The bridge was dark as the turbolift doors slid open, the light spilling into the inky blackness.  Wren hesitated, her feet doubting if this was the right thing to do.  Coming back to the Mackenzie had been in doubt the last week.  She’d debated it over and over.  Return to the vagabond lifestyle of a Starfleet Improvement Officer and live out the rest of her career ship to ship to ship…to ship?  No connections, nobody to get to know. She was just working to shave off the rough edges of officers.  In some cases, heavier metaphorical equipment was needed.  Yet…as her eyes peered into the darkness, she could make out the center chair and a few consoles.  The admiral in Starfleet operations had given her an out if she wanted. His only advice had been, ‘Go see her one last time.  There’s something to be said about our first commands.’

She felt there was a story there.  Just like there was a story for her as she remained in the doorway of the turbolift, staring at the empty and dark bridge. Her introduction had been brief on the first assignment to the Mackenzie.  There had been little time to spend with the officers and crew as they faced the return of a dangerous and desperate enemy.  In the end, the Dominion threat had been blown apart.  

Now what remained was the vastness of space.  Wren stepped forward, and the lights clicked on, as did each console and station.  The ambient sounds of the command center were a comfort to her.  She hadn’t understood how much she had missed it…until it was back in her ears.  She walked from the back of the bridge to the front, her fingers touching each station.  Soon, her crew would return.  The Mackenzie would ride again.  Her story and that of Wren’s would continue.  Walton found her way back to the center chair and tapped gently at the console in the arms, “Computer, initiate system reactivation procedures.”

The computer trilled back, “Confirmed.  USS Mackenzie is under the command of Captain Wren Walton.  Welcome aboard.”

Jack Rockwell stood in the middle of The Wardroom, appreciating all the details that had gone into the room.  He mused, “You did an incredible job.”  

The engineer shrugged with a smile, “We know to make beautiful things, Mr. Rockwell.”  He handed the hospitality officer a set of keys, “We did something a little different with the doors.  You wanted something special, and we’ve done this for a few ships – a set of keys to represent the on-duty officer.  We took a risk – those are analog keys to the door for The Wardroom.  You’re the only one with a set – this is truly your lounge.”

Rockwell turned to the room.  He’d marveled at it when he’d walked in, and he hadn’t stopped gaping.  It was modeled after an old earth bar in San Francisco.  There was a movement in Starfleet to create lounge spaces that were not reflective of ship design or modern aesthetics.  Jack was one of them.  The hanging lights and the faux windows would reflect the time of day as it changed throughout the day.  The bright sunlight cascading through the high rises of old warmed his heart as he stared at the keys.  He knew the crew had orders to return this afternoon. He needed to get the space ready.

“It’s hard.”  Park sat across the desk from Chief Counselor Juliet Woodward.  They’d returned from Azuza that morning.  The experience was still heavy.

“It was hard watching you go through it, Park.  I can’t imagine what that feels like.”  They had arrived to find Harry Seoyeon in a fugue state. A house in a state of disaster, unread messages scrolling endlessly on a console, and a barely recognizable father.  He hadn’t been able to place Park and wasn’t sure what had happened in the last few days.  Woodward had sprung into action.

“I knew he was struggling…but I didn’t think it would be that…bad.”  Park wrestled with her fingers, “It’s hard because he was always strong…he could recall stories from the old days and the old friends.”  She sighed, partially to interrupt the emotions threatening to return.  “It’s hard because he’ll never know who I am again.”  The diagnosis had been intense – the disease was so far gone that they could do nothing.  Harry Seoyeon had become a recluse, unaware that anything was wrong until he couldn’t remember anything significant.  “He’d never been good about going to doctors.”  She blew out a long breath.

“I’m sorry this happened, Park.  I wish…I wish it hadn’t happened.”  She was worried about her friend’s focus.  The Mackenzie was scheduled for departure this afternoon.  And she needed a functional XO.

The commander nodded, “I wish it hadn’t either.  Family is the hardest thing to lose…and grieve.  It just feels like a slow death with Dad now…waiting for his light to fade.”  She swallowed another wave of emotion, “Mom was able to talk to him before she went.  He’ll never remember me…and I’ll always remember him.  There’s something wrong with that…”

Woodward leaned forward, “What do you need from me?”

Seoyeon stared at the floor for a minute while she worked through the question.  It felt as if she needed everything and nothing – all at the same time.  She found her answer, “Just…check in with me once a day.  Being back on the Mack helps.  I used to think I didn’t have a family.  I know I have it here.”

The office was smaller.  The quarters were smaller.  Everything was smaller.  Lieutenant Hargraves sat on the edge of his bed, a frown permanently carved into his face.  He’d been demoted in rank and position.  Now he sat, wondering just what to do with himself.  Walton had done her level best to restore his rank and position.  His position was unique – it had been built to allow him to be separate from the command team as a way for him to speak frankly and openly with them about diplomatic matters.  Until last month, it had worked wherever he had gone.  Something had changed in Diplomatic Services.  Enough that his service record hadn’t saved him.  His door chime rang.  “Come.”

Doctor Persefoni Hargraves stepped through the door, her older sister bearing sweeping into the room. “Charles.”

He stood and embraced her, “Persefoni.”  He offered her a seat on the bed, but she took the desk seat instead.  She stared at him for a minute, the awkward silence a normal experience between them.  The USS Olympic had arrived a week ago, and they’d been unable to connect.

“You’ve had a bit of a fall.”  She’d crossed her legs and perched her hands on her knee.  If she had glasses, they’d be sitting on the near end of her nose.

He groaned, “It’s good to see you too, Per.  I sent you the whole story.  I’m not really in the mood to talk about it.”

She arched her eyebrows, “You never were good at discussing your feelings.”  Persefoni rolled her eyebrows as he threw his hands up in frustration, “I don’t think you’re alone in your experience…and I am beginning to suspect something is at play.”

As he had done in childhood, Charlie pointed at her, “Per, there’s not a conspiracy behind every door.  Sometimes people are just dumbasses.”

She mused, “I’ve had a 50% success rate.”

He moaned, “That’s not as good as you think it is, Per!”

“My point is, I think there are other forces at work beyond…as you so colorfully put it, the ‘dumbasses.’”  She sat back in her chair, keeping her eyes on his.  “I’d like to enlist your assistance.”

As he had done in his childhood, he swore at his sister. 

“I’m not here to make friends.” Lieutenant Seraphina Pearce sat across the desk as Captain Wren Walton conducted her fifth-afternoon interview.  The loss of Kiazas Vol had left an emptiness in both duty rosters and hearts.  Pearce sat with her back ramrod straight, her eyes maintaining contact with Walton.  Her hair was tied back, but it was hard to ignore the artwork on her skull along the hairline.

