No-one moved faster than Windweaver. Functioning purely on instinct, not thought, the healer leapt to Starsword's defence, hands outstretched. Magic coursed through those hands, but its function was to harm, rather than heal - a facet of the Doctor's power that she knew was there, but was never called upon. Windweaver feared the possible slide into cruelty, but instinct left no room for weighing benefit against danger.

The metallic tendrils extending from the foundling's hand recoiled, seeming to shrivel, the moment the Doctor's magic came into contact with them. Windweaver drove them back, back within the confines of the force-field...

The armoured elf staggered back, and fell to one knee, servo-motors whining with every step. Previously unseen tentacles of green-tinged metal shot out from her back, trying to stabilise her, but their movements were shaky, erratic. Eventually they failed completely, and the girl collapsed onto the floor.

Windweaver was so lost in herself, overwhelmed by the sensation of such power seething inside her, that it took the intervention of another to stop her. MacLaughlin, dismayed by sudden and drastic changes in his readings, bounded over and slapped the Doctor's hands aside. The elf snapped out of her trance instantly, but the momentary contact was enough to send MacLaughlin reeling, hands prickling as though he had just thrust them into boiling water.

The healer, released from the hypnotic lure of the darker side of her power, immediately sought to make amends, hurrying over to give aid to the scientist. She was stopped in her tracks by the sight of a Type I phaser in MacLaughlin's trembling hand.

"Keep away from me", he growled. "Keep away from her, too. Who knows what damage you've done!"

"I...I...", mumbled Windweaver, still not quite sure what was happening around her. She backed away, almost straight into the comforting arms of a very grateful Starsword.

MacLaughlin stowed away his phaser, and returned to his instruments. "Some of the neural connections to the artificial components are disabled", he read from his console display, "but not destroyed. Oddly enough, this could actually be useful to us. It could make communication easier, allowing us to get past many of the built-in safeguards. I should thank you, Doctor - but I hardly feel inclined to do so."

The scientist tried to flex his fingers, and had great trouble doing so. Lt. Varien came forward to help, and would have been ordered away had he not been holding a medical tricorder and tissue regenerator. So equipped, the elf was grudgingly allowed to proceed with the treatment.

On the other side of the room, Starsword tried to console Windweaver, who was coming to terms with what she had done. The healer had gone against everything she believed in by inflicting harm on another, and it brought her close to tears, but the Security Chief's efforts were hampered by the persistent Ingotay, who was annoyingly over-eager to find out what the Glider had learned.

"What did you see? Did she say anything?"

Starsword gave Ingotay nothing. Her thoughts, quite literally, with Windweaver, and she heard and saw nothing outside of their shared Sendings. As far as she was concerned, only direct orders from her Captain would make her do otherwise.

Commander Paxton sat down in the Captain's chair, now that the elf witch was off in her ready room filling out reports... Or what ever it is that she really does in there, thought the half-Klingon.

His attempts to plant listening devices in her office and quarters had failed, each time the pile of devices had been left on his bed, nearly melted. It annoyed him beyond words. How did the witch do it? HOW!?!, he pondered.

The bridge was quiet, as the second shift had just begun. Just as he was about to exercise some power, and announce an order, the beeping of the comm-system interrupted him. It was from the conn, and Ensign Vixx, a female Bolian, identified the source. "Sir - incoming Priority One messages for the Captain", the Ensign reported.

Paxton got up and walked behind the Ensign, looking without speaking over her shoulder, his brooding presence making her wonder what was wrong.

He stood there for a few minutes, letting the younger Ensign grow more and more uncomfortable with the situation. A Priority One encrypted message, for Blackfire's eyes only? What was she up to this time, did it have anything to do with that thing on the space station?

Paxton slapped his comm-badge, "Paxton to Captain Blackfire, we have a Priority One message from Starfleet Command for your eyes only."

"Commander, I will take it in my ready room. Route it though."

That was all Blackfire said, leaving Paxton to speculate wildly on what was going on behind the doors of the ready room.

