If Gods Met…
This is the beginning of a challenge set by my good friend Kosh (not that one). He asked me to write a story about what would happen if the Borg and the Vorlons met.
Disclaimer - Vorlons belong to JMS and all affiliated companies. The Borg belong to Paramount. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Please please send feedback.
If you're a B5 fan hopefully you should recognise which race the first character you’re introduced to is from. I like this race, but we've only seen an 'intelligent' one of them in one ep (Shadow Dancing). Just because they speak that way doesn't mean they aren't intelligent. If you don't recognise who they are or don't remember e-mail me and I'll tell you all about the race.
Oh, I've also made some assumptions about their biology. As far as I know the stomach comment has never been confirmed in an ep.
Drosha was not having a good day. Not only had he been sitting next to a drunk Centauri for the last eight hours, not only that, but he had also realised half way through the journey that a green was on the ship with him. A green. He nearly snarled at the very thought. He was purple, and fought the greens at every opportunity. Once they docked he would have to show that green who the true leaders were.
Brooding, he looked out the window into the dizzying spectacle of hyperspace. It was quite pretty he supposed, but the constant swirling red left him feeling decidedly queasy. Two of his stomachs gurgled. Grunting, he moved about in his seat trying to rid himself of the nausea.
The transport shuddered then as they made the jump back to normal space. As always he was a bit disconcerted at they made the jump but they went through the jump gate with no problems.
They would drop off a few passengers here, he knew that much, then head back for hyperspace.
The ship had travelled a few hundred kilometres then stopped suddenly, throwing him against his restraint. The drunk Centauri mumbled slightly then returned to his snoozing. Those who were unlucky enough to have faulty restraints or hadn't bothered fastening them were pitched forward. There were cries of pain from each section of the transport, and it sounded to Drosha as if at least one female had gone into early labour.
He looked out the window again to see why they had stopped and saw that an eerie green glow was surrounding the ship. As the glow intensified, he had to squint as the green light bathed the interior of the transport.
There were startled gasps from everyone in the cabin but no one seemed to know what to do. Unable to just sit there, he unfastened his restraint and jogged up to the cockpit, banging on the entrance loudly. After getting no reply he tried to pull the door open but wasn't strong enough to do so by himself. Glancing around the cabin he saw that no one in here would be strong enough to help.
Then he saw the green.
Looking directly at the green he didn't say a word, but nodded his head towards the door. Just as silently the green stood and walked warily towards him. Together they yanked at the door until finally it screeched open to reveal…
It was massive. Easily a hundred times the size of the transport. It appeared to be made of black and grey metals messed together. It was cube-shaped.
The green muttered a curse and he joined in. The green light that surrounded the transport was emanating from that huge vessel and was dragging them towards it, if the slight movement of the deck beneath their feet was any indication.
Dragging his horrified gaze from the viewport, Drosha tried to locate the pilot. After a few seconds of looking he found the Hyach cowering inside the small maintenance cupboard.
"Get us out of here!" Drosha hissed, but the Hyach ignored him, grabbing his head and shaking it from side to side,
Fine, then. They'd have to do this by themselves. He was in a bit of a dilemma though - he had never flown a transport, and from the expression on the green's face neither had he.
Their musing was cut short as they heard an unusual sound behind them. Turning quickly they saw an alien appear. And another. And another.
Their flesh was white but their bodies were covered in black mechanical parts. Cyborgs? One eye was covered with some kind of device, and it looked as though the end of one of their arms had been completely removed to be replaced by a metal arm, no doubt much deadlier than the original.
Drosha took this all in in a few seconds because moments later he launched himself at them…and instantly found himself on the floor.
He shook his head as she stood again. They were incredibly strong. The alien had barely touched him but Drosha had been knocked a great distance. He felt some of his white blood dribble down the side of his mouth. Grimly he drew his dagger from his belt and approached them slowly this time, calculating.
When the aliens had first appeared, those with any sense had immediately started for the few escape pods that there were. A couple had made it, but now the only escape route was being blocked by more aliens who had appeared.
It had already been cramped in the transport before these aliens appeared; now it was even more so. He would have to use that to his advantage.
The Centauri was awake now; no doubt the screaming had pierced even his alcohol-hazed mind. His eyes widened, and Drosha watched as he pulled out a PPG that he had no doubt smuggled on board. The Centauri fired it at the alien closest to him and those who witnessed it smiled in satisfaction. So these things could be killed.
The Centauri was apparently happy as well, because he quickly undid his restraint and fired at several others. His smug grin vanished as he fired at the fourth alien. Nothing. Or to be more specific, a forcefield appeared which prevented the PPG from inflicting any damage. The alien advanced upon the Centauri, who was now stumbling backwards, desperate to retreat. He kept firing blindly, nearly killing a few of the passengers in the process.
Drosha tried to get to him, to help, but there were too many aliens in the way. Now the Centauri was back in his seat, with no way to escape. Drosha watched with sickened fascination as the alien calmly swung his mechanical arm down and crushed the Centauri's skull.
Drosha turned with dagger in hand, to kill some of the aliens when he saw the green was in trouble. He'd apparently been in combat with two of the aliens, because another one lay on the floor dead. Before his very eyes the alien vanished! It appeared to almost disintegrate and all it left behind was it's shadow.
The green was fighting another alien now, but it was defeating him. The green swung his dagger madly but it wasn't enough. The alien grabbed him harshly around the neck with his mechanical hand, then raised his other. Two thin wires appeared from the device on its fingers which immediately inserted and retracted from the greens neck.
The alien then let the green fall, moving onto another target. Drosha watched as blackened veins appeared on the surface of the green's skin, and moved as if they had a life of their own. The green choked, trying to speak but being unable too.
No! He would not permit this. He would not let this happen to himself or to the rest of the people on this transport.
Running toward the closest alien he screamed and managed to slit its throat. It didn't utter a sound as it went down.
He headed for another then became aware that one was behind him. Swinging round he tried to fight it but then one advanced from behind, and another from the side.
He would not allow this! He would not!
But there was nothing he could do. There were too many of them and they were too strong. They were always too strong.
He could see the moment coming when he would lose his existence, and tried to brace himself for it. One alien held him and the other injected the wires into his neck.
Gasping he grabbed at his neck, to try and remove it to just try and get it out!
There was nothing he could do.
They spread like fire through his veins, leaving no part of him untouched. His stumbled forward but there was no escape from his fate. How could he escape when it was inside him?
He collapsed on the floor.
No! I won’t let it end like this. I can't! I've been through so much. There's still so much I need to do. This is so worthless. My death should mean something!
Then he heard them. The voices. They spoke - welcoming, beckoning. How could he turn away? Every part of his identity was being erased, and he was useless to resist it.
His last individual memory was of the aliens finally speaking vocally.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile."
But he knew that already.