Wren replied, “That isn’t what I asked you, Lieutenant Pearce.  I asked you where you see yourself fitting into the crew of the Mackenzie.”  She’d read the file on Serahina.  It was a shining example of a longstanding security officer who was exceptionally good at her job.  It also had hints, allegations, and several cases of JAG involvement around her inability to walk the line.  The Mackenzie was starting to resemble a place for misfits.  Walton found that mildly amusing in her head.  Captain Harris had remarked several times in his short commanding officer career about the ships he’d commanded being just that – an island for misfit toys.  She returned her attention to Pearce, “Your commitment to the position over the years has been strong.”

The Bajoran scoffed, “But that commitment has given me something of a reputation.”

Walton raised her eyebrows, “Not something of a reputation, Lieutenant.  A pretty clear one.  You’re here because I’m a former reputation fixer.  Someone in command thought you’d at least be worth a glance.”  She held the PADD with the file, “This interview is your glance.  I don’t have to accept you, and I don’t need you.  Ten officers are vying for the job, and you’re number five.”  She returned the PADD on the desk, “What I’m looking for is someone different.” With another scoff, Pearce gestured to her look to suggest the captain was blind.  Her eyes widened as Wren stood from her desk, “You haven’t earned the privilege to act this way towards me, Lieutenant Peace.  You might look the part and think yourself all that and some Raktajino on the side…but you’ve only proven you can piss off another captain.”  She slammed her fist on her desk, “I don’t know who this has ever worked for, Lieutenant Pearce, and it certainly hasn’t worked for me.  You are dismissed.”

Pearce wasn’t sure what to say.  The way her current CO had spoke, this job was already hers.  Sitting in the chair for five minutes suddenly changed at outlook.  She hesitantly stood, looked to try and apologize, and thought better of it.  She muttered, “Thank you, sir.” and left the ready room.

She walked sullenly to the turbolift and didn’t look up at who followed her in.  She feebly said the deck for the transporter room and leaned against the wall.  She’d managed to screw up another interview.

“You look like someone blew up your favorite starship and threw a Raven at you.”  

She glanced toward the voice and immediately stood at attention, “Commander Seoyeon.”  Pearce had done her homework on the staff.  “I kinda failed the interview.”

Park held up her PADD, “I had a feeling you might.  You went in there and swaggered a lot, didn’t you.”  She held up her other hand at the look of displeasure on the face of the lieutenant, “I’m not judging you.  I was the same way when I met Captain Walton.”

The doors opened, and both women stepped into the hallway.  Pearce remarked, “She worked with you before this?”  Seoyeon explained her experience and why Wren had been assigned to her in the first place.  She shared a few stories of her younger days and how quickly she learned that Wren Walton was not someone you tried to swagger your way around or through.

“She doesn’t suffer fools, and I was a fool.  It took me two months to realize what I had done…and what I was doing.  I tested that woman’s patience.”

Seraphina gawked, “And she still took you on as XO?”

Park grimaced, “More I was assigned to her as a last chance before somebody got wise and threw me out on my ass.”  She shook her head, “I’ve learned a lot from her…and I’m still a work in progress…but she keeps me accountable.”  The XO walked her to the transporter room, “You really want this position?”

Pearce stopped, “I want…I want to do something that matters.  I’ve been assigned to stations and small ships…and yes…I admit much of it….,” she felt the stare from Park grow strong, and she reframed, “…OK, most of it was my fault.”  Memories of her actions flashed in her mind as she considered the future ahead and her choices to get here.  “She expects a lot, doesn’t she?”

Park chuckled, “She spent most of her career remodeling idiots like me…she knows what potential is within us…and that we can rise to the occasion.  She expects a lot because she knows it’s possible.”  She walked on, and Pearce followed her to the door to the transporter room, where they stopped again.

Seraphina stared at the door.  Was she ready to give up something like this?  Ready to return to the doldrums of a station or a small ship?  She wasn’t sure.  She asked, “You think I could get another chance at that interview?”

The XO raised her eyebrows, “I can ask.”  She stepped away and left the Bajoran Security officer with her thoughts.  She remembered her parents fleeing the occupation and making it home to New York only to watch the events of the Dominion War play out across the universe.  Survivors’ guilt had plagued them enough that they returned to Bajor to help rebuild, and Seraphina had come along, desperate to find meaning in her life.  She’d found so much.

“Lieutenant Pearce.”  She snapped up and slammed to attention at the sight of Captain Wren Walton stepping into the transporter room.  Park stood behind her, amused.  “I’ll ask the question again.  Where do you see yourself fitting into the crew of the Mackenzie?”

Seraphina swallowed her fears of screwing up her second chance.  “I saw myself not fitting into the crew of the Mackenzie…at first.  After talking with Commander Seoyeon, I’m starting to understand that I’m not alone in my imperfections and rough edges.  Serving with a crew is more than just a duty or a shift to be completed…it’s a life to be lived and learned…together.  I may not be great at making friends…yet…but if I step outside myself a little…I might learn something, sir.”

Walton spun on her heels to Park, who feigned innocence but smiled widely, “I nudged, Captain.  Just…a gentle nudge.”

Wren rolled her eyes, “More like a shove, Commander.”  She turned back to her candidate, “You listen well, Lieutenant Pearce.  You even take advice, which is a quality I appreciate.  As for stepping outside of yourself, it’s not that you might learn something…it’s a promise that you will.”  She silently considered the Bajoran officer before holding out a hand filled with a PADD from Park, “Your application for Chief Security Officer is accepted, Lieutenant Pearce. It is probationary. The job will be yours after completing the new officer orientation with Park and a performance review with me three months from today.”

Pearce was dumbstruck.  “Uh…mmm…thank you, sir.”

Walton gave her a quiet nod, “Don’t screw it up, Lieutenant Pearce.”  She walked out of the room.

Park stood beside the new security chief, holding her hand out, “Welcome aboard.” 

Sadie and Atega nervously sat in the science operations center on the USS Olympic.  The Oly and the Mack were flying towards the distress call, and the signal was growing stronger the closer they became.  They’d been ordered to work with the new Chief Science Officer from the Excelsior II class.  She’d been transported over to the Oly moments ago.

Fowler wondered aloud, “Do you think she’ll be anything like T’saath?”  Sadie had worked with a few Vulcans in her short career.

Presley handed her a PADD with the limited service jacket information from the ship’s roster, “She’s a lot older than she was…and with Vulcans, that means they’ve learned a lot in those years.”  She shrugged, “Vulcans, Romulans, Andorians…Klingons…everybody has their thing.  It’s all about language for me.  Linguistically understanding a people helps keep the walls from forming.”

Sadie rolled her eyes at her friend, “I’d call you a nerd, but I’m just as bad when it comes to science.”  She wondered, “Maybe that’s the answer – we all speak the same language with science.  Maybe there’s a chance I’ll get along with her.”

Atega frowned, “You think you’re going to have a problem getting along with her?”  Fowler shrugged, and the door to the science center opened.

