Borg drone courtesy of Paramount/CBS. Steamrunner and background by Samuel Kowal. TJ Thyne by Christina Moore. Annika Hansen by Paramount/CBS and Rabittooth. |
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“Aye, Captain. I’ve been thinkin’… that I want ta remain
aboard the ship.”
Dominic Murphy blinked. Had he heard right? “You…want to
remain aboard the ship?”
“Well, it does nae have ta be this particular ship, though
I’d certainly nae say no if’n ye welcomed me,” replied Keel McMurty. “I’ve got
no problem servin’ aboard a Starfleet ship, though I s’pose I could just as
easily go back ta the Border Patrol.”
Murphy shook his head—it was going on seven in the morning,
they had all been up since early yesterday, and he was tired. He had not the
energy to expend thinking about the ramifications of the engineer’s situation.
“Listen, Mac… I can’t do this right now. I’m about to collapse
from exhaustion,” he said. “I’m off-shift today. Give me at least until
noon-thirty or 1300 hours to sleep, then stop by my quarters and we’ll talk.”
“Of course, Captain,” agreed McMurty with a nod. “I’m about
done-in meself.”
The two parted ways then, and Murphy rode the lift up to his
own deck. Within minutes he was dressed for bed and slipping under the blanket,
his last tired thought of how beautiful his Blue Angel had looked in the dress
she wore to the wedding of their new friends.
Of course, as often happened, he felt as though he’d just
gone to sleep when suddenly he was awake again. Thankfully he wasn’t as tired
as he could have been after only about five and a half hours of sleep—the
ability to fully function on less sleep than one who was fully Human was one of
the few benefits of being half Klingon. Still, didn’t mean he was personable,
and like so many who were slaves to their routines, he was not someone to mess
with until he’d had a few mouthfuls of strong black coffee with four sugars.
Murphy had just settled at his dining table with a steaming
mug when the door chime rang. Recalling that McMurty was supposed to come by to
talk, he stood as he bid the visitor enter. Tall, lanky McMurty stepped into
his quarters with a bow of the head and a somewhat cheerful greeting. Murphy
liked the guy, another half Human fellow whose other half was from a warrior
race—in Mac’s case, the Capellans.
“Come on over and have a seat, Commander,” Murphy said,
gesturing toward the table. “Help yourself to a drink if you need it.”
McMurty thanked him and ordered a cup of coffee, straight
black. He then joined him at the table and took a swallow before saying, “I’m
sorry I hit ye out o’ the blue with what I said this mornin’, sir. Probably
seemed like it was comin’ out o’ nowhere.”
“Kind of,” Murphy replied. “I mean, I certainly didn’t
expect those precise words to come out of your mouth, but to be perfectly
honest with you, after reviewing your record when you were assigned to us for
the systems testing, I wondered why you took the yardmaster job to begin with.
You’re a systems engineer, not a structural engineer.”
“Aye, that be true enough,” McMurty agreed. “I accepted the
job because they asked for me specifically—puffed up me chest with a bit o’
pride, that did. And really, I’ve always had an interest in shipbuildin’, and
so I looked forward ta the challenge o’ doing somethin’ new and different.”
“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Murphy observed as he raised his
coffee to his lips.
McMurty nodded and took a drink of his own before he continued.
“But the job’s a bloody headache—more than bein’ chief engineer ever were.
Echo’s yards are strictly repair docks, freein’ up the fleet yards at Regulus
III for ship buildin’. Many of the parts used here are manufactured there—”
Murphy snorted. “Well that doesn’t make any sense. You’d
think Echo would have the industrial facilities to manufacture anything the
repair yard needs.”
“That’s just it—they have
got the facilities, or at least they have the space for ‘em, but it’s one o’
the few things about the station that never got finished, even near two years
later. Priority was given ta shipbuildin’, not ship repairin’, as yer well
aware of, and the brass were damn focused on gettin’ that station up and
running, though goodness knows why that particular station was such a bee in
their bonnet. So we have ta get parts from the fleet yard, which again, we get
lower priority on. I’ve often had ta wait weeks for parts I could have easily
manufactured in a few hours if Echo’s facilities were online. I’ve had ta deal
with repair schedules that keep changin’ because o’ not havin’ the parts and
equipment needed, captains that think their ships deserve greater priority over
someone else’s, chief engineers who think they could do it better and faster… I
swear, it’s a bloody nightmare of a headache ta be a yardmaster.”
He paused to sip his drink and Murphy did the same, allowing
the other man time to get his thoughts in order. He sensed there was more to
McMurty’s desire to leave his prestigious post than the aggravation of dealing
with the egos of ship captains and their engineers.
“Starfleet Command would have likely rather assigned a
junior engineer ta oversee the systems tests, given yer first mission was a
fairly routine nebula survey,” McMurty went on at last, flashing a grin when
the captain rolled his eyes, his thoughts drifting for just a moment to the
tediousness of the survey. “But I actually requested ta be the one sent. We
were only supposed ta be out here fer two weeks, after all, and I needed a break.
This is the first time I’ve been out in space on a starship since I arrived at
Echo, if’n ye can believe it. And bein’ out here… it’s reminded me of
everythin’ I’ve been missin’. Even in the mundane, there is some level o’
excitement. I’ve missed the challenge and adventure, the needin’ ta think quick
on me feet, solvin’ puzzles that come out o’ nowhere… Meetin’ new people,
discoverin’ the previously unknown… Everythin’ what comes with bein’ on a starship
crew is what drew me ta the job in the first place, and bein’ out here with yer
crew has only reminded me of that. I know I’m of an age where I should by rights
be a captain of me own ship and all—I know I practically am a captain as
yardmaster, except by official rank—but all I’ve ever wanted was ta be an
engineer. And I want ta be an engineer again.”
Murphy thought about what he’d said for a moment, then
slowly nodded. “I can understand that. Though I’ve always had it in mind to be
a captain one day, I went down to the science labs more than once after I took
command of the first Messenger,
helping them out down there to finish a project or even to start one of my own.
I wanted to keep my skills as a scientist sharp because I know that even as a
commanding officer, I might be required to use them. And I like getting back to
my roots as a Starfleet officer by doing work that is familiar to me, even
comfortable.”
“But you accepted yer captaincy because it’s what ye wanted,
and ye’ve kept it because ye love the work ye do. Because yer good at it. And I
may well be good at what I do as yardmaster, but I don’t love it. I’m
constantly frustrated and honestly feel as though I’m on the verge o’ burnout.
I do nae want that ta happen. Here on this ship, I’ve nae felt that way, not
once. I’ve only felt nostalgic fer the work and the camaraderie of a starship
crew, which ye really do nae find anywhere else. Well, except maybe Starbase
Echo—they’ve a crew there that works together much the same, I think.”
Murphy nodded. “I think it helps that most of Echo’s command
crew have worked together before, and I know they’ve been through some rough
times.”
The captain then drew a breath. “If you are a hundred
percent sure you want to return to starship duty, then naturally, the first
thing to do is put a request in through official channels. Chances are—if they
grant it—you’ll be shuffled back to Patrol, but given the state of the fleet, I
suppose there is equal chance they’ll assign you to a billet with a Starfleet
crew in need of a good engineer.”
“Which you lot happen ta be.”
“Yes and no,” Murphy countered. “We haven’t a chief engineer
at present, but Lt. Mallory is our assistant chief and has been since the first
Messenger’s launch. She’s due for
promotion.”
McMurty’s expression shifted. “Oh, that’s right. She’s a
talented lass, and will do the job credit. I guess I’ll just have ta hope that
I do nae get stuck at Echo for much longer. Somebody’s got ta need a chief
engineer.”
Just then, the door chime rang for a second time. Curious,
and hoping that Calista had decided to drop in, Murphy looked toward the door
and called out, “Come in.”
He was surprised more than disappointed to see Carla Mallory
stepping across the threshold; standing, he offered her a greeting. “Funny you
should stop by just now, Lieutenant. Commander McMurty and I were just talking
about you.”
Mallory raised an eyebrow as she glanced between them;
McMurty had also risen to his feet. Placing her hands behind her back, she
replied, “All good things, I hope. Sirs.”
McMurty laughed. “Indeed, lass. Well, Captain, I should
probably go and send in that request. No doubt ye’ll be hearin’ about it by the
end o’ the day.”
Murphy chuckled. “No doubt, Commander. See you later.”
The other man rounded the table then, and after a nod in
Mallory’s direction, quickly strode out. When the door had closed behind him,
Mallory asked, “Is this a bad time, Captain? I didn’t mean to run him out.”
Murphy grinned. “You didn’t, Carla. What can I do for you?”
She drew a breath. “I hate to spring this on you out of the
blue, but… A very good friend of mine, a guy I know from the academy—Commander
Andrew Whittaker—has been tasked with putting together a new SCE rapid-response
team. He’s asked me to be a part of it as his second-in-command and said he’ll
even push for a promotion to lieutenant commander, which I’m up for in three
months anyway. I know it’s really sudden, Captain, and my leaving will put Messenger in a bit of a bind, what with
Commander Zabrak’s transfer a month ago, but you haven’t named a new chief and
I’ve been thinking maybe the reason it’s taken so long for you to decide is
because you weren’t going to give it to me and were trying to figure out how to
let me down gently, and this is such a fantastic opportunity for me I think I
probably would have accepted even if I was made chief engineer—”
Murphy halted her breathless speech when he stepped closer
and put his hands on her upper arms to give a comforting squeeze. “Firstly,
Carla, Messenger will be fine. I can
promise you that. Secondly, the reason I haven’t chosen a new chief is simply
because it hasn’t been on my mind. I know—I’m a slacker for not giving the
matter the attention its due, but losing one ship and prepping another, then
getting sent out on the most boring assignment, followed by the intensity of
the whole moon thing…”
Mallory laughed. “’The whole moon thing’ is putting it
mildly, sir. And when you put the last four weeks in that perspective, I guess
I can understand how naming a new chief might not cross your mind. Truth be
told, I’ve been pretty distracted with everything that’s happened as well; it’s
only been twice, maybe, since we lost the first Mess that the chief engineer thing has occurred to me.”
“More often than it occurred to me, apparently,” Murphy
replied with a snort. “And actually, I have
thought about it, just not to the extent I should have. I do apologize for that;
you and your team down in Engineering deserve better. In fact, you becoming
chief was what McMurty and I were talking about right before you showed up—I’d
just told him you were due for promotion.”
She scoffed. “And here I am chastising my captain as though
he were a child. I’m sorry about that, sir.”
He waved off her words. “Don’t be. Like I said, I should
have dealt with it already. Though now that the issue has been brought to more
direct focus, looks like I’m going to have an even harder time figuring it out
now that you’re leaving us.”
