The hangover wasn’t nearly as good as he’d like it to be. Nothing like getting hit by that laser, anyway. Zefram Cochrane put his hands over his face, his mind trying to make sense of the last two days; it wasn’t doing a very good job. Dropping his left hand beside his bed, he blindly grabbed a bottle of … well, of something … and proceeded to open it. A strong, nearly nauseating stench filled his nostrils but he ignored it, well-practiced at putting the needs of his alcoholism over the needs of his stomach.

He felt like he needed to puke anyway. Might as well get that out of the way too.

One swing, then two was all he managed before his lungs forced him to stop so he could cough, his sides aching. Wrapping his unused arm around his ribcage, he pushed his head back into his pillow and groaned. He clearly had miscalculated the settings for the dampeners during the warp flight.

Staring up at the ceiling of his one room shack, his face slacked.

“Warp …” He sat up, the bottle of booze falling out his hand and to the floor, the glass remarkably not breaking. He had done it. He had flown. He had flown. It worked. Everything worked.

Dragging a hand across his face, he looked around his shack and found his hat dutifully tossed onto his nightstand. Fastening it on his head, he stumbled out of bed and out of his makeshift home into the light of midday. The sun made his eyes hurt, but he had to see it. Had to be sure he hadn’t imagined it all.

It didn’t take him long to find the alien spacecraft, its size larger than anything he’d dared to ever imagine. Pristine looking in the broken surroundings of the encampment, it nonetheless seemed to belong there … like it was meant to be.

Just like Geordi said. At the thought of the time-traveler from the future �” a ludicrous thought on any other day �” Zefram squatted down, his stomach twisting into a knot. The future, everything he had learned, had been told never to reveal, made him ill. Last night he had met with the aliens (Voltguns? Vultans?) and they had quizzed him on Earth. On its recent history, on its not so recent history, on how he came to achieve warp flight.

He had been so damned happy he answered everything they asked, but he had kept the true events leading up to warp flight to himself. How the hell was he supposed to tell them about a future where cybernetic beings could come back in time and screw with them? How the hell could he possibly convince them he wasn’t crazy?

Insane is more like it. Feeling his stomach give into the horrid booze, he stumbled behind a nearby shack and vomited all over the ground, his body shaking severely as he did it. He spat a few times to clear the taste from his mouth and promised himself he wouldn’t drink the first bottle off the floor next time; he’d drink the second. Always had better luck with the second.

“Z!” Lily’s voice, loud and strong as ever, carried on the still midday air. He looked towards the sound and forced himself to stand straight, pulling down his vest and hoping he hadn’t gotten any of his puke on it.

He stepped out from behind the shack and held out his hand, grateful for the little shade it provided against that damned bright sun. “Here, Lil.”

She smiled at him �” a rare sight if there ever was one �” and quickened her pace as she met up with him. “You’re missing all the fun. The Vulcans are trying some of Eddy’s eggs.”

Vulcans, got to remember that. “Eggs … yeah, sounds fun. Very eggy.” He rubbed his temple, the headache getting worse as his mind ran full-speed ahead with thoughts about the future. He had promised he wouldn’t tell.

Lily’s dark eyes narrowed at him and she read him like a book. “Don’t even, Z. We have our orders.”

The hairs on his neck bristled at the word “orders” and everything that came from that word. Orders had ended their civilization, raining nuclear hellfire upon the world just because of differing ideals and ways of living. Orders had ended millions of lives.

“To hell with our orders.” Without waiting for a response, he blew past her, his long strides forcing her to run after him.

She grabbed his arm and forced him around, putting most of her strength into it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She frowned, her eyes softening. “We promised. We can’t tell them.”

Feeling like the open air was a little too open for this conversation, Zefram pulled her behind one of the destroyed shacks �” old lady Quigley’s, if he remembered right. She was the only one who could drink him under the table. Had been married four times in her life, told a lot of great stories.

She had been killed in the attack.

“Z.” Lily’s voice brought him back into the present, her face tense with concern. “What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

How many did we lose because of those things? How many people died when they shouldn’t have? “We have to tell them,” he began, his voice riddled with confusion as his mind tried to wrap itself around the ideas going through it.

She just shook her head. “This isn’t some idea you can just try out and see what happens.” She gripped him firmly, pointing her hand straight up into the sky. “We had men from the future come down from space and tell us what not to do. You really want to take a chance and screw with that?”

“We also had machine men try to kill me,” he pointed out. “And you,” he added in a softer tone.

She looked away, her lips pressing together like they always did when he made a point she hated.

Sensing he was on the right path to convincing her �” or pissing her off �” he pressed onward. “Look, I get we could change history and mess up things … but history’s already been changed, Lily. You were never supposed to go into space!”

She shot him a glare.

“Okay, you were, but not like you did, not on … on … some sort of future ship!” He threw up his hand, blessedly trying to summon the words from the depths of his mind but finding everything muddled from booze, excitement, lack of sleep, and urgency. “You really want to keep this from them? You really want to take the chance that we’re not supposed to tell them?”

Her eyes flashed confusion. “But Picard said that history never records any of this.”

“Their history also never recorded how much of a drinker I am, or that I built the Phoenix for money, or that I’m a shitty dancer.” He cracked a grin. “But that last part stays between us.”

He could see her mind at work, her eyes measuring him and his words with lightning-fast speed. Lily had always been a quick thinker, it’s why she was the one who dealt with getting the materials to build the Phoenix in the first place. He was a thinker, a builder, but he wasn’t good at judging people �” he lost nearly two years on the project by himself because he couldn’t find a reliable source of anything.

Other than booze, anyway.

But when Lily came along, she got things done; always had and it was that ability of hers to make good, quick judgments that allowed her to be exactly what he needed. He didn’t believe in God or destiny or fate �” those ideas went away when the first bombs dropped �” but he did believe in luck.

And he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet to have her beside him.

She took a deep breath. “Okay. We tell them.”

He let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and instantly grimaced, his ribs making themselves known again. “How do we do it?”

“How do we do it?” She scoffed at him, a smirk at her lips. “God damn it, Z, I thought you were going to break it to the new aliens about the future ones. You know, the ones who tried to blow us up and the other people from the future.”

She was clearly mocking him, but her point was a good one; this was going to sound like the biggest haul of bull shit in the history of the planet. Considering how long the planet’s been around, I might be remembered for this more than warp. “Come on, Lily.” He pleaded with his eyes.

She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m telling you, they’re going to laugh all the way to their pretty ship and leave us behind. Leave us and our future in the dust.”

“They saw me dance and they didn’t leave.”

She gave a small nod. “A point in their favor.” She took him by the arm and dragged him out from behind the shack, heading towards the bar. “All right, we’ll tell the first guy and see what he thinks. He’s their leader I’m pretty sure.”