T’Penga accepted the position as Chief Science Officer as not only was it logical, but it was the right thing to do. In a way, T’saath followed in her footsteps by returning to Vulcan. When she walked into the Science Operations Center of the USS Olympic, she found two other officers discussing the topics of the day. “Morning, I am Lieutenant T’Penga. You must be  Lieutenants Fowler and Atega.”

The two women stood and shook the Vulcan’s hands.  Fowler gestured to the chair at the holo-table, “We’ve been tasked with figuring this mystery out.”  She tapped nervously at the console, and the signal faded into view, “It’s a two-part signal – one is a request for asylum, and the other is a distress call.”  She explained that the Mackenzie’s sensors and systems could not determine further details.  “Captain Walton doesn’t enjoy surprises.”  She rotated the signal, “The Oly’s computer is having a hard time too…it’s an older signal type.”

T’Penga cocked an eyebrow as everything had been explained to her. “Old type signals call for old type receivers. Have you attempted to reconfigure the communications array to match the signals frequency and coding. That should clear up the signal. The other factor of course would be the context of the message.” 

The Mack’s Communications Chief frowned and leaned into the image, “You have a point, Lieutenant.  Syntax would play a part in this.”  A few taps of the console and the message cleared a little.  Presley read what had cleared up, “This is the…..calling for…UESPA….assistance is….ship….calling on….for….”  She shook her head, “That’s all for now.”

Fowler sat back in her chair, “What is UESPA?”

“That would be the United Earth Space Probe Agency. It is the precursor to Starfleet, that later became part of Starfleet. In fact, it is still in operation today. They oversee a lot of ship construction and are the civilian branch of Starfleet, if you will. However, ships in operation never identify as UESPA ships. So, if this person is calling a UESPA ship for assistance, then one can safely say they interacted with one. However, for that to have happened it would have to be one hundred and eight years or more ago. The last time a ship was known to have been identified as USEPA was in 2293. Perhaps as I said before, if we reconfigure the communications array to work as one did in 2293, we could have a clearer message.” T’Penga’s interest was piqued as the period of time they referred to was a point that she did not know much about save for what she read. T’Penga was in the Nexus in 2293, and she now wanted to know more about what she could have missed.

Atega tapped at the table’s console, “Adjusting signal sensors….”  She boosted the power as the Oly flew closer and closer to the signal. 

The signal clarified, “This is the Argovan shuttle Magna calling for the UESPA fleet.  Your assistance is desperately needed.  My ship’s systems are failing.  I am calling on you for help.  My father helped you at one time…I ask for the UESPA to respond to my asylum claim.”

Sadie’s mouth dropped open, “What the….”

Presley was already working on the table console, “I recognize that species name.”

T’Penga cocked an eyebrow despite her expansive knowledge of history this species escaped any recollection. “Lieutenant Atega please get all that you can on these people. I do not recall every hearing of them.”

The Communications Chief found it, “The Argovans described as a xenophobic society…and located on the extreme reaches of the Federation.  Not much detail is available.” She dug deeper, “The last time it’s recorded to have interacted with us was in 2290…over a hundred and ten years ago.”

Fowler tapped at the console., the image changing, “She included her physical details…we’ll have to get Captain Dread to decode this.”

Atega glanced at T’Penga, “She asked for asylum…but what kind?  The UESPA asylum process might be different than ours in 2401.”

“That is an excellent question. One that I do not believe any of us can answer. However, UESPA exists today and is a part of Starfleet as whole. So I would imagine that the process would be the same. All of that said we must take all of this information to the Captain immediately. It is for them to decide how we proceed.” T’Penga rose and motioned toward the door. This assignment just got a lot more fascinating.

“Your service jacket is a…interesting read, Lieutenant T’Penga.”  Park sat across from the Vulcan in The Wardroom on deck 1, a sparkling cider in her cup.  Wren had tasked her with sitting down with the unique officer with a unique history.  She was also one of the last officers that had seen Ambrose Harris before he was murdered.  She had also been the last to speak with T’saath, the former Executive Officer of the Mackenzie.  Commander T’saath had resigned from Starfleet and returned to Vulcan.  Nobody had heard from her in months.

“Logic very often is interesting Commander.” T’Penga replied dryly. She stood at attention as she addressed the Mackenzie’s new XO. The Vulcan found a part of her thoughts drifting toward T’saath. She hoped the former officer had taken her advice and returned to Vulcan for meditation and perhaps Kolinahr. Alas, only time would tell there. “I have been able to walk that fine line between Starfleet and my people and what I would want to get from both. A lot of other officers are not so fortunate.”

Seoyeon indicated the seat across from her.  The bridge and senior staff lounge had been her choice.  She wasn’t a fan of holding meetings in conference rooms when a quiet table in the corner would do.  “Well, human and Vulcan logic is often…at odds, to be fair.  ‘Interesting’ is one word to describe it.”  She shifted subjects, “You were brought on with Captain Harris as assistant chief science officer.  We’ve had some staffing changes since then.”  She pushed a PADD across the table, “I’ve been holding down the XO gig and the Chief of Science gig since coming aboard the Mack.  You were in the role for three years on the USS Potemkin.”

“That is correct, and I found the work to be stimulating. However, the fleet requested me to go elsewhere, and that path, as it is said, led me here. Any assistance that you would require, I am available to perform.” T’Penga sat in the chair indicated with a rigid straight back. She rarely allowed anyone to see her relax, especially a superior officer.

Park resisted the urge to raise her eyebrows.  Vulcans were intelligent and had made a study of Humans before First Contact.  The two species had enjoyed a colorful history, from the handshake in Montana to the formation of Starfleet. T’Penga was an older Vulcan.  Park was certain the woman had done her studying of humans and reading of the rosters of the senior staff.  She clarified, “Captain Walton’s asked me to work on crew assignments.  It’s getting hard to balance my responsibilities as XO and Chief of Science.  I’d like to offer you the position of Chief Science Officer on the USS Mackenzie.”

T’Penga knew that this would be coming. However, she did not want to step on anyone’s toes, especially the Executive Officer’s. So she allowed Park to ask in her own time. “I accept and hope to perform adequately. Is there anything that I should know about the staff or the upcoming mission?”

Seoyeon didn’t have a lot of answers.  “We’ve been tasked with re-mapping some sectors on the far end of Federation Space and assisting some colonies.  What we find out there…isn’t certain.  The Dominion attack left some pretty big holes. Be prepared for the worst is my rule.”

T’Penga understood the adage to hope for the best and expect the worst. It was not one that Vulcans typically subscribed to however, in all her years around humans she had come to understand it. “Very well sir with your permission I will get to work.” When the XO gave their dismissal T’Penga thought that this assignment had just gone from curious to fascinating. 

T’Penga manned her station as she pondered exactly how this could have happened. She knew that time changes, and time travel was something relatively normal. T’Penga herself was an example of that. But, this would mean that a ship had been out of touch with Earth for just over a hundred years. That just did not seem logical. She continued to search the database on anything she could find.

