“That’s a precision cut.”  Commander Park commented as she walked around the remains of the impulse drive.  Opposite her was the Perseverance’s deputy chief operations officer, Ensign Alexandre De La Fontaine.  He was moving foot by foot as he worked the engineering sensor cart, stopping to redirect the scanning target.

De La Fontaine mused, “The residual weapons readings are coming back as unknown.  The marks and energy patterns share no similarities with any known weapon type in the database.”  He continued around the wreckage, intent on completing the full scan.  There might be something on the next pass, or even the next sensor array change that would give them a hint of a clue.

Park slipped her PADD out of her belt, connecting to the ensign’s scanner.  She whistled low.  “No known commonalities found in the database.  All weapons share something with each other because they weren’t created in a vacuum.”  She stopped herself, scoffing, “What if this weapon was?  The Shroud hid plenty, and more would have just remained hidden with no one finding it.”  She tapped at the PADD.  “What if whatever did this isn’t known to us, or even the Vorethi?”

“I suppose we could ask them if they know anything about it,” Alexandre quipped.  “They’ll probably say they know nothing about it.”  He shook his head as if answering his own question.  “There’s not much development in the direction the Runyon’s signal went.  In a society that considers ‘development’ a core belief, that blank spot on the map is… weird.”

Park finished her walk around the wrecked impulse drive.  Her eyes searched every surface, and her mind whirled with possibilities while concern scrunched up her usual stoic face.  There was something so familiar in all this.  “Where have we seen precision attacks like this?”

De La Fontaine grimaced. “The Borg took ships apart like this.  Not all the time, but enough to end up in our academy courses.”  The mention of the Federation’s greatest nemesis gave them both pause, and silence fell across the cargo bay.

Park felt an icy chill shudder down her spine.  There were very few names that could give her pause.  The Borg was at the top of the list.  “They would have known if the Borg were in their backyard.  Wouldn’t they?”  That she was asking the question out loud did not fill her with confidence.  Her worries were filled with images of the Borg and the incessant droning soliloquies from the voices of millions of subjugated masses.

A shrug from the operations deputy chief.  “The Shroud was protective.  Maybe it protected them from the Borg advancing.  Maybe it kept the Borg from making transwarp conduits.”

Park grumbled, annoyed she was going to have to put in a report with one theory being about the Borg.  There was little evidence to suggest the explanation was the mad mechanical monsters.  And yet they had always adapted.  They kept surviving.  They kept nearly bringing an end to the Federation and the universe writ large.  That she was considering them as an option made her stomach flip, a sour taste at the back of her throat rising.  “I don’t like it, Ensign.  I need to give the Captain a full, diversified report, so let’s take a few more passes at the investigation.”

“I cannot sense a Borg signal.” Baron Nine stood on the bridge of the Perseverance, his wide eyes staring into the stars beyond the viewscreen, his hands tightly balled at his side.   Since stepping aboard, they had allowed him to use a science lab.  He had been working to understand the Borg that he had been, and the human he was becoming.  Baron closed his eyes as something flitted at the edge of his consciousness.  “However…there is something.”

Wren stood next to him, PADD in hand.  Commander Park had delivered her report an hour ago, and Walton had asked Baron to report to the bridge to see what guidance he could provide.  “Please explain,” she asked. The eyes of the former Borg Drone remained closed, and he squinted tighter, as if he was listening deeper to the sounds of the stars.  She watched his hands briefly open, then clasp tightly.  This repeated several times.  His lips moved soundlessly, eyebrows raising and furrowing in equal measure.

Suddenly, his eyes flew open.  “It is not the Borg.  It is something…similar.”  He shook his head, as if that statement was void.  “It is… living, but not alive.”  He paused, seeming as if the words were not enough to explain.  He turned to Walton. “The Borg are well spoken – they speak as one.  This…is as if they are just learning to speak.”  He held out his hands, and Walton wasn’t sure what he was asking for.  “A PADD, please.”  She chuckled and handed it over.  Baron tapped away at it, pausing as his eyes lost focus and then returned to the present.  He took one last look at the data he had input before handing it back to Walton.  “This is where we can find them.”

Wren fought the urge to stare at the former Borg.  Disbelief, fascination, and amazement were all swirling around inside her.  She examined the PADD, sucking in a breath of caution.  “That is…deep into the far end of the Asteroid field.  Do they know where the Runyon is?  Or the condition of her crew?

Baron’s face had returned to its standard placid state.  “Unknown.  They do not view the world as we do.  It will require closer investigation.  I encourage caution, but urgency.”

Walton didn’t like any of the options before her at the moment.  “Get me Captain Crawford.  “Helm, plot a course to intercept where Baron says this… whatever it is, is located.”

The Franklin D. Roosevelt’s commanding officer soon filled the viewscreen.  Walton explained what she knew and what she didn’t.  Crawford shifted in the center chair. “I can ask the Chief Premier – we’re just getting our initial meeting scheduled.  Standby.”  He turned to his bridge and went about the business of reaching the central government leader.

Walton returned to her center chair.  She leaned back in the chair, turning to her XO and friend.  “You’ve been quiet.”

Commander Park didn’t answer right away.  She tapped at the console by her chair, frowning in what was becoming her default expression on this mission.  She turned to face Walton. “It’s all wrong.  It’s not the Borg, but it is.  There’s a big piece of this puzzle missing  – why hasn’t the Central Government said anything about the Runyon?  These guilds – from what I can guess based on the briefings they Voreth have sent us-have a lot of power.  That the Runyon slipped by without nary a notice?  Something’s not right.”

Walton could feel the doubt flowing freely from all parts of Commander Park.  She wasn’t sure of anything either, if she was honest.  A Grissom-class starship was small, but hard to ignore.  Her heart slowly climbed into her throat as she realized what she was saying in her head.  “What if they intentionally ignored her?  What if the guilds didn’t warn them or care enough to intercede before it was too late?”

Park grimaced. “The Voreth are really making it hard to like them.”

“Wren, we’ve got an answer.  You’re not going to like it.”

It was Walton’s turn to grimace.