“I hate the Borg.” The Ferengi, Hagasi, sat before the makeshift holo board they had set up in the hideout.

Sinai lay languidly against the rough wall, feasting on the replicated meal. “I suppose they are the only ones you don’t do business with?” she smiled menacingly, to no effect.

He adjusted the glasses perched on his nose, “The collective makes that impossible. I’ve tried. They don’t operate as most species do when it comes to this kind of thing.” While looking at the open notebook in his other hand, he rotated the map display, “They do mean it when they say ‘Resistance is Futile.’ It is an interesting paradox – plenty of their technology has gone missing by being stolen or found. They are infinitely creative in what they build and how.”

The Romulan raised an eyebrow, “You make it sound like it’s beautiful.”

Hagasi tapped at several points on the map, “I’m allowed to be impressed by how they create and still absolutely fear them coming for me in the same sentence. I’m in the business of knowing as much as I can about everything, Sinai. You ever meet an ex-Borg?”

She sat up, curious. “I haven’t.”

“Their beauty is in their struggle. To be scorned by the universe first because of their history and second because of their appearance…it is not an easy life.” He marked several more locations and turned to Sinai, “You and I know who we are – and have known for some time. Our darkness exists because we made it. We chose it. An ex-Borg doesn’t know…and may never know who they are – and they had no choice in the life they have to live now.”

“And yet you hate the Borg.”

“I hate what they have done to this universe. Resistance isn’t futile – it keeps the balance between us and the good guys. They keep us sharp and on our toes; the reverse is true for us. The Borg is a monolithic evil that portends no escape, grace, or give. I hate them because I can’t use them or protect against them. You?”

Sinai considered his words. “I have kept to myself far and away from them. I’ve known accomplices who went missing over the years, hearing they’d been sucked up into The Collective.” She turned her eyes to his, “They are the only thing in this universe I fear.”

“That’s quite an admission for you, Sinai.”

She thought about it for a moment, “We all have our fears.  Like you said – we know who we are. Our identity is what we are. The Borg murders us through assimilation. Death is preferable.”

Hagasi solemnly replied, “I hope it never comes to that, Sinai.”

She stood, a serene look passing across her features, “Nobody chooses when, Big Ears.” She headed down a hall to her bunk.

Hagasi muttered to himself, “Can’t argue with that.”