Sweet Home Arizona

Posted on Sat Dec 22nd, 2012 @ 8:53pm by Lieutenant Three of Seven & Captain Nathan Cowell MD

Mission: Funzone
Location: USS Arizona
Timeline: Following "Reboot" series

The journey from the Daystrom Institute to Starbase 11 was made short by virtue of Three only being awake for brief intervals, periodically shutting down as his internal energy reserves were consumed in the ongoing assimilation of the new body that had been constructed for his use. Senior Chief Frost was traveling with him, monitoring the Borg's technological progress like a cybernetic physician on-call.

They had taken a Federation power cell from the institute which had been redesigned for the drone's use in regenerating while away from an alcove or other suitable power charging station, allowing Three to remain separate from the warp shuttle's computer systems - much to the relief of the Starfleet crew who seemed unhappy at best to have someone on board that was not only Borg, but one of Captain Haverson's senior staff.

News was already circulating the fleet of the Arizona's engineering disaster, and Three had been the ship's chief engineer.

He owed answers for what had happened to the ship. Not to Starfleet, not to the Federation Security Oversight Committee, not to the families of those engineers who hadn't come home. Three answered to a higher power.

Nathan Cowell.

The small drone allowed the engineer to help him to his feet, refusing any further assistance as the Borg elected to walk off of the shuttle under his own power. His legs were still wobbling as the cortical array continued to refine the motor control algorithms appropriate for the new bipedal locomotion systems this framework was designed for. A much more natural range of motion than the prototype body Three had previously occupied, but requiring greater finesse in motor control to operate.

Walking was difficult, steps were a challenge, but the drone kept at it until he had crossed from the landing pad to where the Arizona was docked at the station. And then he took the most difficult step yet, that of stepping back aboard the Arizona.

Waiting in the corridor that stood just inside the bulkhead was the figure of one Admiral Nathan Cowell. The old man watched as the former Borg made that first tenuous step aboard a ship he'd once commanded. Nathan's face was impassive, he simply stood in the corridor and watched Three. It wasn't until the former drone finally lifted his eyes to Nathan's that the old man said anything.

"Welcome home, son," was all Doc Cowell said.

That the old man was already waiting for him to arrive did not surprise the small drone. If anything, his absence would have been strange. And had been for the last year. Without a word, the young looking Ocampa walked on wobbling legs, pausing once to lean up against the bulkhead for fear of losing his balance, until he was just an arm's length away from the El-Aurian. Craning his head back, the drone looked up and said, "Lieutenant Junior Grade Three of Seven, reporting, Admiral."

"I'm all ears, son. What the hell happened to my ship?" Nathan asked. While his words weren't exactly gentle, the tone they'd been spoken in had a soft edge to them. A most uncharacteristic thing for something that had come out of Doc Cowell's mouth.

"We were ordered to maintain maximum warp above red line," Three answered matter-of-factly. "First, the warp coils in the port nacelle ruptured. The sudden collapse of the warp field sent a shockwave through the ship. The resulting stress caused several power relay stations to rupture, including the primary, which flooded Deck Twenty with warp plasma. The starboard deuterium retainer also ruptured, flooding several compartments on Deck Twenty One."

Pausing, having laid out the situation, the drone then added, "I ordered repair crews to Deck Twenty One, led by Petty Officer Jarick, in order to delay the plasma fires from reaching the antimatter pods, until the internal ruptures could be contained and the affected sections vented without risk of decompressing the whole ship." There had been other times when Three had been in a position to order people to their deaths, but not like this. If Cowell wanted an explanation for why it had come to this, Three would not have been able to provide one. He had merely been doing damage control. And for more than just the incident a week ago. "When our power grid failed, the automated systems went off-line, requiring the reactor to be operated manually; however, a coolant tank rupture rendered engineering uninhabitable. I stayed to control the core until I could be relieved by Petty Officer Frost, who returned in an environmental suit. At which time I left to seal the primary rupture, sir."

The Admiral listened patiently, nodding slightly in several places as the engineer recounted his story. It was not unlike what he'd surmised from the communications he'd been sent during the week. The fact that it had happened at all was a tragedy, but for it to have gotten so far without him being aware of it... It was an unforgivable sin, even if he wasn't directly responsible for it.

"You willing to file a formal testimony?" Nathan asked before shaking his head, "What am I saying, you've probably already written one. Do me a favor and forward that to Captain Isabelle Rogers. She's my aide back at Starfleet Command. I've already got Paul and Elizabeth squared away on that front. Hate to ask this, kid, but are you going to stick around? Not saying you won't, but I figured I'd at least ask. You've been through some out and out hell lately, wouldn't be mad if you decided you weren't up for giving it another go. I will sweeten the pot though, I plan on staying aboard until the old girl gets back right. Hell, might even stick around longer than that, but we can't get too optimistic just yet. What do you say, son?"

Even at the speed of a computer, Three took several seconds in which to process and consider the man's words. "This is my home, Admiral," the Borg remarked finally, pointedly avoiding the more familiar term 'Collective' as he spoke. "I would appreciate the continued opportunity to be part of your crew."

"Knew you would. I've already taken the liberty of giving your people orders. I need a new Ready Room... the whole thing stinks of moron. My command chair is tainted with dumbass... that needs replacing too. Oh, and the entire Captain's Quarters needs to be overhauled. If you can't get the stench of... oh... what's his face out of the room, light the damn thing on fire and build me a new room somewhere else. Oh, and burn the other furniture too. We can't have someone catching a case of the dumbass for using anything that man touched. Sound good?" Nathan said as he motioned the Engineer to follow him inside the ship.

"I am... not certain that I understand," Three admitted, falling into step behind the El-Aurian. That he was confused as to what Admiral Cowell was doing was not unusual, as the man's nonsensical solutions had proven effective. The drone would much prefer Cowell's unpredictability over Haverson's demonstrated incompetence. "However, I will comply. I propose converting one of the VIP suites on Deck Two into your new cabin. Perhaps we could save the 'dumbass' for visiting ambassadors."

It was possible it was an attempt at a joke. Borg generally didn't do diplomacy after all.

"I like that idea... make it happen. But I still want the furnishings in the Ready Room as well as the Bridge command chair burned. I'd say we'll roast marshmallows around the fire but I don't think evil tainted marshmallows would taste overly good. Oh, and I like the new body. Suits you fairly well, all things considered," the old man continued, seemingly unphased by the attempted joke.

"One of several designs that were debated with the Daystrom Institute, were I to want to replace my physical housing," Three remarked as the pair walked through the halls of the ship. "Given the condition in which I returned their prototype to them, they decided upon this form. In that respect, I should probably be grateful they didn't confuse me any more than I already am by having me wake up in the body of a girl."

As the pair neared a turbolift, the drone looked up at the Admiral. "If there is nothing else, sir, I shall begin work on your new quarters."

"You could pull off a female if you wanted to. Gender's just a state of mind anyway... at least in your case. Anyhow, hop to it, son. You've got plenty to do, much to incinerate. I won't keep you from it. Just make sure I have a room key before I need a nap," Nathan said, bypassing the turbolift to continue along the corridor, leaving Three to his own devices.