Original subtitles

Seven of Nine.

How's my favorite Borg today?

Annoyed. In the future,

you will announce your presence before entering this room.

Sorry. I guess I should have knocked first.

Are we ready to leave?

Yes. According to sensors, spatial conditions are ripe.

A spontaneous protonebula could emerge

within the next 20 minutes.

Mr. Paris is expecting us.

Hmm. Not a bad-looking hologram.

This should be exciting, don't you think?

It's an astronomical survey, nothing more.

What is your function on this mission?

My function is to study

the nebula's effects on the crew.

We may be dealing with new forms of radiation.

I can't wait to see one of these clouds take shape.

I hear they're quite beautiful.

I brought along a holo-imaging device

to take a few snapshots.

This isn't shore leave.

There will be no time for recreational activities.

The Borg-- party poopers of the galaxy.

Tomorrow, we'll start you on a new social exercise--

developing your joie de vivre.

Sorry about that.

Just a little spatial turbulence--

nothing to worry about.

Oh!

Hello there.

I don't know about you,

but I've got a case of class-2 claustrophobia.

Ah, I remember it well.

Lieutenant?

Oh, that's what Starfleet cadets

used to call these class-2 shuttles--

fast, maneuverable... but not built for comfort.

They used to shoehorn

half a dozen cadets into one of these things

for weeks at a time.

You did not want to be around

when they opened up that airlock.

Perhaps you should design a new shuttle--

larger, more efficient.

Not a bad idea.

I'm reading plasma surges off the port bow.

All stop.

Keep our distance.

Seven, move over by the helm.

I want to get a group shot.

I'm busy.

And smile

like I know you can.

What was that?

Another plasma surge.

It's massive.

Tom, back us off.

We're caught in the gravimetric shear.

Engines are down.

We're receiving a distress call from the away team.

They've been engulfed in the shear line of the nebula.

Full impulse.

Bridge to Transporter Room 1.

Stand by for emergency beam-out.

I've got a partial lock on them,

but unless the shuttle clears that nebula...

It won't. They've lost propulsion.

Then it's going to be a rough transport.

Energize.

I'm having trouble separating their patterns.

Reset the pattern buffers.

The signals are clearing.

Everyone all right?

My emitter-- it's been damaged.

I'll transfer your program back to Sick Bay.

Hang on.

Sick Bay to Transporter Room 1. Report.

It looks like some of your emitter circuits

were fused during transport.

Can you repair it?

Most likely. I'll need to run a diagnostic.

Most likely?

Relax, Doctor.

I'll keep you posted. Mulcahey?

Computer, run diagnostic routine Alpha-3-6.

Diagnostic in progress.

First thing in the morning, I want you to check the results.

I'll be here bright and early.

Captain's Log, supplemental.

This protonebula seems to have a mind of its own.

It's still expanding, with no end in sight.

We're holding at a safe distance to monitor its growth.

Rise and shine, Lieutenant.

It's 0600 hours.

Early bird gets the gagh.

What do you want?

"Good morning" would be nice,

but I'd settle for my mobile emitter.

Do we have an ETA on those repairs?

Go away.

Can't you at least give me a prognosis?

The one day I get to sleep in...

You're worried about a few more seconds of unconsciousness?

My freedom is at stake.

Computer, activate sonic shower.

One more thing, Lieutenant.

I was thinking.

Hey!

I'm a doctor, not a Peeping Tom.

It's nothing I haven't seen before.

I was thinking,

if you brought the emitter to Sick Bay,

we could work on it together.

I have prepared a...

Hello? B'Elanna?

Regeneration cycle incomplete.

Commander.

How'd you sleep?

Well enough.

What's new?

That nebula's expanding

at a rate of 8,000 cubic kilometers per hour.

I've had to adjust course 11 times.

Sounds like you're enjoying the big chair.

It's not a bad way to spend the night.

I hear you've been doing a fine job.

The crew's impressed.

Is it true you make them call you "Captain Kim"?

Sir?

Good morning.

That remains to be seen.

Problem?

The proximity transceiver in my cranial implant

has been activated.

That could indicate a Borg presence nearby.

Harry?

I've been running sensor sweeps all night.

I haven't seen anything.

Perhaps the nebula is masking a vessel.

No, not a chance.

A ship wouldn't last ten seconds in there--

not even a Borg cube.

Maybe it's a false alarm.

Your transceiver could be malfunctioning.

It is possible.

Why don't you pay a visit to Sick Bay?

In the meantime, we'll redouble our scans, just to be sure.

Very well.

I'll get the scans underway.

