Required reading 


No discussion of the scourge of alien tech would be complete without the Borg. No other lifeform (if you can call them that) comes close to these spawns of Satan in pure unadulterated cybernetic evil.

For one reason and for one reason only. Their fiendish proclivity for forcibly assimilating any species or technology they find even remotely interesting.

This module will focus specifically on the technological means of this villainy. Nanotechnology. Some of you shudder just thinking about it.

That’s because the Borg's variety of microscopic robotic creatures not only attach themselves to every blood cell a lifeform possesses but goes on to sprout various hideous mechanical devices throughout the body. Often replacing vital organs entirely and modifying effectively the only one most humanoids often lasciviously cherish.

No, not that one. Mercifully, that particular vital organ is left untouched. Why we're not entirely certain since Borg offspring are produced by other means. In any case, it’s the only unintentional act of mercy the Borg has ever demonstrated.

No, it’s the brain. (You may breathe a sigh of relief.)

Yes, immediately, upon assimilation, the necessary and lurid fantasies-capable encephalitis of unsuspecting romantic hedonists are rudely disconnected from their various sensuous mechanisms. And abruptly employed in the wholly unsatisfying practices of distinctiveness gathering.

Of the countless libidos of lustful humanoids wasted in this way over the eons of Borg atrocities, only a few essential and fascinating personnel (Captains and Seven) and uninteresting folk (a Vulcan and Torres) have returned from cyborg celibacy. (Various disconnected zombie-ish drones don't count because their suspected couplings are too hideous to contemplate.)

Most famously Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Seven-of-Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01. Some would argue both future and past Captain Kathryn Janeways should be included. But it’s well-known their cerebral facilities were never compromised because of a neural suppressant and a neurolytic pathogen, respectively. (Like that Vulcan and Torres.) Neither having experienced the agonies nor, despite rumors circulated by Seven of Nine, the thoroughly disproved ecstasies of collective consciousness. Though Janeway's rigorous application of prolonged periods of abstinence could give credence to this argument.

Of the nameless unfortunate others, their brains instantaneously changed in the aftermath of the nanoprobes' cyber-attack, transforming the individual into a pale mottled caricature of his or her former libidinous self. Enslaved by the Borg Collective forever.

Of all the alien technologies we have encountered, this tech’s ability to completely dehumanize us and strip us of even the tiniest, most minute nuance of pleasure is the most frightening one. Though there have been allusions that Jean-Luc Picard and the Borg queen may have been “intimate” in some Borg-like colorless and completely non-graphic unentertaining way.

And ominously, the Borg queen, displaying this single instance of sensuality found in the Collective, used it exclusively to cloud Picard’s mind with loveless whispers of the Borg’s ideology. That all the technological know-how, societal advancements and even, alas, the creativity of a civilization must be added to their own.

Q summed up Borg-lust best. “The Borg are the ultimate user. They're not interested in political conquest, wealth, or power as you know it. They're simply interested in your ship, its technology. They've identified it as something they can consume."

Not admired. Not appreciated. Not respected. Not even replicated. But “consumed.” Because that is what the Borg philosophy is at its heart. A relentless, ravenous all-encompassing ideology of predatory celibates that devoured entire star systems.

There are those who believe the Borg Collective no longer exists because of the neurolytic pathogen inflicted upon the Primary Unicomplex. This theory is difficult to accept because of the Borg's psychotic need to destroy the happy endings of erotic sentients everywhere.

Nevertheless, true or not, it would behoove us to be forever vigilant against a return of the Borg’s revolting asexual assimilating ways. It has not gone unnoticed that some species have developed Borg-like nanotechnology of their own (including the Federation). A resurgence of this celibate nano-neurotic ideology is the greatest threat to a prosperous and promiscuous society.

Neutral Zone

Finally, made it to Risa for some much needed R&R. The planet is lovely: blue skies, green grass, crystal-clear waters. Very Earth-like. Will be here for as long as STB allows me. Don’t hate.