Mallory lifted her eyebrow again. “You’re not angry I’m
going? I know Andy—that is, Commander Whittaker—should probably have filed a
formal request or something with you first, or Starfleet Command, but I think
he just wanted to make sure I’d be up for it before he started formal proceedings
for my transfer.”
“I’m not angry in the least. If the science division had
teams like SCE does, I’d have joined one earlier in my career.”
His visitor grinned. “I bet you’d be running one of those
teams even now, Captain.”
Murphy grinned. “I probably would. So when will you be
leaving us?”
Mallory pursed her lips. “I know the other task force ships
are supposed to stick around another twenty-four, so I’ll likely hitch a ride
on whichever one is heading back to Starbase Echo first. That’s where Commander
Whittaker said he’d pick me up as soon as I could get there.”
“Any idea what ship your team will be assigned to?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. I don’t know that even he
knows at present; he said he got his orders just before he contacted me over
subspace.”
Murphy stepped back and offered a smile. “Well, allow me to
be the first to offer congratulations, Lieutenant
Commander Mallory. I wish you the best of luck with your new position.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Mallory. “It has truly been an
honor and a privilege to serve with you and to know you.”
He smiled. “Save all that mushy talk for your departure. I
know you’re off duty today, so you’d best spend the time wisely and get to
packing.”
Mallory smiled as well and soon departed. Murphy stared
after her a long moment. He hated to see Carla Mallory go, but neither could he
begrudge her for taking advantage of the opportunity to improve her skills as
an engineer or to pad her résumé. He’d done her a disservice by ignoring the
issue of Messenger’s lack of a chief
engineer, so she’d decided to move on.
Nope. Couldn’t blame her at all.
As he had told her, the issue was now foremost on his mind.
He now needed an assistant chief as well as a chief engineer, and frankly he
was a little bit surprised Command hadn’t sent a dozen memos about it already. The
department had been running so smoothly in the two weeks since their launch
that with Command’s lack of communication, it was no real wonder why he hadn’t
thought much about the matter. Murphy could not help wondering if there was a
chance he could get Keel McMurty—the Scot-Capellan had said he would be willing to stay aboard, after all. He would
then only have to submit a request for a new assistant chief, unless one of the
other engineers had the qualifications to take the position.
With that thought in mind, Murphy moved to his desk and
switched his computer on. He would not do another member of his crew the
injustice of not paying attention.
***
Annika Hansen had been researching methods by which an
object as large as the Alphans’ moon might be spun on its axis fast enough to
maintain an atmostphere, as her assistance had been requested by Commander
McMurty, when another of the science team—whom she knew worked with Commander
Ja-Nareth daily—brought in a PADD with orders from Ja-Nareth himself. Her team
had been tasked with cataloging and correlating all the data from the Paulson
survey for presentation to Starfleet Command.
Hansen knew that the task was originally meant for the
biologists, geologists, and chemists—Ja-Nareth’s crew, as nebula composition
was more within their purview—and suspected that she and her two ensigns, as
well as Cadet Sulu, had been assigned the task merely out of spite. She could
not prove it, of course, and had accepted the assignment with her usual indifferent
expression. It still smarted, to some small degree, and because there were so
many gigaquads of data to be processed, she pulled Ensign Catsland from over in
the Astronomy lab to help them.
With the assistance of four others, she hoped the information
would be processed quickly so that she could turn her attention back to aiding
McMurty in solving the moon dilemma. In truth, the Alphans’ desire for a
sustainable atmosphere and their promise to help them achieve it was much more
of a challenge and, in Hansen’s mind, far more worth her time and effort.
She was surprised when, after more than an hour of working,
the door to the Astrometrics lab hissed open and Maya Verdeschi walked in.
Hansen paused and turned to face her. “Mrs. Verdeschi, what brings you to Messenger?”
“Yeah, why are you not holed up somewhere with that handsome
new husband of yours?” queried Sharp Smile.
Maya grinned. “Firstly, though I am honored to take my
husband’s name, there is no need to address me as ‘Mrs. Verdeschi.’ You are
more than welcome to continue addressing me as Maya. And second, my dear feline
friend, I have already been holed up with Tony for the better part of the last
four years! That we are now married has changed little else.
“As for why I have come, I thought I might give you all a
hand at designing a means of rotating the moon. All of Alpha’s geologists and
environmentalists are occupied with collecting samples of the lunar rock
surrounding the base as well as from various zones all over the moon, as requested
by Lt. Commander Ross via communication this morning. She said it will aid her
in devising a separate terraforming plan for the Plato Crater as opposed to the
rest of the surface.”
“Why aren’t you working with your own team, if it’s not too
rude to ask?” pressed Sharp Smile.
“I would be, but there my new husband put his
over-protective foot down. Tony does not wish me to spend a prolonged amount of
time in an environmental suit, and in truth I was not looking forward to the
task—the suits really are so very cumbersome and difficult to work in
sometimes.”
“You should try on one of our EV suits sometime, then.
They’re much more comfortable than older styles, though we cats don’t really
like to be so confined. I try to avoid going EVA as much as possible myself,”
replied the ensign.
Hansen drew a breath. “We are at present occupied with
organizing the data collected during our survey of the Paulson Nebula. You may
wish to seek out Commander McMurty and offer your assistance directly to him.”
Maya frowned. “You are not involved in the project, Lieutenant?
I had thought you would be, given your involvement in Operation Orbit.”
“Only peripherally. Commander McMurty did ask for my input,
but an order from my direct superior takes precedence.”
Maya looked as though she might argue the merit of that,
given that McMurty outranked Ja-Nareth—even Hansen was not remiss to it—but she
had no wish to incur Ja-Nareth’s wrath by ignoring his order in favor of a mere
request for assistance.
“Well, perhaps I can assist you with your work? If we are
all of us here working on it,” Maya said then, gesturing to the others in the
room, “then surely it will be done that much sooner.”
“And then we can figure out how to spin your moon!” cried
Sharp Smile cheerfully.
Maya grinned widely at the felinoid, and so she was led to a
station and given one of the massive sets of files to go through. Around 1300
hours they broke for lunch, though Hansen carried a PADD in with her as was
her habit. Sharp Smile, Maya, Sulu, and the others all ordered full plates of
food, but the lieutenant merely ordered what Tom Paris had called a “smoothie”,
listed in the ship’s database as Nutritional Supplement 21.
“Is that all you’re having for lunch?” Maya asked as the
group sat to a table in the lounge between the two stellar science labs.
“Yes,” Hansen replied.
“Annika doesn’t eat much,” said Sharp Smile, who then popped
a roll of sushi in her mouth. Swallowing it whole, she added, “I’ve only ever
seen her eat an actual meal at dinner, and sometimes not even then.”
“Whyever not?” the Psychon asked.
“My nutritional requirements are not as extensive as those
of others,” Hansen replied, then turned her attention to the PADD in her hand.
She knew Maya was curious, as were all those from Moonbase
Alpha whom she had met, about the visible implants she bore. But she had given
no explanation for having them, as she felt no need to do so when she had not
directly been asked. It wouldn’t be long, certainly, before someone’s curiosity
won out and she would be forced to tell her story.
Around her there was small talk as Maya asked questions of
the others regarding their history. She was fascinated as much by Cadet Sulu
being a fifth-generation Starfleet officer and a hybrid like Captain Murphy as
she was by learning about Sivaoans and their traditions from Sharp
Smile—especially how she had come by such an intriguing name. The ensign had
only to demonstrate for their visitor to understand.
“Oh, I see!” said Maya with a laugh. “You’re not able to smile
quite like us, but you do try, and it shows all those sharp teeth of yours.”
“Essentially,” replied Sharp Smile with a shrug. “I’m just
trying to fit in with the culture of Starfleet and those living off world. I
rather like trying new things, though to be perfectly honest, I do wish I
didn’t have to wear a uniform.”
As if to emphasize her point, she tugged at the collar of
her shirt. Maya laughed at the gesture, and remarked that had she not been
advised to refrain from changing form while pregnant, she’d be happy to take a
look at her without her uniform on and show her that she could make herself
look just the same…then suddenly she gasped softly.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve gone and forgotten that Dr. Nir’ahn
advised I should not speak of it,” she said.
“Why not? You can’t help what you are, what you can do,”
offered Sulu. “No reason you shouldn’t be proud of your abilities.”
“That much is true, Mr. Sulu, but I have been informed that
your Federation was very recently at war with a shape-shifting species,” Maya
replied, “and that my own ability to change form might upset some who hear of
it.”
“Cadet Sulu is correct,” Hansen replied, though she did not
look up from her reading. “There is little need for you to conceal from those
you meet that which they will eventually learn anyway.”
“Well, I suppose that’s true enough,” said Maya. “I’ve been
thinking that we ought to educate ourselves on Alpha as to all the different
species you know, as this is to be our home now.”
Here Hansen glanced over briefly. “That would be a prudent
course of action. No doubt you will be granted access to texts regarding races,
politics, and history.”
She turned her attention then back to her reading, though
she nearly skipped over a line of code in the file. Hansen frowned and scrolled
back, then stood abruptly and quickly headed back into Astrometrics. Surprised
by her sudden departure, the others followed as quickly as they could.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” asked Sulu. Though they were on
friendly terms, he had not yet taken up Sharp Smile’s habit of occasionally
calling her Annika.
Hansen did not at first respond to the query; instead, she
laid the PADD atop the main console and accessed the information she sought from
the main computer. Bringing it up on the immense viewscreen, she could now
create a visual copy, and found herself much intrigued by what she saw.
“What is that?” asked Ensign Devos, one of the
astrophysicists.
On the screen was an object that measured roughly eight feet
in length and about four feet across at its widest point—hardly worth making
note of, except that it was the only thing within the Paulson Nebula that could
not be readily accounted for. The composition of the object was entirely
different from the surrounding gasses and spatial debris, and the passive scan
that had picked it up showed trace elements of organic material, plastic, and
iron.
Ensign Kra’shik, the second of the two ensigns who made up
the astrophysics department (Hansen herself being the only astrometrics
officer), spoke up then, “It’ss mosst unexpected.”
Hansen found herself nodding at the Selayan’s words, then
turned her attention to the scant bit of data on her console. “The long-range
sensors made only a passive scan of the object. Its size would have rendered it
insignificant to raise an alert.”
“But you are interested in it anyway?” asked Maya.
“I am…intrigued by it.”
“Where is this nebula we’ve been studying?”
Kra’shik keyed in a few commands and the screen changed,
reducing the present image of the mysterious object to a square in the corner
while bringing up Messenger’s present
location in the Levzor system relative to the location of the Paulson. “The
Paulsson Nebula iss just over three dayss’ disstance at maximum warp,” he said.
