“This is…fucked up.”  Wren Walton stood in her ready room, sipping at a steaming black tea, staring out the wide windows.  “Were we able to get a location on his first experiment?” Park held up a PADD as an answer.  Her captain stared out into the blackness of space before asking her, “You’ve been awful quiet.”

The XO blew out a long breath.  What was so hard about this?  Longfellow had given her an earful when he’d brought the body and a collection of equipment from the lab.  She swirled her hot green tea in the other hand. “Seoyeon.”  She snapped up at Wren’s use of her first name.  Her friend had used it in the days before the Mackenzie.  It was a rarity for her to lean into their relationship that hard.

“I…uh…it’s hard to understand why they were made.  Part of my senior cadet project was a study of the Eugenics Wars and the players.  This…Namash Loutan…his efforts feel too familiar.  How do we know he isn’t lying?  What if there are other experiments out there…if he played with DNA like a roll of the dice until he found what he wanted?”  She sat down on the left side of the couch under the windows, “Shit.  It’s shit, Wren.”

Walton sat in the center of the couch, “It’s a shit sandwich.  And we’re stuck eating it.”  She leaned back on the couch.  “I don’t know if Loutan was telling the truth…Thasaz is working through his computer systems and records.”  She shifted subjects, “What’s your vote on telling the Nama?”

Park’s answer was simple, “We need to tell them.  They deserve to know.”  She sat up, anticipating her friend’s protest, “We can’t lie to them!”  She sputtered, “And no using Vulcan logic to explain away the lie either!”

Wren smiled at her friend’s passion for the right thing.  It hadn’t always been that way.  She put her hands up in protest, “No need to get all JAG-ey on me, Park.  The vote among the senior staff is that we need to tell them…and soon.  To decide on where to settle, they need to be in possession of the facts, even the ugly ones.”

“His name was Namash Loutan.”  Doctor Henry Longfellow stood on the theatre stage, the entirety of the Nama community seated before him.  “And he created you.”  He began the arduous process of explaining what they knew, how they knew it, and what it meant for them.  The Mayor, Larissa Trow, stood on stage with him and interjected when he paused as they’d rehearsed.  The crowd remained silent as the presentation continued.  When the revelation about how their creator had designed them as a poison pill, there was a wave of conversations until Trow explained how he had decided to spare them the designed death.

The presentation ended, and the mayor spoke to her people, “We had initially asked to be taken far from this place…and that decision is still available to us. It was essential to the crew of this ship that you hear the truth – they value truth and honesty.”  She turned to Longfellow, “We will begin to discuss as a group.  I will let you know once we’ve come to a consensus.”

Longfellow gave her a nod and headed out the door.

Ensign Carolyn Crawford walked the central aisle in Cargo Bay 2 with her group of engineering and operations officers.  “OK, Lawson, you take the right side.  Minot, you take the left side.  I’ll work the middle.”  They broke apart and went on their way.  Crawford checked the portable replicators first.  As she walked, she noticed she had a shadow.  A young girl, probably around eleven or twelve.  She stopped at her second replicator and went to work.  The child approached her, eyeing the equipment and the engineering ensign.

“The food giver.”  She said it in awe as she observed the tools Crawford was applying to maintain the unit.  “It was angry earlier.”

“I would be angry too if I ran out of food inside me.”  She slipped a matter refill unit in with a click, and the green light on the console returned.  “Food giver lives!” She said it exaggeratedly, bringing a broad smile from the girl.  She squatted down, “I’m Ensign Carolyn Crawford.”

The girl tapped at the replicator and giggled at the ice cream it produced.  She licked the treat and replied, “I am Anwa Platos. Bye!”  She was running off to tell her family that the food giver was alive again.  Crawford stood, a smile remaining amid the situation.  Hope remained, even if it was in ice cream, she decided.

“We wish to leave the Delta Quadrant.” Larissa Trow stood in the ready room, facing Walton.  “That is the simple request.”  She wasn’t sure how the next ask would be received.  “We would like to take our creator with us…and commit him to the afterlife.”

Walton turned to her Chief Diplomatic Officer, Charlie Hargraves.  He sat on the couch, a PADD in hand.  “I don’t think that’s impossible given your people’s circumstances.”  He tapped at the device, “There is something else we need to discuss.”

Trow nodded her head morosely, “Our condition…of population limiting.  If we engage in relationships with others unlike us…we may spread our condition.  It is something we expected to be an issue.”

Hargreaves held up his PADD, “Well, we may be able to help.  The science and medical teams are studying the files and records he left behind…there may be a way to reverse, or at least eliminate, that condition from being passed down to future offspring.”

Wren cautioned Trow, “We’re still in the early phases of running tests and scenarios but think we can do it.  Your people would be allowed to grow and travel the stars without worry of inflicting your condition on others.”

The young woman found words hard to speak in response.  The curse that had haunted them since their creation would be lifted?  They wouldn’t have to worry about the losses year after year?  They could live freely without fear of the next cycle of disease.  She managed a quiet, “Thank you, Captain.  We are in your debt.”

Walton shook her head vigorously, “There is no debt to repay, Mayor.  We don’t keep a balance sheet.  I’ll keep you updated.”  Trow repeated her thanks and departed.  The door closed behind her, and Wren sighed, “We’ve just got to keep them safe until the end of the month when we can get ourselves home.”

Charlie echoed her sigh, “I’ve been in contact with Markonian and the diplomatic team there.  It’s not impossible for them to come with us… we’ll have to get everything in line, and the paperwork needs to be perfect.”

His captain chuckled, “That’s why I keep you around, Charles.”

He faked being hurt, “The paperwork and keeping the ducks in line?”

“Exactly.  And the experience and knowledge you bring to the table when it comes to handling things that I’m historically shit at handling.”

He stood, amused, “But mostly the paperwork and ducks, right?”

She smiled wide, “Yeah, mostly.”