If you don't mind being an ensign again.

Seven?

My proximity transceiver activated again.

Looks like someone's rerouting power

from the warp conduits.

To where?

Deck 8, Section 22, the science lab.

Bridge to science lab.

Ensign Mulcahey, respond.

Harry.

Sensors are being deflected by some kind of force field.

Commander, the force field has a Borg signature.

Red Alert.

Captain to the Bridge.

Tuvok, take a security team to the science lab.

Chakotay to Seven of Nine.

It looks like you were right.

We've detected Borg on the ship-- Deck 8, science lab.

How many drones?

Unknown. Tuvok's headed there now.

I will join him.

The science lab?

My mobile emitter's in there.

This technology resembles a Borg maturation chamber,

but many of the components are unfamiliar.

Commander!

He was punctured by an extraction tubule.

It removed a tissue sample.

There are residual nanoprobes surrounding the wound.

Their encoding sequences are identical to my own.

Your nanoprobes? How?

I don't know.

Take him to Sick Bay.

What are you doing?

1 will be recognized as Borg.

A drone...

but unlike any I've ever seen.

It appears to be in the fetal stage.

I don't understand.

The Borg assimilate.

They do not reproduce in this fashion.

Where did it come from?

I believe it was created here in the science lab.

When the away team beamed back to Voyager,

there was a transporter malfunction.

Our patterns merged briefly.

It is possible that some of my nanoprobes

infected the Doctor's mobile emitter.

They began to assimilate.

Yes.

Nanoprobes are encoded

to utilize any technology they encounter.

Once it assimilated the emitter, it began

to transform this diagnostic station.

When Ensign Mulchaey

entered the room, they sampled his DNA.

Using his genetic code as a template

to create a life-form.

The drone has increased in mass by 17 percent.

Its maturation rate is 25 times that of a conventional Borg.

Tuvok, erect a level-10 force field around this section.

Post round-the-clock security.

You intend to let it mature?

The alternative is to pull the plug

and I'm not prepared to do that--

not unless I have to.

Resume your analysis.

I want to know

exactly what we're dealing with here.

Or should I say whom?

Yes, Captain.

I've adapted the astrometric sensors

to penetrate the Borg force field.

I thought you said this thing was a fetus.

An hour ago, it was.

The drone has entered the fourth phase of gestation.

In human terms, it is a child of six years.

You mean a boy of six years.

From what I can tell, the drone is male.

Seven, route your sensor data to Sick Bay.

I want to run a few medical scans.

Stand by.

Well, he appears to be human for the most part.

Borg implants comprise approximately

27 percent of his body.

Curious.

His body plating is composed of poly-deutonic alloy.

Just like my mobile emitter.

The nanoprobes must have extrapolated that technology.

It could explain his unique design.

Wait a second.

The Doctor's emitter came from the 29th century.

It's 500 years more advanced than anything we've got.

It is logical to assume this drone

will be equally advanced.

A 29th-century Borg.

In essence.

I've located my mobile emitter.

It's embedded in his cerebral cortex.

The emitter has been adapted to function

as part of his central nervous system.

It controls all autonomic functions.

That means we can't remove it...

not without killing the drone.

Has it contacted the Borg collective?

No. I have dampened its proximity transceiver.

For now.

What about when it grows up?

Reactive body armor?

Multidimensional adaptability?

Internal transporter nodes?

The drone possesses superior technology.

It will fully mature in less than two hours.

However, its Borg shielding is not yet active.

We can still terminate it, but we must act quickly.

Hold on a minute, Seven.

I want some answers first.

What normally happens when a drone

disengages from the maturation chamber?

It awaits instructions from the collective.

So without those instructions, it has no designation, right?

No purpose.

Correct.

If we can keep him from interfacing with the collective,

maybe we can give him a purpose.

Captain...

This is the most advanced drone ever to exist.

We could teach him our values, Seven.

We could show him what it means to be an individual.

If we fail...

if the drone were to be assimilated,

the collective would become far more powerful.

What I'm proposing is the only defense we have

against that possibility, short of murder

and that's an order I'd prefer not to give.

As I recall, Seven, there were a few crew members

who had similar doubts about you.

The situation is different.

Is it?

A Borg?

Disconnected from the collective?

Unsure of its identity.

A potential threat.

But we succeeded.

We're going to pull the same trick again.

Only this time, you're going to be the teacher.

I am to instruct the drone in the ways of humanity.

Think of it as first contact...

and you are our ambassador.

Maturation cycle is complete.

We are Borg.

State our designation.

Designation is irrelevant.

You are not part of the collective.

You are an individual.