Maya groaned. “How unfortunate. We might have taken an Eagle
to have a look.”
“We could take one of our shuttles, or a runabout,”
suggested Sharp Smile.
They could, Hansen reasoned, but for one thing: the
excursion would have to be approved by the head of the science department, and
she knew Commander Ja-Nareth was unlikely to sign off on it. She briefly
entertained the notion of going directly to Captain Murphy, knowing him to be a
scientist by specialty, but dismissed the idea just as quickly. It would serve
her to maintain as good a relationship as she was able with Ja-Nareth, and
going over his head could only make things more strained between them.
Still, anything of note had to be reported to him in any
case, and there was always the very slim chance he might approve. He was a
scientist, after all, and curiosity was a scientist’s stock and trade.
Picking up her PADD again, she called up the specific
information regarding the object and turned to regard her companions. “I will
present this discovery to Commander Ja-Nareth.”
Sharp Smile emitted a soft growl. “Well there goes any
chance of going out to see what it is. The commander will never approve.”
“Perhaps he will surprise us and want to lead the away mission
himself,” quipped Devos, who was well aware of the tension between her
superiors, though was not of its cause.
Hansen looked to Maya. “Would you accompany me to the
geology lab?”
“Ooh, good idea!” said Sharp Smile with a clap. “If she says
she’s interested, Ja-Nareth might just say yes!”
That was precisely what Hansen was hoping, though she did
not express her belief that even Maya’s interest would do little to sway the
Efrosian to their cause.
The two women made their way out. In the corridor, Maya
asked in a hesitant voice, “May I ask why everyone seems to believe Commander
Ja-Nareth will say no to an excursion? I mean, I know it will take at least a
week’s time, if not a little longer, to get there and back, but I can see no reason
offhand that he should deny the request.”
“Commander Ja-Nareth is not pleased with my presence onboard
Messenger,” Hansen replied.
“But why? You’re very precise and controlled in your manner,
which some may describe as cold, but that’s no reason to dislike you.”
Here, Hansen knew, she would have to explain about herself.
They reached the turbolift that would take them up two decks and were inside
before she began her short narrative, having taken the rest of the distance
from Astrometrics to figure out how best to explain to someone with no
knowledge of the Federation’s deadliest enemy. “I am certain you have not been
remiss to the cybernetic implants about my person—they cannot be missed. These
implants, and others which cannot be seen, are remnants of my time as a drone
in the Borg Collective.”
As the lift ascended, she explained in as succinct terms as
she could about who the Borg were and why Ja-Nareth had such a great dislike of
her.
“Oh, but that’s such rubbish!” Maya declared as they stepped
off the lift onto Deck 2. “How can he hold what happened to his father against
you? You were but a child when you became a captive of these Borg people!”
Hansen nearly paused in mid-stride. She found it interesting
that the other woman should refer to the 18 years she was with the Borg as
captivity; no one ever had, not even on Voyager.
“Separated” and “liberated” were terms used to describe how her link with the
hive mind had been severed, but never had the crew referred to her as a
captive, only as a “former Borg drone.” She realized that, in essence, that’s
precisely what had happened to her: that she, a child of but six years, had
been kidnapped and forcibly assimilated against her will, leading to nearly two
decades of captivity. When Captain Janeway ordered Chakotay to sever her link
to the Collective, that little girl had been rescued.
She hadn’t herself considered her history from that
perspective before, as when she had first begun to regain her humanity she had
not looked upon the Borg with the same sense of hatred and fear as the rest of Voyager’s crew. Time spent learning
about who she was, getting to know her fellow crewmen, learning to be an individual—through all the trials
she had endured as a singular person in control of her own destiny, Hansen had
learned to appreciate what that really meant. Having someone wholly unconnected
describing her time as a drone the way Maya just had now opened her eyes to the
truth of it. Understanding that truth felt…liberating.
They reached Ja-Nareth’s primary lab shortly, and found he
and his team cataloguing what looked like samples of lunar rock. Though she
felt sure he had seen them enter, the lieutenant commander did not acknowledge
her presence until one of the others pointed them out to him.
Ja-Nareth glanced up only briefly. “I’m very busy, Hansen.
What is it?”
Hansen straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I
have discovered an anomaly amidst the Paulson data.”
“Unlikely,” Ja-Nareth replied as he continued to tap
information into the PADD he carried, moving from one sample to the next. “The
readings from that nebula haven’t changed in years.”
“Until now, Commander,” Hansen replied. “I would not be here
were I not sure of my findings—I am not in the habit of making false reports.”
“I have seen the data myself, Commander Ja-Nareth, as have
others,” added Maya. “There is definitely something there.”
Only then did Ja-Nareth halt in his movements; he drew a
breath and turned to them with a pinched expression, then stepped over. Hansen
automatically held out the PADD in her hand, which he took and perused for less
than a minute before thrusting it back at her.
“I’m surprised you thought that was worth being called an
anomaly,” he said. “If anything it’s a meteorite—in layman’s terms, it’s a big
space rock. Not even worth your time, and especially not mine.”
“If those are your sentiments, Commander, then allow me to
say that it is my time to waste,” Hansen said then. “I request the use of a
shuttlecraft to go and examine the object.”
He had already turned away from them, but turned back at her
words with an aggravated sigh. “I think not. It’s just a meteorite, Lieutenant,
no need for wasting ship’s resources to go take scans of a damn rock. Now, if
you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d let the real scientists on this ship
get back to work. Maya, it was a pleasure to see you again.”
Their dismissal was clear. Hansen executed a sharp about-face
and exited swiftly, Maya following close behind. “Unbelievable! I am astonished
that he just dismissed you like that—and to insult you besides, in front of his
subordinates no less! It was incredibly unprofessional behavior.”
Hansen held up a hand to request silence; she needed a
moment to calm her own ire before she made her next move. Drawing a breath, she
released it slowly, then tapped her commbadge. “Computer, what is the location
of Captain Murphy?”
Captain Murphy is in his
quarters, the computer replied.
She immediately turned to the right and strode purposely
down the corridor. Maya hurried to catch up, and remained thankfully silent as
they walked. At the end of the hall she turned left, coming eventually to a
stop at the door marked 2-01-F and pressing the chime.
“Come in.”
As the door hissed open, Hansen stepped through. In her
peripheral vision, she noted Captain Murphy standing from his dining table. He
was not alone—Dr. Nir’ahn was with him, and there were plates of food on the
table itself.
Turning to face Murphy, Hansen said, “I beg your pardon for
the interruption, Captain, but I believe you instructed me to come to you
directly if I felt I was being treated unfairly due to my…particular history.”
Murphy glanced at Nir’ahn, then back to her as he crossed
his arms. “What happened, Lieutenant?”
Hansen relayed the encounter with Ja-Nareth in the geology
lab. Murphy listened in brooding silence, though the Andorian doctor gasped
when she repeated the Efrosian’s parting insult.
The captain then looked to Maya. “You were there, Mrs.
Verdeschi?”
She nodded. “Just Maya, please. And yes, Captain Murphy, it
happened just as she said. Frankly, I’m quite at a loss as to understand why
Lt. Commander Ja-Nareth views Annika with such contempt. She explained to me
about her origins and the Borg—she was just a child! She had no control over
her actions, and she certainly did not harm the commander’s father.”
Murphy looked to Hansen. “Forgive me for asking, but you’re
certain of that?”
Hansen nodded. “I am, sir,” she said. “As Tertiary Adjunct
of Unimatrix Zero-One, my place was near the Queen—to be always at hand when
she required my services. As a drone, I was never in the Alpha Quadrant.”
He looked thoughtful as he mused, “And the Battle of Wolf
359 was in 2366, eleven years before your arrival.”
The captain’s eyes fell to the PADD in Hansen’s hand. “I
take it that’s the data on the anomaly you found?”
She nodded as she stepped closer and handed it to him. “Yes,
Captain. The object is approximately eight-point-two feet long and four feet
across at its widest point, which is its middle. Our long range sensors picked
up traces of iron, plastic, and organic components which were not identifiable
at that range.”
“Plastic?” queried Dr. Nir’ahn, who stood herself then and
came around the table to study the information on the PADD. “I can understand
the presence of metal, even organic matter, but plastic?”
Murphy looked up. “I take it you want to go and study this possible
meteorite?”
Again, Hansen nodded. “I request permission to take a
shuttle and a small away team—myself and two others—back to the Paulson Nebula,
sir. I have reviewed the findings of the last three studies conducted on the
Paulson, including that which you performed on the U.S.S. Sherwood five years ago. This object was not detected during any of
those surveys.”
She drew a breath then. “Perhaps it is just a meteorite
which has drifted into the nebula from elsewhere. However, despite that
possibility, I believe the presence of the object in an otherwise unchanged
nebula warrants closer examination.”
“I’d say the detection of the plastic alone merits a closer
look, Dominic,” offered Dr. Nir’ahn. “I admit to being rather curious about
that myself.”
“As am I,” replied Murphy as he held out the PADD. Hansen
took it as he added, “Prepare your away team, Lieutenant. I’ll send an
authorization down to the hangar bay for the shuttle—and I’ll have a word with
Commander Ja-Nareth while you’re gone.”
Hansen felt some measure of relief that the captain appeared
to be taking the matter seriously. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to involve him,
having hoped—perhaps foolishly—that Ja-Nareth’s attitude would subside and that
they could at least get along. She didn’t need him to like her, just treat her
with respect and courtesy. Today’s incident, however, had proven that she could
no longer simply tolerate his behavior towards her. It was one thing to brush
her off when they were alone in his office and she delivered her daily report,
and quite another entirely to be blatantly insulted in front of subordinates.
“Thank you, Captain,” she replied, then with a nod at the
doctor, turned and left.
“May I join your away team? I believe that’s what Captain
Murphy called it,” Maya asked when they were in the corridor again.
Hansen looked to her. “I would gladly welcome your company,
Maya, but do you not need the permission of Commander Koenig?”
“Well, certainly I shall have to ask him, but I am sure
he’ll agree,” her companion replied. “The one who’s more likely to object is
Tony. It might take me a little time to convince him to agree than the commander.”
Hansen paused. “Is it Psychon tradition to ask a spouse’s
permission?”
Maya laughed. “Certainly not, nor is it Human tradition, I
believe. It’s simply a courtesy to inform one’s spouse of your intentions, and
their agreeing to a plan is much easier on the relationship between you than
going against their wishes. Did you have no married couples on your last
posting?”
Hansen started down the corridor again as she replied,
“There were several crewmembers who were married, but whose spouses were not
aboard Voyager. There were a number
of couples among the crew, but only one was married, and they wed some years
into the journey. As I recall, there were
a number of times Lieutenants Paris and Torres openly disagreed regarding
participation in away missions, especially after Lt. Torres conceived their
child.”