Captain Walton had been briefed, and there were plenty more questions than answers.  The Mack and Oly were nearing the location of the distress call.  Park tapped at her console to the right of Wren, who stared at the screen.  They’d contacted Starfleet for any indications of why the Argovan people were suddenly back on sensors after over a hundred years of silence. The Intelligence and Diplomatic departments were as confused as they were about the sudden breaking of silence.  Castillo, at the helm, announced they were dropping from warp speed.  Both ships thundered into the system.

Kondo immediately went to work with a threat assessment reporting, “One signal located, sensors confirm an older model and make shuttle.  The distance is 500 meters.”   He glanced at T’Penga.

“Yes, I see them…” T’Penga began with her eyes on the sensors. “The shuttle’s engines are unstable and may destabilize, causing an anti-matter explosion. The weapons and shields are non-functioning and life support is failing. There is one life sign aboard the shuttle, the life sign is unstable, vital signs fluctuating.” 

Walton didn’t want to wait, “Get them out of there.  Bridge to sickbay – report to transporter room 1 – medical emergency.”  She stood and waited for the report.  She reached her feet in time to watch the shuttle collapse and explode. She snapped her head at T’Penga, “Report.”  She was desperate for good news.

“We have the occupant in the transporter room. Captain. Medical teams are attending to them.” T’Penga reported with the faintest cock of her eyebrow and not even the faintest sign of excitement or any other emotion for that matter.

“Engineering to bridge,” the voice of Chief Okada broke through the moment.  “I’d recommend transporting the debris into cargo bay 2 with containment measures.  A hardy shuttle like that doesn’t just…do that.”

Wren agreed, “Get it done, Chief.” She returned to T’Penga, “Get your team to compile a full report on what happened from when we arrived to when it exploded.  Meet me in sickbay when you’re done organizing the report.  Park, you have the CONN.”

“Yes, Captain,” T’Penga replied and began to compile all of the telemetry from when the Mack and Oly arrived in the system to their current state. She had no answers and would not give any until compiling the report. However, what T’Penga did know is that the Chief Engineer was correct. So whatever caused this damage must have been powerful.

Henry Longfellow felt the reassuring click of his isolation suit helmet slip into place as the HUD powered up.  His charge nurse Hiro checked the suit’s diagnostics and gave him a thumbs up.  He stepped into the chamber and waited for the pressure systems to kick in.  The Argovan patient had been transported into the isolation chamber, and her vitals were erratic at best.  He’d read up on them over the years as a part of his continuing study and an old article from The Olympic Journal had crossed his desk recently.  They were still a mysterious species of humanoids, and the xenophobic nature of their culture hadn’t helped matters in the past.

The doctor moved quickly through the door as it flew open, picking up a tricorder.  Hiro stood on the other side of the glass, working the console, “The data from her transmission is being decoded.  It includes complete medical records for her and detailed information about her species.”  The Charge Nurse continued, “They have…three hearts.  Two on opposing sides of the chest…and one in the abdomen.”  She continued to read the details as the computer translated them.  Henry worked with what he had and knew – stabilizing her condition.

Wren stepped into sickbay and caught Charge Nurse Hiro’s eye, who waved her over, “Captain Walton.”  She gave a rundown on what she knew so far and that Doctor Longfellow was finishing the stabilization process.  “She is currently unconscious.  Doctor Longfellow has attempted to wake her several times but has been unsuccessful.”

Walton accepted the PADD with the report and the details that the computer was pulling from the data packet the woman had transmitted, “She seemed very prepared for us, Lieutenant.”  She scrolled through the information, “They’ve got a very dependent system – cardio, nervous, muscular, respiratory…there’s more cross connectivity than most humanoids.”  She watched as Longfellow continued his work, “That could be part of it…although…if you compare the data she provided…with her data…there are significant differences in her body and the base model that she gave us.”

Hiro examined what the captain said, “You are not wrong, Captain Walton…this is very unusual.”  She turned as the new Chief Science Officer stepped into sickbay.

“Captain, Doctor, Nurse Hiro.” T’Penga said by way of greeting. “Captain, I have that report that you requested. It seems that the Argovan’s shuttle took heavy damage from weapons fire. The heartiness of the shuttle seems to be the only reason she was able to hold out as long as she did. Further evaluation of the debris would be able to possibly tell us who fired upon the shuttle.” T’Penga handed the PADD containing her report to the Captain and then placed her hand behind her back.

Walton skimmed the report, “Kondo did a short and long-range tactical threat check – there’s nothing in the system, sector, or beyond that could do this kind of work.”  She turned to the glass, We haven’t had contact with her species in over a hundred years…and suddenly she’s here…and with a confusing biological scan and data?”  Wren didn’t like how this was all adding up, “Lieutenant T’Penga, work with your counterpart on the Olympic.  I need to know as much as you can find about the shuttle, the debris…and it’s connection to our patient.  Something isn’t adding up.”

Hiro asked, “Captain, should we contact her people?”

Wren had been thinking about that question since the situation had begun.  She reasoned, “She asked for asylum.  Let’s hold on contacting anyone for twenty-four hours.  Do our due diligence on the shuttle and her.”  The Mackenzie CO gave them all a nod, “Dismissed.”

“We’ve scanned, inspected, and verified each piece, Commander.  All clear.”  The cargo bay quartermaster crew handed her a PADD with the scans, and she stepped through the doors.  It had once been an oblong ship with thrusters and a pair of small warp engines.  Okada activated the tractor systems and began to reassemble the ship that had brought their unconscious patient to them.  She wasn’t worried for the woman – Longfellow was a competent and sterling physician.  He was cranky most of the time but stayed focused on saving and healing his patients, seeing through his dark cloud of annoyance.

The metal and materials were similar to Federation construction to a point.  The design of the thrusters and warp engines was primitive by her standards.  As the system began to assemble the pieces, she began to work on understanding how fast it could have gone.  She focused the computer on the engine housings, and she had an uneasy answer within an hour.  The door to Cargo Bay 1 slid open, and the grizzled face of the Quartermaster strolled into the massive room.  She waved him over, “Master Chief Wyatt.”

Henry rolled his eyes, “It’s just Chief or Henry, Okada.  I’m too old for titles and ranks.” He stared at the ship as it slowly became solid, “That’s an Argovan design, for sure.  What are they rated for warp…five?”

Katusumi scoffed, “I forget how old you are, sir.”  With a cheeky grin, she handed the PADD over, “Warp 4.5, so you were close.”  It was his turn to scoff as she walked up to the temporary shield that surrounded the ship, “But she was pushing this thing more demanding than that.  Computer estimates she found a way to push it to warp six…or even seven.”  A shake of Wyatt’s head was her answer, and she replied, “Argovan ships aren’t built for that kind of speed.  Background on them has them as very insular and protective – they don’t get outside of their system at all.  Don’t see a need to consult with…lower functioning humanoids.”

