Prologue

Yusih pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped his brow. It was growing extremely hot outside as summer approached, and soon the Kipux Festival would be upon them. Yusih worked late into the evening during this part of the season, in order to finish the planting on time. It was considered a bad omen to seed any fields after the Festival.

The Kipux Festival was also known as Thanksgiving to Yshiuey, Consort to the Lady Hriuh, the one true God of the Miyoe people. Throughout the year, night progressively got shorter and shorter until the day of the festival, when there is no night at all. That is the day when the orbit of Miyoe crossed between its two suns, Hriuh and Yshiuey, and there is light for a full day.

This is a time of safety for the Miyoe. All of the nocturnal predators went into hibernation during this time to avoid the long days. The hunters would then go deep into the wilderness to bring back food for the communities, without fear of attack during the night. In return for that gift of safety from Yshiuey, a festival in His name is held.

The Festival was but two days away, and Yusih was falling behind. The heavy rains came very soon after the Festival, and at that point, it was impossible to continue planting. If he could not finish the planting, his crop could be dangerously small. He may not even have enough grain to trade for meat from the year’s hunt. His family would go hungry.

Xeseh, his wife, laughed at his concern. Each year Yusih said the same thing, fretting that he would not finish the planting on time. But every year he finished, and with plenty of time to spare. The family had never once gone hungry.

Yusih looked across the field to his son, barely walking, who had come to help his “Daddy” with the planting. The tiny boy was eagerly pushing as much soil as he could into a pile, giggling as he poured seeds atop it. Even though the farming was just a game to the small boy, seeing his young son in the fields still brought Yusih joy. Soon, the boy would be strong enough to help with the daily chores, and then they would be able to grow more than ever. Not only would the family be secure, but they would make a considerable amount extra. Then, Yusih would be able to rest easily.

An odd shadow moving across the ground caught Yusih’s attention. It was too soon in the year for any clouds (though for a moment he did fear the rain had come unusually early), and there were no birds in this part of the country that large. He looked up, curious about the odd apparition.

A moment after Yusih’s eyes protected themselves with a thin, third eyelid, he was able to look up through the glare of the suns. He was not at all certain what he saw! It was very close to the Yshiuey sun, so close that it was almost concealed in the glare. But there is was, a giant, dark, shape, almost like a moon, just floating in the sky!

It must be a sign from God. What else could it be? Perhaps She was going to punish mankind for something not yet revealed. Maybe She would come bearing a gift, a reward for the Miyoe’s loyal worship and adherence to Her Word. But there was no way to be sure.

He scooped up his son, who was still playing with a bag of seeds, and rushed him inside of the house. Perhaps he was being too worrisome, as his wife so often accused him of being. For all he knew, someone’s house could have been blown in the air by a freak whirlwind. His eyes were simply playing tricks on him. He had been out in the hot sun all day.

He looked up, again. It was still a cube. And it was getting larger.

Yusih rushed into the house, and plopped his son into the confused arms of his wife. Without explaining why, he told her to stay inside, as he rushed out the door and galloped towards the town square as fast as his uyrid would carry him.

Twenty minutes later, Yusih and his tired steed trotted into the dusty town of Logoro-Yu’Dabi. Already there was a large group of people congregated around the steps in front of the temple. There, the High Priestess was leading the crowd in a prayer. Yusih tapped his head in respect as he walked by, hurrying towards the office of the mayor.

There, too, a large crowd had gathered. Already the object had tripled in size, and was partially eclipsing the Yshiuey sun. The light from the Yshiuey sun was blazing around the squarish shape, casting a dark shadow on the ground beneath it. It was impossible for anyone to miss the spectacle in the sky. The people around the Mayor’s door were in a panic, and all were chattering unanswerable questions so quickly that very few could hope to be understood. One thing almost everyone could agree on was that this was most certainly a sign from Hriuh, but what did it mean?

