System Diagnostics

Posted on Sun Mar 6th, 2011 @ 6:04pm by Lieutenant Three of Seven & Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Shore Leave 1: Pacifica
Location: Pacifica Shoreline
Timeline: Current

The Borg could not but be thoroughly confused by the random and impractical measures by which the Arizona was approaching its 'assignment', if their purpose at this locale could be described as such. Small, polished boots pressed down into damp sand, the breeze whipping the black trousers about the stick-like legs of the ill-defined humanoid vehicle that gave the assimilated Ocampa brain its protective shell and outward appearance as a marginally 'normal' individual. Perhaps 'normal' was as much a stretch for Three as calling shore leave an assignment would be. Irregardless, the drone had arrived on the planet's surface in defiance of the captain's order concerning the uniform of the day while on Pacifica. In it's own logic Three viewed the fact that it was still in uniform as a utilitarian measure. As a 'bikini' was a piece of outer wear for females and 'swim trunks' the same for males, then neither would be an appropriate choice for itself.

As it was, Three of Seven was quite literally wearing this body. Though it had very much been a prototype when the Comanche had picked the former drone brain up from the Daystrom Institute. Its features not well defined. Overall appearance ambiguous. It was a blank canvas which was meant to be filled in by parts of a personality which ought to have been present, yet in the gulf which existed between Borg and Individuality Three found identifying as a machine oddly reassuring. Machines were practical, their systems operated on logic - like the Collective.

It was more than familiar, even if something less than family. Or even less than a person.

At the same time that the Borg skirted the edge of the shore, the drone was careful to shy away from ebb and flow of the rolling tide. It would have been illogical for Three to be anything but concerned when it came to water. Particularly water saturated with high levels of sodium chloride. The former Ocampa was, after all, almost entirely mechanical if taken as a single unit with both the body and the brain. The thought of introducing liquid to those delicate systems was horrifying. Aside from which, Three wasn't buoyant.

Captain Cowell, being a biological entity of considerable water mass, was. And it appeared that the El-Aurian shared the humanoid predilection for recreational submersion in contaminated aquatic environments, as the Borg picked the man out from a distance. Standing within view, the drone merely stood there in anticipation that Cowell would - at some point - tire and return to shore. In the meantime, Three accessed its memory of the last diagnostic report concerning the output and efficiency of the impulse fusion generator and began a seven-day analysis of its total productivity.

Nathan had finished his fourth lap out in open waters, his mind still no more clear than it had been when he set out, but at least the work out had given him an excuse to come back ashore. It wasn't until he'd made it back into waters shallow enough to walk in that Nathan noticed the 'sore thumb' that was Three of Seven, the Borg that resided on his ship. The fact that Three was wearing a uniform made Nathan's brow scrunch up in displeasure. By the time he'd reached earshot of the small drone, his ire had boiled over.

"You must have selective hearing, kiddo. I specifically said if you come to the planet you dress accordingly. You need to work on those listening skills," Nathan said as he passed by the drone in favor of his lounge chair and the towel that was draped over it.

The drone looked puzzled for a moment. "My auditory processing capability is several times more advanced than your organic hearing; however, I am uncertain how to apply your order. Neither 'bikinis' or 'swim trunks' seem appropriate," Three answered neatly. "Aside from which, I do not require recreation. I have come to seek your authorization to begin an overhaul of the waste processing system during this period of decreased occupancy on board the ship," the drone added, extending out a padd for the captain to inspect.

"Swim trunks are one of those unisex items that either gender... or in your case, people confused about their gender, wear when they go to the beach. As for your little pet project..." Nathan said, taking the PADD and easing himself down onto the bench, "What's the purpose of this overhaul? Is something broken?"

"No, sir, however the waste processing system consumes one-point-six-eight percent more power than necessary due to a layer of redundancy in the isolinear processing design," Three responded honestly, if somewhat dryly. "This re-design introduces bio-neural processing to the primary circuit and eliminates seventy percent of the redundancy, increasing efficiency to an average savings of eighty-seven megajoules a day."

"So in plain English," Nathan sighed, "You're trying to save on gas. I can dig it... But you will be coming down here for the party later tonight. No buts, no excuses, and no uniform. I'll strip you naked if I have to... don't think I won't parade you around here in a towel, kid... I will."

"Hardly 'naked', sir, unless you were to parade around my actual form. This physical vessel is as much being 'worn' as the uniform over it," Three noted in the same even tone. "However, if attendance at a function this evening is required then I will replicate the appropriate... swim trunks."

"Good, and make sure you have a nice shirt on, if you're going to party, you need to do it in style. Now hurry back to the ship before someone sees you breaking my rules. Lord knows if one person does it, everyone else will start hounding me to be exempt too, and I won't have it. Request approved..." Nathan said, affixing his thumb to the biometric scanner.

"Thank you, sir," Three answered as the drone took back the padd. With nothing more necessary for this social interaction, the Borg merely turned and began making it's way along the shoreline again.