Trainer 367

The Xindi probe catastrophe. Yes, we all picture large chunks of Florida and Venezuela twirling helplessly in space accompanied by the stardust of 7 million people. We also bemoan the fact that this heinous species is alive today talking about it. 

There is only one reason for this egregious historical error never corrected by the discretion of glorious temporal mechanisms. The assignment of one Captain Jonathan Archer to the only mission that was supposed to annihilate them!

It began with Archer’s insipid address to his crew. “There’s been an attack on the Sol system. A probe. They don’t know where it came from. There may have been a billion gazillion casualties so we’ve been ordered back to Earth.”

“Why?!” Ensign Travis Mayweather asked incredulously.

Equally annoyed, Archer replied, “Maybe they expect us to do something about it.”

The crew exploded in violent protests. Fortuitously, Commander Charles Tucker yelled, “Captain! We’ve got eight Suliban ships approaching at warp speed!”

“Just what we need! Tactical alert! Hail them.”

Communications Officer Hoshi Sato whined hopelessly, “They’re not responding.”

“Try again!” Archer said, desperately trying to forestall yet another round of Sato’s incessant depression.

Suddenly, the lights went out. Archer was nabbed and whisked away to the Suliban vessel.  The crew prayed fervently that he would never return as Sato wept forlornly.

The Suliban Cabal took Archer to their spectral temporal meddler, “the man from the future,” who informed him of the existence of the Xindi. The homicidal lunatics who launched the preemptive strike on Earth. They were convinced by another meddling faction from the future that earthlings would destroy their world in four hundred years. Unlike saner lifeforms, they actually believed this crap and having no problem killing millions from a species they’d never heard of, were busily building another weapon to finish us off.

Their aimless wanderings in the Alpha Quadrant now undoubtedly in jeopardy, Archer and crew immediately returned to Starfleet Command. There, Archer attempted to convince Admiral Maxwell Forrest and the Vulcan Ambassador, Soval, that the previously traitorous masochists were telling the truth. By quantum dating highly selective pieces of the Xindi probe wreckage and finding evidence of temporal improbabilities, his mission was almost derailed.

Sensing a paradigm shift in his reality, Ambassador Soval screeched, “The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible!”

But Admiral Forrest ignored him and ordered the Enterprise NX-01 into the Delphic Expanse. An immense unexplored region of space known for anatomically inverting Klingons and causing Vulcans to scream maniacally whilst killing one another with reckless abandon. Prompting the Vulcan High Command to conclude that exploring said region of space was also an impossibility and commanded sane Vulcans everywhere to refrain from going with them.

Commander T’Pol, of course, did not fit this description.

Undeterred by the sight of Vulcans dying en masse, T’Pol stood by her man to find the Xindi spawn who made Trip cry.

Unfortunately, they were blessed with luck, serendipitous timing and real Military Assault Command Operators (MACOs), acquired as “additional muscle” for “beat down” communications. Six weeks into the Expanse, they coerced with prejudice the coordinates of the Xindi homeworld from the only Xindi they’d encountered, a vicious and ornery nine-fingered rat named Kessick, enslaved for this reason by unscrupulous miners.

However, spitefully, Kessick, with his dying breath, withheld the only useful piece of information he possessed. That his planet had been mercifully destroyed a hundred and twenty years before, leaving behind alloy saturated rubble and Xindi-dust.

Archer and his MACOs were flabbergasted. “The son of a Xindi lied to us!”

He then realized the only intel gleaned from this mean creature was truly an irrelevant one. That five Xindi species evolved on the same treacherous planet.

“Highly unlikely,” the Vulcan Science Directorate later surmised,” an impossibility!” And, like the existence of time travel, in the face of irrefutable evidence, they refused to revise their position.

