"They will be allowed to live. That is nothing."

Her captive looked up and for the first time met the Queen's eye. Relief flickered briefly in the woman's face, quickly extinguished.

"You however are different. You belong to me and when you have fully accepted that, I will deliver you from your small and insignificant life. There is no escape this time. Your friends are in stasis, your vessel destroyed."

"What do you want from me - I have no special abilities, I know nothing beyond what you have already..."

"I want more."

"I don't know what you want from me."

"It is necessary for the collective to move to the next phase of its evolution." The Borg queen circled the kneeling human. "Perfection is not so easily attained as I believed. You were chosen by me from the billions of beings that form my consciousness as the one most likely to embody that perfection, to face a trial that no Borg has previously endeavoured. You know this to be true even as you know that you failed. I wish to understand why. In what were you lacking?"

"Is it so hard to understand - with the feelings and emotions of those billions of individuals available to you alone - is it so hard to believe that regaining my individuality placed me beyond your command."

"You are still Borg. You do not deny this."

The human shrugged.

"I am Borg and I am human."

"A hybrid..."

"No. I am fully Borg...and fully human."

"That is nonsense." For the first time a little frustration entered the Queen's glassy demeanour.

"It's only nonsense if your perspective is limited. Imperfect." A note of arrogance sounded in the declaration.

The Queen stopped circling and stepped back.

"Perhaps my choice was not incorrect after all. You have insights that may be of value, that may perfect us: not at this time however. I am required elsewhere and you must regenerate. At the end of your cycle you will be brought to me and you will broaden my...limited perspective. If you enhance my perfection then you will remain unassimilated for another cycle."

Seven of Nine, formerly tertiary adjunct of unimatrix zero-one, laughed, a sharp laugh whetted by hysteria.

"Is there a limit to this process?"

"That is unlikely to be required."

It was not a threat but a statement of fact. Seven of Nine hesitated.

"I am human...I need hope." Perhaps showing a little weakness would be a useful tactic. She had no other weapons.

The Borg Queen blinked - an involuntary muscular reflex designed to protect the eyeballs - certainly not surprise; the keeper of one hundred billion consciousnesses could not be surprised.

"Then let us say 1001 cycles and you will be freed. Is that enough hope?"

"It will be sufficient."