You will receive your instructions from me.

Insufficient.

You must comply.

Insufficient.

We are Borg.

My designation is Seven of Nine,

Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.

But you may call me Seven of Nine.

Seven of Nine.

You will comply with my commands.

Seven of Nine.

Yes.

We are not Borg.

We are individuals.

Do you understand?

State our designation.

Apparently not.

The drone's responses are programmed.

It doesn't understand what I'm saying.

I must initiate a direct neural interface.

Are you sure that's wise?

There is no other way for me to communicate with it.

Proceed.

You will not be harmed.

Resistance is futile.

I am providing it with instructions.

It understands.

The drone is probing my neural pathways.

It is trying to assimilate all of my knowledge.

I cannot disengage the link.

Terminate interface!

You must comply.

You are hurting me.

1 will comply.

Daily Log, Seven of Nine.

I've activated the drone's linguistic database.

It is now capable of assimilating information.

A direct neural link is too dangerous.

So I've decided to use Borg data nodes.

Special delivery-- two Borg data nodes.

More?

Link them to the data port.

How many Borg hitchhikers

are we going to pick up on this trip?

Maybe this is the collective's new strategy.

They don't assimilate anymore.

They just show up and look helpless.

Now, B'Elanna...

We don't know what this drone will turn into.

It's gone from infant to adult in one day.

It will become what we help it to become.

How Starfleet of you.

Seven of Nine to Neelix.

Neelix here.

Report to the science lab immediately.

Bring the first data node.

On my way.

We are Borg.

State our designation.

I have compiled information into this data node

for you to assimilate.

We do not understand.

You will, but first you must assimilate this data.

Come here.

Comply.

Give me your arm.

Inject the data node with an assimilation tubule--

this access port.

We do not understand.

Your designation is Seven of Nine.

Yes.

Your designation is Neelix-- Talaxian.

That's me.

This is a laboratory on a vessel.

The Starship Voyager.

I am traveling through interstellar space.

Yes.

Why?

This is a ship of exploration.

I am an explorer.

We all are.

We are Borg.

Well, no.

You are a unique individual,

one of many on Voyager.

This is not a Borg collective.

Do you understand?

Individual.

My thoughts are my own.

Precisely.

I wish to assimilate more information.

Not yet.

Your neural pathways require time

to process the information.

You will need to regenerate soon.

I will adapt one of the alcoves

in our cargo bay to your technology.

Take the drone to the Doctor for medical analysis.

Go with him.

All members of this crew

must report to the Sick Bay for evaluation.

When I am finished here, I will join you.

Duranium hull.

Plasma-based power distribution.

Tricylic life-support systems.

Artificial gravity plating.

Oh, right on all counts.

Systems analysis appears to be your forte.

You should think about a future in starship operations.

Human female.

Very good.

She was frightened by me.

Why do you say that?

I detected an elevation in her pheromonal response.

Well, you're new around here.

An unfamiliar face takes some getting used to.

I remember when I first came aboard Voyager.

I provoked a few strange reactions myself.

I still do from time to time.

I mean, just look at me-- whiskers and spots.

Were people afraid of you as well?

Well, no.

Do they fear me because I am Borg?

Sometimes Borg can be a little intimidating.

Don't take it personally.

I want to know more about the collective.

You do? Well, of course you do.

Tell me about the Borg.

Oh, what's to tell?

You've seen one cybernetically enhanced species,

you've seen them all.

You'll have plenty of time to learn all about them,

but first, you have to give yourself a chance

to adapt to life here on Voyager.

Now, Mister...?

Gosh, I'm sorry.

In all the excitement, I forgot your name.

I do not have a name.

Well, every individual needs a name.

We can't just run around calling you "the drone."

That's not very interesting, is it?

Seven of Nine tells me my designation is irrelevant.

I disagree.

You should choose a name for yourself,

something that defines who you are.

After all, there's only one of you.

One.

Oh, here we are-- Sick Bay.

Good morning.

You are the Emergency Medical Hologram.

And you are very observant.

Step this way, please.

I have to get back to Mess Hall.

There's nothing to worry about.

The Doctor is going to run a few scans.

You'll be finished before you know it.

1 will comply.

It's a noninvasive biomedical scan.

You won't feel a thing.

Your central nervous system is functioning normally,

but I'm picking up some degradation

in your neural pathways.

You'll need to regenerate soon.

My central nervous system is regulated

by your mobile emitter.

That's right.

Your mobile emitter is more advanced

than these diagnostic tools.

Far more advanced.

It's technology that came from the 29th century,

400 years in the future.

