“First time assimilation subscribers receive bonus energy for six months and free implant upgrades for signing up for lifetime contracts,” the Collective’s chorus boomed over a hidden PA system. “Certain conditions and restrictions apply.”
Helvetica, Boots, and Rocky-Road beamed into what looked like an area less crowded with drones than any other section of the ship. Slightly below the center there was an area that the sensors showed was filled with aisles of boxes. The space seemed to have been set aside for storage. The vaulted ceiling soared over the small team as the poked through the contents.
The Borg had laid out the room in a very human-standard warehouse configuration, with tall racks of shelves running in one direction with regular openings to move between them. The floor appeared to be a composite of metal plates, thick rubbery wires, and green lights. This texture continued across every surface—from floor to ceiling—although …
“Lower your shields and prepare to be assimilated.”
“Do these guys do customer service work?” Helvetica asked.
She thumbed through the various options on the captain’s console. Photon torpedoes: check. Phasers: check. No mute button.
“Ssshould we ssshoot them?” hissed Ensign Boots. “I would very much like to return fire.”
His reptilian claws clattered on the controls—the sleek panels were nice looking but ill-suited for his cold-blooded physiology. Helvetica couldn’t say she disagreed with him, she opened her mouth to give the order, but the ship’s computer interrupted her.
Enemy facing shield has failed, the on board computer reported.
“Now would be a good time for a torpedo,” the game piped up afterwards. It paused a moment when Helvetica glanced upwards with eyebrow raised and then continued sheepishly, “Would you believe I voice tutorial and tool tips?”
Helvetica’s finger hovered over the “fire volley” button but an emotion passed over her. She deactivated the captain’s reticle and …