Yusih slumped against a wall, not knowing what could be done. Clearly he was not going to get any answers from the Mayor. He would be lucky to have a question heard over the frantic crowd. So there he sat and prayed, hoping the answer would come to him. It did.

It materialized right in front of him. Yusih shot to his feet as a dull blue shimmer of light appeared just in front of him. As the light faded, part of it solidified into a tall, pale creature. It was a good deal thinner than the average Miyoe, and wore the most fantastic clothing. Hard, blue armor covered parts of a single, black bodysuit made of a most unusual fabric. A sort of helmet wrapped around the back of the creature’s pale, bald head that covered one eye. The piece that covered the eye glowed the most brilliant red Yusih had ever seen, almost as if there were a tiny lamp inside of the creature’s head. Three cords looped in and out of its head, like handles on a bucket.

The thing stood for a moment, looking around in all directions. Finally his eye settled foreword, looking intently on Yusih, who was frozen with fear. The creature (without changing the blank expression that was frozen on its face) abruptly walked toward Yusih, eye unwavering.

He tried to run, but his legs would not respond. He was frozen in place by an incomprehensible fear. This creature must be a god, or some sort of demon! Only such a one would have the power to appear out of nowhere. Now he prayed. He prayed that Yshiuey would grant him the strength to flee. He prayed that Hriuh would strike the creature dead before him with a bolt of lightning, and save Her loyal son. Neither would happen.

The creature reached out when he was close enough, and wrapped its fingers around Yusih’s neck with a strength he had never before imagined possible. He was certain that it would be but a second before it snapped his spine. Instead, two snakelike fangs lashed out from the creature’s. After they bit into Yusih’s neck, the creature tossed him aside, and moved away.

At first, Yusih thought the unbelievable: he was safe. The demon had left. But the feeling lasted but for a second.

First, his face began to itch.

The itching quickly spread throughout his body.

Slowly, the itching turned to burning.

Soon, he felt as if the skin would melt away from his body.

It was then that the throbbing began. He reached up and held his head, hoping somehow that his hands would be able to stop the torturous pain. He could feel the tight cords bulging out the side of his face. Finally, he could no longer could tolerate it. His limbs went limp. Yusih faded from consciousness, his soul fleeing from the hellish pain that was now running rampant throughout his body. His limbs shook with violent seizures. Every inch of him begged for the release of death.

—

Then there was peace. Yusih could not feel any pain. He could feel nothing for that matter, nor could he open his eyes. It was as if his consciousness were locked in a tiny box with no doors. It was better than the torture he was going through, so Yusih welcomed it.

“Join us,” a woman’s Voice whispered. Strangely, the Voice seemed as if it belonged among Yusih’s thoughts, so he had to force himself to be startled.

“Who are you?” he finally managed to reply.

“We are Borg,” the Voice tenderly replied, after a moment of silence.

The answer made no sense to the confused Miyoe. He had never heard of anything called a Borg.

“Join you? Why do you want me to join you?”

“Your species has in its biological makeup a certain metabolic quality which We desire. We will incorporate it into our Collective.”

Yusih barely understood a word of what the Voice had said. He was but a farmer, and the explanation sounded like nothing more than a bunch of mystical mumbo-jumbo to him, something that was the purview of a priest, not a simple farmer. He decided it would not be worth the trouble to ask for it to be explained more simply.

“Join us,” the Voice repeated after the long silence. Louder this time, and much more forceful.

“What are ‘Borg?’” Yusih asked.

A terrible image filled his mind. He saw himself being strangled by the tall pale creature. Then, he faded from view, and the odd thing stood menacingly in his mind. Then, there were two such creatures. Then, thousands, marching towards him.

“We are Borg,” the Voice replied.

Yusih’s mind lashed out against the Voice, as if it still had a body with which to fight. Still, the Voice remained, unmoved by his show of anger.

“Join us!” the Voice repeated, louder than ever.

“Why should I join you? You who appear out of nowhere like a devil in a myth. You attacked me! You took my body from me! Hriuh will strike you down. She will free me!” Yusih’s mind struggled to find its missing limbs so that it could flee.

“We are Hriuh.”

Yusih was stunned. “We are Hriuh?” What sort of nonsense was that? But his anger left him, as he tried to grasp what the Voice meant by such a blasphemous declaration.

“If you truly are Hriuh, you would make yourself known to me. Let me look upon you, and I will know what you say is true!”

The same image of the pale blue creatures filled his mind. He tried to turn away, but he had no head with which to turn. Finally, the image faded. Yusih laughed, loudly.

“You are not Hriuh. She is Beauty in its purest form! I see nothing of that divine loveliness in those demons. Fraud!”

“Beauty is irrelevant.”

Unbidden, a passage floated through his thoughts. “True beauty has not to do with appearance, but it is a reflection of the good you accomplish. I could be as you see me now, or in the shape of the vilest of slime-beasts, and I would be just as beautiful. My Love for my children, each and all of you, is why this is so.”

It was from the Holy Text. One that Yusih had read only once, when he was a child. It was odd that he thought of it now, as he could have never recited when bidden. It left him silent, for the moment.

“Join us!” the Voice boomed.

“Who are you?” Yusih screamed.

“We are Borg,” the Voice calmly replied.

“Why should I join you?”

A powerful image consumed him. Power. He felt a surge of limitless power. He could see hundreds upon hundreds of creatures, like the one that attacked him, marching across strange worlds. Unstoppable. Nothing could defeat the Borg. very few could even muster the courage to try.

The heavens! These creatures could travel through the heavens! Yusih had always admired the birds in the sky, for they could do what no Miyoe could, fly. But these Borg could go higher, and farther than any bird could fly. Other worlds in the sky! And great sky-ships that could take you there, moved by nothing more than a thought. So much power to behold.

His mind filled with images of facts, data, trivial things and important revelations about life and the universe. There was so much to know! Questions were answered before he could think of them. Knowledge flowed through his mind like a great river, more than any one mind could possibly hold. And he understood how every bit of it was possible.

The image faded, slowly. He forgot all of the things he knew then, but he remembered how it felt. The power to rule all. The wisdom to know all, and the skill to do anything. It was so tempting!

“Evil!” he cried. “You tempt me with absolute power and unattainable wisdom. You have revealed yourself. You are not Hriuh!”

There was already conflict, however. Part of his mind longed for the knowledge again. He could feel an irresistible pull towards the Voice. He would not submit, though. He used all of his strength to regain control of his mind.

“Resistance is futile! Join us!”

“I will not submit to you! I will fight you with everything that I am.”

“You are irrelevant.”

Yusih thought of his family, his wife and son, and all the work he did to support them both. He was NOT irrelevant to them. He said so to the Voice.

His mind was again bombarded with images. First he saw hunger. He experienced a lifetime of starvation in moments. He heard his young boy wailing because he had next to nothing to eat in days. He saw his wife, frail and ridiculously thin from giving what food she had to her child. He, too, felt weak and hungry. Bruises covered their bodies, injuries sustained so much easier due to the lack of nutrition.

He saw himself breaking his leg from falling off of his uyrid, an almost impossible injury. It would take months instead of weeks for the bone to heal properly. In the meantime, his son would die of malnutrition. His wife would struggle to find whatever work she could do to feed herself, and crippled husband, only to fail.

He was important to them, but he could not guarantee their well-being. He could make a mistake, or bad luck could befall the family, and there would be nothing he could do to help them. Their faith in him would be their death!

The image frightened him. So often he worried about the crop not being planted on time, or the rains either washing away the crops in an early flood or the wet never coming at all. The seeds he was counting on to grow could have rotted and died, leaving him no crop at all. He thought of the disease that could rampage through his crop, or accidental fires that could spread out of hand, leaving him nothing to harvest in the fall. He thought of the failure of the hunters to find enough game. Costs for meat would be too high for him to afford.