Maya scoffed. “That’s what I’m afraid of—that Tony will
insist I remain behind for the sake of the baby,” she said. “He already tried
to stop me transporting back and forth after I told him I was pregnant, and
only Dr. Nir’ahn’s assurance that doing so would not affect our child got him
to relent. This mission would be the first time he and I will be apart for more
than a day or two since we met.”
They reached the turbolift then. “Then it will be good for
you to go, that the two of you learn to spend time apart. It is not healthy for
any relationship to always be in the same place.”
“You think absence will make our hearts grow fonder?” said
Maya with a laugh.
It hadn’t worked for her and Chakotay, Hansen mused
silently. But then, she hadn’t grown less fond of him—she’d grown more fond of
herself and her independence, and had found her need to explore life away from Voyager and her crew to be a stronger
imperative than maintaining a romantic connection.
She missed him, but not as much as she had when she had
first begun her very personal journey of self-discovery. In her mind, that
meant their relationship had not been meant to last. And really, a romantic
liaison was the least of her concerns at present.
The lift car arrived at last and they stepped inside. Hansen
ordered it back to Deck 4 before saying, “Having observed Mr. Verdeschi on
several occasions, I believe that he will argue with you but eventually relent
and allow you to join the away team. When we return, he will immediately
sequester you in your quarters, where he will not allow you out of his sight
for a period not less than twenty-four hours.”
Maya laughed again. “That sounds just like Tony, my friend.
You have an uncanny ability to describe people exactly as they are.”
***
Hansen’s prediction about Tony Verdeschi’s reaction proved
eerily accurate. Maya had made use of one of the work stations in Astrometrics
to contact Alpha and speak to Commander Koenig while she informed her team of
the away mission, selected Takeshi Sulu and Verlyn Devos to join the team, and
gave instructions for the next few days to the rest of the stellar sciences
crew. The three were departing to pack for the trip when Hansen passed her new
acquaintance and overheard her pleading with her husband to agree, stating that
she was certain there was very little chance of danger in going to explore a
“space rock.”
For her own luggage, Hansen needed to pack very little
besides her portable regenerator, and since her quarters were literally right
next to the hangar bay access door, she was the first to arrive. She decided a
runabout would best suit for the mission, in case there was reason to bring the
object back to Messenger, and after
confirming that the authorization had been received by the flight deck crewmen,
headed for the Gladden. She was
onboard and beginning the pre-flight systems checks when Devos showed up, then
Maya Verdeschi arrived with Alan Carter.
“Tony refused to let me come alone,” the Psychon said with a
grin as she and Carter boarded the runabout.
“He’s busy with coordinating the security upgrades to the
base that have already been approved,” added Carter, “or he’d probably have
insisted on coming himself. I’m here to provide security, not that we’re likely
to need any on a simple survey mission, eh?”
“No, Mr. Carter, we are not,” Hansen replied. “There is no
reason to suspect we will encounter any trouble.”
Carter grinned in reply, then all their attention was drawn
to the hangar bay when they heard “Hansen!” reverberating around the cavernous
flight deck through the open door of the small craft. A glance through the
front window showed a contrite-looking Sulu walking toward them behind a
clearly angry Ja-Nareth. It was reasonable to assume that the cadet had
informed the older man of their mission.
Rising calmly, Hansen exited the runabout, the others
following close behind. Before he had even reached them, Ja-Nareth raised a
hand and pointed. “You’ve got a lot of frakking
nerve! Did you think I wouldn’t find out? How dare you go over my head like that! I don’t know how the hell you
Borgs operate on your own ships, but on a Starfleet vessel we have rules! We
have protocols and they are meant to be followed! When a superior officer makes
a decision, you adhere to it—you don’t
do an end-run to the captain whining about not getting what you want!”
Carter stepped forward, placing himself between Hansen and
the raging Efrosian. “Now, hang on a minute, mate,” he said, holding his hands
up in a placating manner. “There’s no need to get all riled up. How about you
take a second to calm down, and we talk about this rationally?”
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” said Sulu. “I met him in the turbolift
and he asked why I had a duffel with me.”
“There is no need to apologize, Cadet,” Hansen replied.
Ja-Nareth scoffed. “Wow, you’re a real piece of work. Some
supervisor you are—what kind of example are you setting for this kid, running
off to the captain to cry about me telling you a frakking rock wasn’t worth our notice—”
“That is not what I said at all!” Sulu protested.
“Contrary to your erroneous assumption, Commander,” Hansen
began, “that is not what I did. I was following the captain’s orders when I
spoke to him.”
“Bullshit!” snapped Ja-Nareth as he stepped closer. “Do you
think you can lie to me now and get away with it?”
Carter also took a step forward. “I think you’d best back
off, mate. I don’t know what your problem is with the lieutenant, and frankly I
don’t care. But far as I can tell, she’s done nothing wrong, and she’s keepin’
a clearer head than you are.”
Ja-Nareth raised his hand again and pointed his finger in
the other man’s face. “You stay out of this. It doesn’t concern you.”
Carter crossed his arms. “I’d say it does, when you come at
my friend screaming like a Tasmanian devil caught in a bear trap. Why don’t you
calm down, show the lady a little respect, and act like a professional—”
Ja-Nareth started laughing. “Lady? You’re calling that frakking killing machine over there a lady? Gods, you Alphans really are
primitive apes compared to us—you’ve got no
clue what she’s capable of. What she’s done all in the name of perfection!”
Maya gasped in alarm and reached out to put a hand on
Carter’s arm when he took another step forward. “Alan, don’t. It’s not worth
it.”
He ignored her plea. “Maybe I don’t have a clue about her,
but I do about you, pal. And if you don’t back the fuck off and chill out,
you’re going to find out just how primitive this ape can be.”
“How about I clue you in, buddy—that is, if your primordial
brain can handle the information overload,” Ja-Nareth snapped. “That thing,
that bionic bitch over there—”
Tyrone Ja-Nareth didn’t get to finish his sentence. Almost
before anyone knew what was happening, Alan Carter had drawn back a fist and
laid him out; the Efrosian scientist fell hard to the hangar bay floor, having
been knocked out cold.
Cries of alarm were expressed by Maya, Ensign Devos, and the
two flight deck crewmen, who’d stepped out of the control booth on hearing
Ja-Nareth’s raised voice. Cadet Sulu dropped his duffel bag and knelt down next
to the fallen officer.
“Ensign Devos, please retrieve a medical kit from the
runabout,” said Hansen, before she tapped her commbadge. “Security to the
hangar bay.”
She then double-tapped her badge, closing the first channel
and opening another. “Hansen to Captain Murphy. Please report to the hangar
bay.”
Aggravation was clear in the captain’s voice in his gruff
reply. “I’m on my way, Lieutenant.”
Devos was quick to come out of the Gladden with a medkit; she knelt next to Ja-Nareth and scanned him
with a tricorder. “Looks like he’ll be fine, Lieutenant. He’s just
unconscious.”
Carter snorted. “I could have told you that.”
Two security officers, one of them Inel, came striding into
the hangar bay as Ja-Nareth moaned. Devos quickly returned the tricorder to the
medkit and stood back, joined by Sulu. The flight deck operators stepped
forward to help lift Ja-Nareth to his feet as Inel asked, “What happened here?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” demanded Captain Murphy, who
stepped into the expansive flight deck just then. He took a quick look at the
assembled parties and shook his head. “It’s my day off—my day off, people!
Could you not have saved the interpersonal conflict until I’m back on duty?”
Ja-Nareth shook his head as if to clear it, moaned softly as
he did so, and then turned an angry gaze toward Carter. “Captain, I want him
thrown off the ship and his transport privileges revoked.”
Murphy crossed his arms. “And why is that?”
“Because he just punched me, Dom!”
“What he’s neglecting to mention, Captain Murphy, is that he
came storming in here screaming at Lt. Hansen—some nonsense about doing an
end-run and going to you over his head—and insulted her after I had politely
suggested he back off, calm down, and treat the lady more respectfully,” Carter
explained. “So I knocked him on his ass.”
“Dom, there’s more to it than that—you know there is,”
Ja-Nareth said.
Murphy looked to him. “Go to your quarters and wait for me
there.”
Ja-Nareth frowned. “Come on—you’re not seriously going to
confine me to quarters for this, are you? He
hit me!”
“I didn’t say you were confined to quarters, Commander, but
now I’m considering it,” Murphy replied. “Do not argue with me. Just go.”
The science officer huffed angrily, and after shooting a
hateful glare at Carter and then Hansen, stormed off toward the exit door.
Murphy then nodded at the two security officers, who acknowledged the dismissal
without a word and walked away. When they had gone, Murphy looked to the flight
deck crew. “Did you see what happened?”
Both crewmen nodded, their gazes studiously fixed on their
captain. “Yes, sir,” said the male of the duo. “It went pretty much like the
gentleman said it did.”
The female petty officer cleared her throat. “Commander
Ja-Nareth was very angry, Captain, pointing and yelling about what a poor
example Lt. Hansen was setting for the cadet, sir. Mr. Carter decked him after he
called her a killing machine and a bionic bitch, sir. And he called the Alphans
primitive apes.”
Hansen only nodded when the captain looked to her with an
eyebrow raised in question. Murphy shook his head and muttered words even her
enhanced hearing could not make out, then drew a breath and said, “You five had
better get going. The sooner you leave, the sooner you return and we all
discover just what the hell it is that caused all this damn nonsense today.”
“Yes, Captain,” Hansen replied, then turned and gestured to
Devos and Sulu. The two of them quickly climbed back aboard the runabout,
followed by Maya. Alan Carter started to follow, then paused and turned to
Murphy.
“I’m sorry if I was out of line. I really did try to diffuse
situation before I cleaned the guy’s clock,” Carter said.
“Violence generally isn’t the answer, Mr. Carter, something
I’m sure you’re aware of. I’ll let it slide, this time, but I will be informing Commander Koenig about
what happened,” Murphy said. “His people were involved, so he has a right to
know.”
Carter nodded. “I understand. Just… wait until after we’re
gone, or you’ll have Tony demanding Maya return to the base where he can keep
an eye on her.”
The captain laughed. “No doubt—I remember the transporter
argument all too clearly.”
With a nod and a laugh, Carter climbed aboard the runabout.
Hansen waited until the flight deck crew walked back to the control booth, then
said, “I regret that I am the cause of so much animosity, Captain, which has
interfered with your leisure time.”
“You’re not the cause, Lieutenant,” Murphy countered. “I
told you Ja-Nareth has issues with the Borg—that’s on him. You’ve done nothing
wrong. In fact, I’ve received a number of memos from various crew members
regarding your efficiency and dedication to detail.”
