He could still hear it, even now. After two long months, every time he lay down to sleep, the terrors of Frontier Day would take him. Where they took him, that was anyone’s guess. But they would take him. They would engulf him. They would cause him to wake dripping wet and pulse racing. Even tonight. Especially tonight.

Hurtling through the cosmos at the greatest of speeds was usually a surefire way to get him to sleep; the rhythmic pulsing of the warp core and the stars streaking by the window were enough to settle anyone, but especially him. He’d been a good sleeper even as a child on Delta. But not tonight.

Knowing that they were rushing headlong into a possible (or was it probable?) confrontation with their deadliest enemy, again, was enough to keep him from sleep. Sure, it would be really easy to medicate himself, but that wasn’t what he did. Instead, the home remedies he’d experienced over the decades weren’t working tonight. The horrors of Frontier Day were still too fresh to forget, and they had been brought kicking and screaming to the surface once again when he heard those infamous words one… more… time.

“Resistance is futile.”

That’d sent shivers from his shiny bald head all the way to his toes and back again. His legs had almost given way upon hearing the dull, robotic voice of their arch-enemy again sharing their words of wisdom… and warning. Even from hundreds, if not thousands of lightyears away, they could project fear like no other being in the galaxy. It was impressive to be fair, and if it had been any other species he’d have considered making his next research paper all about it. But not about them. And it wasn’t just those robotic warriors either.

Wandering deck three, steaming beverage in hand and heading for the turbo lift, he found himself eying everyone who passed him. Of course, he understood that these were a different type of Borg, but that didn’t stop him from becoming suspicious of the young in the fleet now this sudden renewed threat had emerged. Sure, they’d long since been put through the Borg DNA removal sweeps implemented by Admiral Crusher, had months of mandated counselling, but that didn’t make the naturally untrusting Deltan feel any better. What if something had gone wrong? What if the transporter protocols hadn’t worked properly? There were nearly eighty people aboard the Buran who could cause a lot of problems if things went wrong.

When Lieutenant Commander Zinn, Chief Medical Officer extraordinaire, emerged from the turbo lift onto the bridge, things were relatively quiet. After the furore surrounding the squadron’s departure, things had started to calm down. It would be another day or so until they reached their destination, and with the spectre of another Borg encounter on the horizon, Buran’s commander had given most of the crew some time off to deal with their thoughts and to try and steady themselves. It wasn’t like a full crew needed to be on the bridge anyway; a skeleton crew were more than capable of managing the ship while it was travelling.

Standing at the port rail, mug of steaming coffee in one hand and the other propping up his tired frame, the Deltan nodded towards the XO, tipping his cup in greeting.

“Rough night?” Tharia enquired from the command chair, smirking at the face the physician pulled in response to her query.

“How’s things?” he asked between sips of his sludge-like beverage.

“Quiet,” Tharia answered, gesturing to the screen directly ahead where the visual clearly showed the other two ships of the squadron travelling in formation mere meters in front of them. “It’s almost like…”

“…the calm before the storm,” Zinn interjected, cocking his head in knowing agreement when the Andorian turned her head his way again.

Their words were almost premonition-like as just seconds later, a new beeping sound arose from the operations station where the Denobulan assistant Valesa, one of the two other people currently present, was working away to keep things running smoothly. She had just finished understanding the meaning of the beep when Tharia appeared over her shoulder, taking in the information on the display.

When she eventually and slowly made herself upright again, she looked across at Zinn with a glare that pierced into his very soul. A glare that left him feeling sick to his stomach.

“Wake the Captain…”

Almost fifteen minutes later, a tired and unshaven Captain Romaes was standing in front of his command chair, reading the contents on the data PADD for a third time, rubbing his brow contemplatively.

Tharia, like everyone else on the bridge, waited with bated breath for the Bajoran’s orders. A message from the flagship wasn’t uncommon, but the timing, and the look on their commander’s face, suggested there was something more to worry about. When he eventually passed the PADD off to his deputy, he looked across at Valesa.

“Return message to the flagship,” he instructed, slipping into the command chair behind him. “Acknowledge receipt of orders and inform Fleet Captain Nazir we’re adjusting course. We’ll report in when we have something.”

“Understood Captain,” the Denobulan nodded, then returned her attention back to the console to do her Captain’s bidding.

“And wake the rest of the senior staff,” he added swiftly, “we have a change of orders.”

Standing directly between the forward operations console and the viewscreen, several members of the senior staff were reviewing data and reported sightings on the massive holographic viewscreen that dominated the forward bulkhead.

“These are all of the confirmed sightings from reliable sources,” Commander sh’Elas informed as she pointed to several blue dots on the screen. Several red dots appeared shortly after. “These four are rumoured, unconfirmed,” she added, arms folded across her chest.

“Display them in chronological order,” Romaes ordered, arms folded, glancing past the XO and towards the Bolian seated at Ops on the lower level.

Brak Qiraro, formally of the Hathaway like so many others aboard, had been privileged enough to be promoted to one of the few vacant positions across the squadron, and on his first official mission, he found himself hunting down a Borg vessel. Not what he had expected in the slightest. Still, he did as instructed and modified the display.

“Peculiar…” Tharia mused quietly, eyes trained on the readout. On face value, there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to why the Borg were visiting these places.

“Now, bar Frontier Day, I’ve not had any encounters with the Borg,” Brak spoke up, “but when we were at the Academy we were told the Borg act with precision… and purpose. Those markers don’t suggest purpose.”

“They’re looking for something…” the new Bajoran tactical officer and second in command finally piped up, taking a step forward, her fingers tracing the Borg ship’s projected movements carefully.

Romaes, stood between his trusted command team, closed his eyes and took a long, deep breath of composure. Or was it dread? The thought of the Borg looking for something, unsuccessfully, worried him greatly. “Whatever it is they might be looking for, they’re here, in our space now,” Romaes answered both sternly, “and that means we need to find out why. I want us within sensor range by zero-nine hundred,” he turned and glared at the XO, who doubled as the navigation officer aboard the small Rhode Island-class scoutship.

“We’ll need to increase to warp eight,” the Andorian told, “but I’d recommend moving to, and staying at, extreme sensor range until we know more.”

Romaes nodded, accepting the suggestion of his first officer. “Alright people, let’s get it done.”

Captain’s log, supplemental.

 

Buran has been diverted from her mission with the squadron to investigate some reported sightings of a Borg vessel which are of great concern to Starfleet, and myself. For the first time, to my knowledge, the reported sightings are within Federation space, along the shared border with the Hegemony. Our instructions are simple; approach with caution, ascertain the Borg’s intentions and monitor their movements. What intelligence we have gained access to suggests the vessel, like many reports from across the quadrant, is behaving… erratically… moving from place to place, system to system. It’s almost as if they’re looking for something…

 

If these reports are proven to be true, this is a clear escalation. Dozens of Borg sightings across the quadrant and beyond, but this, so far, is the first reported sighting within Federation space. And it is unnerving my crew. Everyone recalls the horrors of recent months. Frontier Day has left scars on everyone, but this is a different Borg. This is the Borg of old. This is the Borg I remember. Relentless. Unnerving. Horrifying.

 

Starfleet warns of the need for caution. I warn of the need to be vigilant. They’re after something, and they won’t stop until they get it.

 

And then we’ll all be in trouble…