“They’re not little green men, you know. Maybe they don’t have a leader.”

She turned to face him, her eyes firm. “Trust me, I know a leader when I see one. It’s the first guy … Solkar I think.”

“Solkar?” Zefram groaned. “I was calling him ‘Sonar’ all last night.”

Lily rolled her eyes at him and let go of his hand, turning on her heel to face him. Shoulders tense and face serious, she wasn’t fooling around. “We do this right or we don’t do it, you get me? We can’t undo this once we open our traps.”

Feeling his stomach knot up again, he took his hat off and gripped it tightly in his hand. “I get that, I do. I’ll do it, okay? Just back me up.”

She took his hand and gave it a tight squeeze, the warmth comforting. “You got it.”

The home of Zefram Cochrane, the first Human to achieve warp flight, was little more than a metallic box with a cot and waste facilities. A small stove sat against the far wall, one of its legs shorter than the others, making the object sit unevenly on the floor. In the middle of the room was a small, glass table, scratched from years of use.

Solkar logically could understand the state of this man’s living arrangements, but on a deep level �” a personal one that he would dare not admit to in any form �” he was sickened by the things he saw. This man was incredibly intelligent for either a Human or a Vulcan; using materials scrapped together from a devastated society, Cochrane had achieved warp flight one hundred and fifty years before the Vulcan Science Academy had predicted.

But what the man was asking him to take as fact now was beyond the realm of logic and, perhaps, sanity. “You were visited by beings from the future,” Solkar began slowly, careful in his word choice, “and these beings assisted you in your warp flight.”

“Some of them did, yes. The other ones, the cybernetic ones, the … the …” Cochrane looked towards the dark-skinned female, Lily Sloane.

“The Borg,” she offered, arms crossed across her chest as she leaned against the doorframe to the waste facilities.

Cochrane snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “The Borg! Those guys, they were here to kill us, to destroy the Phoenix, and enslave humanity!”

Most illogical. Solkar briefly considered the possibility that this was true but the thought passed just as quickly as it came. “Why would a species from the future, one that is clearly more advanced, come back in time to enslave a species that is technologically inferior?”

Cochrane threw his head back, a sigh escaping his tall, lanky form. “I don’t know. But they did come back, I promise you that.”

“A promise is not proof, Doctor Cochrane.” Solkar turned his eyes to Sloane, whom was watching him intently. “You saw these beings as well?”

“I did, though you probably won’t believe a damned word I’ll say.”

The Human predilection for vulgar descriptors is most fascinating, Solkar observed. He would have to consult the local populace on that subject �” Humanity was much more layered than their initial finding had indicated. Being able to interact with them directly was providing a number of unexpected opportunities to increase their knowledge of the various cultures that had survived their latest global war. “I will listen. That is all I can guarantee you,” he told her, careful not to commit to anything else.

Sloane regarded him for a long moment before taking a chair, turning it around, and sitting in it with its back facing him. “We were attacked the night before we flew. Some sort of weapons fire from space �” high-yield and green.”

Solkar’s face remained stoic, but internally he felt alarmed. Earth’s atmosphere had an unusual amount of radiation over this area and it was radiation consistent with antimatter weapons �” something beyond Human capabilities. His science officer had dismissed the readings as outliers caused by the manner in which Cochrane had designed his warp vessel, but this information about an attack from space would match those readings. “Continue.”

The woman gripped her hands on the edge of the table, holding onto it tightly. “I went down to the silo where the Phoenix was, but the place was irradiated from damage caused by the Borg. I got delirious, ill from radiation. I grabbed a gun, decided to defend the complex from whoever was attacking … next thing I know, two guys show up inside. I shot at them �” pumped one full of a dozen bullets.” She stared at him. “That one didn’t die. Just took the bullets like they were nothing.”

Solkar allowed a slight raise of his eyebrow. “Human weapons are primitive, but not ineffective.”

“I think that’s the best compliment you’ve given us all morning,” Cochrane offered.

Sloane looked at the doctor with clear irritation, her emotions getting the better of her. “Z, you mind? Trying to clue in the nice Vulcan on our last two days, huh?”

Cochrane waved off the comment and sat on his bed, which did little to dwarf his height. He reached below and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. “Fine.” He opened the bottle and Solkar could detect an offensive scent coming from it.

Sloane gave him a long look before turning back to Solkar. “I was brought aboard a starship with some sort of instantaneous transportation technology, nothing like I’ve ever seen or heard of before. They had holographic people �” real imitations, nothing like you’d find before the war �” and forcefields. They had weapons that made my gun look like a toy … weapons that shot some form of energy �””

“Lasers that hurt like hell,” Cochrane offered as he drank from the bottle, his face caught between a grimace and a grin. He put a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it. “Shot me right here with one.”

Solkar reached into his robe and pulled out a small scanner. “May I, Doctor?”

Cochrane shrugged. “As long as it won’t hurt.”

Solkar opened the scanner and pointed it at Cochrane. “It is passive in nature.” The device performed a full-body scan within a matter of seconds, finding that Cochrane was suffering from a number of ailments �” some caused by his alcohol consumption, others caused by the state of the planet.

But the scanner was picking up trace amounts of tissue damage that didn’t correlate with any known condition a Human would suffer. The tissue was in a state of recovery, nearly complete, but there were residual traces of nadion particles. Solkar narrowed his eyes at the scanner as he reconsidered his earlier judgment about this possibility. “Tell me more about this ship.”

“It was the most advanced thing I’ve ever seen,” Sloane said, her eyes alight, her voice filled with excitement. “The technology aboard it was more advanced than anything Z or I have thought of.” She looked off for a moment. “Part of me wanted to stay.”

“It would have been less fun there �” bunch of stiffs. Nice stiffs, but stiffs,” Cochrane opined. He scratched the back of his neck, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Can’t figure how people from Earth became like that. I never imagined a planet united in anything.”

“And these ‘cybernetic beings,’” Solkar asked, attempting to keep the two Humans on subject. “Were they aboard the ship?”

Sloane offered a reserved nod. “They were mechanical zombies.”

“Zombies?” The Vulcan was unfamiliar with this term and his tone indicated as much.

Cochrane laughed. “People who used to be dead but rose from the grave; reanimated bodies, slow walking, great at making more of them.”

Sloane wasn’t so amused. “It all sounds laughable unless you see it, feel the sticky, hot air they live in, listen to their whirring gears and grating metal.” A shiver passed through her body, her face paling slightly. “They took people, like you, like me, and forcibly injected machinery into them. They made more Borg from the crew of that starship and they did it without emotion. They weren’t angry or jealous, they were just dispassionate to the point where there were no expressions of anything.”

