Lost and Found

Posted on Mon Oct 25th, 2021 @ 7:06am by Lieutenant Commander Rin

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Planet Tavara, Beta Quadrant
Timeline: Year 2388 (9 years ago)
1010 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

The governor’s residence was a stunning edifice of open-air corridors and fragrant gardens. Perched on a hill, one could survey most of the surrounding city from here, a mix of colorful structures, blue canals, and a variety of vegetation. Beyond the city were equally lush agricultural fields. And, beyond that, rock and sand in a variety of orange and brown hues stretched all the way to the horizon.

Captain Lazzan had been in talks with officials for the better part of the day as part of their first contact mission. Now, during a recess, the Andorian afforded himself time to appreciate the vista from the shade of a covered walkway along the outer edge of the complex.

“Captain, may I speak with you?”

The voice caught him by surprise, as he had not heard anyone approach. But it was *what* had approached that drove him to instinctively reach for his phaser.

In response, the Borg drone reached for its weapon as well, a sidearm strapped to its right thigh. A moment later, however, it slowly pulled its hand away, holding out both hands to show it was unarmed.

“I did not mean to startle you. I wished to speak with you, privately.” It informed him.

He had seen a few of the drones throughout the day, moving though corridors and guarding doorways. On occasion, he felt like they were following him. The governor had pledged they meant the away team no harm. One of them had even explained they were no longer connected to the Collective. But old habits die hard, and he needed far more than words to feel safe in their presence. Especially caught alone as he was now.

But this was a diplomatic mission, and the drones had, in fact, kept their word so far.

“Apologies,” he said grudgingly, also making a show of open hands.

He forced himself not to flinch as it approached with measured, almost mechanical steps. The footfalls, however, were soft, like that of a normal person. Like the other drones, this one was bald and retained its visual hardware. Also, like the others, much of the outer cabling was missing, and the lack of bulk underneath its tunic suggested a good deal of implants had been removed.

He scrutinized its face, and it seemed to do the same. Formerly human, he guessed. From the delicate features and short stature, he suspected a woman, although its body shape was ambiguous.

He wondered what conclusions it was drawing about him, or why it would even care.

“I am Rin,” it said, folding its arms behind its back, military fashion.

“You…have names?” Lazzan inwardly winced at his own words, recognizing them as condescending.

“All people have names, do they not? We are no longer part of the Borg Collective, so our former designations are no longer applicable.”

The captain had to agree with the drone’s logic. The governor had insisted they operated as individuals, but he had never really believed it, not in any useful sense, anyway.

It reached out, pointing one finger to his comm badge. “You all wear these. It represents your Collective, yes?”

“It…is,” he acknowledged, finding its word choice disconcerting. “It indicates we are members of Starfleet. We’re the Federation’s explorative force. We reach out to meet and better understand new people.”

“Like the Tavari.”

“Yes.”

“But not like me.”

A knot tightened in Lazzan’s stomach. He had been speaking with government functionaries for hours about trade, culture and technology. Those functionaries were people and deserved his time. His thoughts on the drones, however, had been confined to threat assessment.

This drone recognized that. It understood it was being excluded, that it was being judged as something less than the other people here. It might have even been hurt by it, although it was difficult to tell.

“That’s…fair,” he admitted. “I have been neglectful in that regard.”

It pulled out a small, metallic object from the breast pocket of its tunic and held it out for examination.

Almost reverently, Lazzan picked up the item, turning it over in his hand. It was badly damaged and several decades out of date, but he could still easily recognize it as a Starfleet communicator badge. “Where did you get this?”

She placed the palm of her right hand on the front of her left shoulder. “It was embedded in my implants.”

Suddenly, she wasn’t merely a drone. She was someone Starfleet had lost, a person who, miraculously, had survived and been found. All of the drones here were, he finally admitted, still people.

He returned the badge, asking quietly, “Do you remember your name? From before assimilation?”

“I do not. That is why I am Rin.”

He pulled a tricorder from his belt. “May I take a scan?”

She nodded.

Lazzan sent the data to the ship, then tapped his communicator. “Lazzan to Elias, I’ve just sent you a genetic profile. I need it run against the Starfleet database.”

There was a pause of several seconds before a voice responded. “Sir, may I ask where you collected this sample?”

“It’s one of the… drones.” He wasn’t sure that was the right word now, but he had no better one for the moment. “What do you have?”

“The DNA matches Lt. JG Nicola Addison, listed as KIA in 2363.”

2363.

That knot in his stomach leapt into his throat. “She was…”

“Assigned to the USS London. All hands lost at Wolf 359.”

Lazzan would swear that Rin’s face softened, just a bit. There was a spark of something behind her one organic eye.

“So, I did belong to your Starfleet?” Something had crept into her voice. The sound of hope, perhaps?

“Yes, yes you did, lieutenant. And you’re welcome to return to the Federation, if that is your wish.”

“You are your crew are uncomfortable with my presence.”

“Then my crew and I will have to get used to your presence, because you’re one of us. I'd *like* to bring you home."