More Aftermath

Posted on Tue 15th Apr, 2025 @ 2:26pm by Commander Heriah Rex

986 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: The Phoenix Gamble
Location: Heriah's Quarters
Timeline: Current

Another duty day had come to a close and, before Heriah could make her exit from Central Ops, there had come a report that needed her attention. That was followed up with a report she needed to submit right away, another that she needed to authorize before forwarding on to the captain, approvals for a few flight plans, incoming and outgoing vessels, incoming communiques to be rerouted…she pressed herself into her quarters as immediately as her door had allowed and she was immediately stripping off her uniform top, kicking off her boots and going to her stash for a bottle of real Rivals Talanack…with double ABV.

She popped off the top and took a greedy swig. It had been another one of those days. Not one of busy work, reports that needed correction, personnel that could not follow explicit instructions, infighting among refugees and diplomats, etc. It had certainly been one of those days, but it was also one of those infrequent but guaranteed days of constant hidden bickering between her and Rex. And those days always seemed longer and harder as she strove to keep the bickering internal and, aforementionedly, hidden.

It had been a day of…

’Oh, don’t sign that.’

‘Do sign that. Let him blow himself up.’

‘Feeling down again? Might as well just end it all.’

‘Oh boohoo, tell Frank to go suck it.’

‘You know how that Klingon is looking at you. Bed him. Then kick him to the curb.’

‘I have had far more worthy hosts than you, you sad little weakling.’

Heriah yanked the pin out of her hair, letting it down in something of a chaotic tangle. She had already undid her belt and loosened her trousers, but lost the will to declothe any further.

“Rex,” she said aloud.

’Yes, slut.’

“Why do you have to be this way? We are joined. We are in this together.”

’We don’t have to be. As I understand, there is an airlock a few decks down. You can…’

“I’m taking a shower.” Heriah started pulling her shirt off.

’Fine, but that won’t get rid of the filth. Think about the last time…’ …and Heriah had a realization that made her turn from the lavatory. She dropped her shirt onto a random place on the floor and went to her bed.

’Oh, well I had another thought in mind but if you want to pleasure yourself …’

“Shut it you,” Heriah said as she snatched up her monocorder from her nightstand. A wave of a desire to not use it washed over her. There were intrusive thoughts of throwing it away and smashing it. She fought it and placed it on her finger anyway and, five seconds later, it returned with a flashing red light. “Low isoboramine,” and then she snatched open a drawer, reaching for her hypospray.

’Oh yes. More drugs. Of course. Get addicted to the stuff.’

“It is just benzocyatizine, Rex. Prescribed only to get my isoboramine back on track.”

’Like I said; drugs…to force us to remain joined. But if you look at the database, your frequency of use, you will see that…’ …Heriah hit herself with the hypospray in her neck, right over her jugular. She placed the hyposray down, removed her monocorder from her finger, allowing it to fall and roll about on the nightstand. She stepped away from her bed and toward the lavatory while massaging her neck and working the medication forth.

’Before that dren kicks in, allow me to regale you with…’ …and Heriah tuned out Rex’s thoughts, but that did not stop images from seeping into her own thoughts.

She forewent a sonic shower for the real thing and sat herself in the tub with the shower nozzle spraying the hottest water she could comfortably withstand. It was hot but felt cold as drops hit her spots or rolled across her spots down her back and chest. As the water level rose, it was the same hot/cold sensation between her skin and spots that were becoming submerged. Heriah pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. She rocked herself slowly while the random image flashed in her mind from Rex’s previous 2 hosts on top of what her symbiont could remember from Refkin’s time, both before and after his assimilation. But there was nothing during his assimilation, nothing of the rescue, and no memories of the operation to remove the Borg implants. She supposed those images were just too disturbing, even for Rex. Instead, he decided on a motley assortment of images that made her only feel as though she was on the Starfleet Star social media app and doom scrolling through a cesspool of hate and violence.

A puppy or two flashed in her mind; a kitten; a spray of flowers. As the benzocyatizine did its thing in her system, the images in her thoughts turned more warm and inviting.

Heriah raised her head into the spray from the nozzle and closed her eyes after taking a breath and enjoyed the warm water hitting her face.

It was not a constant thought. It was a recurring one however, but Heriah would, time and again, wonder what her life would have been like if she had never had become joined.

She did not have the luxury of finding out. And she certainly did not have the luxury of outing any of this before the crew. Heriah Khatain Rex was the Executive Officer aboard SB109. She had to maintain a face of strength and character and optimism and confidence and…

Heriah leaned forward, removing her face from the spray and sat there with the spray going down her back. She added to the bath water a little with a few tears issuing forth.

 

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