Behind those very doors, Blackfire was going over the reports from MacLaughlin's assistants about what had happened on the space station, until the message arrived - an encrypted message, that could only be opened by her. Setting the reports aside, she entered her security code into the console on her desk and waited as it was verified.

First, the screen was filled by the crest of the Empire, then there came an image of an aged human male with grey hair.

"Captain Blackfire - how are you today?" 

"I am well, Admiral Paris. To what do I owe the honor of your message?"

The Admiral shifted in his seat. "We are sending a ship with an addition to your crew, Captain."

"Lt. Huntington. Yes, I know", confirmed Blackfire.

"I am afraid not, Captain. This is not about Huntington or his flight team. How familiar are you with the staff of Starfleet Research and Development?"

"I have heard of them." Blackfire began to wonder what this human Admiral had on his mind...He was not acting as he normally did. Most often he was blunt, gruff and to the point, but this time he was using a little tact. Both times he had talked to Blackfire in the past he had not let her get a word in edge-wise. Now he was almost tip-toeing around something.

"Dr. Cinocard is the head of Starfleet Research and Development, and he and a small group from his team have been granted space on board the Ghidorah, by order of Starfleet Command. He will see how well your ship functions, and field-test new weapons as he sees fit."

"I see," commented Blackfire

"It is important that nothing happens to him, He is the best Starfleet has to offer...and he has hand-picked your ship. It should be quite an honor for you and your crew to work with him.

"Do not let anything happen to him, Captain, do you understand...?"

"I understand, sir." She answered with more venom then she should have, not appreciating being treated like a cadet who needed to have everything said twice. That was the Paris I know and hate, she mused.

"Good. He will arrive in a day. Paris out."

Back on the Bridge, Paxton went back to the captains chair. For a little while longer, at least, it was his chair, and he was still to vent some frustration at someone in the name of superiority. He took a look around as he went to sit, seeking a target...

"Commander!!", called out Ensign Vixx.

"What is it now?", growled Paxton. Here was his prey...

"We have an incoming vessel, a...approaching at high warp speeds", stammered the young Ensign. "Sir, it matches Imperial warp patterns, but not configurations - sir, it matches no known class of ship."

Paxton look at the small computer panel set into one arm of the Captain's chair, and called up the data Vixx was receiving. The vessel was about the size of a standard transport but unlike any thing he had seen.

"Sir", Vixx called again, "it's hailing us."

"Put it on screen, Ensign, and inform the Captain."

A human face appeared on the main viewer - a man with long hair, but other than that he looked like any other human Paxton had seen.

"Commander Paxton I presume...? Lieutenant Commander Richard Huntington, reporting for duty, Sir. I brought you the ships you ordered."

"And what ships would those be, Commander?" fumed Paxton, still hungry to test his temporary power.

"Why the Blackstars of course, Commander." The human gestured to someone off-screen.

What trick's he up to...?, wondered Paxton...

"The transport's launching a fighter, sir", Vixx reported.

The small fighter emerged from underneath the transport. It was sleek in design, and the hull coloring was dark gray, to blend into the blackness of space easily. "Where do you want them Commander?", Huntington asked.

Blackfire emerged from her ready room. She walked right in front of Paxton, ignoring him as she took centre stage. "You may place them in the main shuttle bay", she said. "Oh, and Lt. Huntington - welcome abroad the Ghidorah."

"Thank you ma'am. It is an honour to serve under your command. Huntington out."

The image of the young pilot winked out of the viewscreen, to be replaced by stars and the space station in the background.

"We will see, Mr. Huntington, we will see." commented Blackfire thoughtfully, as she turned and set off back to her ready room.

What a boot-kissing toady!! How did such a petaQ get though Starfleet training?, fumed Paxton. He went to go seat himself yet again, only this time he waited a few heartbeats, looking to see if any one would dare him to sit.

Only when Paxton was sure that no one would interrupt him did he sit to ponder the meaning of it all.

