Part of Montana Station: A Fistful of Latinum and Bravo Fleet: The Devil to Pay

FOL 017 – The Aftermath

Syndicate Station, USS Dragonfly, USS Douglas, USS Perseverance
12.08.2401
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Sickbay was a macabre sight.  Bodies of half-assimilated lay twitching on biobeds as the combined medical staff of Dragonfly, Douglas, and Perseverance worked through the survivors, the dying, and the dead.  A cargo bay had been transformed into a massive medical operations center.  The quiet hum of medical equipment – life support and otherwise – kept a quiet drumbeat as the staff shuffled from bed to bed.

Jordan Reid stood tall in the middle of the organized chaos. Once the pseudo-collective framework had activated and connected, they had pulled twenty-five bodies from the station.  She watched as Dragonfly’s Doctor Henry Longfellow worked his way through the survivors who had the best chances of survival.  Head Nurse Asato assisted him in the painstaking process of removing the Borb implements while the rest of the Dragonfly medical staff worked around them.

She glanced across the bay.  They’d lost five on the tables – the physical bodies had been battered beyond the Borg repair process.  She was a doctor first.  The sadness at a life lost, no matter the story, weighed on her heart each time.  She completed her rounds with each patient and went to the other bay across the hall where the beast had been moved.

 

“Mother.” The mechanical voice of the Borg creature was human and robotic, giving Reid pause as she stepped into the containment room that had been quickly assembled when the beast that had once been Osha Gac’s daughter had surrendered to the Hazard Team.  “I killed my mother,” it wailed.

Jordan caught the eye of Commander Sergio Clemente, the chief medical officer on the Perseverance. He motioned her to the console he was working on, “Welcome, Doctor Reid. When the signal came through, it broke her away from the programming the device had done.  She may look like a metal monstrosity, but whatever malicious programming loaded into her…it is all gone.”  He shook his head, “The mind of Jarica Gac remains…broken as it may be.”

The mournful wail from the murderous creation moaned, her spindly metallic arms dragging across the floor of the cargo bay.  “I am sorry, mama.”

Reid flinched at the sound. She looked away from the uncomfortable sight. “We have a similar situation playing out across the hall. Once we disconnect the Borg elements, not enough of their biological bodies are left to retain life.  They did not care about who or what they did with that device – if only they could find a way to perfect it even more.”  She asked, “What are we going to do?”

Sergio picked a PADD off his console, explaining as he handed it over, “The Vinculum.” Jordan began to read as he continued, “At last report, it was being stored at Starbase 72 for research.”

She replied, “You’re suggesting we transfer those that survive into a Vinculum transfer device…and add them.  JAG is going to have some questions about this.”  She amended that statement, “They are going to have many questions about this.”

He shrugged, “I may hold the rank of commander, but those decisions are in the hands of higher ranks with much larger responsibilities.”  He turned to what remained of Jarica, “She killed her mother.  She tried so hard to stop the programming from taking her life…but resistance was futile.  We will need to consider some kind of…counseling for her before we consider where her mind is going to end up.”

Jordan kept her eyes on Clemente, “I think she’ll need to be transferred to a Vinculum holding before she can be dealt with rationally.  She’s going to have a hell of a complex seeing all that she is while talking about processing the death of her mother…by her own hands.”

Sergio’s eyes widened in realization, “My goodness…I had never thought about that. We would have to do that.  I will begin my process immediately.  You must report this to Fleet Captain Fontana and the others.  Such decisions will take time for everyone involved.”  He walked off to return to the task at hand.  

Reid chewed on her bottom lip.  It could never be easy, could it?

“It’s certainly innovative.”  Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana was on the screen in the briefing room onboard the Dragonfly.  Captains Wren Walton, Helena Dread, Alexandra Pantuso, and their respective XOs were around the table.  Lieutenant Jordan Reid stood at the front of the room, her presentation finished.  Beside Fontana was Commander Archibald Davidson from JAG.

He had plenty to say: “This is highly irregular. We’ve identified all twenty of them as wanted men and women with multiple charges pending and investigations open.  They should be handed over to the JAG department for immediate processing.”  Reid’s dislike for the man wasn’t improving.

Dread saved her from saying what was on her mind, “Commander Davidson, it would be impossible to hand them over to you with this expedited timeline.”  She kept her eyes on the JAG officer, “We’re not opposed to turning them over to you when we’ve found a way to stabilize them.”