She quirked an eyebrow. “No doubt they also expressed their
views on my coldness.”
“I’ll just say you’re often compared to Vulcans, which
you’ve heard before and isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” he replied with a grin.
“Like I said, the problem isn’t you, so you’ve nothing to feel guilty about.
Now go on and hurry off to your space rock.”
Hansen nodded. “I will be sure to make a detailed report of
our findings, sir.”
Murphy laughed. “I would expect no less of you, Lieutenant.
Good luck out there.”
When the runabout had gone at last, Murphy sighed. He should
have known that the relative peace would not last, that eventually Ja-Nareth
would flip out on Hansen at some point. The Efrosian was a brilliant scientist,
but he could, at times, be nearly as hot-headed as himself. Knowing that the
conversation he needed to have with his officer—and friend—was going to be
difficult, when he departed the hangar bay, he went first to Counselor
Roijiana.
When he had explained what happened, she sat thinking for a
moment, then said, “Firstly, I think it is time that Commander Ja-Nareth
re-enters counseling. He underwent it for some years in his youth after losing
his father—the two were very close. Lt. Hansen’s presence appears to have re-awakened
his anger management issues, his need to be in control of every aspect of his
life. He takes it out on her because she represents those who took his father
from him.”
Murphy scoffed. “I’ve already figured that much out. What I
need to know is what to do about it—besides
ordering him into counseling.”
Roijiana cocked her head to the side. “Well, I think it
would be helpful if we could remind him of her humanity. Although she remains
dependent on several implants which regulate her vital systems, Hansen is not a
Borg drone anymore. For that matter, she didn’t ask to be—no one does,
certainly not a six-year-old child.”
The captain crossed his arms, one hand raised to stroke his
chin thoughtfully. “How do you propose we do that?”
Roijiana pursed her lips and frowned as she considered his
words. “Pictures of her, as a child. I believe she has an aunt that may possess
some, if they are not already on file in the ship’s database. Also, I think it
may help if he were given limited access to the psychological evaluations that
Starfleet medical conducted when Voyager
returned.”
“Providing I approve that course of action, Counselor, what
good do you think it would do?”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Captain, have you read the
transcripts? Watched the video recordings?”
He shook his head. “No. I only read what I thought was necessary,
which was anything that said she was fit to serve.”
“Well I have. One of the counselors was able to make a
connection with Hansen,” Roijiana continued. “She convinced her to undergo
hypnotic regression therapy; the lieutenant didn’t think it would work, but it
did. There is one video where she took her back to the day it happened—when she
and her parents were captured and assimilated. It is…difficult to watch. Given
what happened today, I think he needs to see it. To be reminded that she is a
person with fears and feelings, just as he is.”
Murphy was silent for a moment as he considered her words.
“All right,” he said after a time. “I’ll make contact with the aunt, you
request the video file, unless you already have a copy, and send it to my
office terminal.”
She acknowledged and turned immediately to her computer.
Murphy departed her office and headed once more through the cadets’ classroom,
determined to see to his part of the task.
***
Just over an hour had passed before Murphy was finally able
to make his way to Ja-Nareth’s quarters. Some of that time had been spent
waiting for Irene Hansen, the aunt Roijiana had mentioned, to locate a number
of pictures to scan for his science officer to see. She’d required little
convincing as to the necessity; having thought her niece dead for nearly 20
years, the woman had displayed a fierce sense of protection for her brother’s
daughter.
Murphy had also taken the time to make some inquiries of the
science department, and there were several crewmen—not just Hansen’s own team—who
admitted to their superior not behaving toward her in a professional manner.
He rang the chime at Ja-Nareth’s door and heard a clearly
agitated “Come in!” in reply. On stepping inside, the Efrosian whirled away
from the window and cried out, “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been waiting
for you for over an hour!”
Murphy’s eyes widened, and for a moment he was so genuinely
stunned by the outburst he was not sure how to react. Then, gathering his wits
about him, he turned around and started back out the door, and made a show of
looking around before he stepped back in again.
“What are you doing?” Ja-Nareth asked.
“Checking to make sure I’m not in the wrong place,” Murphy
replied. “I mean, for a second there I thought I’d walked into the holodeck,
because I could have sworn you just yelled at your commanding officer.”
Ja-Nareth then drew a breath and expelled it in a rush.
“Sorry, Dom. I’m just so annoyed at that Borg bi—”
The scowl that descended over Murphy’s face brought his
science officer up short. “First and foremost, Lieutenant Commander, let’s get
one thing straight: Annika Hansen is not
a Borg drone. She is a Human being who was held captive in the Collective
against her will for eighteen years. In the last four years, she has done her
best to reintegrate into the society from which she came. It has not been easy
for her, as our way of life is as foreign to her as her former life is to us.
There is also the fact that there are some, like yourself, who behave like a
jackass and treat her with spite and hatred when her years as a drone is a
matter over which she had absolutely no control.”
“A jackass? Are you kidding me? I’ve done nothing of the
kind!” Ja-Nareth protested.
Murphy crossed his arms. “Oh really? So you are denying that
you have been purposefully rude, dismissing Hansen’s ideas and advice to you?
You’re denying that you just this morning claimed she was not a real scientist,
or that you insulted not only her in the presence of witnesses, but the Alphans
as well?”
Ja-Nareth groaned and rolled his eyes. “Okay, so maybe I
haven’t been exactly nice to her, but I have my reasons.”
Murphy shook his head. “Which are based in anger and
ignorance and prejudice, Tyrone. Hansen is not responsible for what happened to
your father at Wolf 359—if anyone is, it’s Jean-Luc Picard, and even he is not
to blame because his tactical knowledge was stolen from his memories as he was
forcibly assimilated. Just like six-year old Annika Hansen was forcibly
assimilated. Neither of them, or any other drone, is responsible for their
actions—”
“Not responsible?! Captain, how can you say that? You’ve
seen what those bastards are capable of!”
Murphy nodded. “You’re right, I have. But what I have come
to understand, especially since meeting Lt. Hansen, is that they don’t have a choice. A person loses
their individuality; their entire identity is repressed when they’re
assimilated. Drones are only capable of following the orders of the Queen. And
there’s something else you seem to be conveniently forgetting: no one asks to be assimilated—nobody wants to
be forced against their will to kill or alter another living being.”
The captain paused, drew a breath. “Your behavior,
especially what happened today, skirts dangerously close to conduct unbecoming
an officer. I suggest you can the attitude and straighten the hell up, because
if one more person tells me that you have not treated Lt. Hansen with the
courtesy, consideration, and respect she is due, I will not hesitate to put a
reprimand into your permanent file. Hansen has as much right to be here as you
do.”
Ja-Nareth was scowling himself now, but Murphy ignored him.
Instead he pulled from his pocket a data chip and laid it on the desk against
the wall beside where he stood. “Take the rest of the day off and have a look
at that. Take the next week to think about how you’re going to apologize to Lt.
Hansen when she returns from her field trip. Think about how you’re going to
apologize to Alan Carter and Maya Verdeschi for insulting the Alphans—and be
glad that I’m not going to make you apologize to all of them.”
With that, Murphy turned on his heel and exited the science
officer’s quarters. He was a few steps down the corridor toward the nearest
turbolift before he paused and ran a hand over his face and through his hair.
Damn, but it was the most difficult thing to have to do, coming down on someone
like he’d just done to Ja-Nareth. It was the thing he hated most about being a
captain, especially when the officer he was chastising was also a friend.
***
“Approaching the Paulson Nebula, Lieutenant.”
Annika Hansen nodded, though her eyes remained on the
readouts of her own panel. “Slow to one-quarter impulse, Mr. Carter.”
Alan Carter keyed the commands into the helm. Hansen glanced
up thoughtfully from the command console in the center of the cockpit to watch;
she had to admit that the man was a very quick study—he had expressed an
interest in learning to fly Federation vessels on their first evening in the
runabout, so she’d given him access to the Gladden’s
database, where he could read the operation manual. Carter had pored over it
for most of that first evening and also much of the day following, and on the
morning of their third day announced that he felt sufficiently knowledgeable
about how to operate the runabout so as to “have a go” at piloting it.
With the runabout on autopilot, as it had been for the most
of the trip, Hansen had programmed several training scenarios into the helm for
him to practice. She did not think him capable of having absorbed enough of the
operating procedures to be able to correctly pilot the small craft so quickly—after
all, he’d only studied the manual for two days, and the disparate nature of the
Alphans’ technology compared to that of the Federation was such that she thought
it unlikely any of them, though they were an intelligent lot, could easily
understand how the latter worked. She had been certain it would take several
months, if not a year or more, for any of them to develop any sort of
understanding of Federation technology.
Carter proved her wrong. Though he was a little slow at
first to find the right keys on the control panel, the more he concentrated on
the task, the more smooth and confident were his movements. He mastered the
easier scenarios with no trouble, and the harder few—though they took him more
time—were soon conquered. The Australian’s only complaint was that the controls
were all on a flat panel and did not include any buttons, dials, or a yoke with
which he could “feel this baby move.” Hansen then made Carter happy by
informing him that she would be only too happy to introduce him to the
Delta-class shuttle, which she had herself a hand in designing, and which
included all the things Danube-class and other shuttles lacked. Devos had added
that there were even larger starships with a manual steering column for use
during emergencies.
“I am amazed, Mr. Carter,” said Sulu, who sat at the Ops
console to his left. “No offense, but I kind of thought it would take your
people a long time to learn how to operate Federation technology.”
“I, uh, kind of thought the same,” agreed Devos, who was
behind Sulu. “I am sorry, sir.”
Carter glanced at Maya, behind and to his right, and they
both grinned. “No offense taken, kids,” he said as he guided the Gladden smoothly into the nebula. “I’m
quite well aware that your Federation technology is far superior and more
sophisticated than ours. I certainly don’t in the least understand the
mechanics of your propulsion systems—yet. Nor have I figured out how in the
world warp speeds are calculated, let alone achieved. The physics simply escape
me. I should like to understand in time, but if I don’t, that’s okay, so long
as I am able to fly.”
Maya chuckled. “Alan is never more at home than when he is
at the controls of an Eagle. Piloting is his first and greatest passion.”
“Your ability to so quickly understand how to operate the
controls is impressive, Mr. Carter,” said Hansen then. “However, I strongly
advise you to make every effort to understand the physics of warp travel. Every
pilot in Starfleet must understand how
we are able to travel at warp speeds as well as how to control the starship
that gets us where we are going.”
Carter grinned at her. “I will do my very best, Lieutenant.”
“Lieutenant,” said Devos then, “sensors show that the object
detected by Messenger’s initial scan
of the nebula has drifted by a distance of 13.46 meters from the original
coordinates.”