Wyatt mused, “She managed it somehow.”  He tapped at the PADD, frowning, “You see the metallic reports?”

Okada hadn’t, but she saw it as the ship assembled: “She packed on extra bits of the hull…is that a whole layer of ablative armor?”

Henry joined her, returning the PADD, “That’s not all.  There’s evidence of various protective measures she wove into the hull itself…not to mention the computer and power grid.  To borrow an old Earth phrase…she supercharged the hell out of this thing, Commander.”  He pointed at the schematics on the device, “She had redundant systems for just about everything.  This Argovan knew how to engineer.”

The Chief Engineer of the Mackenzie was silent for a moment.  She pondered the burn mark patterns becoming evidence as the assembly reached the halfway point, “I agree she’s brilliant…but that still doesn’t answer the question as to why she ended up out here.”  She pointed at the patterns, “Those aren’t light weapons that made those marks.  Notice they’re not just on this side…they’re all over.”  She noticed a scan result.  Her mouth dropped open, “Chief…that’s not just weapons fire…that’s burning from transitioning roughly through the atmosphere.  She didn’t transition like most ships do these days – nice and easy.  This wasn’t just her taking a joy ride…I think she was running.  That weapons fire wasn’t exact – it was scattershot.  I’d bet…well, something valuable that if Kondo reported on this, he’d make the same conclusion…this Argovan woman was running and running fast.”

Wyatt thought over her theory and agreed, “If that’s true…then what was she running from?  And what happens when it finds us?”

Okada grimaced, “There’s a lot of things out here, known and unknown, that would send an Argovan running like mad.  You want the shortlist or the long list?”  She sighed and returned to watch the ship assembly, “Whatever it is, I’d rather it just stayed the hell away from us.”

Fowler sat at a console in Mackenzie’s sickbay, her eyes staring at the reports Longfellow had gathered.  She was waiting for the Mack’s Chief Science Officer.  She wasn’t sure what she was looking at or reading at the moment – the report had a lot of conversation about DNA, alternations to the patient’s DNA, and cellular structure that were beyond unusual – they were unheard of in anything Sadie had studied.  What had happened to the Argovan woman?

T’Penga stepped into the Sick Bay of the USS Olympic. She had the mission of getting some answers on her mind. There seemed to be a lot more questions as of late. “Lieutenant Fowler, it is good to see you. Is there any progress on our great mystery?” T’Penga, of course, referenced the Argovan who had arrived. Answers toward the asylum request still remained and could remain for some time. What could be answered in the immediate was who this person was and what they were doing seeking asylum, to begin with.

Sadie glanced up as the older Vulcan sat down at the console beside her, “The mystery is…well, it’s a mystery.”  She accepted the eyebrow raise from her fellow Chief Science officer and explained, “I’ve been comparing the data she had waiting for us to her actual scans.  The computer didn’t catch it on the first go around, but it started to alarm as it digested the data.”  The original images and data appeared on the screen, showing the extensive biological systems known as Argovan.  “The computer’s programmed not only to scan and examine the data but also extrapolate it…and run scenarios on how it functions, life spans, all that kind of…stuff.”  She shrugged at using the word ‘stuff’ and pushed forward, “The computer took the data she had ready for us…and went with it.”  With another tap of the console and the parts of the model of the Argovan body started to flash yellow…and then red…and then the entire body model went full yellow…and then red as the console alarmed in rapid succession.

“Based on what I see here this person should not live beyond thirty years. Even then the last twenty years of her life would be extreme poor health. I would say simply put this is not an Argovan and could be a clone.” T’Penga was not entirely sure what she looked at, at least not yet. However, now that there was more information she would seek to solve the mystery.

Fowler shook her head, “You’re right on the latinum, Lieutenant.”  She switched the screen to the ongoing scan and exam of the Argovan woman.  “That is not an Argovan body.”

“Then what are we looking at? A clone? An augment? Are there any clues that can lead us in one direction or the other.” T’Penga began to run the data through some of her own algorithms in the hopes that it may turn up some answers.

The Olympic’s science chief pointed out the markers slowly appearing as the multiple levels of scans were completed.  “This woman has been genetically modified.” She lamented, “It’ll take time to complete the full scans and get the data interpreted, but what I can see between the data she gave us, what we’re seeing, and what Doc Longfellow is noting in his ongoing reports…this wasn’t a surface level modification or change.  This reads like a complete rewrite of her genetic and biologic code.  You see here, and here?”

T’Penga nodded in agreement. “Quite so, quite so. This was done with meticulous precision. Every marker, every organ everything is precisely correct. Someone took care and time to get this done. No one was ever meant to notice a difference. At least not until it was too late. The big questions now are who did this and why. The Argovans have not attempted to make contact with the Federation in decades and now this. It may be possible that someone is attempting to force the meeting.”

Sadie sighed, “I don’t know who did this or why…but this stuff is heavily outlawed in the Federation and in most other governments.”

“Like I said, no one was ever supposed to discover this. I am going to recommend to the Captain that we wake her up. The only one who can give us any answers now is her.” T’Penga glanced at the person on the biobed and raised an eyebrow. She also wondered what it would take for someone to allow this sort of procedure to happen to them.

“Let’s check with Longfellow.” Fowler tapped at the console, “Doc, what are the chances we can wake her up?” She turned towards the containment room glass, and Longfellow looked up as the channel opened with her voice.

He shook his head, his voice filtering through her console, “We wake her up; we’re going to do more damage than she’s already had done…or done to herself.  You’re looking at the same scans I am…whatever she did to put herself in this state…it needs to finish.”  He tapped at his console, and the screen in front of the two science chiefs changed, “I’ve been doing my scans and bloodwork – her condition isn’t due to her injuries as bad as they were.  I went back and checked again – she put herself in a coma.”  He changed the screen again, “But this isn’t like most comas I see.  This one is curious in that it’s slowly restoring brain activity and body autonomy.”

T’Penga nodded sagely. “Indeed Doctor I have encounter a number of races that had the ability to heal themselves through thought or meditation.” She said by way of response to the Doc’s voice. She then turned to Fowler. “If the Doctor is correct then we wait. Simply put there is nothing more we can do or learn until she is able to be awoken.”

It was Sadie’s turn to shake her head, “This mystery just keeps getting more mysterious.  Who puts themselves in a coma?”

“Someone who needs to heal. The brain is a very interesting organ, with very unique properties. Humans have even been able at times to put themselves in a self induced coma to restore function to other parts of the body.” T’Penga’s voice had that usual cadence that Vulcans got when they taught a subject. This was something she recognized in herself, and so she made sure to rein herself in.

Sadie felt a quiet thrill as the two science officers dug into a fascinating topic.  She had a department to work with, but a wise and older Vulcan science officer offered unique insight, which she valued.  She moved to speak, but the voice of the Mackenzie’s captain interrupted them over the internal communications, “Walton to Sickbay – we’ve received word from the Argovan government – they’re requesting the return of their citizen immediately.  They’ve dispatched a ship – they’ll arrive in two days.”

