Chapter One
The uniform was crisp, clean, without a single stain or wrinkle. It wasn't her addiction, as a Vulcan, to cleanliness and order that had created this perfection. It was the status of this set of clothes. Brand new, made out of real cotton instead of the empty matter inside the replicators.
Every new captain's first uniform was tailored specifically for them, with real fabrics that many planets across the galaxy could find profit from trade in creating. The textile market wasn't huge, not as big as Quark Enterprises alone was, but big enough to encompass more than a few dozen worlds and thousands of workers.
A textile factory had been founded just for first uniforms. Usually, everyone in Starfleet had five non-replicated uniforms. One for starting the academy, one for starting active duty, one for achieving a command, one for working as a teacher at the Academy, then one for becoming an admiral, the highest rank of all.
Unlike nearly everyone else, she wouldn't be getting a first duty uniform. She wouldn't fight to rise up through the ranks. She was the ranks.
First day of duty would start next week, seven days away exactly. This was just the pre-mission briefing.
And that only made her that much more nervous. After four years at the Academy, she had graduated at the top of her class, gleaned Head-Admiral Picard's personal interest, landed the newest ship in the fleet, first of its model and name, and the most dangerous, yet life-changing mission anyone had ever been assigned.
The doors to the briefing room hissed open, revealing the conference room that select few had ever seen. It was built for the Klingon war, all those years ago, when Kirk and the Enterprise 1701 had been head of the fleet. At first, the room had been converted to storage, but the need for the incredible room had arisen when the Romulans and Borg popped up and started causing trouble. 17 re-fits later, and the room was equipped with state-of-the-arc equipment ready for the next huge tactical mission.
Just like the ship and command she would be receiving.
"Captain Setask." The old, bald man who was head of Starfleet stood and addressed her as she walked in.
"Admiral Picard." She replied with exemplary Vulcan calm, even though everything inside was shivering. He had called her Captain, and it was more than just a formality. It was recognition.
Off to the side, Setask notice five people, all of different races, standing at attention, barely even blinking their eyes.
"A five star bridge crew." Picard said, the ends of his lips turning up. "Plus a few."
Picard motioned Setask to step to the end of the table, to stand behind the chair right next to the one Picard had inhabited moments before. Without hesitation, she followed the order and stood with her hands lightly resting on the back of the chair.
"Thiri th'Shire, first officer, holds the rank commander. Has battle-field and other experience related to the mission at hand." A bulky Andorian with a new but replicated command red jacket and long white hair tied in a neat knot at the back of his head and the wiggling, worm-like antennae all Andorian had barely pushing through the strands stepped forward, saluted, and sat at the right hand side. His skin was a slightly lighter blue than was customary to most Andorian, but blue nonetheless.
"Tokkra, head of security, holds the rank lieutenant. Battlefield experience and weapons specialist." A Romulan with muscles but not bulk saluted. His uniform was in no way clean, and it didn't fit quite right, sagging at the elbows and knees, and coming down to cover most of his hands and get stuck under the heels of his feet. "First Romulan in Starfleet." Picard added as Tokkra too saluted and sat next to Thiri.
"Avery Ryant, head of medical facilities, holds the rank specialized doctor. Battlefield condition and triage experience, best doctor in the fleet." A tall man quickly saluted and sat down next to Tokkra. His blonde hair and dark skin seemed mismatched and quirky, but a light had shone in his eyes that told Setask that this man was a good one. He was technically of higher rank then her, a specialized doctor taking precedence over nearly everyone bust chief admirals and the head admiral. Truly a good crew for a hard mission.
"Nem, chief engineer, holds the rank lieutenant." A fat, well groomed Tellerite with a huge toothy smile and well-worn uniform saluted and waddled over to sit down. "Head technician at Starfleet research and development of new technologies." A huge accomplishment.
"Lillian Khar, science officer, holds rank ensign." Setask felt like this introduction was a slap in the face. An ensign, just a kid. She searched her mind for a Lillian, feeling like the name sounded familiar. Whatever the name might have meant, the face pushed that all away. It was striking, brown hair that tumbled gently in small ringlets that deserved the name wave more than curl. Her skin was fair, the ink-black Trill spots clear on her skin. Despite being Vulcan and under control, Setask couldn't help but wonder where the pattern of spots might cease to exist, where the track might end. A petit body that the uniform fit very well. Soulful green eyes and small yet full lips dominated the girls face. "No field experience, first active duty assignment."
After Lillian had sat down, Setask herself saluted her crew and took a seat, whilst Admiral Picard continued to stand.
The elderly man walked confidently to the half-wall screen directly on the other side of the table, and tapped the screen once gently to bring it to life. The spinning, tri-colored Starfleet insignia that signified the computer was ready for a command appeared on the screen, as tranquil as ever. Picard turned to face the small crowed and started the briefing.
"You are the chosen officers to largely carry out Mission Lost-Sheep Recovery." Setask couldn't fathom what the mission entitled. At the last words, the screen flickered to life, and a file folder opened up and exposed the contents and details of the mission.
"You were all brought to my attention and selected out of hundreds of other candidates based on experience, skill sets, and basic mentality and stability test results. This mission and information is highly classified. The other crewmembers that will serve on this ship have specific orders and know the status. Even their knowledge level is going to be kept low. This mission is too important. Anyone who tells another person anything about their duty and this mission will be immediately detained. Any recipients of this information will be detained as well. Minimum punishment is a life-sentence of imprisonment."