I am an advanced form of life.

Yes.

I am unique.

Mm-hmm.

Describe my origins.

Oh, it's a long story.

I wish to hear it.

Another time.

I wish to hear the story now.

In a nutshell, there was a transporter malfunction.

My emitter fused with several of Seven of Nine's...

nanoprobes.

I was an accident.

Call it "a random convergence of technologies."

Am I unwelcome here?

On the contrary.

Our primary mission is to explore new forms of life.

You may have been unexpected,

but, given time, I am sure you'll make

a fine addition to the crew.

After all, you've got my mobile emitter

driving your neocortex

so you're bound to make a dazzling impression.

That's called a joke.

Joke: A verbal comment or gesture

designed to provoke laughter.

I see you've got your mother's sense of humor.

Deck 11, Section 32, Main Engineering.

That is the...

Warp core.

Fueled by a matter/ antimatter reaction,

which produces a maximum output of 4,000 teradynes per second,

providing power for faster- than-light propulsion.

Correct.

This isn't a classroom, Seven.

Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer--

Klingon-human hybrid.

She possesses extensive knowledge

of this vessel's systems

as well as a volatile temperament.

Volatile: English adjective meaning "readily vaporizable

"at low temperature; easily aroused,

tending to violent eruption."

Very good.

You get a gold star.

Our presence here is authorized.

The Captain asked me

to familiarize the drone with Voyager.

Well, how about familiarizing him

with the airponics bay?

I have got one hour to come up with a way

to predict the expansion rate of this protonebula

or Janeway's going to pull the plug on the entire survey.

Do you mind?

If you apply a multispatial algorithm,

it will accurately predict the rate of expansion.

I can demonstrate.

All right.

Amazing.

Greetings.

Our designation...

My designation is One.

How are you today?

I'm just fine, thank you.

One?

He requested a designation.

"One" seemed appropriate.

And how are you today, One?

Well... thank you, Captain Janeway.

Adapting to life on Voyager?

Yes.

To date I've assimilated

47 billion teraquads of information

on a vast variety of subjects, including particle physics,

comparative humanoid anatomy, warp field theory...

and the culinary delights of the Delta Quadrant.

Mr. Neelix. They've been spending time together.

Is your assessment of me complete?

Am I... sufficient?

Why, yes.

More that sufficient.

In fact, I'd say you were making excellent progress,

but this isn't an assessment, One.

I simply wanted to meet you.

With your permission, I would like to be excused.

I've agreed to assist Lieutenant Torres.

She wishes to increase the efficiency

of the Bussard collectors.

Permission granted.

You've done a remarkable job.

Thank you.

Not only has he absorbed

an incredible amount of knowledge in a matter of days,

but he seems to be fitting in with the crew

and developing a distinct personality.

He is adapting quickly.

Then why do I get the feeling something's bothering you?

He has been expressing curiosity about the Borg.

Ah...

and you're worried that if he learns about them

he may be drawn to the collective.

Yes.

Maybe we should tell him what he wants to know.

I'd rather he learn about the Borg from us

than the collective.

The lure of perfection is powerful, Captain.

He may be tempted to seek out the Borg.

That would pose a grave tactical risk.

Well, we can delay telling him for now,

but keep in mind,

the drone is becoming an individual.

Seven, he has the right to know.

Sooner or later, we'll have to answer his questions.

Deck 8, Section 4, Cargo Bay 2--

used for the storage of spare components

and surplus materials.

It is also where I regenerate.

You will reside here with me.

I wish to assimilate more information.

You've assimilated enough for one day.

You've also provided invaluable assistance to the Voyager crew.

You have exceeded expectations.

Then expectations were insufficient.

A simple "thank you" would suffice.

Thank you?

A customary expression of gratitude.

I paid you a compliment.

We must regenerate.

This technology does not conform with Starfleet parameters.

Correct.

I am Borg.

This technology is Borg.

We must regenerate.

I wish to assimilate all available data

pertaining to the Borg.

Step into the alcove.

No. You must face outward.

Computer, activate regeneration cycle

alcoves beta and gamma.

Seven of Nine.

Yes.

Thank you.

We must regenerate.

A Borg proximity signal has been detected.

Origin: Unimatrix 325, grid 006.

Alter course to intercept.

Captain?

The drone transmitted a Borg proximity signal.

Wake him.

You contacted the collective.

No.

Check his transceiver.

You deactivated my transceiver two days ago.

It appears your cranial implants have adapted

and created a secondary transceiver.

A Borg fail-safe device.

Precisely.

Have you detected any vessels?

Long-range sensors picked up a transwarp conduit.