Fowler wasn’t sure what to say but asked, “Did they provide any information about why she left?”

“We asked.  Several times.  Started diplomatically.  Then we tried to ask it plainly.  Then…well, I may have used some more…forceful words.  They were unwilling to answer our questions no matter how I asked.  They only said, ‘She is ours, and you will return her to us.’  We’ve contacted Diplomatic Services, but we’re on a waiting list with Frontier Day events.  I’m reading your reports in progress along with Doc’s investigation details.  We have her written and generic request for asylum, so that’ll give us some cover…but we need to hear it from her.  You have 48 hours before things get…interesting.  Walton out.”

The two science officers stared at the console and then at each other.  When Wren Walton used ‘interesting’ to describe how things could get, she was telling them they needed answers soon.

Very soon.

Fowler sat at a console in sickbay, a cup of coffee in one hand and a PADD in the other.  She’d been up since 0600 and had been the first thing Chief Medical Officer Longfellow had seen when he’d walked in at 0700.  The overnight medical team had kept a close eye on their Argovan patient.  The recovery from the self-imposed coma continued apace.  “Chief Fowler, I’m hoping you slept.”  Henry poured his cup of coffee and sat beside her, PADD in hand.

She demurred on the details of her rest but replied, “I’ve learned my lessons on staying up late working through the starlight, Doc.”  Sadie tapped at her PADD, “Gamma shift seems to think she’s on the mend when it comes to the coma, at least.”

“It looks that way.  The Argovan contingent arrives tomorrow.  Any ideas on what we’re going to do?” He’d have told them to turn around and go home, but he was a doctor, not a diplomat.

Sadie shrugged, “There’s plenty of law, process, and procedure to follow.  Lieutenant T’Penga might have some ideas.”

He looked upon from his work, “You seem to get along with her pretty well.”

Another shrug, “Science isn’t a place for egos or pride…it’s a place to discover, investigate, test, and prove.  Vulcans are adept at this kind of thing.  Having someone to chew on the data with has been nice.”

T’Penga walked into Sick Bay with a steaming cup of Vulcan tea. “Morning, Lieutenant, Doctor.” She said after she had taken a sip of the fragrant beverage. “Anything new on our political patient?” She asked as she wondered if the Captain would be inclined to grant asylum to the Argovan. She knew that in order for him to do so, he would have to talk to the woman. However, time was running out for that.

Fowler motioned her over as Longfellow stood, “I’ll have an updated report shortly.”  Sadie filled in T’Penga after the doctor had walked away.

“Very good. I believe we should try to wake her up if we can. For if the Captain is to honor the asylum request, she is going to have to know why. This patient is the only person who can answer that question.” T’Penga spoke matter of factly as she looked over at the Argovan.

Sadie nodded, “I don’t think any of us want to force her awake…but when phaser comes to torpedo…we might not have not have a choice.”

The doors to sickbay flew open, and the diplomatic officer of the Mackenzie walked in.  His face told the tale.  He’d been demoted by diplomatic services and hadn’t been having much luck getting any semblance of support recently. Still, the Argovan situation required him to engage.  He carried a PADD and soon stood by them, “There’s a wrinkle.”  Fowler gestured for him to continue, so he did.  “Even if she wakes up and can request asylum, her people could challenge the request.”

“If they would it would lead to trial. The Argovans like the Federation do honor the laws of others. So, that said, they would be forced to honor our Captain’s temporary granting of asylum. Should the Captain choose to. This would then lead to a longer trial of upholding the Captain’s decision. Either way we would have some time to decipher what to do.” T’penga recited what she knew of intergalactic law. If Vulcans could be surprised she would have been based on the diplomatic officer’s lack of knowledge.

Fowler shook her head in disbelief, “I’m glad I never followed the JAG path.  Science is more my speed.”

Charlie understood, “It’ll largely depend on what she says when she wakes up.  If it qualifies, challenges can be negated…but it takes a lot.”  He rocked on his heels, “I think they’re going to make it hard for us.  Their history with outsiders is terrible, and they’ve intentionally stayed away from The Federation.”

“They stayed away from the Federation because of some of the similarities. We simply have to throw those similarities back in their face. Like the traditions of upholding the laws of foreign powers. Argovans pride themselves on being by the book. Logic says we hold them to that.” T’Penga cocked an eyebrow. She was as interested in how this played out as everyone else.

The diplomatic officer gave a nod and moved to speak but was interrupted by a shout from Longfellow, “She’s waking up!”  The group stood and quickly moved to the heavy glass separation.  Fowler tapped the communication panel to listen in as Longfellow went to work, bringing her out of the self-imposed coma.  The nurse had gone through the decon process and stood opposite Longfellow as the Argovan woman’s readings stabilized until Longfellow could be heard asking, “You are onboard the Federation starship Mackenzie…I’m Doctor Longfellow.  You’re safe…no one here will hurt you…what can you tell us about your situation?”

They could hear her breathing evening out as she accepted water to help her voice speak.  She answered, “My name is Muerta Haga, and I request asylum and protection.  I was imprisoned against my will on my home planet and have escaped with my life.”  She stared at Longfellow, “I do not want to return home.  If I do, I will die.”

Fowler turned to T’Penga, “Well…I think that qualifies.”

Wren groaned.  They were sitting in the briefing room around the elongated table.  Asato had just finished her report noting that Doctor Longfellow was still conducting the interview.  The captain tapped at her chrono, “They’re due tomorrow by 1000 hours.  She used the words ‘die’ and ‘prisoner’ in her verbal asylum application, so we will have to investigate the veracity of those claims…which is good news because her people are coming to ask for her back.”

Charlie gave a nod to T’Penga, “Lieutenant T’Penga and I have spent some time working through the historical and contemporary records we have on the Argovans.  There’s a trend of them saying ‘no’ to anything we’ve asked of them in the past.”

“That is true and the fact that they are seeking to even ask for this person back is a step in a different direction from what the Argovans usually do.” T’Penga began she then pulled up an image of the last known Argovan ship. “It has been some time since Starfleet has had any dealings with the Argovans. As such, we are not exactly sure the kind of technology that they may have. It is possible that their weapons and shielding are beyond ours. Unfortunately this is not something we will know until they arrive.”

Park sighed, annoyed, “So we won’t know if they can bloody our noses or take our heads until they get real close?”

“In a way… yes. We should be ready for anything. The need for analysis is why I believe we must appeal to the Argovan sense of propriety. We must tell them that an asylum request has been made, and now procedures must be followed. They should allow for the procedure, of course, believing that they will get the prisoner in the end. This will allow us to analyze their capabilities and formulate a plan.” T’Penga laid out what amounted to a delaying tactic. 