As he spoke to Paxton, Rick wondered how such a fool made it through commander training. The Ghidorah's "Number One" was some kind of Klingon-human half breed. Not that that mattered much until now. The officer was acting like he didn't even know how the ship was run.

Play up to him, Rick thought. Now's not the time to pick a fight with the first officer of a new ship.

From off to one side walked a slender majestic creature. She had long black hair done up in a braid, and she wore the more revealing two-piece uniform instead of the usual one-piece reserved for higher-ranking officers. Captain...?

Rick snapped his thoughts back in line. What a fool! Did she see the way he'd looked at her?

"You may place them in the main shuttle bay", Captain Blackfire said. "Oh, and Mr. Huntington - welcome abroad the Ghidorah."

A tingle went down Rick's spine. He could swear she was the same person that he saw a moment ago, but some thing about her was different, some thing more dangerous...almost snake like. He had to be careful around her, no matter what. Even from across space she seemed to have power, a pull of some unknown kind.

"Thank you ma'am, It is an honour to serve under your command. Huntington out"

Rick leaned back against the rail that encircled the bridge. He let his feelings die down before he looked around. The crew of the transport looked at him. The captain of the ship was off eating his midday meal, and had left Huntington to take care of this small detail. If that was what it took to talk to Blackfire, Rick would have to limit how many times a day he did so.

The meeting back on the Ghidorah was hushed, almost fearful, as Starsword gave her report, telling everyone what she had experienced, sharing her thoughts with those that could receive them and reconstruction the images on the Holodeck for the rest. She passed on the feeling of a great space-power, feared by billions, which appeared to have finally met its match - perhaps its superior - in unseen adversaries.

"A good start, Lieutenant - you are to be commended for your efforts - but we need to know more", said Blackfire after the Glider's presentation. "What do you have for us, Doctor MacLaughlin?"

"Your Doctor's...actions have indeed made studies easier", said the cyberneticist, presented in the room as a hologram, projected through a new and experimental holo-communication system Blackfire had been keen to try. "The initial transformation, involving the purely mechanical systems, appears to operate on two levels. There are the larger, surgically implanted components, but the foundations and connections for these 'grow' as the result of the actions of a large population of highly-sophisticated nanites."

MacLaughlin replayed earlier events before the assembled officers as a holo-simulation. "These first tendrils", he said, referring to the foiled attack on Starsword, "are designed to introduce these nanites into a new host, paving the way for the transformation proper. These other tentacles" - the image changed to show the foundling's subsequent collapse - "are unrelated, however. They form part of the modifications added later, based on a different technology entirely - one involving a fusion of organic and inorganic components. This technology I am yet to explore in any depth."

"I look forward to your discoveries, Doctor", said Blackfire, and MacLaughlin's image vanished from the Holodeck.

On Science Station Pertwee, the scientist stepped off the holo-projector platform and returned to his work. His hands had been completely healed, and so he could take full control of the research again, wresting his precious instruments from the fumbling hands of Ingotay. MacLaughlin knew of the man's work, and might even have admired it, but meeting the man had been something of an anticlimax, and the cyberneticist had to wonder what could have led the Science Officer down such a self-destructive path. So long as no-one has such a fate in store for me, I've nothing to worry about, he thought. Now, let's get back to making myself indispensable...

Blackfire had sent another assistant along with additional materials the Doctor had requested, but he was in two minds about her. Another elf was the last thing he needed, but this one had an excellent service record and skills that made Mr. Ingotay redundant. She would suit the cyberneticist's needs - as long as she didn't touch him.

"I think it's time to take a closer look at these other implants, Lieutenant...ah...?"

"Nightsea, Doctor", replied the tall, dark-haired elven scientist.

"Yes. We need to know why these modifications were made, if we're going to make any sense of this mystery", the Doctor said, all the time thinking of his own secret project. The nanite-based technology is not enough for my needs, he had decided, but the other implants show promise...

