The Devil's Conduit - Locutus Of Borg
by Dan Hartland
"Resistance is futile. You will disarm your weapons, and escort us to Sector 001. If you attempt to intervene ... we will destroy you."
"That's ... that's ... "
"Yes, Ensign Peters. It is."
Captain John Taggart of the New Orleans-class USS Kyushu breathed one long breath inwards. Identifying himself as Locutus of Borg, Captain Jean-Luc Picard had informed them to surrender or face imminent death. His crew were rattled already and the Borg had not fired a shot.
Fortunately, neither had the Federation fleet.
"Sir, Admiral Hanson has ordered the fleet to open fire," the communications officer reported with a slightly less than confident inflection in his voice.
"Attack pattern Gamma-Omega-Four, Ensign Peters. Tactical, prepare photon torpedoes and fire at our designated co-ordinates." Taggart received crisp but wary acknowledgements from his officers.
"Sir!" his tactical officer screamed from behind him. "The Borg have the Melbourne held in a tractor beam. They're... they're cutting at them with some sort of... of... "
"It's a kind of laser, sir. It does not have the same properties as our phaser technology," his Andorian operations officer finished.
"Continue along attack pattern, people," Taggart intoned resolutely. "Fire two volleys and wheel round. Compensate shield strength for the position of the Borg Cube."
"We are within weapons range, sir."
"Fire."
* * * * *
Fire. The shattered fleet of Wolf 359 had been replaced by fire. Fire burning away the last vestiges of plasma residing in the spent conduits of spent ships. Fire choking the small amounts of oxygen which were somehow still clinging on inside the hulls of vessels long since emptied of their few survivors. Soon, the lack of anything combustible in the void of space would extinguish the fires and there would be nothing left of Admiral Hanson's fleet of some forty ships except metal.
Ben Sisko peered out at the desolate picture, concentrating on the unbearable carnage in an effort to forget the unbearable thought of the death of his wife, to blot out the unbearable notion of the Borg cube continuing its inexorable progress towards Earth.
"The Kyushu... " breathed the Bolian next to him.
Lieutenant Commander Sisko, formerly Executive Officer of the USS Saratoga, strained to view the burned letters emblazoned in perverse pride on the saucer section of the unrecognisable hulk outside. NCC-65491. The USS Kyushu. John Taggart's ship had been cut in half by the Borg vessel, its engine section cleaved clear away from its saucer section.
"It was a good ship," Ben said in way of a eulogy.
"Few better," the Bolian nodded before leaving to console a grieving enlisted science technician.
"Resistance is futile. You will disarm your weapons, and escort us to Sector 001. If you attempt to intervene... we will destroy you."
The words had echoed back at Sisko since he'd struggled aboard the escape shuttle and now, as they coasted out of the debris of the massacre, the face which had spoken them flashed in and out of his reverie like a nightmarish streak of lightning intent on hitting him. Locutus of Borg. Jean-Luc Picard. The two were inseparable. Had to be. Locutus was just Picard with some devices stuck to his head and some voices inside it. Picard had given up his knowledge of the composition of the amassing defence fleet.
The two were inseparable. As had been he and Jennifer.
The USS Chekov drifted past the window.
* * * * *
Locutus of Borg stared out at the view of the oncoming Sol system provided to it. The Federation fleet had proved irrelevant, their crews weak. They had been known match for the Borg. Soon, assimilation of Sector 001 would begin. A new, glorious age for the Federation.
Somewhere inside the emasculated body of Starfleet's finest captain, a voice wept. It wept more than the single tear which had been its last hurrah. It wept for a quadrant. It wept for the Federation. It wept for its ideals. The voice, tiny and insignificant, over-whelmed by the technology of the relentless Borg, was a voice of humanity. But it could not be heard as the Borg cube reached the vicinity of Pluto. It had been drowned out by too many voices. Voices of automatons, of drones. A multitude of voices and yet one, unified voice. They, it, was too loud for the small vestige of Captain Jean-Luc Picard which remained. The voice wept. It could not win, could not win, could not win. Could not win.
But, as Ben Sisko mused light-years away, the voice was there. And the Borg had known it. The Borg had used it.
Locutus stared out at the starlines created by warp travel.
Resistance was futile.
- - - - -
So who was Locutus of Borg? Mindless drone of the collective, a Captain Picard whose actions were being controlled by the collective, or a virtually individual entity with a human frame?
Certainly, in "Best Of Both Worlds, Part II", Crusher and Troi provide us with a nice feel-good answer to the question. Picard had no control over his actions, no way to prevent his assimilation, no way to fight it. However, the recovering Picard's introspection at the end of the episode leaves us just slightly uncomfortable. Picard doubts his fortitude. Could he have done more? The niggling concern is never resolved and, as late as Star Trek: First Contact, Picard still experiences nightmares about his experiences.
In the DS9 pilot, "Emissary", meanwhile, Ben Sisko makes clear his views on the matter directly to Picard. He cannot forgive the man who's face it was that heralded the destruction of 39 starships and 11,000 lives. For him, Locutus and Picard are intertwined. Similarly, Hugh in the TNG offering "I, Borg" just not seem to need the DNA restructuring and synthetic 'enhancements' to acknowledge Picard as Locutus. The Collective remember Picard and it, would seem, a little of the Collective remains in Picard.
Locutus was to the Borg what he was to Michael Piller, screen-writer for the "Best of Both Worlds" saga. Locutus was a conduit, a way to communicate with individuals. He used 'I' rather than 'we' and was more identifiably human than many Borg (who are overwhelmingly, of course, not particularly human). Piller needed Locutus for dramatic purposes and the Borg utilised Locutus for much the same effect - he was a communication tool, the fact that he had been Jean-Luc Picard an added boon.
The full horror of assimilation cannot be comprehended. The only man in the Alpha Quadrant who knows of it and can tell the tale is Picard. Just as he provided the Collective with vital information in 2367, in ST:FC, his knowledge and unique relationship with the Collective save Earth from a second Borg attack, intuitively recognising the correct spot to fire at on the face of the expansive cube. Assimilation, it would seem, is a two-way street. Both sides of the process - individual and Borg - contribute something to the final mix. Perhaps Ben Sisko was more right than most would like to contemplate. It is safe to say, though, that the Collective, by its very nature, subdues the individual. DS9, however, with its shades of grey, perhaps provides us with a more accurate picture than TNG's black and white.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard is an irrefutable hero. But once, for a short while, he contributed to an irrefutable villain.