Ensign Vesela Pace - Picking Up The Pieces
C Souers
((Corridor, Deck 7, USS Gorkon))
Being a Starfleet scientist had its perks. Boldly going, first contacts, scientific firsts that always are just around the corner…
It also had its downsides of course, such as being thrust into an alternate universe where the Borg were literally everywhere, and also being assigned to the autopsy team.
She didn’t mind studying drones or her teammates at all, the only thing that made her innards squirm like live worms was the word autopsy.
Vesela hadn’t dealt with death like this before. She’d known loss, yes, but with the Borg it seemed to be millions of micro-deaths. First assimilation, then becoming part of a hive mind, then repeated cybernetic modifications, then one day an EMP rips through your fragile-yet-so-adaptable carapace and… the final death. Were these people at peace finally? She hoped so.
She gripped her crutches tighter as she came to the door that read “Morgue.” She had read the reports. She knew exactly how many bodies were waiting to greet her beyond this door that looked like every other door on the ship, except for the word “Morgue.” She knew how many were crew and civilians, how many had been crew before nanites entered their bloodstream, and how many had been drones for… well, for as long as the Gorkon had been here at least.
She closed her eyes, and hummed quietly. Just the first few notes of her village’s sholau’rahn. A melody to help guide souls to their final resting place. She took a shaky breath and walked into the morgue.
((OOC: More made up Elaysian lore!))
((Morgue, Deck 7, USS Gorkon))
She couldn’t stop her breath hitching in her throat. They all looked the same now, regardless of Borg cybernetics, Starfleet uniform, or anything else. Motionless, no breath in their lungs. How does anyone move forward from this?
Some crew and civilians were here, either because they knew someone or they were terrified by the prospect that in this universe they could very well be a drone. Someone was staring at nothing in the corner, while an officer walked respectfully but quickly through the drone section like a bloodhound trying desperately to impress a hunter by finding something of use.
Vesela nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her shoulder. She looked over and saw another scientist. A Centauran, her name was… Odul? Odul Bayram? She was relatively new to the crew as well from what Vesela remembered.
Bayram: We… we shouldn’t be here. We won’t win this.
Vesela wanted to say something encouraging, but how could she encourage her when they were in a morgue surrounded by so many people who didn’t make it out of this universe alive?
The two scientists stared at each other for two and a half seconds – an eternity – before Odul’s hand fell from Vesela’s shoulder and she walked out of the morgue with the weight of this horrible Borg universe on her shoulders.
Vesela stared at the spot where Odul had been, then rearranged her grip on her crutches and started to head towards the autopsy lab. She might not know how to move forward from this, but she had a job to do. At least her mind would have something to focus on that wasn’t existential dread.
((Autopsy Lab – Morgue, Deck 7, USS Gorkon))
As the doors slid closed behind her, she looked away from the woman – what was left of her – on the table as quickly as she could. Then she remembered she was a Starfleet officer whose current duty was to assist with autopsies. She looked back, hoping Lieutenant Taelon didn’t notice her squeamishness.
Taelon: Oh – hello.
His voice was slightly muffled by the mask and PPE he was wearing. At least they had some armor to wear, even if it was just standard Starfleet PPE gear.
Pace: Hello, sir. Ensign Pace reporting for duty.
Farvor / Solkon / Any: Response
He gestured to the wall, where cabinets stocked nicely with whatever was needed for autopsies stood.
Taelon: I’m almost – well, mostly done with her. Have you, um, done this before…?
Pace: I… have not, sir.
Farvor / Solkon / Any: Response
Taelon took a breath in and looked down at the woman. Vesela noticed now that she had no eyes. Well, they had been taken from her most likely. Her stomach sank faster than it ever had before.
Taelon: Um, well, gear up. The goal is to excise their modifications and determine what we can about, um, who they were.
Pace: Aye, sir.
Farvor / Solkon / Any: Response
Vesela moved to the cabinet and balanced her crutches against one of the cabinet doors, letting her freshly fixed exoskeleton bear the brunt of her weight as she clambered ungracefully into the PPE.
Pace: So, um, are we running DNA, fingerprints, and faces through our databases?
Taelon / Farvor / Solkon / Any: Response
She nearly lost her balance, but caught herself before she took out the cabinet. She put her crutches back on and tried to take deep breaths as she made her way over to the table somewhat shakily.
Pace: Have you, um, done this before, sir?
Taelon / Farvor / Solkon / Any: Response
Pace: She looks… so broken.
Taelon / Farvor / Solkon / Any: Response
—
Ensign Vesela Pace
Science Officer
USS Gorkon (NCC-82293)
G240106VP4