Under MacLaughlin's instruction, Lt. Nightsea steered the remote-controlled sampling probe through a temporary aperture in the force-field towards the motionless foundling, before the Doctor took over for the tissue sampling itself. The moment the probe pierced the flexible membrane between the metal segments of one of the now-limp back-tentacles, MacLaughlin's instruments began to pick up a stream of data that made his glass-shielded eyes gleam with anticipation.

In one of the Ghidorah's maze of Jefferies tubes, Tyr Zenor banged his shoulder on the wall for the fourth time that day. "When I design a space ship, these tubes will be larger", he muttered.

His rock-like body made it hard to get in to the small spaces that he had been crawling around in, while on the other hand the wart-faced green-skinned Cregmiyre could almost walk down the tube with little trouble.

"Ha-ho!! I'm sure, oh man-mountain, that your marble hide could take it, and be proud you've just gained a few pebbles. Why, soon they will grow up and then there'll be more of you", Cregmiyre the troll chuckled. The chuckle then grew into a harsh, almost barking laugh.

"Careful my short friend", replied Tyr, "that none of those pebbles hit you in the face. You cannot afford to be any uglier."

Tyr went back back to the relay he was working on. Although it wasn't on any of the charts or specs on board the starship, this relay could possibly save them one day.

"Do you think the wolf can be trusted?", enquired the troll.

"Shatterclaw? Yes, he can. H will cover for us and no one will know of what we're up to", Tyr spoke as he welded the final connection to the relay.

"I'm not so sure - he's one of them. He's larger, and smarter, but he's still a wolf, and wolves are just beasties for elves. Mark my words, we'll be hung for this." The troll put his hands around his throat and made a twisted, strangling face.

"No", replied Tyr. "We won't."

Shatterclaw was at a work station in Engineering. His assignment was to log the others' daily work reports, and while he did this he made sure that a few of them just disappeared. It would not look good if Tyr and Cregmyre's duties were neglected, and that would lead to questions that neither of them would like to answer.

Shatterclaw closed his eyes. The pathway into the Soul of the Ghidorah opened before him. A few seconds concentration, and the duties were reassigned, or would simply not appear on the day's schedule. Another few seconds, and Mayhew's personal log would reflect the fact that he had postpostponed those duties to the next day.

Given the fact that Mayhew gave him such a wide berth, as did most of the crew, there should be little trouble. Mayhew had gone out of his way to keep clear of him. His daily orders came from other crew mates or by computer.

The giant wolf-man opened his eyes, and the changes were all in order. Should take care of them. after shift-end, he thought to himself. That was the price to pay for insuring his friends would be safe from any undo incriminations...

"Yoo-hoo!!"

Cringing, Shatterclaw looked up. His worst inner fear had returned.

It was Milla, Cregymiyre's crazy man-hunting daughter.

"Why are you not working on the plasma injector with Lt. Gansel?" His voice-box buzzed the translation. It had come out harsher then he had wanted it to, but it was for the best. If he gave her any hint of kindness she would mistake it for an interest in her.

"Well, we finished, and he wanted to go check the record for any past history of malfunctions in that unit. So..."

Her hand move toward his. He flexed his claws, extending them as far as he could. The female troll jerked back, a hard look descending over her face.

"So you came back here for reassignment? Good - Ten Forward has a malfunctioning replicator that needs tending to." He hardened his gaze at her. "You can take care of it?"

***Mother?***

Shatterclaw jerked his head up. A cold feeling shot down his spine. Images of fire and the dead coming back to life filled his mind. The tainted evil from his dream. It was near...and calling those to join it?

Shaking his head, Shatterclaw look at Milla. "Did you say something, Yeoman?", he asked haplessly.

"Not at all, great and mighty Wolf. I would never do so." She turned and stormed off.

Something was not right. From somewhere, pain was being transferred to another. A pain that Shatterclaw could not describe. He had to find out where, and why.

***Mother?***

Nightsea looked up from her console. Slowly, she looked around. MacLaughlin was working on something. Varien and Talon were taking a break back on the ship...so who was...Sending!

***Father!!!***

Nightsea put her hand to her head in reflex. It was a Sending, a powerful Sending that seemed strange, alien in form. It hurt her head to hear, to feel the thoughts mixed with pain.