“Did they speak? Did they communicate at all?” Solkar inquired.

“No. Not a word. I never heard a single one of them say anything.” She took her hands and pressed them together, her knuckles audibly cracking with the pressure she was putting on them. “Damned things just went about their business.”

Sloane looked drained and Cochrane had grown unusually silent �” despite knowing the two Humans for less than an Earth day, already he had become aware of the patterns the two individuals followed. Humans were creatures of habit, he had observed. Solkar rose slowly from the table, taking the scanner and placing it back into his robe. “I will investigate this settlement for evidence to corroborate your story.”

Cochrane took a deep drink of his bottle and placed it between his long legs, gripping it with his thighs. “You want our help?”

“It would be best if I did this myself,” the Vulcan admitted. His findings �” if there were any to gather �” would be questioned by his science officer thoroughly. It would be better that the Humans were uninvolved at this point; their presence would be a distraction on multiple levels.

Sloane nodded slowly. “Okay. There’s more to tell … a lot more. Come back if you want to hear it.”

Solkar offered her a solitary nod. “Thank you.” With that, he excused himself.

****

“The readings of the surrounding area are consistent with the events they describe.”

Science officer Surnak raised his eyebrow slightly higher. “The Human whom conducted the warp flight is inebriated and has been since we arrived here.” His colleague’s tone more than conveyed his disbelief. “There is, at best, only circumstantial evidence to support his claims.”

Solkar stood slightly taller. “Scanning him confirms trace amounts of nadion particles in his body, a highly unusual thing to find in a Human.”

“A likely result of the Humans’ hastily constructed warp vessel, one that is built out of a former weapon of mass destruction.” Surnak’s nose flared outward, a sign of frustration Solkar had grown quite familiar with in their time serving together. “Nadion particles could be a result of a defect within the warp core itself.”

“Perhaps,” Solkar conceded as he sat down and continued. “However, the evidence �” circumstantial or not �” cannot be dismissed without further investigation. If they speak the truth, logically we cannot ignore the threat it poses; it is a threat that will affect every warp-capable species.”

An audible grunt emanated from Surnak’s throat as he leaned back in his chair, his shoulders tensing beneath his robe. “A species that can go back in time at will and attempt the destruction of an opposing force is a species that is fantasy; a concoction of Human paranoia and imaginative story-telling.” Surnak steepled his fingers. “Time travel is an impossibility, as determined by the Vulcan Science Directorate. The entire concept of it is illogical.”

“That is the Directorate’s current ruling, yes. But it is under review,” Solkar countered. Logically, Surnak’s argument was the correct one but it still did not rule out the possibility. “Even the impossible may be possible under the correct circumstances. Humanity was not supposed to achieve warp flight for another one hundred and fifty Earth years, and yet they have it.”

“An outlier.” Surnak turned his attention back to his console. “Humans are not ready for the rigors of space and what may be out there. It will be up to the High Command to determine Vulcan’s involvement from this point forward.”

Solkar offered a small nod of agreement. The High Command would likely debate policy on the Humans for months before arriving at a decision. And in that time, would they even consider the evidence I have gathered? Would the threat be recognized or dismissed?

“You have spent too much time with the Humans, Solkar,” Surnak continued. “The people and the planet are not as remarkable as the Science Academy claims, nor is it in any state to contribute anything of value.”

“On this, I disagree: Earth, though harmed by its latest war, still has much to offer. The number of differing ideals and cultures present on this planet, even now, is �“ as you put it �“ an ‘outlier’ that, statistically, makes the development of warp drive so far ahead of our estimates even more fascinating.”

“Perhaps,” he conceded, the younger Vulcan’s patience growing short.

Solkar arched an eyebrow. “In fact, I believe you have spent too little time amongst the Humans. Upon our arrival, you interacted with them for approximated three-point-two of their hours before retreating back to our vessel.”

“I gathered all the data I needed from them in that time.” Surnak faced Solkar now. “Are you ordering me, as my senior officer, to spend more time with them?”

“I am not.” Solkar placed his hands in his lap, carefully arranging them in a steeple. “I am merely suggesting that a further study of them would yield a better understanding.”

“I am not attempting to replicate your understanding of them, Captain. The illogic of their account only further confirms that this species is too young and ill-prepared for what awaits them in the galaxy. Our very presence, not more than fifteen of their years ago, would have caused a panic amongst the population.”

“You imply that their illogic has had an adverse effect upon me?”

“I imply nothing: I state, unequivocally and for the record, that your actions since our landing have been illogical. First contact missions of this nature are normally carried out in a much more timely manner.”

Solkar tensed slightly at the tone of his subordinate. Surnak’s assignment to his vessel on this tour of duty was one that Solkar had not been pleased with; the younger Vulcan’s emotions could sometimes bubble to the surface. For months, Surnak’s had questioned �“ within proper protocol �“ the decisions Solkar had made.

“Regulations,” Solkar began in a measured tone, “allow for first contact protocol to be adjusted for the situation at hand.”

“Within reason.” Surnak stood from his station and looked down upon Solkar. “But this tale the Humans tell … the very fact your have brought it to my attention means that you believe it has validity. You would not confer with me otherwise.”

“Regulations do dictate that any conversation between us regarding the first contact of an alien species be recorded in our logs,” Solkar stated. “I did not overlook this fact when beginning this dialogue.”

Surnak seemed taken aback by that; despite the Vulcan’s face betraying no hint of emotion, his eyes widened slightly. “You wish this to be logged?”

“I do. Regulations do not allow for deviation on that point.” Solkar decided that Surnak would not be of help in determining if the Humans were telling the truth �“ or if they were merely lying. The young Vulcan was too inexperienced in the matters of space and life to understand the threat. He regarded his subordinate severely as he stood slowly, projecting an air of control. “It is not up to you or I to pursue this matter, Sub-commander. It is our duty to gather the information and catalog it, so those on Vulcan can further analyze the situation. Do you understand?”

Surnak’s eyes lowered at the admonishment. “Yes, Captain. I understand.”

Solkar gave a slight nod. “I will continue to gather information on the Humans here and speak with Doctor Cochrane. We will leave at midday tomorrow to continue our patrol. Continue to log all atmospheric and geological data from you post, Sub-commander.”

Surnak offered a nod and sat back down.

Solkar departed from his vessel, his course of action already decided. If he could not rely on the aid of Surnak �“ the youngest member of his crew and one whose mind was still so closed to the possibilities of the universe �“ than he would have to pursue the evidence himself. The readings he had gathered and the first-hand accounts from the Humans would not be enough to sway the High Command; much like Surnak, they were reluctant to consider possibilities which had previously been ruled as illogical or impossible.