Hansen read the sensor information on her panel. “Indeed it
has, though it is not unexpected. An object in motion will always be at motion
in space, unless another object obstructs its path. Mr. Carter, adjust our
heading to match.”
“Already on it.”
Hansen was again impressed he had anticipated the order,
though if he was as skilled a pilot as she had been led to believe, she knew
she ought not to be. Indeed, her estimation of Alan Carter’s capabilities was
growing, though of all the Alphans she had met, Maya was her preferred
companion. The Psychon was incredibly intelligent and fast-thinking, and had
been an enormous help to the crew during Operation Orbit.
It was not long before they were approaching the location of
the object. Hansen frowned as she took note of the oblong shape to the fore of
the runabout, her prosthetic eye zooming in to bring it into greater focus even
as her companions were scanning it with the runabout’s sensors. Devos gasped
when Sulu cried out “Deities! It’s a couple of Borg drones!”
Hansen stepped around the control console and walked as
close as she could to the forward viewport. Maya had stood and joined her.
“Are you all right?” the other woman asked softly.
“I am perfectly well, thank you,” said Hansen without
looking at her. “Mr. Carter, bring us to a stop one hundred meters from the
object. Mr. Sulu, run a detailed analysis—confirm that the object is in fact a
drone.”
The cadet consulted his panel. After about a minute he said,
“I’ve run another scan, Lieutenant. That’s not just one drone, it’s two.”
“If these readings are correct,” spoke up Devos, “they
appear to be encased in ice.”
“I shouldn’t wonder about that,” observed Maya. “Floating
through space as they are, they were bound to pick up some matter, not to
mention that space is immeasurably cold.”
Hansen forced herself to look away from the drones and down
toward the two younger members of Starfleet, over whom she was in charge and
knew she must set the example. “What about the trace of plastic detected by Messenger’s earlier scan? The iron and
organic matter?”
“Looks like the iron is concentrated mostly on one drone,
and the plastic on the other,” Devos reported. “Now that we’re much closer,
sensors are also picking up silicone, copper, rubber, even leather!”
Hansen raised her eyebrow. “The suit of a Borg drone is
mainly comprised of extremely tight-fitting heat-conducting rubber that is
lined with a thin layer of suede to prevent chafing. The outside of it also
features some types of leather as well as silicone components.”
“The plastic I’m reading on the other drone is…well it’s
strange,” said Sulu.
Hansen looked down at him. “Strange how, Cadet?”
The young officer trainee looked up at her, his expression
at once confused and curious. “Well, it’s the same kind of heat-resistant,
reinforced plastic found on a Starfleet EV suit. The kind that makes up the
life support shell and the visor. Silicone is also an element of the suit
itself.”
“Lt. Hansen, I’ve been able to scan through the block of ice
surrounding the drones,” said Ensign Devos then. “I’ve identified their species
as Andorian and Human…and there’s a minimal energy reading.”
“How minimal?” Hansen asked, even as she moved to take a
look at the readout on Devos’s console.
The Rutian gestured toward the small screen where the data
was displayed. “One drone appears to be very dead, and the other nearly so.
Based on these readings, the power won’t last more than a day.”
“Wait, this can’t be right…”
Hansen turned to Sulu as Carter asked, “What’s wrong, mate?”
The younger man’s fingers flittered across his console.
“This can’t be right,” he said again. “I mean, the one I could understand,
but—”
“Cadet Sulu,” Hansen addressed him. “What do your scans show
you?”
He glanced up briefly, then looked back at his readouts.
“Well, if these readings are accurate, and I shouldn’t doubt them, I know, then
one of those drones has been out there only about five years—which means it
could have been on the cube at the Battle of Sector 001—but the other is
reading at just over three hundred
years old.”
There was surprise and disbelief in his voice, but Hansen
knew immediately the truth of it. She could not help but know.
Moving back to the command console, she began to key in
several sequences. “Annika, what is it? What are you doing?” asked Maya.
“I am reconfiguring our forward phaser array to emit a
low-energy pulse,” Hansen replied.
“You’re planning to melt the ice?” asked Carter. “Whatever
for?”
“She intends to bring them aboard,” said Devos. “But why
would you do that, Lieutenant? There’s still one drone out there with a power
reading—don’t you think it would be dangerous to bring it on the ship?”
“The energy signature is minimal—as you observed, Ensign, it
is barely alive,” Hansen pointed out as she worked. “Considering my intimate
knowledge of Borg technology, and the deteriorated condition of the drone, it
will not be difficult to terminate the power supply so that it cannot become a
threat to us.”
When she had finished recalibrating the phasers, Hansen
stood straight and placed her hands behind her back. She glanced briefly at
Maya and Carter before shifting her attention to Devos and Sulu. “Our sensors
show that the two drones are Andorian and Human, both founding members of the
Federation. Do you truly believe we should leave them to continue drifting
through space? Should Captain Janeway have returned me to the Collective, or
the crew of the Enterprise not fought
to save Captain Picard?”
Sulu glanced to Devos. “She’s right. We can’t just leave
them there, now that we know they are there and have seen them. They deserve
more respect than to be left floating like this.”
Devos flittered her eyes from one person to another, her
gaze falling at last on Hansen. With a nod of her head, she said to her,
“Forgive me, Lieutenant. I meant no disrespect, it’s just…”
“I have no more desire to be assimilated than you do,
Ensign,” said Hansen. “But I believe the risk to be minimal, and worth it, that
these two individuals might be returned to their respective families for a
proper burial.”
“What can we do?” asked Maya.
Hansen looked to her. “Right now, nothing. If Mr. Sulu and
Ms. Devos and I require additional assistance, we will be sure to ask.”
Sulu cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Lieutenant, but I think
it’d be a good idea to have someone monitoring the sensors while we’re busy—you
know, so nobody sneaks up on us or anything.”
She regarded him a moment, then nodded. “That is a wise
suggestion, Cadet. Mr. Carter, if you don’t mind?”
He shrugged. “Not at all.”
Hansen nodded, then turned her eyes to Maya. “You may join
us in the rear compartment—perhaps there will be something you can do that I
have not considered.”
Maya grinned. “Thank you. I was hoping you would say
something like that.”
With that decided, Hansen initiated the short phaser burst
that would melt the ice encasing the two drones, and when it was done she
locked on with the transporter to beam them into the dining compartment.
Leading the way through the runabout, she was the first to enter, and her
suspicions were confirmed when she walked in to find the two drones on top of
the dining table.
One of them was in the familiar, standard white and red EV
suit. From the doorway, she could see that the person had not been fully
assimilated. The visor of the helmet had been fractured, leaving a hole, and
there was a scorched hole in the center of the chest.
“I was right!” Sulu exclaimed softly as he came in behind
her.
Both he and Devos went immediately to the table to examine
the two drones with tricorders they had taken from the equipment locker.
Shaking herself mentally, Hansen approached the complete drone—it was the
Andorian, and a female. The years in space had done a lot of damage to her
exposed skin.
“I wonder when he was assimilated,” she heard Devos say. “I
mean, when and where did he come in contact with the Borg and why was he in an
EV suit?”
“They’re tethered together,” Maya observed, pointing to a
cable that linked the two at the midriff level. “Do you suppose that when they
came across one another, they decided to share power?”
Hansen lifted her head. “It is more likely that the complete
drone attempted to siphon power from the incomplete one to prolong her existence. It would
be the tactically superior option, as the Borg do not ‘share’ anything.”
She then reached under the Andorian and lifted, turning her
on her side so that she could access the back of her neck. Underneath a plate
there, she knew could be found the equivalent of an “off switch”; Devos was
sent to retrieve the tools she would need to remove the plate to get to it.
“Man, this cannot
be right,” muttered Sulu.
Maya chuckled. “You know, for a scientist, you’re saying
that an awful lot.”
Sulu grinned, then looked back at his tricorder. “According
to this, this guy here is the one that’s been drifting for three hundred years.
But I am completely stumped on how it’s possible when he’s wearing an EV suit
that was designed and put into service in like, 2372. Only six years ago.”
“Yeah, that makes no sense,” said Devos as she returned and
handed Hansen the tool kit. “Which means either the tricorder and the runabout
sensors are both malfunctioning, or… something happened that’s probably
classified.”
Hansen ignored the obvious invitation to speculate in the
younger woman’s voice and concentrated on reaching the switch that would eliminate
any possibility of the drone reviving; no matter how remote it was in her
condition, she was not going to take the risk. Only when she finished did she
address the curiosity of her companions.
“Ensign Devos, Cadet Sulu, I hereby invoke the Temporal
Prime Directive—”
“Temporal?” cried Maya. “You mean it involves time travel?”
Hansen looked to her. “Precisely. What I am about to reveal
must not be discussed with anyone. Devos, Sulu—you are not to write or record
any logs, personal or otherwise, regarding what you know. You are not to speak
to anyone about the details of this discovery, not even Captain Murphy.”
She paused for a breath, then explained the true aftermath
of the Battle of Sector 001 and where the two drones had likely come from: The Enterprise had followed a Borg sphere,
launched from the cube just prior to its destruction, back in time to the year
2063. Upon discovering the Borg’s intention to prevent First Contact and
subsequently assimilate Earth, the crew worked directly with warp drive pioneer
Zefram Cochrane to ensure his historic flight took place—as well as stop the
Borg from calling in 21st century reinforcements. If the enemy had
been successful, their efforts would not only have destroyed the Federation
before it could be formed, but would also have annihilated the Human race and
others. The Andorian had probably been on the assaulting cube, assimilated long
before being thrown into space by the explosion that destroyed it (thus
making her eventual identification difficult). But given the presence of the EV
suit and the age of his remains, it was a certainty that the Human was a member
of the Enterprise crew that had somehow
been in cast into space mid-assimilation while the Sovereign-class starship was
still in the past.
“Per standard procedure, he is likely wearing a commbadge
underneath his suit. I will use it to identify him before informing Captain
Picard via secure channel,” Hansen finished.
“How do you know all this, Lieutenant, if it’s restricted by
the Temporal Prime Directive?” asked Sulu.
Hansen raised her eyebrow. “I was Borg, Cadet. The entire
Collective was aware of the plan before it was initiated. Also, Captain Picard
himself asked me directly if I had any knowledge of the event.”
“But doesn’t invoking the TPD mean that all the Gladden sensor logs will be classified?
All of our tricorder scans?” asked Devos. “What will we put in our mission
report?”
Hansen felt herself frown. Obviously a mission log would be
required, but the Directive limited what they could actually put in it. “I
believe only the bare minimum facts are required, Ensign. We discovered two
deceased Borg drones floating in space, identified their species as Human and
Andorian, and chose to return their remains to the Federation. As to sensor
information, I will see to its classification.”