***Help me...Don't let them get me! Mother! Father! Where are you? No....WHITE wolves! Monsters! Help! Mother! Father...***

Images and thoughts came in bursts. Jumbles of information all at once. The pain in the words was incredible, the fear as thick as seaweed.

In a brief moment, Nightsea saw a darkened room. Around her where monsters - green-skinned, four armed monsters - and humans clad in metal plates, tubes and wires...they were sticking...

- PAIN!!! -

...hands with tubes, tools, knifes...

- great PAIN!!!...

Nightsea was back in the lab the vision had passed - was it a vision, or a nightmare? She gripped the console. Sweat dripped down her back.

Something, little more than a feeling, made her look towards the force-field cubicle. The girl was standing up again, none the worse for her encounter with Windweaver's magic.

"You will be assimilated", she announced, her words lifeless, mechanical. "For the Collective to survive, you must become one with the Borg."

At the same time, there was another Sending. ***Help me...***

The source of the Sending was plain now. From inside the layers of alien armour and cybernetic implants, an elf was reaching out to her.

***I am here, kinswoman. Quest for the old self...meet my mind with your own!***

***Help me.*** It was as though the Sender did not know how to reply. The girl could only transmit her terror, her soul-crushing loneliness. Her Sending going into a well of desperation and despair, Nightsea tried to remain afloat in the tide of terror she touched.

***Please, someone help me..*** Again, the voice of desperation, a child lost in the dark, crying out to parents who Nightsea felt certain would never come.

"We Are Borg/Neverending..."

***Who are you? Tell me your soul name, sister. I may be able to help you if you are whole and do not hide inside yourself. What are these Borg who control you? How did they attack?***

"You will be assimilated. For the Collective to survive, you must become one with the Borg."

- Pain... ***Help me...***

Nightsea felt she was close. She had no choice but to dive deeper, into unknown depths. It was that, or leave the child to the torment of her condition, and that the sea-elf could not allow. Almost at once, she could sense that the girl was far from alone in her torment - no longer an individual, but part of a greater whole. A whole that permitted no deviation in its pursuit of mechanical perfection. Better not to live at all, Nightsea thought, but quickly pushed that thought to the back of her mind. If she faltered but once, the many voices, all speaking as one, would crush her as surely as the pressure of the deepest ocean.

Focussed so completely, it was but a matter of moments before the sea-elf found an island of pure elf, adrift in the darkness of the girl's mental desolation. Sensing a kindred spirit, a living, breathing soul born of the High Ones, the girl's soul reached out to touch Nightsea...

***They...they just took us...We couldn't fight them...*** A flash of memory accompanied this first unimpeded Sending. Two elves, male and female, surrounded by tall figures - humans, and others, originally, but their individualities were now buried under layers of machinery and armour...

"We...are Borg..." The mechanical presence was struggling to contain the girl's inner self. The Borg don't properly understand Sending, Nightsea sensed, but they need it, and our other powers. Their mechanisms block our powers - usually...

***Kal...am I Kal...?***

A name. Not a soul name, but a given name. That was the first, and possibly the most important step towards saving the girl. ***I sense your star! Fight, Kal! If you were ever a warrior, fight to be alone and whole!***

The machine would not surrender the girl. Weakened for a time, the Borg facet of her being was growing stronger again. "No. We are 5 of 11, Secondary Adjunct of Borg/Neverending Ascension."

No matter how weakened these Borg become, they never give up, never surrender, Nightsea realised, feeling their nature through Kal's experiences. They absorb, and through that, they learn. No power can harm them more than once or twice before they adapt to resist it...

Nightsea recalled the briefing, and Starsword's experiences within the girl's mind. The cube-ships - they were Borg, but they were shown being conclusively defeated. The Borg-part of Kal had said "For the Collective to survive, you must be assimilated..." Are these Borg now facing an enemy they cannot defeat?, she wondered.

