Author's note: The story blindsided me and forced me to write it. I really have no idea what I was doing, so if I screw something up let me know, okay?

Disclaimer: The Borg aren't mine, but EVERYTHING ELSE IS! HA HA HA HA HA (copyright 2001 by Jen Wardell)

Mixed Company
by Gatekeeper

Where the hell is Jory, and why is he taking so long with the body?

Forget it. I don't care what's holding him up? It's my turn and I'm taking it, and if I cause him any trouble with that nurse he's always trying to hit on, then that's his problem. He should know better.

We're sleeping, why are we sleeping? Jory hates to sleep - if it wasn't the only thing Bill did, we'd all have to cut into our shifts if we wanted to function at all.

What's going on?

I open my eyes (yes, they're my eyes now) and I don't see the apartment we all share. I don't even see the state hospital we have to report to twice a day, where Jory's nurse works. I see metal. A spaceship.

A Borg cube, to be exact.

It's good that I came out first, I suppose. I'm the only one of the personalities that has ever dealt well with panic. And, if the churning in my stomach is any indication, any one of the others would have freaked out completely.

Jory. Need to find Jory.

I search the mind, every corner. The others are there, resting until they float or force their way to the surface. But I can't see Jory anywhere.

Dammit. I always liked that kid.

No time for that now, though. Got to stay alive. Got to pretend I'm assimilated.

Got to pretend I'm Borg.

Regeneration cycle ended.

No no no no no.

I can't do this. I'm not ready for this. Why didn't Dave warn me better? All he told me was Borg. I thought the Borg were coming, that they had somehow invaded Earth and were attacking the hospital, the last place I had the body. He didn't tell me I was Borg. That we were Borg.

I don't want to be here. Where are they going? Why am I following these monsters? I don't want to go with them. I want to scream, to run. Why won't somebody help me? No no no!

Will I give up my turn with the body this time? Yes, Will. Yes yes yes. Yes, I'll give up the body until one of you can get us out of this. Yes, please, yes. I want to rest.

No no no no. Don't say anything about Jory. I don't want to hear it, can't deal with it right now. I want to rest.

Careful. Must be oh so careful. Glad we got Esther out of the way. She's not careful. Could get us erased, she could. Must be careful.

Walk like the Borg. Speak like the Borg. Jory's gone, but must leave some Jory out front in mind. O stray thought must escape.

I watch the drones, every tiny movement the hive mind requires them to do. Under my direction, the body follows exactly. I have always adapted well. I take credit for allowing Jory to survive high school.

New voices swim through the mind, but I ignore them. I am used to working with distractions.

In my few moments of spare time, I piece together what happened from information I glean from the other personalities. Ah, so that suggestion of off-planet treatment finally panned out. That uncle of Jory's, Dorin, must have arranged it. He has some useful connections, and has never been too pleased with the rest of us.

It was a foolish idea, however, as the attach on the transport vessel should have shown everyone. We work well together in this body.

The drones are moving again. I must focus.

Space? Nobody told be we were in space. And don't try to tell me I'm crazy. I can feel it.

Ugh, I hate space travel. Makes me sick to my stomach most of the time.

Like right now ...

Better get that loser out of here fast.

After settling into the driver's seat, I survey the territory. Wait a minute, what the hell is this? We've been assimilated? Why does no one tell me these things?

Okay girl, chill. You have the power. You have the control. You can deal with this.

Wait a minute. My hair! I'm bald! What have you losers done to my hair? Sure, I know it wasn't that great to begin with, but you can only expect so much out of a guy.

And my body. My poor, beautiful body is now a big fat stinking hunk of metal. Okay, so maybe it wasn't beautiful before, but I at least had a tan.

I'll never wear a designer label again.

No, don't think about that. You're in the driver's seat again - time to pay attention to the steering. So the body's Borg. What am I going to do about it?

Well, for one thing, relax. Everything feels so stiff and tight, and I bet the other personalities just went right along with it. All scared that the rest of us were gonna get caught like Jory did. I bet they wqere all making sure to be real careful.

Chickens. And morons, the bunch of 'em. Don't they know you can't assimilate a girl twice?

Hey, drone. Yeah, you. Get outta my way. Shayna is back in town, and she ain't gonna take crap from nobody.

Foreign presence detected in sector seven of matrix grid. Investigating.

What have the children gotten us into this time?

It was Shayna. I should have suspected she would be behind such a mess! She was always such a rebellious girl, not listening to anybody, even if it would be for her own good. Constantly needing to rebel against something.

Not like poor Jory. Such a sweet boy he always was to everyone, especially his elders. And so sensible, too.

But he's not here anymore, poor dear, and Shayna is. And her smart mouth and sassing have revealed us to the collective. If I don't do something about this, we'll all be poor dears.

I'd like to ask the children, but they'll be of no help. We got along very well together on Earth, but there isn't one with any practical knowledge among them, at least for this situation. I'd let Will take control back, but we can only hide for so long, no matter what he thinks. Children think bad things can be put off indefinitely.

Dave would keep a level head about him (though he's not the only one that can do such a thing, thank you very much) but he simply isn't clever enough to come up with anything appropriate.

Sadly, neither am I. There are certainly ne escape pods on Borg vessel, and I doubt any of the children would be able to pilot an aircraft even if there was one somewhere on board. Sadly, I doubt this as well.

Some of the children are saying this is the end, but I just can't think that way. A mother's heart can only be broken so many times. So instead I'll gather my children around me and wait. It is all I can do.

Shh now, don't worry. Mother's here.

I see my chance when the rest of them are occupied with the old woman.

Medication and Jory's eagle eye had kept me down before this, but with them both gone I have my perfect chance to get out. To be free.

To have some fun.

Fun, however, is not something I can have on this cube. There's just sameness, just routine. Boring boring boring. The only violence they get is when they assimilate someone, and even then they don't get to enjoy it. They just do what they're told and move on. They really are drones.

A part of me feels sorry for them. Violence is so much fun.

Somebody should show them.

The old woman doesn't have a clue how to get off this rock. Neither do I - careful thinking has never been a strength of mine. But I can make them all real sorry I showed up, and show them how much fun violence should be at the same time.

I notice something out of the corner of my eye. Somebody left a repair tool right within easy reach. A big, heavy repair tool. Stupid drones.

A little swing here, a little swing there, and we can make a real mess of whatever this panel is over here. Lovely, destructive shower of sparks. Fun. But it isn't enough.

I need a head.

I've never killed anyone before, but it's always been something I wanted to try. No one here to stop me now. Best of all, no one should want to stop me. All Borg are bad. All Borg should die.

I swing my weapon with something approaching glee.

Drone two of seven is offline. It has been removed from the matrix by drone four of seven.

Foreign presence has been located in drone four of seven. Assimilation process was incomplete. Reassimilation will not be attempted.

Drone four of seven will be removed from the matrix.

I hear voices. Not the narrow-minded rabble I'm used to dealing with, but so many higher, more beautiful voices. Voices from a thousand different times and places, a thousand different worlds.

They weave themselves together in my mind, the hum of eternity. The music of the spheres.

But I sense a change in the perfect harmony. Intruders! No, you will not take me from my music! I won't let you!

Blackness. Is this how I will meet my end, with the shadows slipping from this metal prison to wrap themselves around my heart, leaving nothing but darkness?

But not silence. Never silence.

Mommy?

Drone four of seven has been destroyed. All functions are returning to normal.

Not really.

Hmmm. We've never been in a million minds at once before. It should be fun.