((OOC: Please assume that all dialogue in this sim is in Bynar! 😉))
((Capital City, Bynaus, Beta Magellan System))
The third bedroom in their home had been empty for over five years. It still felt strange to the four remaining Bynar parents to know that their children were lightyears away instead of safe on their home planet, but 101 and 000 would always have each other. So far, the Federation seemed to have treated them well.
The apartment was quiet, and had been for several days. With 1000 and 1001 off-world for contracted work, installing complex computing systems on a Starfleet vessel, the living space was down to a mere third of its capacity.
0101 and 1111 stepped through the threshold of the door to their office. It was a meticulously neat room with a white desk against one wall, long enough to accommodate two chairs. The large personal computer there came to life in an instant as the Bynar pair sat down, sweeping their long ponytails forward over their shoulders so as not to sit on them.
101 and 000 had explained to 0101 and 1111 the predicament that their closest companion had found herself in. Chon nanites building a chip in someone’s brain was lightyears away from what any reasonable person would have expected to hear, but it was the situation they were faced with nonetheless.
The pair looked over a set of large, complex images on the screen in front of them. Most were medical images of a Trill brain, surrounded by pages of medical data, various neurosurgical articles, and an admittedly lacking collection of information on Chon technology. Esa Kiax had become a medical anomaly overnight.
0101: ::tracing a line on an image of a brain:: How wide is this?
They zoomed in and measured it together. The chip was about the size of a grain of rice.
1111: We should bring a few specialty tools.
With most Bynar neurosurgery being performed on infants, the tools that they had developed were exceptionally small and suited for high-precision work. Operating using standard Starfleet equipment would be doable, but it would feel a little clunky— like trying to parallel park a schoolbus. Clunky was not what anybody involved wanted or needed.
With their memories refreshed, the Bynars faced each other and exchanged a knowing look. Now they just needed to get in touch.
1111: Computer, please send a message to 101 and 000 aboard the USS Astraeus.
0101: Inquire as to the date of their arrival at Shemsh for shore leave.
The computer blinked and sent the inquiry along— 101 and 000 were most likely occupied and would respond when they had a moment in their quarters.
For now, all 0101 and 1111 could do was wait.