Seven of Nine - Christie Golden [0]
By: CHRISTIE GOLDEN
PROLOGUE
TAmMK VRIIS stared AT THE SCREEN AMD DRUMMED HIS three fingers on the console.
Nothing. Only the blackness of space, punctuated by the twinkling of a few stars, met his gaze.
He felt a blackness of his own rising within him; despair, mixed with the dark indigo of fear. His colleague, Imraak, the elected One of the province of Leila'ah, glanced at him sharply. The numbing darkness of despair mutated into the heat of embarrassment. Normally, Tamaak, the elected One of the vast continent of Ioh and the selected leader of the entire Circle of Seven, was adept at cloaking his thoughts.
He, more than most, knew how a stray image could disturb the harmony the Skedans valued above all qualities.
He sent a cooling, feather-brush apology, and Imraak nodded his acceptance. On Tamaak's other side, staring intently into her own screen, Shemaak shook her graceful head. Her huge ears flickered, revealing her own distress, though her thoughts remained calm.
They ought to be here by now, Shemaak sent. The enclosed room felt colder as the Seven heard and reacted to her comment. Our scouts died to relay the information of the attack, and the Emperor promised to send reinforcements for our defense fifty sun circles ago.
Again, silence. Shemaak had merely given utterance to what they all feared. There was nothing more to say. Slowly, heads turned and large brown eyes regarded their leader. Tamaak felt the press of their worry like a too-heavy blanket on a hot summer day.
He collected his thoughts and sent them. We have done what we can.
The attack should not come for another six sun circles. In that time, the Emperor's fleet will certainly have arrived. In the meantime, we Imraak's uncensored anger was like a physical blow and they all gasped softly with the pain of his sending.
He will not send help! We all know this. If it was to come, it would have come by now. The attack will His white-hot anger was disrupted by the insistent, mechanical beeping of the main viewing screen. They all turned to stare.
The attack had come. Early.
Anguish exploding from seven master telepaths made the room feel so close each breath was a struggle. Skedan technology was advanced.
There was no mistaking the images that now swarmed onto the screen.
Large, square cubes, bristling with sharp gray edges. Crawling with beings that were an offense to She-Who-Creates-monstrous hybrids of the biological, the natural, and the technological, the artificial.
Beings without conscience, without souls, who descended like the wrath of He-Who-Destroys to obliterate entire species.
The despair and rage and pain that nearly ripped Tamaak apart was not for himself. It was for his people-people who, betrayed by the Empire with which they had allied, had no natural defense systems of their own. People who had elected him as leader of the Circle of Seven, who had counted on him for protection. He realized what must have happened.
This unnatural enemy had gotten to the scout ships, had learned what the unfortunate scouts had learned, and had doubled their speed to reach Skeda early in order to catch the peaceful planet unprepared.
People didn't even have the chance to flee into the shelters that had been hastily dug. They were on their way to the gardens and fields, no doubt looking up and sending off wave after wave of shocked terror before the foe descended.
Tamaak thought of Rhly, his mate, and their two little ones. They would be among those walking towards the green fields, who had time to look their deaths in the face. Thoughts alone could not let him grieve properly, and a scream tore from his throat.
The voice, a dark harmony of millions of voices, crackled through the silent room.
"We are the Borg. Prepare to be assimilated. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile."
"THAT'S THE BIGGEST PIECE OF CLAIMED SPACE I'VE EVER seen!" blurted Lieutenant