Namesake

Posted on Wed Jan 4th, 2023 @ 3:24am by Lieutenant Commander Rin

Mission: MISSION 0 - History Speaks
Location: Tavara, Beta Quadrant
Timeline: Year 2382 (14 years ago)
1013 words - 2 OF Standard Post Measure

Matiri, consort of the governor of the Inri, walked the garden as she regularly did, just after the midday meal. Today, she had business on the far side of the palace complex, meeting with the merchant guild, but she took her time getting there, appreciating the view spilling out before her.

The complex sat at the top of a large hill, overlooking the city. Colorful shrubs and trees lined the streets. Beyond that, hugging the banks of the river, were the agricultural fields, which bloomed with their own vibrant colors.

Turn ninety degrees, however, and all you saw was wasteland. Spires of razor sharp rock jutted out of the sand, some gleaming like glass. Beyond that, out of view, wound pools of sulphur and mercury amid a heat unsurvivable by most life on the planet.

Just behind and to the side of Matiri walked One of Six, dressed in a black tunic and pants, sword on one hip, pistol on the other, hands folded behind her back. While some of her Borg tech had been removed, she was still bald, and she retained her full suite of optical implants.

"Ma'am, may I ask a question?" she asked.

"Of course."

The two of them came to a stop, and One indicated a row of small shrubs planted on a raised platform so that they were almost eye level. The deep green leaves and branches terminated with small red flowers surrounded by purple leaves.

"What is their purpose?" One asked.

"We enjoy them, like everything in this garden. Why do you ask?"

After all, One had been accompanying Matiri on these walks for months, and never once had she shown interest in anything around them beyond the chance of some lurking threat.

"This one... appeals to me. I don't understand why if it has no purpose."

"Perhaps you just find them pretty, like the rest of us."

"To find something pretty is to value its appearance regardless of any other function or purpose. I've never quite understood that, but, yes, I think it is...pretty. What is it called?"

"It's a rin," Matiri answered with a smile. "Perhaps you'll eventually enjoy the rest of the garden too."

One thought that unlikely, but did not argue. For the next month, they continued their regular walks, and she always paused at least momentarily at the row of shrubs, trying to understand why they attracted her.

"May I keep one?" She asked.

"Yes, you may."

At once, One seized one of the plants at its base and pulled it clean out of the dirt, roots and all. She wasn't quite sure what she was going to do with it now, but it did please her to have it.

Matiri stifled a laugh. The xBs had been on-world for three years now, and in many ways had made it their home. But they were also still completely clueless about various things most people took for granted. Commonly used for security work, some would pejoratively describe them as murderous children.

"I'll get a gardener to find you a pot and show you how to care for it."

At the end of the day, One returned to the barracks where most of the xBs lived. Some had decided, in their pursuit for individuality, to procure their own rooms, but many of them remained in a series of common rooms that housed what functioned as their regenerative alcoves. But each xB also had a small space their could call their own and store what few personal belongings they might choose to acquire.

It was on one of these tables that One placed the now potted plant and a small pitcher with which to water it.

"Why do you have a plant?" Ebi asked. About half of the xBs had taken names by now. "Ebi" was a word that meant "to stand alone." A lot of them had names like that. Three of them had taken the name "Unique," and only half of the xBs recognized the irony in that.

"I like it." One said simply. "And I like that I like it."

"That's a good reason to have it then."

"Is it?"

"We need to find ourselves here. Things we like, things we don't like. It doesn't always have to be logical. No one works just on logic, including us. We need to accept and understand that, find out how each of us is different."

One looked back at the plant again, thoughtful. After a pause, she stated, "I wish to be called Rin, after this plant. Because I find it pretty. It's the first thing I've understood as pretty."

The message went out across their neural interfaces and, just like that, the xB formerly designated One of Six was now to be identified as Rin.

She hung her sword up on the wall and placed her pistol in a drawer of the table, next to a long-broken communicator. She barely paid it any mind. It was hopelessly smashed. No one would ever hear her through it, even if there was someone on Tavara to do so, which there wasn't.

In fact, she sometimes wondered why she kept it at all. Like the shrub, it had no obvious purpose. But it was the only thing that connected her to her previous life, life before assimilation. It had been pinned to her chest when she had been taken, and the Tavarans had found it when they had dismantled her chest implants.

But the Tavarans knew nothing of Starfleet or the Federation. Settled deep in the Beta Quadrant, it would be another five years before first contact between the two people. So this piece of broken technology continued to sit in a drawer as an occasional curiosity, a reminder that somewhere out there was another collective she had once been a part of.

But today she didn't think of it at all. Today she had a new plant and a proper name, something to replace her Borg designation. A name not pressed upon her, but one she had chosen for herself as an individual.

 

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