"We must mind meld." His words were spoken with serene calm, not a hint of emotion about it.

But he had explained what a "mind meld" was to her mere minutes before and she wasn't a fan. Not at all. "You can't be serious. I told you what I saw, where I was, who I talked with and you still need to jack into my mind to see if I'm telling the truth?" Lily Sloane shook her head vehemently, the room around her echoing her voice loudly. "No. No. I don't need you in my brain, thank you."

Z drunkenly chuckled from her right, his cheeks flush from the booze. "He just likes you," the taller man slurred, taking a deep sip from his bottle. "Just wants to see how naughty you are."

She glared at him as hard as she could.

Solkar took no offense to it. "Doctor Cochrane, my interest in a mind meld with Miss Sloane is based on logic, not 'like.'" He took a step forward toward her. "I believe you, but I need more than just your testimony to confirm these series of events. What you say will not be enough for my government."

Lily slapped the table in frustration and turned away from them both, forcing herself to stare at the blank, metal wall behind her. "And what is your government going to do, exactly? What can it do?"

"I don't know," the Vulcan admitted. "I can tell you only what I will do."

Arms crossed, she turned and drilled her eyes into him -- a lesser man would have withered but this was no man, this was an alien. "And what will you do?"

"Yeah," Z added before a hiccup cut off the rest of his sentence.

Solkar's eyebrow arched up. "What is most logical; in this situation, preparing for the enemy using all ethical and moral means."

Lily stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. She leaned forward, a crooked grin on her face. "How the hell do you prepare for mechanical zombies?"

"That is part of the reason why we must meld. To gain a better understanding of their technology I must study them. The only way to do that at this juncture is by examining your memories and experiences involving them." The Vulcan took a breath. "However, it is your right to refuse the meld."

Lily scowled, rubbing her wrist as she tried to come to a conclusion. Having her mind opened up and invaded telepathically by an alien she just met a day ago wasn't her idea of fun ... but only she had seen the Borg. Z hadn't -- and even if he had, he was probably too drunk to pay much attention to it anyway.

"If I say no, what are the chances your government takes this seriously?"

"Less than two percent," Solkar answered without hesitation.

She wasn't sure if he had just made up a bullshit figure or not but it didn't matter; she agreed with it. Hell, the whole thing sounded crazy (and Z's testimony certainly didn't make it sound less crazy), and if it sounded crazy to her, it had to sound crazy to the new aliens.

She took a chair, whipped it around, and sat on it, her body tense. "Let's do this."

Solkar slightly cocked his head to the side. He took a chair and sat across from her. "You will feel no pain, no discomfort ... however, this has never been attempted with your species before. There may be unforeseen consequences." He met her eyes, his tone growing softer. "I will take every precaution to ensure your safety."

Lily took a deep breath and then released it, a little tension going with it. The last two days had seen her be beamed onto a future spaceship, fighting future aliens, and participating in the event that would lead to a future she hadn't dared to dream of. What's one more crazy thing going to hurt? "Just tell me what I need to do."

"Try to focus on the Borg, on the future ship, on your experiences. That is where we wish to go. The rest I will do." He took his right hand and pressed it firmly against her cheek, his touch cold to her skin. "Do not be alarmed."

"Alarmed isn't the first word that comes to mind." She closed her eyes and did as she was told, revisiting the memories of the past two days.

"My mind to your mind. Your thoughts to my thoughts," he said slowly. He repeated this mantra twice more before she began to feel ... something.

A sense of peace, of tranquility, overtook her. "My mind to your mind," she repeated back, her eyes opening and looking into his.

And she could see him looking into hers ...

The world around her melted away, like a watercolor painting after being left out in the rain. She took a breath and realized the air was thicker ... more humid.

Hotter.

A red light was flashing around her, first from darkness and then, slowly, it illuminated other things ... a floor, a wall, a door ... all things she recognized. She was aboard the Enterprise, aboard Jean-Luc's vessel.

She pressed her hands against her face, feeling the sweat on her cheeks and the dampness of her palms. "How?" she mumbled to herself.

"Fascinating," a much calmer voice said from behind her. She whirled around to see Solkar standing there, dressed in his robe, his eyes taking in their surroundings. "I have never seen a configuration like this before."

His voice, like hers, had an echo to it, a sort of doubling effect. She could hear him, but it was like she was hearing him twice, a difference of maybe a second.

"Our minds are one," he said, and she heard him say it before he his mouth moved. "What you hear are my thoughts before my speech. An interesting effect."

Feeling much too much like a guinea pig, Lily squared up her shoulders and closed the gap between them. "How does this feel so real?"

"The meld is based on your perception of the events, of your memories of them. Judging by how I feel -- and how I sense you feel -- you were very aware of your surroundings while here."

Aware? I was fighting for my life!

"I get that impression, yes," he observed dispassionately, his eyes meeting hers.

Suddenly she felt very naked under his gaze, as though he could see and hear everything. "Solkar ... what now?"

He regarded her for a moment longer before turning his attention back to the environment around them. "Let us start with your first experience with these Borg."

"Well --" But her words failed her as their surroundings changed violently, the images and lights blurring in one motion before she found herself surrounded by Borg, the guts of the walls and deck exposed for all to see, black and green tubing growing from them like cancerous tumors. She stumbled back into one, screaming as she stepped away from it before two hands found her shoulders.

She let out another scream as she was turned around, but she only found Solkar's face. "Focus on me," he told her firmly, his voice loud but not overwhelming.

The sounds of the Borg, their gears and gizmos whirring, died away as things became muted. All she could hear was their breathing and her heartbeat.

"What ... what is this?" she forced out, her heart pounding in her ears as she desperately tried not to turn around, not to imagine herself around those things.

"Your feeling of fear has been amplified by the meld ... partially a result of my emotions." He took a deep breath, the green tinge in his face more pronounced than before.

"Your emotions?" She clenched her fists, reminding herself that this wasn't real, that she wasn't really here again. "But you told us that Vulcans don't allow emotions to rule them ... that you did away with them."

"In a manner of speaking." He took another breath and then let go.

A sense of calm washed over her and her heart slowed. She looked around and found that they were still there, still surrounded by Borg, but they weren't moving and there was no noise coming from them. It was like standing in a picture of her worst nightmare.

Solkar stepped before her, his eyes examining the nearest Borg closely. "A bio-mechanical exoskelton, perhaps." He got right up to the Borg's face, the pale grey skin a stark contrast to the Vulcan's. "I understand why you find them so ... disconcerting."

"Understatement," she managed, words still hard to come across. "Jean-Luc told me that they're a hive mind ... they take individuals and strip them of everything that makes them a person --"

"Assimilation," Solkar finished. He turned back to her. "Jean-Luc ... Captain Picard ... he was made into one of them."