In any event, having wasted precious time messing around with this idiot the crew gratuitously found themselves in the grips of a 400-year-old, admittedly hideous telepath, Tarquin. Who, after many machinations and Hoshi-lust, supplied the whereabouts of a Xindi colony, yet again involved in nefarious mining activities.

There they found a smarter Xindi, Gralik, who also inexplicably insisted on divulging further facts about the Xindi species. Studiously listing them on his big furry fingers. “Xindi-Aquatics, Xindi-Arboreals, Xindi-Insectoids, Xindi-Primates and Xindi-Reptilians.”

“I don’t care!” Archer screamed in exasperation.

Nevertheless, Gralik helped them considerably by sabotaging yet another Xindi test probe. And, fortunately, through considerable effort and complimentary soul searching, they gradually made their way to the Xindi Council hideout.

Now was their chance to kill every last one of those miscreant villains and dine languishing afterward.

However, Archer misinterpreted this mission immensely. He instead tried to convince the council psychos that the Vulcan High Command had determined Terrans, unlike Vulcans, were incapable of the bloodlust that could precipitate such an event.


Archer then resorted to name-calling. Ridiculing their revered gods, the Guardians, as mere bingo-playing old ladies with delusions of grandeur. But the grannies retaliated by racing the Xindi-Reptilians and Insectoids toward Earth to prevent humans from inflicting further comedic harm.

Archer and the less bloodthirsty Xindi pursued them. But first, they had to disable that weapon.

Sato, shaken out of her self-pitying stupor (still longing for Tarquin) supplied the weapon’s schematics. Then, along with Archer and Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed, boarded the orb of death to see if it had suicidal tendencies.

After losing a MACO, of the red shirt persuasion to a Xindi-Reptilian, all they could do was deactivate it. So, Archer decided to set much-needed charges and sent Reed and the mourner back to the ship.

For reasons, unfathomable even to the lowest sentient life, the Xindi-Reptilian, Commander Dolim, left his ship and materialized aboard. Enthusiastically, he beat Archer into the scaffolds as the weapon entered Earth’s atmosphere to repeat its little brother’s hellish performance.

Though trampled senselessly, Archer managed to wrestle Dolim to the platform and sprung to his feet. An ominous smile graced his lips, alerting the reptilian that something was amiss.

Archer held up a detonator. Frantically, Dolim searched his body for the tricky grenade. Too late! Archer blew the Xindi into itty bitty Dolim bits.

Not as satisfying as the destruction of his entire species would have been but the only outcome our savage pro-genocidal hearts could expect from a starship captain with a well-known tendency to bungle “kill-all-the-bastards” escapades.

Archer then ignited another series of explosions that blew the weapon to Gre’Thor and saved the screaming hoards on the surface below. But unfortunately, the pyrokinetics from such an enormously fiendish device sent him and the Enterprise NX-01 back in time. Proving the axiom that pursuing circular objects into Earth’s orbit will always hurl one’s crew deep into the powerless past. Powerless for the simple fact that it could not correct the Xindi probe’s earth-shattering event. So, if at all possible, when saving the planet from certain obliteration, avoid blasts that could result in time-tipping turbulence of null effect in the Sol system.

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 Let us prepare you to survive those light years in space.


Hurley, Maurice. “Q, Who?” Star Trek: The Next Generation. Paramount Pictures. 8 May 1989. Television. Retrieved:


Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth


Berman, Rick. Braga Brannon. “The Expanse.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 21 May 2003. Television. Retrieved:

Berman, Rick. Braga Brannon. “The Xindi.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 10 September 2003. Television. Retrieved: h

Black, Chris. Friedman, Brent V. “The Shipment.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 29 October 2003. Television. Retrieved:

Strong, Phyllis. “Exile.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 15 October 2003. Television. Retrieved:

Berman, Rick. Braga Brannon. “Zero Hour.” Star Trek: Enterprise. Paramount Television. 26 May 2004. Television. Retrieved: