“They do not yet trust me.”  Baron Nine’s eyes were closed tightly, his hands gripping the safety restraints that had activated as the Vorethi-bots and their ships had arrived.

Captain Wren Walton sat to his right in the center command chair, annoyed.  “Well, I suggest you help them see you as trustworthy soon.  The full weight of the Perseverance’s tactical systems will not feel pleasant.”  Three Vorethi mining vessels swarmed the Pathfinder-class starship.  “Park?”

Commander Park had slotted over to the tactical console.  It wasn’t an unfamiliar station to her – with the absence of a chief tactical officer, she’d been training with the tactical crew since her return.  “Phasers are having a minimal impact.  The armor they’ve welded onto the hulls is keeping them safe.”  The bridge shuddered under the impact of the drilling lasers, and Park tapped at the console. “Shields are holding, but they’ll struggle under the load of repeated fire from those damned lasers.”

Walton asked Baron, “Any luck in the trust department?  At least get them to talk to us and stop firing at us?”

His eyes remained closed, but his mouth moved, a low muttering sound escaping his lips.  Walton watched him carefully.  He had said he could easily resist the Vorethi-bots.  She wasn’t sure if it was his ego talking.  The former Borg had proven his abilities in the past.  The nature of his ex-Borg status had always kept her on guard, and while it didn’t feel good to think it possible, she would not risk her crew and her ship for a false positive gut feeling.  She held onto her restraints as the deck shook again, and Park reported the shields were at 90%.  “Baron, warn them if they force me to go weapons free, I can’t guarantee they’ll live.  Protecting my crew overrides anything and anyone else.  Cadet Williams – transmit that message on all frequencies.”  She felt her face grow warm, her frustrations becoming hard to hide.  The situation the Guild of Blood had created was infuriating.  Having to decide to take a life that possibly didn’t know better was equally enraging.  “Park, mark your targets for torpedo fire, and lock on.”

The bridge shuddered again as the laser fire intensified.  Shields dropped to 80%.  Walton turned to the ex-Borg again. “Last chance, Baron.”

His eyes flew open, the voice not his own. “We must speak with the creators.”

Park’s finger hovered over the torpedo trigger button, watching as the Vorethi-bot ships slowed their fire, and then stopped.  “They’re holding, Wren.”

Walton stared at Baron Nine, uneasy and unhappy.  She asked, “Why?”

The spirit inhabiting Baron blinked its eyes in rapid succession, as if it was computing its response.  “We require new directives.  We do not understand the new variables present in the system.  They are not of Vorethi designation.  Our original directive was to intake new variables for assembly into systems.”  A pause.  “New variables were not compatible with systems.  Initial efforts failed.  Arrival of these new variables present additional challenges that cannot be surmounted.  We require new directives from the creators.”

Wren hadn’t stood from her chair, fearing any movement would inspire the Vorethi-bot holding Baron captive would react and presented the possibility of having to either subdue the ex-Borg or, worst case, kill him.  She thought about how to ask her next question.  The right wording was key – getting a response from the primitive operation system would help her understand what needed to happen next.  She asked, “Where can I find the initial set of variables?””  Walton needed to find out what had happened to Runyon.  The Grissom-class was on temporary loan from outside the Fourth Fleet.

“The ones that survived the integration attempt and those that remain were returned to their ship for safekeeping until new directives were received.”  The Vorethi-bot inside Baron turned the ex-Borg’s face towards her.  “Are the creators available?”

The hair on the back of Walton’s neck stood up as the blank staring eyes reflected in empty silence, waiting for her reply.  She was going to have to have a long talk to Baron after this.  A very long talk.  As well as some serious study of his former control functions that were still alarmingly present.  “They are, but it will require time to contact them and for them to come here.  May we retrieve our fellow variables and their ship?”

The blank look on Baron’s face remained, but his mouth moved again. It was as if there were conversations happening between the other Vorethi-bots here and there – an unsettling familiar characteristic with the enigmatic Borg.  More minutes passed until the voice replied, “This is acceptable.  We will return them to you here – we will expect the Creators to be here so that the variables may be released to your care.  Is this an acceptable directive?”

Walton held the sigh she wanted to let out.  Instead she answered, “This is an acceptable directive.”  She waited until Baron slumped back in his chair before tapping at the arm of her chair, “Josephs to the bridge – stat.”

Park turned back to her station, “The ships are withdrawing.” She felt relief at the slow departure, and yet a quiet worry began to build.  What would the state of the Runyon be?  What did the Vorethi-bots mean by ‘those that survived’?  

Wren grumbled, “Inform Captain Crawford we’re going to need some diplomatic magic, or miracles, or something.  He is not going to like it.”  She further groused, “Lot of that going around.”