"Yes." The word was small, but the memory of what Jean-Luc said, of how he said it, chilled her even now. Everything Human about him was taken and replaced with machinery, all against his will.

Solkar cocked his head slightly to the side. "I see."

"See what?"

"Your thoughts, your memories ... all of this." He stared at her and she got the sense that he was looking in her, too. "Take a deep breath."

Before she could ask why, the world around her darkened, like someone had turned out the lights. A blackness overtook her, so whole and so suffocating that she couldn't breathe. Panicking, she tried to call out but no sound came. She couldn't feel anything ...

"Open."

Her eyes shot open and she breathed in like she had been holding her breath underwater for all her life. Her lungs ached from the effort and she gripped the table next to her with a trembling hand.

Solkar was before her, his face tenser than before, but his eyes held not a hint of disbelief. "Lily Sloane, what you have given me today will not be forgotten. I promise you that."

"Sure," she said breathlessly, trying to get a hold of herself.

The Vulcan stood from his chair. "You must rest now ... the recovery process may take some time for you."

She looked up at him, the word "rest" suddenly making her feel very, very tired. "And ... you?"

He looked at the wall behind her, his eyes not staring at it but definitely at something. "I ... will meditate. Then speak with my government." He gave a swift nod and left.

Lily barely had the energy to get up, so she didn't even bother. She put her arms on the table, then her head on her arms, and let sleep take her.

She welcomed the darkness.

Night. As the stars shone above in the blackened sky outside his vessel, Solkar could not find solace in them. He could name every constellation and stellar group between Earth and Vulcan, cite numerous statistically fascinating facts about them, but even those facts seemed unimportant when measured against what he felt within the meld.

After hours of meditation, he was still perturbed — no, disturbed — by what he witnessed. Not only did he visit the memories Lily Sloane brought forth on her own, but he saw her entire experience … felt her entire experience. He would possess those memories for the rest of his life, able to revisit them and analyze them again, and again, and again.

I must center myself. Taking a deep breath and adjusting his sitting position, he once more focused on the stars outside his port. Once more he thought of his home on Vulcan and the warm breeze of his province. A normally relaxing thought, once more he found himself comparing the heat he felt on Vulcan to what he felt in the meld.

Thirty-nine-point-one degrees Celsius … like a Borg ship.

The steeple he had made with his hands could not hold to the trembling the memories brought forth. Thoughts of his home only forced him to consider the ramifications of the existence of this species … and those ramifications were far reaching. There was not a singular species with the technology to defeat an enemy force like the Borg — in fact, there were no combination of species that could accomplish the task.

And even if there were, how would so many species cooperate? For years, Vulcan had been attempting to form a mutual partnership with its warp-capable neighbors, but the diverse cultures of the other species — and the profound illogic of them — made cooperation difficult at best. Trade agreements were what Vulcan had achieved with the majority of them, but some — like the Andorians — were outright hostile to any overtures of peace.

Yet, Sloane’s memories indicated that such a cooperative would form, much sooner than anyone would dare to predict. Humanity was the key; a species as profoundly illogical as they were logical, they were a contradiction that would enable the creation of the Federation.

A happy accident, he observed, the phrase not his but Sloane’s. A piece of her would always be with him and him with her; in this way, they would both have the best of one another.

But it was not in Sloane’s power to prepare for the Borg. Her species was decimated, her planet just starting a recovery process that would take decades. Humanity did not possess the resources or the ability to carry out any defense against such a threat.

Arriving at a decision, Solkar activated his personal, secure line to Vulcan. It took mere minutes for the subspace communications network, so carefully laid out over the centuries, to relay his signal to his wife. At this time of day, she would likely have just come back in from the garden.

The screen before him changed its image and confirmed his theory; Ytv’a was wearing her gardening robe, the clothing dotted with soil in places. “Husband — I did not expect you to call.”

“Understandable, as it is not our normal time.” He steeled himself, forcing his eyes and his mind to focus only on her. On what he had to say. On how he had to say it.

Their innate telepathic bond, even stretched out over vast lightyears, communicated a faint image of his state of mind to her. Ytv’a’s head turned slightly to the left. “You are not well.”

“I am … unsettled. I have recently engaged in a mind meld.”

His wife’s eyes widened as her face tensed. “A meld?” The words were tinged with curiosity and a slight sense of dread — not unexpected considering the subject matter. “That is … highly illogical.”

“It was necessary, my wife. The circumstances of the Human’s warp flight are not as they immediately appeared.” Carefully, Solkar put his hands in his lap and arranged them into a steeple once more. “What I am about to tell you will seem … unlikely. I ask you to keep an open mind.”

“My mind is always open to you, my husband. Continue.”

Solkar relayed the facts to his wife in a calm and measured manner, the telling of these things a relief in a small way. He told her his thought processes — his motivations — and he spoke, extensively, about what he had witnessed in the meld. The retelling of the events leading up to his call took approximately two Earth hours.

Ytv’a had barely moved in that time. But when he concluded, she was not lost for words. “I can feel your belief in what you witnessed,” she began, her tone even. “If the experiences of this Human woman are true, the threat it poses to all species is far greater than even the gravest worst case scenarios the High Command has considered. As an administrator within our government, I can say with certainty that what you have told me is quite disturbing.”

“But the evidence does not convince you to take action,” he observed.

“Your evidence was collected in a manner I, as an administrator within our government, cannot accept. The mind meld is not officially recognized as a logical course of action for any Vulcan — especially one in command of a vessel.” She affixed him with a concerned gaze. “Were I not your wife, I would report you and have you relieved of command immediately; this would not be an unwelcome development for Surnak.”

Solkar allowed a small nod. For months his wife had listened to him relay Surnak’s unsatisfactory behavior — her observation was no doubt correct. “I cannot disagree with your conclusion. I do, however, wish to hear what you — as my wife — think of my actions.”

She took a breath, her cheeks flushing slightly — a sign of affection. “I, as your wife, agree with your assessment: this threat cannot be combated at this time. Even if we were to submit this to the High Command, in full, they would not consider the existence of this species as a possibility.”

“Then we require another course of action. We — myself, you, and our family — must ensure these memories are not lost.”

“Logically, you wish to meld with me upon your return to Vulcan.” She paused, then added, “And when Skon comes of age, you will do the same with him.”

“Yes.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze softening. “My wife, I do not ask this lightly. If our melding is discovered, if these memories prove too disturbing, it could endanger us both … it could harm our son. Vulcan society is not likely to change their stance on mind melding within our lifetimes,” he said softly.

“Perhaps. But if Earth could achieve warp flight far ahead of predictions, the same could occur for Vulcan with your prediction.”