“What about Alan and I?” asked Maya then.
“You are not technically bound by Starfleet regulations, but
I must insist that you speak of the details to no one—not even your husband. We
cannot risk the accidental revelation of sensitive information, as doing so could
cause serious repercussions.”
Maya appeared to consider her words, then nodded. “I will make
sure Alan understands. Now… what to do with the bodies?”
Hansen stepped back and pointed to one of three hatches set
into the deck. “There are six escape pods under the deck plating in this
compartment and two under the deck in the cockpit.”
Sulu snapped his fingers. “Right! We can reconfigure two of
the pods to act as stasis units, preserving the bodies until we can turn them
over at Starbase Echo.”
“We will not be turning them over at Starbase Echo, Cadet,”
Hansen rebutted. “Due to the presence of the Enterprise crewman, I think it best we release them to his former
crewmates. Captain Picard will know the proper procedures to take thereafter.”
Sulu and Devos looked to one another, then both agreed with
a nod. She set them and Maya to retrieving two of the escape pods while she moved
around the table to search the Human for his commbadge. Hansen discovered it
where she expected to, still attached to his shirt on the left side, and on
pulling it out, scanned it with Sulu’s tricorder. Next she moved to the computer
console on the starboard side of the compartment, downloaded the tricorder
readings, and initiated a search of the personnel database.
While Hansen waited for the results, she considered that
there was no real need to identify the man before she turned him over to his
captain—Picard’s crew could certainly do that themselves and would possibly
even know him on sight. However, she found herself with a desire to know his
name, that she could tell the Enterprise’s
captain which if his lost crewmen he could take to a proper resting place.
The screen flashed that a match had been found. Hansen
pressed the control to bring up the information and saw that the badge had been
identified as belonging to Lt. Sean Liam Hawk, listed Killed in Action in 2373
at the Battle of Sector 001. He’d been the conn officer on the Federation
flagship for only a year before his death.
The next several minutes were spent reconfiguring the two
escape pods and placing the bodies inside. Before sealing the Andorian’s pod,
Hansen confirmed with a scan that the energy signature Devos had detected was
gone. Had she not been in such a damaged state, the drone’s automated energy
processing system would have converted the very air itself into energy in order
to restore power and repair the damage it had suffered. Though she would have
liked to do for the woman what had been done for her, as in all likelihood the
drone’s link to the Collective had already been severed, Hansen knew she simply
could not take the risk of being wrong. So she had made sure there was no
chance of recovery, even as minimal as it was to begin with.
After ensuring the pods were set aside and out of the way,
Hansen dismissed the others back to the cockpit. Devos asked what course she ought
to have Carter set, seeing that their business at the nebula was concluded, and
was surprised when told that they were to hold position until contact had been
made with the Enterprise. She advised
them to begin writing their reports but to remember that they could say nothing
about the connection to the Enterprise
or time travel. When she was alone, Hansen downloaded the information from
Devos’s tricorder onto Sulu’s and then erased the scans from the former’s
memory circuits. She next copied all the sensor logs from the runabout onto the
second tricorder before erasing those logs as well, so that the only evidence
pertaining to time travel was their individual memories.
Finally, she engaged the subspace communications system and
opened up a secure channel directed to the Enterprise.
It was several minutes before the bald pate of Captain Jean-Luc Picard appeared
on the small screen.
“Lt. Hansen. You’re looking well,” he said.
“Thank you, Captain,” Hansen replied, briefly flashing back
to the interview he’d been asked by Starfleet Command to conduct as part of her
commission evaluation. She recalled that he had been polite, even kind, but
also reserved—at least at first. As they spoke, she was sure he had begun to
understand that while his experience with the Borg had been devastating, it
could not be measured against the tragedy that was her own.
“I would ask, Lieutenant, to what do I owe the pleasure—but
seeing that we are on a secure channel, I do not believe this is a social
call.”
She raised her eyebrow at his levity. “Indeed not. Captain
Picard, I am in command of a small away team investigating an anomaly within
the Paulson Nebula.”
Picard frowned. “An anomaly? The Paulson readings have not
changed in years,” he said.
“Until eight days ago, that would be a correct assessment.
However, during Messenger’s survey of
the Paulson, our sensors detected an object which had not been registered on
previous surveys. The anomaly was not discovered until three days ago, as our
study of the data was delayed by the appearance of the Alphans’ moon.”
Picard smiled. “I shouldn’t wonder. What an incredible
experience it must have been, on both sides. Your crew is to be commended, both
for saving the inhabitants of Levzor 5 as well as setting that moon into orbit
of the fourth planet. I do not doubt that you will also devise a method for
rotating the moon on its axis, as I have heard you mean to do.”
“We have determined it will be necessary in order to
maintain a natural atmosphere, as the Alphans hope for.” Hansen paused and drew
a breath. “Captain, the anomaly we discovered was, in fact, two Borg drones
encased in ice—an Andorian female and a Human male. The female’s identity is at
present unknown, but as the male was wearing a Starfleet EV suit, I
determined that identification was necessary. He is Lt. Sean Hawk.”
On the screen, Picard’s expression fell and he paled
slightly. “You are certain, Lieutenant?”
Hansen nodded. “Lt. Hawk was still wearing his commbadge,
sir.”
A moment of silence passed. Picard drew a breath, released
it, then drew another before asking, “Where are Hawk and the Andorian now?”
“We have secured them in two of our escape pods, converted
to stasis units for preservation,” Hansen replied. “At present the Gladden is still inside the Paulson; I
thought it prudent to speak to you before deciding on our next course of
action.”
Picard stroked his chin as he nodded. “Yes, that was a wise
choice. You do understand, Lieutenant, that this away mission of yours is now
subject to the Temporal Prime Directive?”
It was Hansen’s turn to nod. “I am aware, Captain. My
subordinates have also been informed of the fact, and I will be reviewing their
mission reports before submitting them to Captain Murphy. All the data we
collected has been downloaded to a single tricorder and erased from the
runabout’s memory core. I intend to extract from it what we can reasonably
include in our logs.”
Picard smiled. “It would seem, then, that you have the
situation well in hand. You contacted me directly because of Hawk, so I think
it wise that the Enterprise relieve
you of your cargo.”
“That was precisely my intention.”
He consulted his computer for a moment. “We’re twelve
lightyears from the Paulson, Lieutenant. I’ll transmit our present coordinates
to you; we can each of us set course for a rendezvous point in the middle.”
“Our maximum speed is warp eight, sir. It will take us just
over two days to travel half the distance, and will delay our return to Messenger and Moonbase Alpha,” Hansen
said.
“Moonbase Alpha? Members of your team are Alphans?”
“Yes.”
Picard huffed. “That may complicate things. Have you
explained the Temporal Prime Directive to them?”
“I have, sir. Maya Verdeschi, Alpha’s chief scientist and a
vital assistant in Operation Orbit, has assured me that she and her colleague
will adhere to the Directive.”
Enterprise’s
captain nodded. “Very well. I will contact Starfleet Command on your behalf,
that they may notify Captain Murphy of the delay in your return.”
“Thank you, Captain. Your assistance with discretion is
appreciated,” Hansen replied.
Picard chuckled. “Considering, Lieutenant, that the Enterprise’s actions five years ago—or
three hundred years, depending on how you look at it—is responsible for the
necessity of that discretion, it is only right that I aid you in doing what
must be done. I regret that you must conceal vital information from your
captain, but as you are aware, it cannot be avoided.”
Hansen inclined her head. “Indeed. However, withholding
information is not the same as lying, therefore I can live with that
concealment.”
“We will see you and your team in two days, Lt. Hansen.
Until then, take care.”
“The same to you, Captain.”
***
The rendezvous with the Enterprise
went smoothly. No doubt due to the presence of their fallen comrade, the Gladden was directed to land in the
starship’s main shuttle bay.
Upon opening the hatch, the first person to appear was
Captain Picard, who declared he wished to speak in private for a moment to
Hansen’s team; after apologizing for the need of having to do so, he reiterated
what they had already heard from Hansen herself, which was that certain details
of their discovery must remain
secret. He seemed satisfied with the assertions of the two Alphans, whom he
said he was pleased to have met, that they would respect Starfleet’s Temporal
Prime Directive and tell no one what they knew beyond the most basic
information.
Picard then called for the extraction teams to come into the
runabout. Four officers in teal, whom Hansen surmised were from the medical
staff, came aboard pushing two anti-grav beds and headed into the rear
compartment. The Andorian female was brought out first; they had removed her
from the escape pod. Hansen silently approved, as removing the drones from the
escape pods eliminated the necessity of having to wait for their return from
the Enterprise’s Sickbay. The two
escorting Sean Hawk’s body soon followed, and Captain Picard made to exit
behind them. He paused in the hatchway and turned back with a solemn
expression.
“Thank you, Lt. Hansen, for bringing Mr. Hawk home to us,”
he said.
Hansen inclined her head. “I could do nothing else,
Captain.”
With a nod of his own, he wished them all farewell and
stepped out. Hansen and her crew each returned to their stations and prepped
the runabout for takeoff. Less than half an hour after touching down on the
deck of the Enterprise, they lifted
off and flew back out into space, all of them eager to make their way back to
their own homes.
***
Having returned to Messenger in the early hours nearly a day
and a half later than originally scheduled, Maya and Carter were transported to
Moonbase Alpha directly from the runabout before they docked. After they had,
Hansen ordered Devos and Sulu directly to bed, a directive neither of them
argued with. In her own quarters, she quickly put away her things and followed
her own advice, as she’d only regenerated once in the last six days.
Seven hours later, a rested and refreshed Hansen stood
before Captain Murphy’s desk in the ready room. He was—probably not for the
first time—reading through the report she had submitted on the away mission,
which included the observations of all members of the team as well as what of
the sensor logs she had thought could reasonably be included. In the end, that amounted
to everything they had observed and recorded about the Andorian female. All
that remained of the scans and observations of Lt. Hawk were that he was a
partially assimilated Human male. Both were listed in the report as “identity
unknown”.
After several minutes, Murphy sat back in his chair with one
hand stroking his chin in thought. Another moment passed before he lowered his
hand and clasped both together in his lap as he said, “This report is not one
hundred percent complete, is it?”
As it was a direct question, she decided to answer honestly.
“No, sir, it is not.”
“Admiral Savari contacted me about the delay of your return,
not you,” he observed. “It has something to do with what you discovered out
there.”
“That is correct.”
Again he observed her silently before speaking. “I have to
admit, Lieutenant, that I am damn curious. There’s so much information here
about the female drone, but not the male—there’s almost nothing about him. He
may as well have not even been there. But it’s clear that you can’t talk about
it, so I won’t ask.”
