Operation Assimilation: Deprived

Klingon

Deprived

The year 2368

“Over here K'toq, I see him!” Responding to his name the young man turned “I'm coming Bae'l.” K'toq son of Kargh grabbed his spear and as silently as possible made his way through the dense forest vegetation, staying low to the ground until he reached Bae'l. The girl turned “we can flush him out.” K'toq nodded and peered through the undergrowth at their quarry, a targ about a meter long from tail to snout. He enjoyed these times, running through the woods with Bae'l and the other children on the colony, hunting targ with Bae'l and playing Kahless and Molor with his cousin Lorgh. He knew it wouldn't last too much longer. He was already 11 earth years old, leaving only two more years before he reached the age of inclusion. Then all his time would be spent studying and training to become a warrior, in preparation for the rite of ascension. Until that day came he still had time, outside of his schooling, to be a kid. He turned to Bae'l. The young girl with short, slightly kinky hair framing her delicate forehead ridges was about his own age, in fact she was one of the only children his age on Ch'tang colony. The two had grown up together and were almost more like brother and sister than lifelong friends. That said K'toq had, in his adolescence, started to develop a serious eye for the daughter of K'nara. He held up his spear and peered through the leaves at the middle of his target, the belly of the beast. In one fluid move he stepped forward and thrust his spear at the creature. The creature saw his approach and darted to one side but K'toq was faster, pulling the spear back and thrusting it again, this time right into the creatures’ sternum. As the targ went limp Bae'l joined K'toq from the undergrowth “Qa'Pla! Another successful kill.” K'toq planted the butt end of his spear pole triumphantly into the ground "Hija'!" Now your mother can make her heart of targ for the feast tonight."

After half an hour of trekking through the forest the two youths entered the gate at the edge of the colony, holding the targ between them skewered on K'toqs spear like an earth shish-kabob. Seeing their approach an older rotund Klingon with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and a matching braided beard greeted them with a wide smile “Ahhh! I see the young ones have been busy. And you have something to show for it.” Bae'l pointed at K'toq “K'toq made the kill.” Torghan the older Klingon turned to K'toq “maj'Qa K'toq! Another prize for your trophy wall?” K'toq scowled “It is not a trophy. You do not kill an animal unless you intend to eat it. This is going to Bae'ls mother to make heart of targ for tonight’s feast.” He thought of Bae’ls mother Ka'lenn and her famous heart of targ, a dish renowned throughout the colony. The pungent smell, the salty, smoky flavor, his mouth began watering just thinking about it.
Suddenly his reverie was interrupted by the sounding of the colony's defense alarms, followed by the automated announcement in Klingon and Federation Standard warning everyone that the colony was under attack from orbit. By now the defense fleet such as it was should have already responded, though how effective a trio of birds of prey and an antiquated D7 battlecruiser would be against any real threat was dubious at best. The second part of the announcement instructing everyone to take cover had only halfway finished when an energy blast tore through the colony's main disruptor turret. Dropping the spear and targ K'toq and Bae'l wasted no time running through the pandemonium of people to find cover in the colonies commercial center. Hearing a deafening roar from overhead K'toq quickly traced the sound through the now dusty grey ash-filled sky. Then he saw it: a gray-black cube like vessel, its monolithic form illuminated from within by specks of green light. “What is it?” Bae'l yelled over the wind. Torghan looked back at the youths, his eyes wide with terror "The Borg!" He then looked up defiantly at the cube ship “Curse you Borg collective! Hab sosli' quch!” Hearing the whine of transporters the youngsters watched as at least a dozen Borg drones materialized in the colonies main square. Pulling a Mek'leth from his belt the older Klingon stood firm preparing to fight. He glanced back at Bae'l and K'toq “Run!” Watching them go for a moment he turned back to the approaching drones and held up his blade “Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam.” [Today is a good day to die].

Meanwhile K'toq and Bae'l sprinted through the ruins of the commercial center, stepping over or around the fallen debris and dead bodies, many of whom they recognized. Suddenly Bae'l stopped and gaped wide eyed at a body on the ground in front of her “Father!? NO!!!!!!” Her father K'nara, a tall man with a red and grey sash across his gaunt frame. His normally dark skin was now pale and mottled and metallic masses protruded through the skin on his left cheek and arm. “What's happening to you?” Bae’l began sobbing uncontrollably. Hearing footsteps K'toq looked up “come on Bae'l we have to go. Now!” Offering her a hand up he gestured toward the doors at the far end of the main hall “let's go we can hide in the storage rooms.” Accepting his hand Bae'l followed him out of the main hall only to trip over a fallen stool a few meters from the doors. Hearing the noise K'toq stopped and turned back “are you all right?” As Bae'l pulled herself back to her feet K'toqs eyes widened, seeing a Borg drone approaching her from behind “Bae'l look out! Behind you!” No sooner had the words left his mouth than the drone grabbed the young girl, placing his fist against her neck, injecting her with nanites. Horrified K'toq turned and ran through the doors at the end of the main hall. “Think. Where to hide? The storage rooms.” He turned and started down the back hallway running behind the shops that afforded them easy access to the storage rooms. Suddenly in the darkness ahead he saw points of red light moving toward him. His heart sank into his stomach “They're here.” Realizing he couldn't go forward he turned attempting to retrace his steps. More red lights. “Tojo'Qa!” He turned back instinctively to run away from these new lights when the old ones blocked his path. No escape. As the drones seized him from both sides he started to wonder if this was the end, if he might never reach the age of inclusion. If he might never get to be a warrior. If he might never get to go to Sto-Vo-Kor. Struggling against their grip he felt cold metal on his neck as the assimilation tubules pierced his skin. It was the last thing he felt before everything went dark.


2371 Three years later

A Borg sphere cruised through deep space at the edge of the delta quadrant. Drones milled around working consoles and conducting repairs with their usual brisk efficiency. A single drone stepped out of a nondescript alcove deep within the bowels of this nondescript ship. The thick forehead ridges underneath the edges of his cranial implant marked this drone as formerly belonging to species 5008 Klingon. After being assimilated as an adolescent this drone had spent nearly a month in a maturation chamber before emerging fully adult. He was then fitted with his final implants and given a designation: four of twelve secondary processor of unimatrix 315. Save for his ridges no trace now remained of the proud, brave and at the end scared young man who had been assimilated on the border colony of Ch'tang. His name had been K'toq, son of Kargh, but that was irrelevant now. That identity, that past had, like his childhood and his future, been ripped away from him. All that mattered now, all that remained, was Borg.