***I would join with you, but this enemy feeds from such joining! I cannot stay!***

***I don't want to be lost amongst them...***, said the girl, weakly.***Too strong...One will...No soul...So many absorbed, forced to become one...***

The elven part of Kal seemed to be growing stronger, reclaiming more and more of its self the longer she stayed in contact with Nightsea, but the Borg presence was always there. "We are Borg/Neverending - you will be assimilated..."

***Reach out to me***, begged the sea-elf, ***reach above the surface they have trapped you in, in mind and body, Kal!***

"Your biological uniqueness will be added to our own. Species Zero must be stopped."

The Borg side of the girl's "self" - it was hard to call it that, now that it was part of the relentless Borg swarm - had only faltered once before in its soulless monotone voice-of-many-voices, and Nightsea realised she had been right. There is an enemy these Borg fear, a power greater than their own!

***Tell me more***, pleaded Nightsea. ***What is this enemy...?***

"Ah - Lieutenant...?"

It was hard at first for Nightsea to hear a voice that existed solely on the verbal level and understand it. MacLaughlin's manner was very much as it had been all along, but the sense of urgency was unmistakable.

"We appear to have a problem", the Doctor continued, not waiting for any response on Nightsea's behalf. "I've been analysing the data feeds from the partly organic implants, and one pathway had led me to what appears to be an operational sub-space beacon. Our 'little girl lost' here has been sending out a distress signal ever since Dr. Windweaver pulled her little magical stunt."

MacLaughlin barely saw Nightsea's hand as it flashed up to her comm-badge. "Captain! The Doctor has come across something..."

Blackfire's response was icy-calm. "As have we", she said. "The Station's long-range sensors picked up something coming our way, and have been monitoring it for some time. We can barely make it out - it looks to be employing some kind of stealth array - but it appears to be a vessel."

Are the Borg coming for us?, Nightsea wondered, anxiously. Can we resist them, as this other "Species" seems to...?

"Why wasn't I informed of this?", snapped MacLaughlin.

Paxton responded. "We didn't want to bother you, Doctor. This is Starfleet business..."

"Do not presume to make decisions for me, Commander", said the scientist sternly, focussing again on his instruments. "The distress signal from the girl is being directed at the approaching vessel", he reported a few moments later.

"Recommendations, Doctor MacLaughlin?", enquired Blackfire. "If you have anything to offer us, do so now."

MacLaughlin paused, considering all the options. Too many ended in the ship's destruction, and possibly fruitless salvage operations, for his liking. "We must make contact", he declared. "Peaceful contact."

"You can't be serious!", spat Paxton. "They have invaded Imperial space! They must be punished..."

"...and they will be, if they dare to show their fangs", interrupted Blackfire. "I will trust your judgement for now, Doctor. For all our sakes, may events prove that judgement to be tempered with wisdom."

"The Doctor does not have all the facts", Nightsea broke in, demanding to be heard, "so one can not be so trusting in his evaluation of the situation. Captain, I have made direct contact with the girl - her name is Kal - and I think we can bring her back..."

"And I expect you will provide me with a fascinating, and quite thorough report on the subject", responded the Captain. "All research will have to wait until the matter in hand has been dealt with. In the meantime, transfer the girl and yourselves back to the ship. Mister Ingotay is preparing suitable containment facilities to receive the girl. Blackfire out."

MacLaughlin sighed, and it was a sound that suggested that he had had his work pulled out from under him before - and too often. Nightsea appreciated the sentiment, for she was afraid that Ingotay was about to get his hands on something he could never hope to understand, and ruin probably her only chance to save the spark of uniqueness that was Kal from the swarm that had absorbed her.

On the Ghidorah, Yellow Alert changed to Red, and Blackfire gave the orders she would have given, no matter what MacLaughlin had advised. "Blackfire to Huntington - launch the perimeter squadron. Rig for silent running once you're in position."

Paxton grinned a typically Klingon bare-toothed grin. "You've chosen to ignore the scientist?", he asked. "We will fight?"

"That", stated Blackfire resolutely, "remains to be seen."