As Scott circled the crashed U.S.S. Voyager, searching for an
airlock, he stumbled upon the body of a Borg drone (quite literally).
Cursing to himself, he climbed to his feet and dusted himself off as he
glanced down to see what he had tripped over. The sight of this implacable,
utterly merciless enemy of the Federation, lying face-down at his feet,
nearly caused him to lose control of his bodily funtions. Keeping a tight reign on all of his sphincters, Scott backed away from the corpse, watching it warily. The thing looked dead, but he couldn't be sure; from what he had seen of the Borg on Star Trek, they had a nasty habit of jumping up to assimilate you just when you though they were done for. Keeping one eye on the fallen drone, Scott picked up a hefty stick and cautiously poked it in the side. There was no reaction, so he pushed the stick under the drone's torso and flipped it onto it's back. To his great surprise, Scott saw that this drone was remarkably well-stacked for a Borg. Leaning closer to study this decidedly feminine-looking cybernetic creature, Scott suddenly realized that he was looking at Seven of Nine--before she became a babe by having most of those nasty Borg implants removed. As Scott stood there, idly remembering how hot Seven of Nine looked in those skin-tight jumpsuits she always wore, her eyes suddenly flicked open, and one of her hands shot up to grab him by the throat. "Urrp!" was all that Scott could manage to say, as her prosthetically-enhanced fingers pressed into his neck. She climbed to her feet, still holding Scott by the neck, and held him before her effortlessly as he struggled in her grasp. "You are a human male," Seven of Nine observed in a clinical tone. "But you are not a member of Voyager's crew. Where did you come from?" She turned her head to study the surrounding terrain. "What planet is this?" "Look, uh, I'm sure you have a lot to do, what with the ship crashed here and all," Scott stammered out hastily. "Why don't I just go about my business so you can clean up this mess?" "You refuse to answer?" Seven noted. "No matter; I will simply assimilate you and add your knowledge to my own." She held up her other hand, and extended those tendril-thingies that Scott knew the Borg used to implant their dreaded nanoprobes. "Resistance is futile..." Utterly terrified (and about to lose control of those sphincters), Scott...
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