Battery Life

Posted on Sat Feb 26th, 2011 @ 7:02pm by Lieutenant Three of Seven & Ensign Jennifer Russo

Mission: Hippocratic Hijacking
Location: Cargo Bay 3, USS Arizona
Timeline: Shortly after "Getting What We Came For..."

The drone glanced up from the transporter controls as the last of the containers materialized within the voluminous cargo bay, the Ocampa Borg having come straight from the bridge in order to oversee the handling of the volatile medical supplies. The bio-mimetic gel alone was extremely dangerous, which was bad enough if not for the unique properties of the pescaline and isoratonyl. Three had taken the liberty of accessing the notes that Captain Cowell had uploaded regarding those substances based on the research of a scientist named S'anra. The drone was not certain that bit of knowledge would be enough to efficiently safeguard the Arizona from the threat posed by having this kind of cargo onboard. While their medicinal value was without question, the potential for a biogenic weapon to erupt was equally without dispute.

For more reason than the medicinal substances alone.

Pulling a tricorder from the hip pocket on it's uniform, the Borg flipped open the device to quiet an alarm that had buzzed the moment that the drone had stepped out from behind the console. One of the crates containing the bio-mimetic gel packs had cracked, exposing some of the insulation material. Insulation which contained traces of a trilithium resin, a compound extremely toxic to humanoids such as Terrans or Mirans. But not Romulans or Ferengi, so it was doubtful that the choice of insulation was with any biogenic or 'sinister' impulses behind it. The thermal properties of polymers supported by trilithium resin as a fixing agent were efficient; however, even that being the case it would be more prudent aboard a Federation starship to re-pack the gel packs in a polynitrogen compound.

"Computer, erect a Level One containment field around cargo palette Three-Sigma," the drone ordered quietly, setting aside the tricorder and moving to the equipment stores on the side in search of a toolkit. Sealing the crack in the crate and cleaning up the traces of resin would be a quick fix to any possible exposure. Discovering a repair kit, the small Borg flipped the case around and began shuffling through the contents for the desired instruments. Then, tools in hand, the former Ocampa child made it's way through the containment field to begin the work.

As the drone worked, the passage of time on the ship's chronometer was a factor which weighed on the Borg's mind. There were many tasks to accomplish, not the least of which was an increasing need to regenerate, and not enough hours in the day remaining to accomplish them without asking others for assistance. Tapping the communicator on it's uniform, Three politely said, "Three of Seven to Warrant Officer Russo. Would you have a moment to join me in Cargo Bay Three?"

Jenn answered her commbadge as it chirped, "Sure Lieutenant, I'll be down momentarily." Jenn sighed, after the line was cut. She looked at her watch, and locked her computer terminal. Having her own office it wasn't overly important, but it was something that was programmed into her brain to do automatically. Jenn knew that the borg drone, or former drone was in her department. They had met before, but never really interacted, and that was okay with Jenn. She knew that the drone was not evil, and was a Starfleet Officer but still, it made her nervous.

Jenn made her way quickly to the cargo bay, and stopped in the corridor and took a deep breath before entering. She approached the officer, and stood to attention. "Warrant Officer Russo, Sir." Jenn wasn't sure if this borg was a Sir or Ma'am, but figured that Sir couldn't hurt. Jenn felt her stomach flutter a bit nervously as she stood there at attention, trying not to look too much at the borg, despite having to look straight forward.

'Ah... discomfort,' she thought to herself.

The small Borg paused its work re-sealing the crate and stood to face the warrant officer, the dictates of society preferring that one gave another their full attention when speaking to them. A most inefficient method of communication, one that an interconnected consciousness overcame. But at a high cost. And, in Three's case, a very high one indeed. "Thank you for coming," Three stated as a preface to the communication. Though the concept varied by race, the drone found that humans often appreciated gestures of consideration.

"With Lieutenant Roberts off ship, our bridge rotation is short one unit-- individual," the Borg stated, pausing and correcting itself as it stated the most immediate problem that had led to his wanting to speak with the warrant officer. "Lieutenant Marion will require a relief at the conclusion of the current watch. I believe you are qualified in all aspects of operations watchstanding. Would you consent to taking the next watch on the bridge?"

While Jenn had never actually stood watch on the bridge of the Arizona, her Operations Quals were one thing that she did have for ship operations. She continued to stand at attention having not been told otherwise. "Aye Sir, I can stand watch." She said, a little excited about finally getting on the bridge.

Three's experience led the drone to nod it's head in an outward show of acknowledgment. The Borg had been about to return to its labors, when it realized something. "The posture of your body does not appear to be comfortable," Three noted, as its mind worked through where it had seen that particular stance before. Curious. While it was true that Three did hold a superior rank, most individuals in Starfleet did not conform to so formal a decorum around a junior lieutenant. "Please relax, Warrant Officer. Your attention to military accords is laudable, but unnecessary for our interaction."

Jenn relaxed her position only slightly, but did look around the room one before looking back at the drone. "Anything else Lieutenant?" she asked, after a moment.

"No, thank you," the Borg answered, crouching down to return to its labors.