A Cooperative Collective

As Two of Three stared into the dark hallway, the Pakled drones blocking the doorway, his flashbacks continued. Now, he recollected his last day as a member of the Collective.

Deep within the Nekrit Expanse, a vast, desolate nebular region of space in the Delta Quadrant, spanning thousands of light-years in width, a lone Borg Cube ventured forth, scouting for new additions to the collective.

Suddenly, a massive electrical storm, spanning lightyears in size, struck the Borg Cube, delivering a shock of seismic proportions to the several hundred thousand drones inside. The intensity was so severe that a hundred thousand drones were electrocuted to death, while around 80,000 survived but were severed from the collective link.

Waking up on the ground, his hands felt the cold, hard metal of the Borg Cube, and for the first time in his memory, he felt. Two of Three sat up with the most massive headache and no voices, only his.

Crawling to his feet, he looked around, the interface of his Borg optical implants still working and functioning, but no voices. The trillions of voices he had heard for several hundred years, now silent. He didn't know what to do, where to go, who he was, or why he was there. The depths of the dark, bleak, and metallic Borg Cube held only the haunting echoes of his lost existence.

Alone with the newly awoken drones, he found himself one of 80,000 survivors aboard the now deactivated and drifting Borg Cube in the depths of the dark, bleak, and metallic structure.

"Habitable planet located," he heard a few voices in his head, but it was only dozens, not trillions. To him, the maddening silence was deafening.

"Habitable planet located in sector"... bzzzt shhhhk bzzzt," the inaudible link was so hard to hear, a silent whisper compared to the deafening roar of the collective he was used to.

He focused on the faint link. "Report to Sphere 2097 shhhhk…"

The Borg Cube had identified a desert planet not far from them, and escaping in a functioning Borg Sphere, the 80,000 survivors departed the cube and made it safely to the surface. The once mighty collective reduced to a fraction of its former self, a remnant of the vast force it used to be.

As the 80,000 newly severed Borg drones exited the Borg Sphere, many of them inhaled the dusty air for the first time by their own free will on the barren desert planet.

They established a rudimentary base from the wreckage of the Sphere. Hour by hour, day by day, the small collective began to weaken its hold, allowing the 80,000 Borg drones to emerge as 80,000 individuals.

Despite their malformed mechanical bodies, Humans, Klingons, Romulans, and hundreds of other species became self-aware. Memories of who they were before assimilation resurfaced. Color and pigmentation returned to their skin, and their five senses slowly started functioning again. Many experienced the taste of food for the first time in years and decades.

And then there was Two of Three. While joyous applause and wonder filled the air for many, he sat on a slab of metal. His skin remained as gray as concrete. With only touch, hearing, and sight, his sense of smell and taste remained as dull as they had been for hundreds of years. He knew he was an individual, but he didn't know WHO the individual was!

Days turned into weeks, and as the individuals became more self-aware and independent, old rivalries, traits, and stigmas present among their pre-assimilation memories resurfaced.

On the barren desert planet, hostility and scarcity of resources fueled feuds among the Borg survivors. Romulans harbored resentment towards Klingons, and Hirogen pursued Talaxians relentlessly.

Amidst the growing hostilities, a group of like-minded drones formed the Cooperative. Despite the planet's challenges, these individuals fostered unity by sharing work, resources, water, and food. While factions clashed over limited resources, the Cooperative emerged as a beacon of peace, liberation, and freedom.

Two of Three was a member of this Cooperative, standing out as gray as a ghost compared to others who resembled their former selves with slight disfigurements. While fellow Cooperative members shed their Borg prosthetics and implants, Two of Three appeared unchanged, as if he had only disconnected from the Borg collective the day before.

"Why am I not reverting like everyone else?" he mused to himself while working in the Cooperative Garden, raking and digging holes.

Even the town's nominated doctor, a Romulan named Orum, couldn't explain Two of Three's unique situation. "I don't know, Two, I really don't," he admitted, shrugging. "My only hypothesis is that you have been Borg far longer than most of us combined. I was only a drone for about 3 years, while you were close to 300!"

Two solemnly accepted this reality. "I guess so," he observed, looking around at the growing community. "Most of the Cooperative has been able to remove implants, regain skin color, taste things! I still have all my implants, my skin is gray as concrete, and with a solar-powered regenerator, I'm closer to a photosynthetic plant than I am to any of you!" His head sank into a metal stool. "I can't even remember my own name... just... Two of Three."

Despite the severed link to the Collective, each liberated Borg on the barren desert planet still had their neural link processor embedded into their brains. Removal of that device meant certain death—a grim reminder of their shared history, but it did have one positive side effect.

With a temporary link to the other members of the small Cooperative, they shared stories, memories, likes, dislikes, and engaged in problem-solving and peaceful negotiations. The small community grew quickly and became very tight-knit.

This link served medical purposes as well, facilitating a group transfusion of overall health and wellness, not just a blood transfusion. Medical practices became Two's main field of expertise, studied alongside Dr. Orum. Together, they ran the clinic on the planet, with Orum in charge during the day and Two overseeing the evenings. The link also allowed Two of Three to expand his knowledge of various species' biological anatomy, practices, beliefs, and social structures.

—

Years had gone by on the barren desert planet, and a rudimentary sanctuary emerged from the scrap metal and wreckage of the crashed Borg sphere. The survivors had crafted a makeshift haven, a testament to their resilience in the face of adversity.

One fateful day, Commander Chakotay of the starship Voyager crashed on the planet. His injuries, sustained by the crash and subsequent attacks by rogue Borg, led to the Cooperative using the small link with him to heal his wounds. This pivotal act unfolded a chain of events, exposing many, including Two of Three, to the Starfleet commander and the crew of Voyager.

After aiding and assisting the Cooperative, Voyager departed the planet, embarking on its journey back to Earth. However, an assault by renegades on the Cooperative prompted them to link with Chakotay again, imploring him to reestablish the Borg Neural link on the Borg cube. This desperate plea threatened to force the entire planet's population into the Cooperative.

Two of Three stood with his closest friends, all focusing intently on their plea for help from Chakotay. Outside, the walls and barriers of their makeshift homes were pounded and banged on by raging rogues, casting a shadow of uncertainty over their fragile sanctuary in the harsh desert landscape.

Upon the successful reactivation of the Borg Cube's Neural link by Commander Chakotay, the Borg Cooperative swiftly established a comprehensive link to the entire population of 80,000. A rudimentary sanctuary, constructed from the wreckage and scrap metal of the crashed Borg sphere, served as the backdrop to this transformative event on the barren desert planet.

In a synchronized chorus, the newly assimilated population received the transmission from the Cooperative, echoing in a collective call to unity: "Hear our voices. We welcome you to our cause. Feel the connection. Hear our thoughts. Know our cause." With this resonant declaration, the entire planet population seamlessly transitioned into the Borg Cooperative.

A singular voice, representative of the unified collective, proclaimed, "We are the new Cooperative." This proclamation marked a significant paradigm shift, and henceforth, the Borg Cooperative operated as a cohesive force of distinct individuals. Collaborating both collectively and as unique entities, the Cooperative dedicated its efforts to combatting the Borg Collective, working tirelessly to liberate the countless victims ensnared by the pervasive threat.

—

Opening his eyes, Two of Three found himself standing in the dimly lit corridor of the Nexus alongside his crewmates. The haunting flashbacks had subsided, leaving behind the resolute memory of his struggles and the unwavering determination that had fueled his escape from the clutches of the Borg Collective. In that darkened and bleak hallway, he stood firm, resolved not to succumb to the collective's control again—neither today nor at any point in the future.