He bowed his head deeply. “You honor me, my wife.”

She gave a slight nod of her head. “We are one, my husband. I shall look forward to your return.” She ended the communication and he found himself comforted. Despite the knowledge he had of what they faced in the future, he now had a course of action to follow. Having a plan is only the first step, he reminded himself.

Now calmer, his mind more at peace, he closed his eyes and prepared himself for the coming day. He and his vessel would depart by midday, but before he left he would need to explain to the Humans what he was doing … and how he required their cooperation.

****

The morning sun was less bright today than it had been the day before, hidden behind the dull, gray clouds of an approaching storm. “Could be just rain … might be a rad storm. Our weather array was damaged in the attack,” Zefram explained to Solkar, his headache not nearly as bad as it was yesterday.

“Our scans show that it is merely a rain cloud, Doctor.”

“Well, at least you’re not a half-bad weatherman.” Zefram took a swig from his morning drink, a self-made bottle of soda — not particularly good tasting but quite fizzy — and scratched at his cheek, his stubble becoming itchier by the minute. “You didn’t come here to hear me talk about the weather, though.”

Lily, hands in her pockets, unleashed a drill-like gaze on the poor Vulcan. If the man was a native of the planet, he probably would have been reduced to ash. But, to the Vulcan’s credit, Solkar met her gaze without hesitation. “You aren’t going to help us,” she concluded, her tone laced with anger. “After all that mind meld bullshit, you’re just going to pull up stakes and leave?”

The Vulcan offered a small shake of his head, his movements oddly precise. “I cannot help to the extent either of us would like, Miss Sloane. My government will not be persuaded by the evidence I have gathered … even the meld, a powerful experience for us both, is not enough.”

“What the hell do they need? A body? Live specimens? My brain in a damned jar?”

Lily started to close the distance between herself and Solkar, but Zefram stepped in between them and guided her back towards her seat. He could feel how tense she was and god knew what the hell really went on in that meld of theirs. Though she had given Zefram an overview of the experience, he had no doubt she was holding back on him just a little bit. “Lily, ease up, now.”

She shot him a glare before taking a step back and grabbing a seat.

“Doctor, Miss Sloane, know that I am not dismissing your experiences. I am pursuing another course of action, one that I believe will help prepare my people and yours for the threat of the Borg.”

“Oh?” Zefram threw out his arms wide. “I didn’t see you set up any weapons before you got here. I don’t see other ships in orbit.”

Solkar leveled a chilly gaze at him. “Do you wish for Vulcan to begin a military occupation of the planet? Do you believe weapons will solve this problem?”

It suddenly occurred to Zefram that he sounded just like those war-hawk military leaders who ultimately started the last war. If you don’t understand it, blow it to hell and back, he grimly thought. “God damn it, I get it … I get it.”

“Melding with Miss Sloane has given me a unique understanding of you, Doctor. I realize you do not ascribe to the theory of ‘destroy or be destroyed’ but the threat of this species may allow for no other recourse but their destruction.”

“Like we got a shot to do that,” Lily pointed out. “Our tech is to them what rocks and wooden clubs are to us: primitive.”

“Once more, I agree with your assessment. It is why I have undertaken my current course of action; though my government will not help, I know certain people within certain places in it that can be of assistance … one such person is my wife. I have already consulted with her and, together, we will begin to prepare.”

Zefram took off his hat and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Jesus, what good has this done, then?”

Solkar arched an eyebrow at him. “Doctor, you have made the correct choice. By informing me of the Borg, you have guaranteed our two species will have knowledge in the future. Knowledge is the greatest defense against any threat.”

“But if your government isn’t going to help, then what good does it do us?” Lily asked, frustration radiating from her.

“Governments change,” Solkar stated simply. “Vulcans have much longer lifespans than Humans, Miss Sloane. There will come a time in my lifetime when my government may be more open to the possibilities of a species like the Borg. If that occurs, someone will be there to convince my government of the threat the Borg faces … but that time is not now.”

“So what you’re saying is, we should hurry up and wait?” Zefram tossed his hat onto the table and sat down beside Lily. He finished off the rest of his soda and tossed the bottle into the open field behind him, the glass satisfyingly smashing against the ground. “What should we do, then?”

“I have considered all possible courses of action and the best one is for the both of you to keep your experiences to yourself.”

Lily let out an exasperated laugh. “That’s what Jean-Luc told us to do!”

“His motivation is different than mine, I assure you; while informing me was the correct course of action, continuing to spread this information will likely result in unforeseen consequences. Panic, fear, or possible violent actions could result within your race if more are informed.”

“He’s right,” Zefram heard himself say, though he could scarcely believe it. “People scare easily, Lily. If we start telling them that mechanical zombies from the future are out to get us, we’ll either get shot or thrown into a padded room.” He took her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. “If we keep it between us, at least we’ll know something is being done about it.”

“Just by someone else,” she mumbled unhappily. “Z, we can’t sit on the sidelines — not with these things. We can’t afford to have Earth being dead weight.”

Solkar offered a small shake of his head. “You would not be ‘dead weight.’ If what you witnessed aboard the future vessel is true, then Earth will be key in the formation of the greatest cooperative formed between species in the history of this galaxy. Even without widespread knowledge of these events, Earth will be important.”

“But what about you?” Zefram shot him a look of concern. “I mean, Vulcan isn’t going to know much more than Earth. How is all this going to work if only a few know?”

“A few working toward a common goal can be more powerful than a majority pursuing individual agendas, Doctor.” Solkar eyes showed determination, a look Zefram had seen a few times in his life. A look he might have had once too, when he was younger. “I, and those I share this knowledge with, will be constantly working toward preparing for the Borg. There will come a time when both our peoples will be informed of this threat. I promise you, we will not be caught unawares.”

Zefram took out a small flask from his jacket, popped it open, and held it up. “I’ll drink to that.” He took a swig of it before handing it to Lily, who similarly — if reluctantly — did the same before handing it back to him. Zefram held it out to Solkar, who look at it for a long moment before accepting the flask.

Both he and Lily stared at the Vulcan as he took a small, baby sip from the flask, the drink making his face tense before it resumed its default stoic setting. Solkar attempted to hand the flask back to him, but Zefram waved it off, his face hurting too much from how hard he was smiling. “Keep it, friend. A gift, from one spaceman to another.”

Lily nodded beside him, her mouth stretched into a wide grin. “You took that like a champ; that shit’s foul.”

Solkar took the flask, closed it up, and deposited it into an inner-pocket within his robe. “I accept your gift … though I do not understand why you offer it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Nor why you seem to be amused at this very moment.”

Zefram looked at Lily, then at Solkar, and only smiled more.