Reid could see the JAG officer shift in his seat next to Fontana. “How long will that take?” she asked, fighting the urge to laugh as Fontana’s gaze shifted from the camera to Davidson.

The Fleet Captain spoke gently, “It will take as long it takes, Commander Davidson.  Justice delayed is still justice delivered.”  He turned his attention back to the gathered group on the Dragonfly.  He asked, “Can they remain on life support systems for an extended period?”

Reid realized he was speaking to her.  She had forgotten his medical background.  Turning to face the fleet captain, she said, “They could.  They are only alive because of our interventions.  When the signal cut out the Collective induced programming…the Borg parts of them began to shut down.”  She began to see what he was asking, “In theory, they could remain on life support through the judicial process.  It will require the station’s level of care to ensure each makes it – stabilization could become a moving target the longer they remain on life support.”

Helena scoffed, “Commander Davidson, these people have suffered enough at the hands of this device.”

The face of the Sector Judge Advocate reflected his opinion of her suggestion, and his words left little doubt, “They have subjected plenty of people in the rimward to their reign of terror, murder, and anarchy.  I will file my immediate requests for them to be transferred to the station once stabilized.  I will require Fleet Captain Fontana and Captain Halsey to verify any attempts at slowing the process down in writing.”

Reid watched Fontana lazily side-eye his JAG officer, “Careful, Archibald.  Nothing’s official until you file it.”  The JAG officer appeared to swallow his words and made excuses as he left the screen.  Geronimo’s face flashed amusement, “He’ll get his way only because he’s right, and I agree with him.  He’s still learning commanders don’t get to tell Fleet Captains what to do without a signature or two.”  He leaned in, “You have your orders.  Get here as fast as you are able – a FNN reporter has been here since the middle of November.  Captain Walton – you’ve been assigned to complete the final inspection and examination of the station.  Starfleet has ordered the place scuttled once that’s complete.  The rest of you – we’ll see you soon.”  The channel closed.

Pantuso told Reid, “Work with Longfellow. Let us know once everyone is stabilized.” She stood and left with her XO.  Soon, the room was empty, except for Jordan and Wren.

Reid spoke first.“Captain Walton.”

“Lieutenant Reid.”  Wren let the pause hold before she asked, “Commander Clemente has submitted his retirement paperwork once this mission is completed.”  She watched Jordan’s face carefully.

Reid’s eyes widened, “You’re…you’re asking me to apply to the Perseverance.”  She shook her head, “Why would I ever want to leave the Douglas?”

“I need a good doctor, Jordan.”

She scoffed, “Plenty of those around.”

Wren smiled, “Someone who is not afraid to say that to my face.  Park can help our science teams grow up, but I need a doctor and a leader in my sickbay.”

”You think I’m going to say yes?”

“I think you’re damned good at what you do, Jordan.  I think you want a place that will challenge you…and maybe give you a taste of command.  You were an XO at one point.”

Jordan felt her face grow hot at the memory, “That’s a deep cut.  You know full well how that all ended.”

“What if Ambrose Harris was right about you?  What if you were meant for bigger things down the road?”

Jordan pushed out a chair and sat roughly down, “You practice that speech?”

Walton slid into the chair opposite her, “It’s a speech I used when my job was to get people out of the wrong positions and into the right ones.  You’re a damned good doctor.  I’ve also been told you can talk to people and help them see themselves.”

Reid didn’t initially reply, but she slowly sat back in her chair. Her mind was awash with competing ideas, thoughts, and directions; it would take time to reconcile them all. She said, “I have until this mission ends.”  Wren nodded. “You’ll have your answer then.”  Reid pushed up from the chair, heading for the door. She stopped as it opened into the corridor. “You meant what you said?”

“I always do, Jordan.”  Reid gave her one last look before diving back into the hallway.  Walton sat back in her chair.  Waiting was the hardest part.

Comments

  • What a horrible way to end up! A hideous Borg creature far beyond any drone so far conceived; engineered to kill or assimilate with swift and ruthless efficiency. Yet deep inside one conscious mind, becoming aware of the horror they have inflicted, if not yet fully grasping the concept of what they have become. A brilliantly written dark piece.

    December 14, 2024