Part of Montana Station: A Fistful of Latinum and Bravo Fleet: The Devil to Pay

FOL 013 – The Nightmare

Rimward Research Base
12.07.2401
2 likes 72 views

The stairs dropped down into an expansive space. To their right was a darkened laboratory, lit by the occasional flash of flickering lights. They could not see what lay in the space, only the nightmarish hints of bodies of some kind – biological or mechanical. To the left was a more spartan space, with small steps leading up to a second level. You would need to start up the steps to see what was up there, and both were staring at the laboratory space.

“Weapons hot.” Captain Samara Ki’s voice was even with traces of a concerned tightness. “Slow and steady. Don’t hesitate to kill, Hasara.”

The Cardassian’s lips remained locked in a sour position, his eyes searching ahead as they inched closer and closer. The lights continued to illuminate with flashes. Suddenly, he stopped, “Borg.” The sounds had reached his ears. The mechanical whirring was unmistakable. The ambient sound of a Borg drone had never been known to put anyone to sleep, at least willingly. That sound had been the opening overture to terrible nightmares for nearly every species in the known universe. He felt his pulse quicken. His hands tightened their grip on his pistols at his side.

Ki slid over to the wall and tapped the lighting control. She didn’t share in Hasara’s audible gasp when the horror show was revealed. At each station, the body of a Borg drone was mounted in various states of decay, repair, or experimentation. They all twitched in the braces as if trying to return to the collective. Various body parts were arrayed on the benches. Heads, arms, legs, feet, hands…macabre wasn’t quite the word Samara would have chosen.

“You’re too late.” The monotone voice startled both of them, and they spun. A lone body was interred in a full regeneration chamber. He stood tall, and his face was a sickening mix of humanity and Borg. “She’s taken the best of us…and locked herself in there.” His eyes were bright blue, and his mouth moved independently of the rest of him.

Hasara approached. The body had been strapped into the chamber by a wretched metal contraption. Whoever he was, there was no escape. “What happened?” he asked.

“It turned us quickly…some more than others. They are all dead…she pulled me out to experiment and to understand how quickly it moved. More than it had been reported or originally theorized.” He struggled to speak, clearing his throat, “She perfected off of all of us. My name was Nathanial…and I was a scientist here. I can feel the other side of me…the Collective side of me trying to finish the job of assimilation. It’s…as if my skin won’t stop crawling…and their voice…is just far enough I can’t quite make out what they’re saying.” He clenched his fists tightly, “I’m not going to escape this. I’m going to die here; I know it. I’ve known it since she went in and left me behind. I need to warn you – she’s grown strong with the parts of the rest of them. She’s been…perfecting herself. She knows the Syndicate is after her…and she wouldn’t go willingly.” His breath came at a fight now, and his face began to lose what color it had. “Someone else is coming…you need to hide. There are a lot of them. You need…to hide.”

Ki didn’t hesitate. She took off running down a corridor, and Hasara followed her. Ten minutes later, a great group of Cardassians and Syndicate operators came thundering down the stairs, all with weapons raised. As the phalanx spread around the room, a lone figure descended the stairs. She was tall and broad-shouldered but walked with a smoothness that sent shivers ahead of her. A Cardassian, she walked with a staff, ornate and golden. It was thick and doubled as a melee and an energy weapon when the time called for either. She glanced at the laboratory and held her eyes on the restrained drone. “Hello, Nathaniel.”

He spat back, his breath throaty as sweat poured down his brow, “You can go to hell, Osho Gac.”

She cackled and strolled to him, “You first, little man.” She unsheathed her sword from her staff and stabbed him in the center of his chest, smiling at his surprised gasp. Her smile remained as his lips gurgled. His eyes became vacant. Gac pulled the sword, chuckling as his body shuddered, “Always hated that man. Even the Borg didn’t want him.” She walked to the base of the stairs, “Search the rest of the facility. Take anything useful. Set the charges. Once I have our girl and the chamber…this place will never have existed.”

Comments

  • I think your immersion is strong here for visual and auditory details. The way you described the lab, with the flickering lights and the mix of bodies and machines, made it super creepy and easy to picture. Lines like “nightmarish hints” and the mention of dismembered body parts on the benches really set the scene. The sounds, like the “mechanical whirring” of the Borg drone, added a lot to the mood, too.

    December 2, 2024
  • I really dig this story - it conjures the kind of imagery and vibe of a classic horror - noir of the 1950's Universal Pictures era (not the woeful attempt a the "Dark Universe"). You have managed to establish such an intense pallet of sensation that the action explodes with the same intense vivacity. It's not an overlong post - but what is artfully condensed here really is a masterclass of tautly written action - perfectly balanced with a deft (but well judged) economy of exposition. This is one of the most engaging sequences that I have enjoyed throughout the entire campaign. I totally forgot to even touch my popcorn!! Thank you JF!

    December 4, 2024