you have avoided this, though I am curious about one thing.”

  “Ask your question,” Meegan replied.

  “When you say that the Neela, the Irsk, and the Dulaph were modified, were they given a choice in the matter?”

  “Of course. They submitted themselves to the Neyser, who long ago mastered
the science of genetic manipulation. It was their desire to join with us. As you value the life of the individual, we value the spirit of cooperation. It has served us well, and allowed us to evolve. We have learned that this is the only path to greatness, as shown by those who have become the essence of cooperation and the dominant species of our galaxy.”

  Batiste felt his cheeks growing hot.

  “You are referring to the Borg.”

  “The Borg Collective,” Meegan replied, adding emphasis.

  “Have you had significant contact with the Borg?”

  “They are our betters in every way. We hope one day to be worthy of their attention. Until then, we will strive to emulate and please them in all that we do.”

  “We discovered a ship not far from here. Was that intended as an offering for the Borg?”

  “On their behalf, we have cleansed the surrounding sectors of all life-forms that are hostile to the Indign and inferior to the Borg. They accept our offerings. They have never attempted to conquer us. It is a mutually beneficial relationship and proper between two species when one can only aspire to the greatness already achieved by the other.”

  “When we neared your system, we encountered one of your vessels firing upon a shuttle,” Eden interjected.

  “A drone ship, designed to scan for life-forms and disable and capture them. This encounter and subsequent passive scans have led us to conclude that your vessels are tactically superior to ours and we understand that you did not destroy the drone intentionally. We invite you to submit yourselves to the Borg and join in the Collective. If you are judged worthy, it will be cause for celebration among your people. We believe that though your social development is obviously lacking, your technological achievements might make the Borg willing to overlook your other shortcomings.”

  “We would never consider such a thing,” Batiste replied sharply.

  “That is unfortunate for you,” Meegan replied sadly. “But each species develops at its own pace, and perhaps, despite your reluctance, the Borg will take pity on you, nonetheless. If not, we simply ask that you depart this system in peace.”

  “May I ask how long it has been since you last detected any Borg activity in this area?” Eden asked.

  “It can be many years between detection of their vessels. The last occurred more than four years ago.”

  Batiste shot Eden a harsh glance, but she pressed on, “The Federation does share one characteristic with the Indign. It is a community of hundreds of species who have learned to live in peace and to work together for our mutual benefit.”

  “I see,” Meegan replied with a faint smile. “Like us, you work diligently to demonstrate your readiness for Collective existence.”

  “No,” Eden corrected her gently. “Once one has joined the Borg, all traces of one’s individuality are lost.”

  “A small sacrifice to make,” Meegan noted.

  “But one that is too great for us. Do the individual members of an Indign cooperative submit their individuality to a collective will?”

  “The Indign function as a cooperative. Although there is mutual benefit and some necessity in our existence, each Neyser, Greech, Imalak, Neela, Irsk, and Dulaph who joins a cooperative does so of their own volition. After many years, a cooperative may disassemble and those who were once joined are free to live out their lives as individuals. We have not yet mastered the seamless harmony of the Borg, though we do aspire to it.”

  “You’ve said that you wish for us to depart the system,” Batiste said, reasserting his control of the meeting. “Before we do so, would you be willing to discuss the possibility of a trade agreement? The third planet of your system contains a natural resource we call benamite. Would you consider sharing some of this benamite with us, in exchange for something we might be able to offer you?”

  “No exchange will be possible,” Meegan retorted sharply. “We are self-sufficient and produce all that we require to live. There is nothing you could offer us that would be of equal value.”

  Eden said, “I am sorry to hear that. We will, of course, respect your wishes. Even so, if, in the future, you should encounter another Federation ship, we hope you would consider them a friend. We would appreciate the opportunity to speak further with you at any time.”

  “That will not be possible. We do not make a habit of establishing communications with species that are not Indign. All communication from this point forward is terminated.”

  With that, Meegan’s head fell forward. The Doctor hurried to her side and scanned her. After a few moments, the girl lifted her head and her eyes widened in shock at finding herself the center of attention among the senior officers.

  “What happened?” she asked, puzzled.

  “It will require some explanation,” the Doctor assured her. “Admiral, with your permission, I would like to take her to sickbay for a thorough examination.”