He tried to close the thoughts out of his mind, but still they came, unbidden.

Robbers, disease, famine, war: Any number of unnamable accidents that could take the lives of any member of his family. God Herself could strike any one of them down on a whim. A wild fu-har could break into his home while he was away, and make off with his son.

He was irrelevant.

There was nothing he could do to prevent these things from happening. It was dumb luck that his family had survived to this point. There was absolutely no way he could hope to guarantee the safety and well-being of his family in the future.

Another image filled his mind. The vastness of the universe. It was similar to the feeling of omniscience he felt before. He could see everything that existed! Other stars, other worlds, other races of intelligent beings, each with their own complex societies, other galaxies: vast, all encompassing, space. Endless realms of existence that he never imagined could exist.

But the knowledge behind it was gone. He couldn’t understand any of it. All that he saw was space, infinite space. And in it, he was but a tiny man, on a tiny world. Hriuh herself was a fleck of dust next to such a vast infinity. His existence meant nothing to the grand scheme of the universe. He would die, and never be missed. The whole universe would never even know he existed, nor care.

He was truly irrelevant. But the Borg -

Again he saw the power. Not as overwhelmingly as before, only a taste. His mind ached for more. Nonexistent hands reached out to pull the omnipotence closer.

“No!” he screamed. The Voice remained silent.

“Why do you show me these things?” he cried.

“We wish to help you.”

“By causing me pain?”

“We desire to end pain. End suffering. End limits imposed by lack of resources or knowledge. We seek the destruction of fear and despair. In order for you to desire these things as we do, you must experience them. We want to improve life for all peoples.

“For you, these misfortunes are an utter reality. Pain and fear are real. So are worry and despair. For us, these things are irrelevant. Such an existence could be a reality for you, and your people.”

“How?”

“Join us!” the Voice again boomed.

“I, I don’t believe you.”

But he did believe the Voice. He saw the truth of it. He could see himself, Part of a massive body of Borg drones on the surface of a faraway planet. He could see the thousands of Borg all around him, working in unison to acquire the culture. He was one of them, fearlessly working through the annoying resistance the aliens were putting up. He was hit by beam of light, an energy weapon. He didn’t understand the nature of the weapon, but he knew it was a shot that would have normally killed him.

Before that moment, he understood little of any sort of non-bladed weapon. But as the light streak slammed into him, he knew he should have died. But he wouldn’t. He was protected from the shot, but not entirely. He was severely wounded by the blast.

The entire collective responded to that one hit. Thousands upon thousands of Borg, each and every one of them, focused on him. The wound was healed in moments. An implant secreted a numbing agent so that he never felt the pain of the shot. The minds of the Collective worked together to heal their wounded companion. At the same time, they remembered the shot. They studied it, and within seconds, no Borg would ever be wounded by that sort of a weapon ever again.

In his vision, Yusih had only sustained a minor flesh wound. The only injury during the entire onslaught. And he felt no fear, no anguish. Just power. He was invincible.

More thoughts drifted through his mind. Hunger was gone. As Borg, he would never need eat again. The Collective provided all of the nutrients he could ever need.

Question after question would be answered with no strain at all. As Borg, knowledge was infinite. Millions of minds holding more knowledge than his one, small mind could hope to hold.

Sickness was non-existent. As Borg, his body was immune to all forms of disease.

No hunger. No pain. No fear. No plague. No ignorance. No weakness.

That was Borg. He was Borg.

That very moment, he gave himself to the Borg.

He could feel his consciousness thinning. A small part of who he was receded into the furthest depths of his mind. There he would remain, locked in a sort of mental prison.

The rest of his mind joined with the Collective. It spread out like a drop of water in the ocean, hopelessly thin. His own voice was lost in the voices of millions upon millions of minds.

