Not So

Posted on Wed 7th Oct, 2020 @ 5:18am by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran

1,408 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Resolution
Location: Section 49A
Timeline: MD3, Evening

Previously on SB109:

Damion gave the room one last look around, shaking his head. "I think I've seen all I need to see here, and I'm sorry you had to subject yourself to it again to tell me of it. People tell me you've nerves of steel, but this cannot be easy."

And now:

Doctor Addams chuckled. It was a sound which would have seemed appropriate issuing from a sepulcher at midnight on a moonless, foggy night. "You must not speak to many telepaths. I'm told it's one of the first things they learn: never look into the mind of an Addams." She made the dismissing motion again with her left hand. "But we are not done yet.

"I asked you to think back to the initial contacts with the Borg to put you in the right frame of reference. You see, when the Federation initially encountered the Borg, it was a terrifying experience. As a culture, we'd decided that space held nothing more frightening than we'd already discovered. And then, there they were. Seemingly unstoppable, unconcerned with death, unswayed by reason. The Federation as a whole lost bladder control."

"I can imagine they did," Damion said with a nod and a faint quirk of his lips at Addams' observation. "When I first came to the Federation, I was baffled by the people I met. I didn't see how folk that soft and trusting could grow to adulthood. I wasn't sure I could ever fit in. I wasn't sure I ever wanted to fit in. The Borg must have seemed unimaginably alien, incomprehensibly brutal to them. Many Federation people like to think they can make friends with anybody. These folk usually aren't Starfleet personnel, who know better."

"You are, I believe, mistaken. Starfleet personnel believe that everyone requires a different approach to be friendly." Addams smiled wanly. "Humans are like dogs. We wag our tails and hope that everyone is our friend. It's easy to dismiss us. To forget that at the other end of the dog are some very sharp teeth. Andorans have a saying: Never push the pinkskins onto thin ice. Vulcans have a phrase for the precise moment one realizes the utter necessity of the word 'fuck.'"

Addams shrugged. "And so, predictably, when the Borg pushed the Federation into a corner, Humans did some crazy fucking shit."

Damion shot Chlamydia an amused look that swiftly faded. "Do you mean to say that all of the abuse and misery you showed me in here was meant to be a way to fight the bloody Borg?"

"I believe that to be the case," Addams agreed. "One more anecdote of evidence: In the year following the Massacre at Wolf 359, Aboard USS Relentless -- an Akira class ship which had not been in position to reach the rendezvous point, and was consequently uninvolved there -- a pair of young, recently-married physicians named MacDougall were doing anti-nanite research. They found a design by a pre-warp Terran physician named Freitas, for what he termed a 'respirocyte'. Freitas' design never reached production, as it proved much easier to manufacture polyheme in bulk. But the MacDougalls adjusted the design, including a very important signature item -- the outer shell of the respirocyte was to have been made of corundum."

Addams paused a moment before going on. "Corundum is the common name for sapphire and ruby, which differ only in trace contaminants which affect the color of the crystal. It is aluminum oxide: Al2O3. The MacDougalls used this proposed structure in their immune nanocytes. The design was partially successful. Rather than being assimilated when they met the Borg, the MacDougalls seem to have encountered a slow death."

The Doctor waved a hand at the entirely holographic biobed beside which she stood. "When the autopsy was performed on Commander Breaux, we discovered anomalous levels of aluminium in his blood and tissues. On further review, we found that the aluminum was in a crystaline form of aluminum oxide. We examined those crystals to find a further adaptation of the MacDougalls' design. I believe the author of this horror was carrying their work to a very different conclusion: the creation of Federation drones to oppose the Borg."

Addams took a deep breath. "Would you care to guess what the nanites which formed Ms. Alegari's ring were made of?"

"A crystalline form of aluminium oxide," Damion said. "I read Lt. Langston's report." He shook his head. "I've always found that the best way to defeat an enemy is to fight its weaknesses, not its strengths--but I guess the ring maker figured fighting the Borg meant incorporating some of their strengths. Well, this at least gives a--somewhat--understandable reason for Starfleet's involvement. I'd be interested to figure out if D--the ring maker extended his research with Starfleet's blessing and backing, or not. But I think that will be others' task to investigate."

"We speak of 'Starfleet' as if it's a monolithic entity, but of course, it is not. It cannot be. There are too many people from too many cultures involved; too many suzerains of too many desmenses. Think: to what ends might Commodore Suzuki divert some of the rather considerable resources at her command? Or her Yeoman, for that matter?" Addams shrugged. "But consider this, when you ponder Starfleet involvement. You know, or are at least aware of, Lieutenant Commander Briggs?"

"The Chief of Security?" Damion asked. "I know his name, but I've never met him. New bloke, right? Recently took over from Lt. Perry?"

Addams nodded. "His assignment immediately prior to this one left his wife dead, and Briggs with a prosthetic leg. However, there were a number of problematic elements to the situation -- not the least, the fact that the Doctor who signed Mrs. Briggs' death certificate doesn't exist. Briggs never saw her body after the explosion knocked him unconscious. He awoke with a prosthesis fifty years out of date... except for the entangled quantum communicator embedded within."

Damion went still upon hearing that. "Quite a lot of unnecessary trouble to go through, just to get an experimental subject; a snatch-and-grab kidnapping would have been much faster and more efficient and wouldn't have required a prosthesis, a surgery, a faked death, or old prosthetic hardware. What was the quantum communicator being used to communicate with?"

"And now," Addams said, "we come up against a wall I may not breach, even for a secret this large: Doctor-Patient confidentiality. The things I have spoken are matters of Fleet record; the answers you now seek are not. I suggest that, if you wish to investigate them further, you go and speak to Briggs directly."

"Ah. Understood," Damion said. "Does he know about the quantum communicator in his prosthesis?"

Addams nodded. "He was made aware of it before the replacement of his prosthesis with a modern biosynthetic version."

"Do you still have the prosthesis and the communicator? And if you do, could I ask Lt. Langston to examine them?" Damion asked.

"They are in a stasis vault. Get your department head to request their transfer, and you may do with them as you will."

"I'll do that," Damion said with a nod. "Thank you very much, Dr. Addams, for taking the time and reawakening past miseries. Would I be correct in thinking that the perpetrator of this--torture chamber--was one of the four people whose faces you showed us earlier today? Someone who retired from Starfleet about, oh, two years ago?"

Addams nodded. "Former commanding officer of this station; former Admiral. Adrian Dobbs." She was tempted to go further: to point a finger at Holly Day. But she had to admit to herself that she had little to no supporting evidence, only her own dislike for Day, and the coincidence of reports placing her at Oblivion.

"So the blaggard has a name." Damion let out a breath. "I didn't want to believe it, but it made too much sense, given the topics of his more recent papers." He glanced at Addams. "There's still a bit more I'd like to discuss with you, but it's late. I'll see you tomorrow, Dr. Addams."

 

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