A ship is approaching.

Time to intercept?

Approximately three hours.

The Borg?

Yes.

I wish to meet them.

Seven...

I think it's time we showed our drone

what the Borg are all about.

The Borg have assimilated thousands of species.

Correct.

What becomes of those species?

Their neural pathways are restructured

and linked to a single collective mind--

the hive.

Their bodies are augmented with cybernetic technology.

They become drones.

I wish to experience the hive mind.

If you did that, you'd no longer be unique.

The Borg would destroy your individuality.

And that is...

undesirable?

Very. The Borg are

the most destructive force we've ever encountered.

They've assimilated billions of individuals

against their will.

You were assimilated.

My link to the collective was severed.

When you were in the collective, you assimilated others.

Yes.

You call the Borg destructive.

Seven of Nine is not.

That's because she's regained her individuality.

But if the Borg had the chance,

they'd take it away from her again.

They'd assimilate everyone on Voyager.

With your advanced technology...

the collective would become even more destructive.

We have to prevent that from happening,

but we can't do it without you.

We need your abilities to enhance our defenses.

Shields, weapons...

Will you help us resist them?

Seven of Nine...

do you wish to rejoin the collective?

Voyager is my collective.

I will need time to assimilate this information.

All hands to battle stations.

A Borg vessel is approaching.

We just ran out of time.

Seven of Nine, I'm detecting irregularities

in my autonomic nervous system--

cardiovascular excitation, vasoconstriction...

You're experiencing an emotion-- anxiety.

It is only temporary.

Anxiety: A state of apprehension caused by fear.

The Borg usually elicit this response in others.

Are you experiencing anxiety as well?

Yes. Along with every crew member on Voyager.

Because they fear assimilation?

Correct.

We are needed on the Bridge.

Deck 1.

Seven of Nine.

Yes?

What will happen now?

We will engage the Borg.

Will Voyager be destroyed?

The Borg are powerful,

but Captain Janeway is a resourceful leader.

We will resist.

Resistance is futile.

Perhaps.

The Borg vessel's moving into range.

On screen.

Long-range tactical vessel.

Transwarp capability.

Ablative hull armor.

We're being scanned.

They're preparing to attack.

You must help us enhance our shields.

This station will give you access to the shield generators.

They are hailing us.

Open a channel.

We are the Borg.

You will be assimilated.

Resistance is futile. Resistance is futile.

I can hear them... in my mind.

They've locked on a tractor beam.

The collective is calling to me.

I hear it, too.

Billions of voices speaking as one.

We must resist that voice.

The crew of Voyager will be destroyed if we don't.

Our shields are remodulating.

We've broken free.

Can you enhance our phasers?

Yes.

Do it.

When he's finished, target their propulsion system.

Be prepared to jump to warp, Mr. Paris.

Enhancements complete.

You may fire.

What happened?

They inverted our phaser beam with a feedback pulse.

They just took out our warp drive.

Your technology is limited.

I cannot enhance it further.

I must interface with the collective.

I can disrupt their vessel from within.

They will try to assimilate you.

They will fail.

Harry, lock on to the drone.

That won't be necessary.

He's inside the sphere.

We are the Borg.

You will be assimilated.

My technology is superior.

Stop your attack or I will destroy you.

Your technological distinctiveness

will be added to our own.

Resistance is futile.

Shields down to 29 percent!

He's accessing their navigational controls.

It's heading directly for the nebula.

If they get too close, their hull will collapse.

Terminate your interface.

Stand down Red Alert.

Tuvok, secure all stations.

Organize damage control teams, Chakotay.

Captain, I'm reading a life-sign in the debris.

It's the drone. He survived.

He's erected a multispatial force field

around his body... but it is weakening.

Get a lock on him. Beam him to Sick Bay.

Damage?

Several of his implants were fused

in the explosion, but they're regenerating.

His biological systems are a different story.

Severe trauma to the cerebral cortex,

internal bleeding.

He needs immediate surgery.

The sphere?

Destroyed.

You were successful.

While I was linked to the Borg, I could hear their thoughts...

their objectives.

They are aware of my existence.

They will pursue me.

Irrelevant.

They will fail.

I need to get started.

No. I should not exist.

I was an accident--

a random convergence of technologies.

You are unique.

I was never meant to be.

As long as I exist, you are in danger.

All life on Voyager is in danger.

We can talk about this later.

Allow the Doctor to proceed.

Lower the force field.

His synapses are failing.

You must comply.

I will not.

You must comply.

Please.

You are hurting me.

You will adapt.

I'm sorry.