He opened his eyes. Rather, the Borg opened the eyes of their newest appendage. Its eyes scanned the dark room it had been laying in. Around it, were several Borg, methodically preparing various attachments for the new drone’s body.

—

The world erupted into total chaos in minutes. Strange creatures materialized out of thin air everywhere. Messengers sent from one town requesting help arrived at the next to find it completely decimated.

Logoro-Yu’Dabi was no different. The town was a panic scene thanks to the cube that was slowly blotting out the Yshiuey sun. Most didn’t even notice the arrival of the three creatures at first - they came out of nowhere. When someone finally did notice, it was too late. The first fell at the hands of one of the menacing creatures nearby the mayor’s office. A woman screamed at the sight. Hundreds more of the creatures appeared all around the square.

Most people ran. The town was mostly full of farmers and merchants, and none wanted to risk a confrontation with what must be the agents of Evil. The few warriors that were nearby drew their blades and rushed towards the creatures. Not to be outdone, the hunters joined in, stringing their bows and trying to hit any of the creatures that they could. A few arrows struck true, but most bounced uselessly off of the strange armor that the creatures wore.

A few of the creatures fell, at first. They were not expecting any resistance from what they perceived as an entirely primitive organic life form. A few that were in the process of assimilating the Miyoe were felled by an arrow or hacked to bits by a Miyoe warrior’s sword.

In the end, though, the Borg were too many for the struggling Miyoe. They would capitalize instantly on any mistake their opponent made, and seconds later the Miyoe would either be dead or Borg.

The Borg said very little. They would occasionally announce to no one in particular that resistance was futile, or that they would soon become one with the Borg. The Miyoe understood little of what the Borg drones were saying, but they did understand resistance. They knew that submission meant a fate worse than death. To them, this was an epic battle between good and evil. They only need hold out until Lady Hriuh herself came down and punished these upstart demons. They would not be tempted into giving up their souls to what must be the minions of Kelliy, Lord of Evil. This, to the Miyoe, was the prophesied apocalypse from the Holy Text.

It was only minutes before the town was emptied of all that were not Borg. Most had fled back to their farms, to gather their families so that they all could run to the nearby mountains for safety. There were only a few incidence of attack on the farms, as they were too spread out for the Borg to take notice of, yet.

The town was converted into a Borg collective at a frightening pace. In less than a day, it went from a place that had never seen the likes of a computer, to a mass of technological superstructure.

The Miyoe were assimilated slowly. The surface collective was not yet ready to handle their own assimilation, so a steady stream of Miyoe were transporting back and forth between the cube and the surface, in order to undergo the final stages of the process.

—

Yusih returned to the surface only a short time after his departure. Not that he really remembered what his name was. He only knew himself as Nine of Fifteen, and that was the only designation that had any meaning for him..

The Collective controlled every aspect of Yusih now. He was never hungry. The implants on his body knew exactly what nutrients he needed at any given time, and supplied them instantly. Any and all waste products his body produced were re-absorbed by the strange, black suit he wore and used where needed. If he walked somewhere, the Collective controlled his legs. The Collective beat his heart for him. It breathed for him. It told him when it was time to rest and when it was time to work.

As little control over his body and mind that he had, there was still a part of Yusih that remained. Buried deep inside of his mind was that one small fragment of consciousness. But it had no power with which to fight. It just watched, powerless to stop what the Collective chose for his body to do.

Nine of Fifteen, as he was now known as, marched foreword methodically, searching for stray Miyoe that had escaped the preliminary assault. It saw up in the distance four Borg miners, already beginning to take every useful metal that the land had to offer.

Slowly, Nine of Fifteen made his way on to an open farmland, just planted. The scanners on the cube in orbit indicated non-Borg life signs in the area, and the Collective directed the drone in that direction to verify and correct the situation.

