“We were lucky.”  Wren sat at the desk in her ready room, Park holding down a seat on the couch.

“Nobody was lucky today, Wren.”  Seoyeon had been watching the events of the day with her captain.  The rest of the crew had been aware of the circumstances an hour ago.  The failed Borg and Changeling invasion of the Federation and Starfleet had come up against the USS Enterprise D command crew and found out why you never doubted the quality of a trained Starfleet crew.  From the glow of victory had come the darkness of loss.  Park wiped at her eyes.  The latest lists of the dead were posted.  She’d known some of them.  Some were still missing.  Others had been on ships destroyed.  The lists would grow over the hours and days ahead.

Wren felt the heavy pang of loss as well. “Whatever word you wanna use, Park.  Our crew didn’t turn against us and try to kill us.”  Wren drank from a bottle of Syntheholic whisky.  Her face was also stained with tears, and the lists continued to remind her of how short life could seem.  “I don’t want to imagine what they went through.  There’s…” she sighed, “…this isn’t easy.”

Seoyeon wished for better words for both of them, but they weren’t coming.  “This isn’t going to make this Argovan situation any easier.”

Wren grimaced through the tears, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘shit storm,’ Park.  They’re not going to care about our situation.  I’ve read enough about them to know they care for themselves and nobody else.  They’ll only accept so much stalling before their patience runs out.”  She sat roughly back in her chair, “I can’t imagine this is easy for any of us stuck out here in the Final Frontier.  Plenty of Fourth Fleet ships were on duty or assignment when this crap sandwich got served.   There’s alone…and then there’s alone after your entire junior crew tried to kill you.”  They sat in silence as the reality of their situation settled in.  

Park admitted, “OK.  We were lucky.”

Wren gave her a quiet smile of thanks, “That’s the spirit.”

Longfellow sat beside the bio bed that held the Argovan woman, Muerta Haga.  They’d cleared her out of quarantine a few hours ago.  Her intake interview was finished, and her labs had come back.  He was now going to start asking the hard questions that would help determine if asylum was granted.  The science chief, T’Penga, had joined, PADD in hand.  “Ms. Haga…”

She shook her head, smiling quietly, “Murt is acceptable, Doctor.”

He returned the smile, “Murt.  You said they would kill you if you returned.  What does that…exactly mean?”

The woman sighed, “We have managed to live quite a long time in our little corner of the galaxy, Doctor.  Our legends speak of it in the thousands of years, but some of our scientists think it more.  Our genetics began to degrade within the last two hundred years.”

T’Penga cocked an eyebrow at the mention of the years they had been. It was something that the Starfleet records did not have an account for. The scientist saw an opening and jumped at it. “Degradation? What kind of degradation and what were the first signs?”

Haga was momentarily lost in a memory before she replied, “The babies.  Our infant mortality rates began to climb.  At first, we thought it an environmental contaminate.  It was not.  Diseases thought eradicated in our early history began to return.  We put our best people to seek the cause.  It was discovered that our DNA strands and genetic material were…for lack of a better word – dying.  A laboratory was quickly built.  We began to conduct tests with haste.  We thought we found a way to halt whatever it was.”

“According to what we learned from the data on your shuttle. It seems that some Argovans have multiple hearts, and sets of lungs among other things. This is something we have seen in some species, such as Klingons. However, it would be new to Argovans.” T’Penga knew now what the data meant; she wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as her human friends would put it.

The woman nodded, sadness filling her face.  “We tried to perfect ourselves.  Keep our lives longer.  Extend us so we could find a solution.”  She shook her head, “We were mistaken in our efforts.  We couldn’t remake everyone.”  She held out her arms, “But they could remake one…I am that one.”

Longfellow had been following along until that moment.  He stared at Muerta and then back at his PADD.  “You are…the solution.”

“I am the last of our kind who can bear children.  I am to be the birth mother to a new generation of Argovans – a fresh start.  There were many like me…hundreds.  I am the only survivor from those tests, those…creations.  I am perfection.”  

“That would mean that you alone are the salvation of your people. It would be illogical for them to want to see you dead if you are to bring about a new era in society.” T’Penga knew that this information would not bode well for her asylum request. It would be hard for the Captain to grant it and condemn an entire race of people.

Haga gestured to her body, “I am to be placed in a secure building…and be implanted to give birth…over and over…until a new generation of Argovan children are born.  I will never see the light of day again…I will be restrained and kept prisoner so my people’s legacy and line may continue.”

Longfellow frowned, “What about…?”

She stopped him, “They have ensured that the children will not cause issues when they marry and carry on the Argovan people, if that is what you are asking.  I am perfect.  My body will give them what they need.”

“Forgive me if I offend Murt. But is not being the savior of your people worth everything? Surely, the good of the many outweighs the good of the few or the one. By staying here, you condemn your entire race to extinction.” T’Penga understood the need for self-preservation; however, there was no logic in it. At least here, there was no logic in sending an entire race to extermination was not worth it, and T’Penga planned to tell the Captain exactly that.

Muerta peered at the woman’s ears, “Vulcans.  Your removal and control of emotions robs you of the power of an identity apart from your people.  It is my life that is in the balance.  I will never see daylight.  I will never see freedom.  I have escaped far too many times to leave it to chance.”  She acknowledged, “The Argovan people will cease to exist without me.  Yet…the choices made in our history have led to this moment.  Our refusal to accept outsiders…to doggedly not explore beyond our small borders…each decision drew the circle of consequences closer and closer to strangling us.  Our scientists…our doctors…engaged in activities designed to cleanse our people of the impurities, the diseased…the unwanted, the unwelcome.”  Her face fell into sadness, “Our history has long been proud of this cleansing.  Our hubris was our undoing.  It is what will end us all.”

Longfellow stared at her as she spoke.  He glanced at T’Penga, “The needs of the many and the one is an old argument.  It’s not invalid in most cases, mind you…but in this scenario, I’m not sure it applies in the intended meaning.”  He asked the Argovan woman, “What would you do if you were given the freedom from your people?”

The dark shadow that had held on her face brightened as her smile broadened as her mind imagined the future, “I would travel to Earth…to see the home of the Federation.  To breathe the air of Humans.  To see all that they have attained.  To…live with them.”  She reddened, “And to find someone…to spend my life with.”

Henry turned to T’Penga, “The key word there is ‘life,’ Lieutenant.  Whose life is it, who is allowed to decide, and who is allowed to live that life.”  The group turned as Charlie Hargraves stepped through the doors to Sickbay, PADD in hand. 

“They’ll be here within two hours.  The captain has requested a report in her ready room – Doc and Chief T’Penga.”

Longfellow scowled, “Well, this should be fun.”  He handed over the responsibility of his patient to his charge nurse, turning to T’Penga, “Let’s get this over with, Lieutenant.”