Nearly a century in the making, the United Federation of Planets was officially in existence as of this day. Years of work, a bloody war, and more months of negotiations had resulted in the formation of the cooperative that Lily Sloane had been told of in 2063. Solkar, now age 162, had waited most of his life for this moment.

He regretted that neither Doctor Cochrane nor Lily Sloane could be here. Or, perhaps, I wish not to be alone with this knowledge any longer, he conceded to himself. Decades upon decades he and his wife had worked, slowly but surely, gathering information about the Borg. Together, they had melded and revisited, time after time, the memories of Sloane. They had run many calculations, they had proposed many theories, but for all their work their progress was minuscule.

He had promised that they would not be caught unawares and, though he likely fulfilled that promise, he certainly did not feel he had fulfilled it; he felt a failure. For all the technological progress made in the last 98 years, it was still nowhere near enough to combat the Borg.

But that is why I am here today. That is why this cooperative was formed. That is why I must make them take action. As the former ambassador to Earth and current administrator of Vulcan’s internal security, Solkar was well-connected enough to be given access to this gathering. He was well-respected enough to be heard when he spoke.

And, despite his misgivings, he knew that he would have to speak today if there was any chance to prevent the Borg from wreaking the havoc he witnessed all those years ago.

“Minister, they are ready,” Ambassador Soval said from behind him. Like himself, Soval was wrapped in a warm robe, the chill in the fall air necessitating the attire. “May I ask of you a question?”

Solkar turned from the terrace outlook and faced his colleague. “You may ask.”

“What could be of such urgency to request this meeting today, of all days? Your logic escapes me.”

There was no accusation, no insult to Soval’s observation. “Listen and you will see,” Solkar stated. Without further conversation he stepped back inside and found the representatives of each founding government within. Each was either standing or sitting �” most of the Tellarites were gathered around the food bar, while the Humans were exchanging conversation with what remained of the Tellarite contingent and the Andorians.

All stopped their actions when he entered the room. “Minister,” Captain Archer said, being the first to break the silence. He took a seat, which signaled the rest of the room to do the same. Once everyone was seated, Solkar was the only one who remained standing before them all.

“What I am about to say will seem unbelievable, but be assured that what I will reveal to you today did happen.” He made eye contact with each member of the room and stopped at Archer �” the one person who had to be convinced. In Solkar’s deliberations with his wife, they both concluded that Archer’s opinion would heavily factor into the decisions of the other representatives. If he agreed to the courses of action Solkar was about to propose, it would greatly aid their preparations against the Borg.

If Archer refused, it could be a blow they might not recover from.

“Vulcans and your need for speeches,” the Tellarite representative, Gral, grunted out. “Your species makes more noise than a squealing kev’nel at feeding time!” The Tellarite group all let out a hearty laugh at the proclamation.

Archer flashed a grin in Gral’s direction before turning his attention back to Solkar. “Please, continue.”

Clasping his hands together, Solkar began. “Humanity’s first warp flight had outside aid. It was not perpetrated by Zefram Cochrane and Lily Sloane alone.”

Solkar had expected the room to burst into a chaotic maelstrom of noise; instead, his audience gave him only silence. Archer, however, was no longer grinning, his face becoming hardened. “Beings, from the future, aided Cochrane in his flight,” Solkar continued. “That, however, was only their secondary objective: their first was to eliminate an enemy species from the twenty-fourth century know as the Borg.” He leveled his gaze at Archer. “A species that you and your crew have encountered, Captain.”

“We’ve encountered them?” Archer shook his head vehemently. “I can’t recall every species I’ve met, Minister, but I can tell you for certainty that I haven’t encountered that one.”

“You and anyone else in this room, Pinkskin,” General Shran said from beside Archer. The Andorian’s antennae were arched back, a sign of aggression. “Where’s your proof? Where’s your evidence?”

“I must also echo my colleagues’ objections, Minister,” Soval added. “The official logs of your mission to Earth make no mention of this species or of any ‘future beings’ that aided Cochrane’s flight. Such a claim, on its face, would seem most illogical.”

Solkar arched an eyebrow. “My logs for that mission had certain elements removed from them by the High Command, Ambassador. Things they believed would be better forgotten about. As to my evidence, General, I have that, provided in part by Captain Archer.” Removing a small holographic projector from his robe, Solkar set it upon a nearby table and activated it. “Do you recognize this species, Captain?”

Archer stood from his chair with such force it nearly toppled over. “The cybernetic beings that kidnapped and transformed the Arctic research team.” His eyes scanned the projection, guilt readily apparent. “We couldn’t rescue them.”

“What are they?” Gral asked from the back, disgust plain in his voice. “I have never seen such an ugly, unattractive species in my life �” and that’s even counting the Andorians.”

General Shran did not take the obvious bait; instead, he was on his feet, beside Archer. “They look formidable … their technology seems to be wired directly into them.”

“It is,” Archer confirmed with a grimace. “It’s so embedded in them it’s virtually inseparable from their bodies.”

“These are the Borg,” Solkar told the room. “The events that occurred with the research team owe their beginning to the Borg being present at the time of Cochrane’s warp flight. Their vessel was destroyed by another vessel from the twenty-fourth century; that vessel was part of Starfleet and the Federation.”

Multiple pairs of eyes found their way to Solkar now, but he only welcomed it. Nearly a century of silence had given way to expression that was long overdue. Even if the result of his revelations were unknown, the act of revealing them had a bracing effect on him. He felt freer than he had in decades.

Archer regarded him for a long moment before turning his attention back to the hologram. “And these ‘Borg’ are the same cybernetic beings from the future that Cochrane mentioned during his address at Princeton?”

“The one in the same,” Solkar confirmed. “Doctor Cochrane was embarrassed about that particular incident. He �” we �” had all promised to keep the details of those events secret until such a time that we believed something could be done about it.”

“Something?” Shran scoffed. “There’s no doubt what we have to do about it. We have to find them and eliminate them before they try to come back and finish the job.”

“Assuming the species remains hostile, General,” Soval countered. “Considering how little we know of them, it is possible that the contingent that attacked Doctor Cochrane nearly one hundred years ago was a rogue group.”

Solkar offered a small shake of his head. “No, Ambassador, this species does not operate as a group of individuals �” they operate strictly as a group alone. The collective will of the whole is forced upon the individual as the individual’s own wants are tossed aside. There is no freedom, there is no room for improvisation; there is only the collective.”

“And how do you know? I don’t see wires going into your head, though that would certainly be an improvement to your species,” Gral shouted from the back, a hearty laugh following soon after from the rest of his group.

“I know because I have the experience of someone who was there,” Solkar offered, carefully choosing his words. The mind meld was not common knowledge amongst outsiders of Vulcan.

