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“The ship’s ability to withstand the crash also points to Borg technology,” said P8 Blue. “It powered up well enough when it wanted to. Self-repair, just like a Borg cube.”

“Let’s think like the Borg for a moment,” said Gold. “Not that it’s a pleasant task. What would be the advantage to the Borg of forming such a collective? Tying only one mind to one machine? What’s the point in that?”

“Easier maintenance,” said Gomez at once. “One person, one ship. Elizabeth, it looked as though that pilot was able to disengage from the ship. Is that right?”

Lense nodded. “They could join, and I’d imagine they could separate. There was no indication that the pilot required any sustenance while joined. The entire digestive system had shrunk. I suspect the pilot didn’t even eat as we understand the term, but got her nourishment somehow through her connection to the ship.”

“Again, exactly like the Borg,” said Gold, frowning. His bushy black eyebrows stuck out over his eyes like alarmed caterpillars. “She would regenerate. As long as the ship had power, she could live.”

Lense nodded confirmation. “And yet, she died and the ship continued on. There was no trace of injury or illness, so there must have been some kind of malfunction that was localized and didn’t spread to the ship.”

“So,” continued Gold. “Easier maintenance might be a reason. What else?”

“A single-person vessel could travel places that a more standard Borg ship couldn’t,” said Abramowitz, clearly warming to the subject. “It could scout out races for assimilation, then alert the more aggressive cube.”

Bart felt cold. All this made terrible sense.

“There’s your explanation as to why someone would attack Intar,” said Corsi. “The Borg are hardly tourists. You know their mantra. ‘We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. Prepare to be—’”

“Stop it,” said Bart. He hadn’t intended to speak, but the words came out of his mouth. Everyone turned to stare at him. He felt his face grow hot.

“Faulwell is right, Corsi,” said Gold gently to his chief of security. “This isn’t a laughing matter. Very well. I’d say that, while we can’t be absolutely certain that this is the latest version of the new, improved Borg, it’s a possibility. I’ll alert Starfleet Command, see what they want us to do about it. Gomez, I remember right before we beamed you out, you said something like, ‘There’s nothing there.’ What did you mean by that?”

“There were no control panels,” said Gomez.

“That’s right,” said Bart. “No buttons, no lights, nothing to indicate how the pilot controlled the ship. I guess we know now. There’s no need for control panels when you can maneuver a vessel with your thoughts.”

Gomez frowned and her brow furrowed as she tried to recall exactly what there had been. “At least,” she amended, “no control panels as we understand them. Now that I think of it, there might have been some other ports where the pilot could have linked, other than the chair.” She looked a little embarrassed. “We were so distracted by the pilot, and then we were transported out. We didn’t have time to conduct a more thorough investigation. I’m sorry, sir.”

Gold waved off her apology.

“That’s why I couldn’t locate where the tactical and propulsion systems were,” said Corsi. “With most ships, there are separate sections where the various pieces of equipment are installed. Here, it’s all spread throughout the ship, controlled by the pilot’s mind.”

“Heavens above,” said Gold, with feeling. He rubbed at his eyes with his hand. “No chance of learning anything without a whole Starfleet team of Borg experts swarming over that ship, then. La Forge and Faulwell, you two are now the indispensable crewmen. So far the information on that tricorder is the only information we’ve got. Translate whatever is on there. I want concrete data, not theories, when some admiral starts trying to pull rank and questions our actions and conclusions. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” said both Bart and Geordi at once.

“You’re pretty quiet,” La Forge observed as he and Bart stood in the turbolift.

Bart shrugged. For some strange reason,