Hansen gave a nod. “I appreciate that, Captain. I would not
like to have to lie to you.”
“I appreciate that you don’t want to lie,” Murphy returned.
“Do I even want to know which of Starfleet’s many directives brought about the
gag order?”
She could tell him this, and faintly smiled as she replied,
“Temporal.”
The captain groaned audibly and threw his hands up. “You
know what? I’ve changed my mind—I don’t want or need to know anything. Time
travel’s a frakking headache I can do without. Keep your secrets, Lieutenant,
and make sure the others do the same.”
Hansen nearly laughed. Captain Janeway had said much the
same thing about time travel, and on more than one occasion.
“Will there be anything else, Captain?” she asked instead.
“No, you’re good to go. Take the rest of the day off and
relax—can’t have been easy being cooped up in a runabout with four other people
for a week.”
“On the contrary—one week with four others was far more
tolerable than spending nearly two months in such close quarters with five.” One of whom barely concealed his hostility
towards me, she added silently.
Murphy laughed and dismissed her with a wave. As she exited
the ready room, Hansen’s commbadge chirped and from it she heard the voice of
Ensign Catsland; the Sivaoan requested her company in the mess hall for lunch,
to which she readily agreed as she’d not had a meal since the evening before.
She and Sharp Smile were joined at their table by Ensign
Devos, and after they had taken their seats, the felinoid immediately asked
what they had found in the Paulson Nebula.
“Was it just a boring old meteorite like Ja-Nareth said it
would be?” she pressed.
Hansen looked to Devos, who sat beside her. The ensign drew
a breath and then casually lifted a shoulder as she speared a piece of the
chicken on her plate with her fork.
“No,” she said. “Believe it or not, it was a couple of dead
Borg drones encased in ice. Sensors showed one was Andorian and the other
Human, so the lieutenant had us bring them aboard. The Enterprise was nearby, so we turned the drones over to them.”
Hansen watched Sharp Smile’s eager expression sober. “That
was very kind of you, Lieutenant, to take them on board.”
“It was the right thing to do,” Hansen replied. “As it is
highly likely that the two individuals were Federation citizens, it is my
sincere hope that Captain Picard’s crew is able to identify the remains and
return them to their families, that they may receive a proper burial.”
Sharp Smile nodded emphatically. “That is exactly what I
would wish. My people will bury the dead where they fall, but always is the
gravesite marked, so that the family may visit and find peace there.”
Hansen nodded and turned her attention to her own plate—a
“proper meal for once!” Sharp Smile had called it—while in her thoughts she
wondered at the propensity for humanoids to visit graves to “find peace”. Inner
peace was a state of mind; the location at which one found it was of no
consequence.
Her attention was diverted when Sharp Smile began to growl
softly. Turning her head, Hansen noted Lt. Commander Ja-Nareth approaching. The
expression on his face was unreadable, which was unusual for the Efrosian who,
like so many, was excessively emotive.
He stopped at the side of their table. “Lt. Hansen, may I
speak with you a moment—in private?”
“Of course,” she said, and stood immediately to lead him out
of the mess hall. They walked several feet away from the door before she
stopped and turned to face him.
“You wished to speak with me, Commander.”
An emotion she could not decipher flittered across his face.
Ja-Nareth drew a breath, then said, “Captain Murphy has ordered me to apologize
to you for my remarks the other day. I’m sorry.”
On reflex, and given his admission that he had been ordered
to do so, Hansen harbored doubt that his words were sincere. Nevertheless, she
gave a slight nod and replied, “Apology accepted. Was there anything else?”
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah…
Murphy gave me this chip to look at that had some pictures of a little blonde
girl on it. She was wearing a red dress, had a red ribbon in her hair.
According to the file codes, they were of you.”
Hansen inhaled sharply as a flash of memory came to her: her
5th birthday party, the last one she’d had before the ill-fated trip
into the Delta Quadrant. She’d worn a red dress, and remembered her mother
tying a red ribbon into her hair—it was her favorite color.
“The datachip also had a video on it of a counseling
session,” Ja-Nareth went on, his words causing her to frown. “Hypnotic
regression therapy, the counselor called it. She took you back—”
“To the day I was assimilated,” Hansen snapped, interrupting
him. “Why did you view that recording? Who gave you the authority to access my
personal records? Counseling sessions are protected by doctor-patient
confidentiality.”
Ja-Nareth held up his hands. “I already told you that
Captain Murphy gave it to me on a datachip. I assume it was meant to remind me
that you were just a kid when it happened. A scared little girl screaming for
her—”
“I know,” she interrupted again, feeling her respiration and
heart rate increase. She was agitated, anxious—not just because Murphy had
shown Ja-Nareth confidential information, but because the memories, so recently
accessed, were difficult for her to handle. She pushed the fear back as she had
so many times before, pushed hard to lock it away before it could overwhelm
her.
“I think he meant to remind me of your humanity,” Ja-Nareth
was saying. “That you didn’t ask for this to happen to you. He did it hoping
that I would see you in a new light and stop being so hostile.”
Hansen drew a breath through her nose, felt the calm, cool demeanor
she normally employed reassert itself. “Was he successful?”
Ja-Nareth scoffed and paced away, his hands on his hips. “I
gotta be honest with you, I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, it wasn’t easy to
look at those pictures of a happy, smiling kid and remind myself that’s who you
were. It was even harder to watch that recording, to see the grown woman you
are displaying the emotions of a terrified child. I can’t help wondering if…if
my father and everyone else who’s been assimilated against their will were as
afraid as you were.”
“After my liberation, I was subjected to the personalities
of at least two dozen individuals during a brief period when Voyager
encountered a Borg vinculum that connected with my cortical node and attempted
to reinsert me into the Collective, Commander,” Hansen said. “Regrettably, I
can confirm that most of them were extremely frightened.”
“That—that right there!” Ja-Nareth cried as she spun to face
her, his hand lifted to point. “You’re so cold, so emotionless—as bad as a
Vulcan on your good days. How can you
stand there and talk about people being scared out of their minds like it’s
nothing? I mean, does it ever bother you—even for a fraction of a second—that you
are personally responsible for ending
thousands, if not millions, of lives?”
For the second time in only a few minutes, Hansen felt her
guard slip a fraction. She’d been asked this question before—more times than
she cared to count, really—and reasoned that being reminded of the intensely
emotional counseling session where the memory of the worst day of her life had
been brought back to the surface was cause of her momentary loss of control.
“I remember everything
I ever did as a drone,” she seethed, hurt and anger and regret each vying for
dominance within her. “I remember, and God knows I wish I could forget. I
sometimes hear the screams in my sleep, even though the regeneration unit is
designed to suppress my subconscious: men and women crying out in pain;
children—terrified beyond measure—begging
for their mommies and daddies to save them. If you carried the devastated lives
of countless millions in your head, Commander, wouldn’t you do whatever it takes to keep
those memories at bay? If that means behaving as a Vulcan does, a species who
learned long ago to keep their emotions in check, wouldn’t you consider that an
acceptable alternative to insanity?”
She sighed deeply, took a step back, and once more fought to
rein in her emotions. “I didn’t choose to be assimilated. No one does. Do I
regret the actions I took? Do I wish I could change them? The answer to both
questions is yes. However, I know that what has been done cannot be undone, and
so I must live with the consequences of those actions. I live with them every
day of my life now but I do not dwell on them, as doing so would serve no
purpose other than to make me utterly miserable. I would much rather be
productive, and do whatever is within my power to demonstrate that Annika
Hansen is no longer Seven of Nine.”
Without waiting for further reply, Hansen stepped around
Ja-Nareth and walked away. She did not see that he stared after her, mulling
her words and her reaction over and again, considering that it might finally be
time to let go. Treating her with contempt, directing all the rage he had felt
over the years toward her because she used
to be Borg would not bring his father back.
Ja-Nareth drew a breath, straightened his uniform jacket,
and turned in the opposite direction then Hansen had gone.
=/\=
A really great story. A confrontation between Annika and Ja-Nareth was coming and I’m glad that Alan Carter interceded where he did. The crimes of her Borg past shouldn’t set the stage for what her future is going to be. You wrote a really great tale. I hope you continue along this route with the Alphans.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much Jack. You're absolutely right that Hansen's Borg past should not dictate her Human future. I know I have at least one more story to write with the Alphans in it. Beyond that, I can't say. Just have to see where the Muse decides to take me.
DeleteA welcome revisit to these wonderful characters, both original and canon. Especially the Alphans, whom I love seeing in the Trek universe, as well as the likes of Anneka Hansen, Picard, and even Lt Hawk, who will get a more deserving end than he was left with.
ReplyDeleteThe view of Borg drones as unwilling victims, of being captured and rescued, is something that should have been addressed in the TV shows and movies.
The attitude by Ja-Nareth towards the Alphans was also telling, and I wonder how many others might feel the same.
Picard's depiction feels very accurate, and I could hear Patrick Stewart saying his lines. The same with Anneka Hansen.
All in all, a great read, Christina, and thank you for it!
Thank you so much, Deggsy! I'm so glad you are happy to see my characters, canon and original, and the Alphans as well.
DeleteBesides the very first drones who knows how many years ago, I daresay every Borg drone is a victim of forced assimilation. It's definitely something that should be addressed but has not been - all anyone seems to focus on is the fear and anger the threat of the Borg generates.
I hadn't considered that there would bee many who truly think of the Alphans as primitive; Ja-Nareth only said what he did because he was being a jerk.
So, so happy you think I captured Picard well. Whenever I cameo canon characters, I always worry if I'm capturing them correctly. I imagined Sir Patrick's voice as I was writing his scenes, and I'm so happy to see that you did also. Poor Hawk certainly did get a lot better ending here than in First Contact - at least he'll get a proper burial instead of being left to float through space.
I am chuffed you consider this story a "great read". You are most welcome!
Excellent story! I really like how you interweave the characters and their different stories in the larger narrative.
ReplyDeleteI'm also quite pleased to see more of the Alphans. You've gotten Maya and Carter down perfectly. I very much look forward to reading more about them.
While I have not been a big Seven of Nine fan in the past, I am quickly becoming a fan of your Annika. She's turning out to be a great character.
I literally clapped my hands with joy to see that you had stopped by again. Thank you so much for the kind words. I am so very chuffed that you are enjoying my work. I was happy to have Maya and Alan as guests in this story, and I'm so glad you think I have them "down perfectly". They will probably be back, as will other Alphans, I am sure.
DeleteI'm also very much pleased you're enjoying my interpretation of Seven's character. Like pretty much everyone, she's still growing and learning and evolving as a person, just with a more unique set of circumstances. I hope that I have and continue to portray Annika Hansen as a more realistic person and less of a convenient plot device as Seven was on the show.