Archer and Soval exchanged a look with one another, a clear sign they had understood Solkar’s meaning. “You were there,” Archer repeated. “And this experience … what else did it tell you?”

“That there can be no quarter given to this enemy,” he pronounced without hesitation, a chill going down his spine. The face of Jean-Luc Picard, angry and enraged, violation in his eyes, flashed in his mind as though he were there at that very moment. “We must operate under the assumption that they will come back and that they will attempt to succeed where they have failed.”

Shran gave Solkar a wide grin. “Finally, a Vulcan who thinks like a fighter!”

Solkar met the Andorian’s eyes. “Do not misunderstand, General: I do not subscribe to the theory that we must kill them. Remember, at one time, every member of this species was like us; an individual, with freewill and a sense of purpose, self-derived from their wants … from their dreams.”

“The key word there is ‘was’, Minister. If these things are truly the threat you make them out to be, then we can’t allow sentimentality to cloud our judgment.” Shran balled his fist and squeezed it tightly. “We must choke the life out of them before they try to do the same to us.”

Archer turned away from the hologram and began to pace, four steps forward then four steps back. “I can’t believe our only choice is genocide or waiting to be turned into one of them. We can’t sell off our soul just for security and peace of mind … there’s already been too much war and too much bloodshed before today.” He stopped, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. “There has to be another way.”

Solkar nodded slowly. “There is, Captain. The technology that the Borg possess is advanced, but not invincible. The remains of their vessel still sit in the Arctic, untouched since the events that led to the loss of the Starfleet research team there.”

Shran narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

“That area was locked down following the loss of the team,” Archer pointed out. “Starfleet believed it too dangerous for study. It seems that the cold keeps them … inactive.”

Solkar regarded him with an appreciative glance. “Indeed, it does. I propose resuming that research, but doing it by building labs that operate in similar temperatures. The cold, as you stated, Captain, keeps their technology from reactivating. If we can study it while dormant, then we can learn a great deal from it.”

Archer looked over to Shran. “Humans wouldn’t do so good in those temperatures, General.”

“Research,” Shran spat, the word seemingly offensive to him. “Andorians only ‘research’ to gain a tactical advantage against their enemies. Is that what we’re doing here? Or are we just studying something that will have no practical benefit to anyone except the data units of the Vulcan Science Academy?”

“The former and the latter, General,” Solkar said. “Studying the remains of that vessel is the first step in bettering our technology, to prepare for the Borg.”

“Logically, if there is a first step, there must be a second,” Soval concluded from his seat. “I’m curious as to what that is.”

“And I’m not going to let you leave Tellar out of any of this!” Gral launched from his chair and marched to the front of the room, standing right before Solkar. “I demand Tellar be granted access to the technology buried in the Arctic.”

Solkar deliberately remained silent as the Tellarite stared at him. It took only twelve seconds before Gral lowered his eyes and took a half-step back. “That is, if it is agreeable … to everyone else,” he grumbled.

Shran suppressed a laugh. “The Andorians would welcome another species that can tolerate the cold almost as well as us. The fighting after hours alone would be worth the experience.”

Gral held his head high, his snout nearly perpendicular. “The fighting would bore us for how easy it was … but we certainly could use efficient assistants.”

“That sounds like step one,” Archer interrupted, sensing Gral was �” again �” trying to draw Shran into an argument. “What’s step two?”

“The pursuit of technology outside our borders.” Solkar went over to the table and changed the holographic image, this time showing a map of the charted galaxy and the borders of the fledgling Federation. “As you can see, we are but a small cooperative in a very expansive galaxy. We cannot simply be content in just protecting what we currently possess. We must expand.”

Archer looked visibly surprised by the suggestion. “Minister, you’re suggesting we … colonize?”

“I’m suggesting, in addition to opening our membership to species that meet certain requirements, that we also push outward towards areas of space that once belonged to ancient civilizations.”

“You want us to go hunting for buried treasure,” Archer observed, his eyes intently scanning the map. “There are certainly a number of directions we could go. Where do you suggest we start?”

“We do not wish another war,” Solkar began, recapping what had already been put forth. “And we do not wish to commit genocide. The Federation must be guided by more than just a blind grasp for power and the equally short-sighted goal of protection from the unknown. Thusly, I suggest we begin our search for ‘buried treasure’ with an ancient civilization that once ruled a large portion of the Alpha Quadrant: the Tkon Empire.”

Shran’s antennae shot up in surprise. “The planet thieves?”

Archer shook his head. “I’m afraid I must of missed that one in the history books.”

“They wouldn’t be in your books, Pinkskin. The planet thieves are legends �” they were said to have the ability to move entire star systems in the blink of an eye.” Shran chuckled, shaking his head. “No, no, there’s no such thing �” no people could be that powerful.”

Solkar arched an eyebrow upwards. “Are you so certain, General?”

The Andorian seemed to wrestle for a moment with the thought before clearing his throat. “Perhaps something of them might exist.”

“A logical conclusion,” Solkar offered. “If the technology of the Tkon Empire does, in fact, exist, it presents us with the option that both satisfies our need to avoid genocide, but ensures the safety of the Federation �” and every other species in our galaxy.”

Soval stood from his chair and gave Solkar a look of understanding. “You wish to move the Borg �” use the technology to send them to a place where they can do no harm, but where their lives can continue.”

“Yes.” Solkar took a breath, pushing down the sights and sounds of Lily Sloane’s experiences. He remembered vividly the people she witnessed as Borg drones … and equally as vividly he remembered her feelings of pity, remorse, and horror. How powerless she felt to help them and how angry she was that Picard didn’t even bother trying.

It was not his way and it was not the Vulcan way to needlessly murder those who were victims. It would not be the way of this Federation. “Once the Borg are removed to an unpopulated portion of the galaxy, we can then begin work to remove the technology from the victims �” to restore them back to the individuals they once were.”

“Impossible,” Shran scoffed. “Didn’t you see that thing? The technology was woven into its body!”

“By studying the Borg technology in the Arctic, it is possible we may arrive at a treatment for them,” Soval said, his tone indicating approval.

“But it all hinges on finding that ancient technology,” Archer said. “It could take years … decades … maybe longer.”

“In all likelihood,” Solkar agreed. “But by concentrating our exploration and expansion into territories previously occupied by the Tkon Empire, we will increase our odds greatly of discovering what we seek. We may not find the exact ‘treasure’ we’re seeking, Captain, but we will find something. No venture is without merit.”

Gral looked at them all with wide eyes. “And what if we find something we don’t want? What if we find these ‘Borg’ and they decide to end us?”

Solkar regarded him with a cool gaze. “Then we fight, Ambassador.”