Hargraves picked up from there, “I’m going to try the diplomatic posture first.  Our team is putting the final touches on some promising approaches.”  Starfleet Diplomatic had not nominated a successor, leaving him to work with his team as more of a committee than a functional department.  It had led to some awkward and challenging situations.  The annoyance at the near silence from headquarters had been annoying at first, but it was becoming worrying.  What had gone wrong that he couldn’t get a response from anyone?

Walton returned the group’s attention to the situation, “Lieutenant T’Penga – you’ve got full permission to task long-range sensors to focus on our impending arrivals.  Looking at Doc’s preliminary report…do you think she’s telling the truth about her situation?”

Park indicated the report on her PADD, “I’ve seen my share of liars and cheaters.  We,” she nodded to Charlie, “did some work on her documentation and what testimony we had before stepping into this meeting.  There are plenty of questions…but none about what she’s gone through or why she’s here.  Chief Okada’s reconstruction of the shuttle is nearly complete, and she agrees – it’s hard to fake the kind of damage and action that little ship has seen. This woman’s had the shit kicked out of her, and they’re not done with her.  She’s afraid.  You can fake being scared and cry on command…but the counselor’s report on her observation and interview suggests a real fear is past the boiling point deep down inside her.”

Walton considered the reports.  “I wish I could just take off and get her safely back to Starbase 72 or even Bravo.  Pretend we didn’t hear from the Argovans.”  She caught her diplomatic officer stifle a chuckle and continued, “But…I like my job, and I’m sure you all enjoy having a ship to call home.  So we’ll wait.  Get out sensors and get a full report from Doc and our patient.  I need to know what will happen to her if we have to turn her over to them.  I’m going to find every loophole in the galaxy if it means we save her from getting the shit kicked out of her.”

Park mused, “And if we can’t?”  The rest of them had moved to stand but held at the question.  The XO could ask the question without worrying about Walton’s response.  The captain chewed on her bottom lip as she thought through the implications of a no-win scenario, “We’re bound by Federation Law, Process, and Procedure…along with Starfleet’s General Orders.  That’s a lot of paperwork stacked. Men and women better than us have saved planets and galaxies with less.  We’ll exhaust every option.  Life is still life.  Dismissed.”

The room was soon empty save for the CO and the XO.  Walton grumbled, “You had to ask?”

Park gave her an honest look, “Wren…they needed someone to ask it. They need to know we’ll do everything we can for her.  They needed to hear it from you.”

Wren gave her an impressed look, “Sounds like something I used to say to you, Park.”

The XO smiled, “I do listen on occasion.”

Walton cackled, “Emphasis on occasion.”  They both laughed.

“We were lucky.”  Wren sat at the desk in her ready room, Park holding down a seat on the couch.

“Nobody was lucky today, Wren.”  Seoyeon had been watching the events of the day with her captain.  The rest of the crew had been aware of the circumstances an hour ago.  The failed Borg and Changeling invasion of the Federation and Starfleet had come up against the USS Enterprise D command crew and found out why you never doubted the quality of a trained Starfleet crew.  From the glow of victory had come the darkness of loss.  Park wiped at her eyes.  The latest lists of the dead were posted.  She’d known some of them.  Some were still missing.  Others had been on ships destroyed.  The lists would grow over the hours and days ahead.

Wren felt the heavy pang of loss as well. “Whatever word you wanna use, Park.  Our crew didn’t turn against us and try to kill us.”  Wren drank from a bottle of Syntheholic whisky.  Her face was also stained with tears, and the lists continued to remind her of how short life could seem.  “I don’t want to imagine what they went through.  There’s…” she sighed, “…this isn’t easy.”

Seoyeon wished for better words for both of them, but they weren’t coming.  “This isn’t going to make this Argovan situation any easier.”

Wren grimaced through the tears, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘shit storm,’ Park.  They’re not going to care about our situation.  I’ve read enough about them to know they care for themselves and nobody else.  They’ll only accept so much stalling before their patience runs out.”  She sat roughly back in her chair, “I can’t imagine this is easy for any of us stuck out here in the Final Frontier.  Plenty of Fourth Fleet ships were on duty or assignment when this crap sandwich got served.   There’s alone…and then there’s alone after your entire junior crew tried to kill you.”  They sat in silence as the reality of their situation settled in.  

Park admitted, “OK.  We were lucky.”

Wren gave her a quiet smile of thanks, “That’s the spirit.”

Longfellow sat beside the bio bed that held the Argovan woman, Muerta Haga.  They’d cleared her out of quarantine a few hours ago.  Her intake interview was finished, and her labs had come back.  He was now going to start asking the hard questions that would help determine if asylum was granted.  The science chief, T’Penga, had joined, PADD in hand.  “Ms. Haga…”

She shook her head, smiling quietly, “Murt is acceptable, Doctor.”

He returned the smile, “Murt.  You said they would kill you if you returned.  What does that…exactly mean?”

The woman sighed, “We have managed to live quite a long time in our little corner of the galaxy, Doctor.  Our legends speak of it in the thousands of years, but some of our scientists think it more.  Our genetics began to degrade within the last two hundred years.”

T’Penga cocked an eyebrow at the mention of the years they had been. It was something that the Starfleet records did not have an account for. The scientist saw an opening and jumped at it. “Degradation? What kind of degradation and what were the first signs?”

Haga was momentarily lost in a memory before she replied, “The babies.  Our infant mortality rates began to climb.  At first, we thought it an environmental contaminate.  It was not.  Diseases thought eradicated in our early history began to return.  We put our best people to seek the cause.  It was discovered that our DNA strands and genetic material were…for lack of a better word – dying.  A laboratory was quickly built.  We began to conduct tests with haste.  We thought we found a way to halt whatever it was.”

“According to what we learned from the data on your shuttle. It seems that some Argovans have multiple hearts, and sets of lungs among other things. This is something we have seen in some species, such as Klingons. However, it would be new to Argovans.” T’Penga knew now what the data meant; she wanted to hear it from the horse’s mouth, as her human friends would put it.

The woman nodded, sadness filling her face.  “We tried to perfect ourselves.  Keep our lives longer.  Extend us so we could find a solution.”  She shook her head, “We were mistaken in our efforts.  We couldn’t remake everyone.”  She held out her arms, “But they could remake one…I am that one.”

Longfellow had been following along until that moment.  He stared at Muerta and then back at his PADD.  “You are…the solution.”

“I am the last of our kind who can bear children.  I am to be the birth mother to a new generation of Argovans – a fresh start.  There were many like me…hundreds.  I am the only survivor from those tests, those…creations.  I am perfection.”  

“That would mean that you alone are the salvation of your people. It would be illogical for them to want to see you dead if you are to bring about a new era in society.” T’Penga knew that this information would not bode well for her asylum request. It would be hard for the Captain to grant it and condemn an entire race of people.

Haga gestured to her body, “I am to be placed in a secure building…and be implanted to give birth…over and over…until a new generation of Argovan children are born.  I will never see the light of day again…I will be restrained and kept prisoner so my people’s legacy and line may continue.”