The cube’s sensors directed the drone towards a small, wooden structure towards the center of the open land. Open land! The thought was almost repulsive to the Collective. Directly beneath the ground that Nine of Fifteen was walking was a rich vein of iron. Such a waste of resources. This backwards civilization would let it sit in the ground, when it could be dug up and used for countless useful things. Most inefficient.

Nine of Fifteen pushed its way through the door of the small structure. Somewhere inside it heard the muffled whimper of a small child. The drone made his way to the rear of the little house, into a large bedroom.

A woman stood, holding a small boy in her arms.

“Yusih!” she gasped.

The drone said nothing. The Collective struggled for a moment to comprehend the woman’s unexpected behavior.

“What has happened to you, my love?” the woman gently asked, as she set the boy down on the bed. Cautiously, she moved towards the drone.

“Xeseh,” the drone replied, accessing the name from the memory of the drone. “I have been healed, my love.”

Xeseh was frightened my the odd tone of her husband’s voice. But he was alive! Whatever those things roaming around outside were, her husband was alive. And with luck, she could keep it that way. Gently, she touched the plasteel casing that covered the arm of her husband.

“Were you sick?”

“Yes, it was a terrible disease. Weakness and ignorance were its symptoms. But now, I am healed. And I have come to heal you, too.”

“Silly,” Xeseh laughed. “There is nothing wrong with us!” She reached up and caressed his cold, colorless face. “I am glad you are home, love. You are so pale!”

The drone reached up and passed his gloved hand down the face of the woman. “This won’t hurt at all, my love,” it whispered as the tubes shot out of his fingers and bit into her neck.

“Yusih!” Xeseh screamed her last word as she dropped to the floor, weeping in pain.

“No!” Yusih’s mind raged against the Borg, and against his own body. He had given in to the Borg, he was weak. Now he would have to live forever in this Hell that he had made for himself. But not his wife, not his family. He would not be the instrument of their damnation.

But he already was. His wife, slowly weeping on the floor. He could already sense her thoughts drifting. Her own husband betrayed her, and her son was soon to follow. What had she left to live for? She submitted to the hive mind much faster than Yusih thought possible. He watched helplessly as his own body helped his wife to her feet, to be transported back to the cube. A second later, she was gone.

The boy stared blankly at his father. Yusih understood his confusion. He had just seen his mother disappear into thin air. His father was but a ghost of the man that he was, pale blue skin instead of deep red, all hair removed, and strange clothing to match the hollow voice.

The drone reached down to the boy, in order to complete the assimilation of this family. Yusih’s mind raged in protest.

And, to his surprise, the body stopped.

Yusih tried to pull the arm back, but he couldn’t. The Collective was struggling against him, trying to regain control of the appendage. And, they were stronger.

The arm inched towards the boy, Yusih using every ounce of his strength to hold the arm back for just one second longer. But still the arm moved foreword, inch by inch.

Yusih realized that he was going to lose. The Collective was too strong for him. But he would not allow them to take his son. He could not let them steal everything his son had, and mock the poor child as they used his body at their own convenience. He would spare his son that torture.

Yusih ceased pulling the arm back. He added every ounce of his strength into helping the Borg, helping them push his arm towards the boy who sat perfectly still, paralyzed by fright.

The arm shot foreword, frighteningly fast, must faster than the Borg could hope to expect. The boy crumpled on the bed from the force of the impact. It took seconds for the blood to soak the covers, and drip onto the floor.

The drone turned, unabashed, and walked unhindered out of the small house. Nine of Fifteen moved towards another life sign that the cube in orbit had detected, approximately 1 kilometer to the south.

There would be no more resistance from Yusih. There was no longer any reason. His family was gone, and he had given up all will to live. All Yusih could hope to do was watch as the Collective used his body, their body, as they would.

Within two days, every Miyoe on the planet was either assimilated or dead.

Within a month, it would be next to impossible to distinguish this planet, now designated 0495, from any other Borg world.

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