  “Of course,” Batiste said with a nod before turning to the others to add, “Return to your posts. Captain Eden, please remain.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Seven found herself automatically directing her steps toward Chakotay’s cabin after the meeting. As soon as the door had shut behind her, Chakotay immediately moved toward the replicator and ordered a pot of hot tea that he then dispensed for both of them.

  “Are you all right, Seven?” Chakotay asked as soon as they were both settled.

  “In what respect?” she asked.

  “I understand you lost consciousness after you somehow managed to open the Indign canister.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” Seven demanded.

  “The Doctor. He was on his way to check on his medical assistant, who I understand also had quite an interesting afternoon.”

  Chakotay paused for a moment but when she remained silent, prodded gently, “The Doctor said there was some confusion before you opened the canister.”

  Seven nodded slowly. “An adequate characterization. He had briefly removed my neural inhibitor to adjust it and at first, as usual, I heard the voice.” She faltered a little but continued, “But then I heard something else.”

  “What did you hear?” Chakotay asked delicately.

  “It called to me.”

  “The canister?”

  “The consciousness within,” Seven replied. “It called me by name.”

  “Just out of curiosity, which name?” Chakotay asked.

  “It called me Seven.”

  “Did it say anything else?”

  “Not that I recall. There was urgency in it, unlike the voice. It demanded my attention, if that makes sense.”

  “Did it tell you how to open the canister?”

  “One moment I had no idea what was happening, only that I must go to it. And the next, I knew exactly what to do to free it.”

  “It wanted freedom?” Chakotay inquired warily.

  “Yes,” Seven decided. “It demanded freedom. I don’t think I could have refused, even if I’d wanted to.”

  “That’s some communications array the Indign have devised,” he observed.

  “Indeed,” Seven agreed.

  Chakotay made his next point as gently as possible. “You’ve never been even a little telepathic, apart from your time with the Borg?”

  “No.”

  “So I guess what we need to figure out is if this was a result of the Caeliar transformation, or something that was forced upon you by the Indign?”

  “They didn’t hesitate to force that consciousness on Ensign McDonnell,” Seven replied.

  “It’s obvious they don’t share our respect for personal space, and given the way they live, why would they? Maybe they didn’t realize how rude they were being,” Chakotay suggested.

  “I think it is far more likely that the consciousness contained within the canister was searching for an appropriate host and must have initially found a way to interface with my catoms.”

  “If that’s true, we’re going to need to redouble our efforts to help you control them.
We can’t have you taken unawares like this by hostile creatures on a regular basis,” Chakotay insisted.

  “They are more than hostile. They are monsters,” Seven replied flatly.

  Chakotay’s eyes widened. “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

  “They revere the Borg, while understanding nothing of the Borg’s nature. They actually desire assimilation, and have sentenced countless thousands to that fate by offering them to the Borg. At the very least, Captain Eden should destroy their ability to continue to do so.”

  “How would that make her different from the Borg?” Chakotay asked softly. Before Seven could answer, Chakotay went on, “I’ve never heard you speak about the Borg this way. Why is it so upsetting to find a culture that honors the Borg, when you seem reluctant as well to part with your Borg nature as the voice seems to insist?”

  Seven stared at him, defiantly. “I am nothing like the Indign. I was Borg. I see them for what they were. I comprehend the magnitude of their wrongs. I do not honor them. I would never seek to emulate their behavior. What I find it difficult to disregard is the knowledge I attained through the Collective. Who would benefit were I to choose ignorance? Were I to become Annika Hansen, simply because the Caeliar seem to demand it … while offering me nothing but a glimpse of how much I have yet to learn. What hope would I ever have of …” she trailed off.

  “Of what?” Chakotay asked, placing a gentle hand on her knee.

  Seven’s eyes began to glisten and her chin quivered as she struggled to hold back her emotions.

  “Of being worthy of the gestalt?” Chakotay asked kindly. “It is possible you share more with the Indign than you are willing to accept, Seven. Perhaps that is what the Indign consciousness sensed when it first contacted you.”

  “Doubtful,” Seven insisted.

  “Maybe we don’t know enough about the Indign yet to make that leap. Either way, I think it is more important than ever that you learn to control your catoms.”

  “How?” Seven demanded.

  “Practice,” Chakotay suggested.

  Eden couldn’t believe what she was hearing.