Longfellow frowned, “What about…?”

She stopped him, “They have ensured that the children will not cause issues when they marry and carry on the Argovan people, if that is what you are asking.  I am perfect.  My body will give them what they need.”

“Forgive me if I offend Murt. But is not being the savior of your people worth everything? Surely, the good of the many outweighs the good of the few or the one. By staying here, you condemn your entire race to extinction.” T’Penga understood the need for self-preservation; however, there was no logic in it. At least here, there was no logic in sending an entire race to extermination was not worth it, and T’Penga planned to tell the Captain exactly that.

Muerta peered at the woman’s ears, “Vulcans.  Your removal and control of emotions robs you of the power of an identity apart from your people.  It is my life that is in the balance.  I will never see daylight.  I will never see freedom.  I have escaped far too many times to leave it to chance.”  She acknowledged, “The Argovan people will cease to exist without me.  Yet…the choices made in our history have led to this moment.  Our refusal to accept outsiders…to doggedly not explore beyond our small borders…each decision drew the circle of consequences closer and closer to strangling us.  Our scientists…our doctors…engaged in activities designed to cleanse our people of the impurities, the diseased…the unwanted, the unwelcome.”  Her face fell into sadness, “Our history has long been proud of this cleansing.  Our hubris was our undoing.  It is what will end us all.”

Longfellow stared at her as she spoke.  He glanced at T’Penga, “The needs of the many and the one is an old argument.  It’s not invalid in most cases, mind you…but in this scenario, I’m not sure it applies in the intended meaning.”  He asked the Argovan woman, “What would you do if you were given the freedom from your people?”

The dark shadow that had held on her face brightened as her smile broadened as her mind imagined the future, “I would travel to Earth…to see the home of the Federation.  To breathe the air of Humans.  To see all that they have attained.  To…live with them.”  She reddened, “And to find someone…to spend my life with.”

Henry turned to T’Penga, “The key word there is ‘life,’ Lieutenant.  Whose life is it, who is allowed to decide, and who is allowed to live that life.”  The group turned as Charlie Hargraves stepped through the doors to Sickbay, PADD in hand. 

“They’ll be here within two hours.  The captain has requested a report in her ready room – Doc and Chief T’Penga.”

Longfellow scowled, “Well, this should be fun.”  He handed over the responsibility of his patient to his charge nurse, turning to T’Penga, “Let’s get this over with, Lieutenant.” 

Wren glanced up as Doc Longfellow stalked into her Ready Room and settled into the couch against the wall, staring at the door as it opened once more to reveal her Chief of Science, T’Penga.  Park Seoyeon sat on the far end of the couch, sipping at her tea, amused.  She looked to the Chief Medical Officer to the Vuican and back again, “Who peed in your replicator?”

Walton let a small smile cross her lips before she gestured to the chair for T’Penga to sit in, “I seem to have stumbled into something out of an old Earth sitcom.  Who’s mad at who?”

Longfellow’s scowl remained, “It’s the old ‘needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one.”  He handed the PADD to Park and gave an updated report on what they had learned from Muerta.  To his credit, his clinical explanation was bereft of bias and judgment.  He finished with, “And that’s where the disagreement begins, Captain.”

T’Penga took the seat offered and looked at the Captain. “Captain the doctor is correct. This is a case of the logical axiom the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. It seems that Muerta Haga is the last of her people capable of bearing children. As such if we grant her asylum we will condemn the entire race of Argovans to extinction something we cannot do. However, to deny the asylum would be condemning Muerta to a life that is not really a life at all. I would like to add that the Prime Directive applies here as we cannot interfere in how the Argovans run their society. I do not envy you, Captain or the decision you have to make. However, if it helps, I can offer you a third solution. If Muerta would agree and with Dr Longfellow’s help I believe we can sequence Muerta’s genome. We can extract the parts of her DNA that allow for the reproduction and give it to the Argovans. This way Muerta gets her freedom, and the Argovans get what they need to survive. According to my calculations, not only is that the only viable option where no one dies, but it has a 63.2% success rate.” She handed a PADD which contained her research to the Captain as well as one to the Doctor.

Seoyeon spoke from her side of the couch, “It’s all well and good, Lieutenant…but the Argovans will never accept our suggestion, help, or copying of the bits and pieces of her that’ll help them.  I took some time with the reams of data she provided when we found her – there are no other viable subjects.  There is her…or nothing.  According to her data, the remaining Argovan people are not suitable for any of this.”  She put her hands up, “The xenophobia and isolation is what got them here.

Longfellow intoned, “Yes, the Prime Directive can be applied here.”  He had been working on his PADD and read from it, “…no Starfleet crew person will engage with said society or species without first gathering extensive information on the specific traditions, laws, and culture of that species civilization. Then Starfleet crew will obey the following. If engaged with diplomatic relations with said culture, will stay within the confines of said culture’s restrictions. No interference with the social development of said planet.”  He continued, “However…that’s section 2, which applies to aliens we’ve already encountered.  There are cases where asylum has been used against the Prime Directive.”

Park sighed, “The Argovans are rule followers.  They’ll no doubt have researched us, even from a distance.  We can try and stand on asylum…and it might work.  Lieutenant T’Penga is right – we grant it…the Argovan people cease to exist in five years.” She tapped at her PADD, “We’re talking over 500,000 people.”  She raised her hands again in defense, “There’s not an easy answer here.  Whatever we do we doom someone or a lot of someones to a death no matter which why you phaser slice it.”

Walton looked to the gathered officers, “We’re an hour away from their arrival, and we’ve come to the conclusion that somebody has to die.”  She shook her head as confused looks spread across the room, “I’m not mad at you…I’m mad at this situation.  It’s a no-win scenario.  They are my least favorite scenario.”  She glanced to Longfellow, “Did she say what she would do if we sent her back?”

Henry grimaced, “I didn’t ask.  Given her propensity for escape…she’ll probably try again…one way or another.” Wren frowned, and it was his turn to sigh, “I don’t like to talk about my patients in the light of what they might do to end their lives and escape their situation, Captain.  My priority is to keep them alive, safe, and healing.  I didn’t ask because I knew the answer she would give…and I didn’t want those words on my soul.  Sir.”  He held her gaze for a moment longer, “I won’t ask her, Captain.”

Walton understood, “We all have our boundaries and lines, Doc.  We’ll try the diplomatic options with Charlie’s team and the suggestions from science and see what we get in response.  Lieutenant T’Penga will work with Charlie to prepare for the possibility of us turning her over.  Longfellow – keep observing her and helping her recover.  If she asks…tell her we’re no closer to a decision and that we’re….”

He finished it for her, “…working on it.  I’d like to request security posted outside and inside sickbay, Captain.  The Argovan playbook has never been particularly…predictable when pushed.”  She gave a nod and dismissed the group.

They had one hour.