Everyone was deadly serious now. Serious, determined, and scared.
Picard clicked the first document in the folder, and a series of letters and numbers took up the screen. "The U.S.S. Prometheus 1432. First of its class." A few seconds later, a huge ship took over the screen. The saucer section was a huge rhombus, the bottom point being used to attach to the rest of the ship. "50 decks, warp 15, 16,500 crew. 6 forward and backward phaser banks, 17 torpedo launchers, 4 forward and backward plasma cannons."
"A warship." Avery grumbled.
"In all actuality, yes." Picard confirmed everyone's suspicions. He let everyone look at the brand new ship before exiting back to the folder and opening a second document.
Setask's stomach dropped. Borg technical information. Different types of ships and their crew and capabilities, nano-probe data, assimilation process, Borg tendencies and behaviors, technology, research and development rate, everything there is to know about Borg technology and how it works and how it's being developed.
The next file contained fluctuating data, numbers going up and down, names of worlds and systems and ships adding to an already huge list. The numbers were "Estimated ship count", "Assimilated Borg", and "Estimated worlds affected".
Another document was all about locations of Borg Ships, Borg Worlds and Systems, movement patterns, and clusters all around the galaxy, Alpha, Delta, Gamma and Beta quadrants.
At the top of the next document was a place closer to Earth than Setask would have been comfortable with. Mercury Rehabilitation Center. "For the last 40 years, since the first Borg had been liberated by Admiral Kathryn Janeway in the Delta Quadrant, Starfleet has been constructing a full Liberation Center for all assimilated beings." A series of pictures flashed on the screen. A tour of the center.
There were little red marks where security officers were going to be. A lot of those little red marks. They were everywhere. The place didn't look like a death and torture chamber, but it wasn't quite temple-clean and comforting either. The doors were huge, for rolling in sedated Borg on stretchers, Picard said. There were huge hallways, fit for near 20 Klingons abreast to walk down. Each hallway had a different sign over, a list of jobs and processes printed near the door.
Down hallway one, there were huge chambers with glass front walls. There were maybe 20 of these chambers, each big enough to house 50 comfortably, with room for walkways between beds. "These rooms will house Borg after first arriving. The larger pieces will slowly be removed under sedation. These pieces include the top layer of armor."
The next hallway was more specialized, Picard told the group. "They will remove Borg appendages and replace them with flesh and bone, this including ocular implants." The rooms were about the same size and in the same number. There was a small lab off to each side, presumably for skin grafts and bone synthesizing.
Hallway three would remove all possible implants, but would leave anything that was integral to the living and processes of the natural body. Skin grafts to cover scaring and gaps where implants were removes.
Hallway four included smaller rooms, each room housing only five with a little extra space, and nearly 200 rooms. The end of the hallway where every other entrance could be found was blocked off by a gate edging the farthest room, leaving at least 20 feet to the entrance. "Only staff members can go through that gate, to bring in newly Liberated Borg during the night."
At the far end of the rooms, a hallway branched to right, continued on for maybe 10 or 15 feet, before swinging into another hallway alongside the one with the rooms.
It seemed that each room had a separate purpose. Counseling and recovering of data such as name, date of birth, and family, finding and locating living family members, social classrooms where those liberated can learn about the galaxy they can start living in, other education classrooms to begin filling in holes that were left behind, career and living advice, clothing and hair personalization, and identity discovering.
There was a shuttlebey at the very back of the facility, where up to 20 shuttles could land to pick up those who were certified as liberated and ready to go out into the galaxy.
"These individuals will, always, have some scars and implants that can never be removed, something that sets them apart from everyone else. While we are trying to create a new race of Liberated Borg as well as reducing a threat, at the beginning, this will be very difficult for everyone involved."
Picard closed the document and opened up the last file in the folder. Mission Data headed this page, and Setask felt a momentary gladness, a need to leave this room and leave this data behind for some period of time. Mostly because she'd be living it for however long.
"The mission is going to last as long as the Prometheus is functional, while more and better Borg-fighting and liberation technology is being created. All crew members signed on to this mission will likely be serving here for the rest of their careers, or lives. Whichever ends first."
Thiri's antennae quivered and deflated. Lillian's face fell into a perpetual gloom. Avery was startled and outraged, but overcame those feelings quicker. It was easier for him, he was clearly the eldest of the bridge crew with whitening hair and crow's feet next to his eye. Tokkra didn't seem to mind as much as hunger for it, as if he had something to prove. As the first Romulan in Starfleet, he probably did. Nem's face fell, her joyful little black eyes faded a little.
"What about family?" She asked, her voice a squeak.
Picard nodded. "You may speak to your family over subspace whenever, or see them for a small period of time when on the two week leave after dropping off Borg."
"Erm." Lillian scratched at her jawline, her face getting slightly red.
"Avery is well-versed on Joined Trill care, and all emergency supplies and measures are a step away on the ship. You'll be well taken care of." Picard replied. Lillian seemed to relax, though some part of her remained tense.
Picard turned towards Setask and looked deliberately at her. "Avery has everyone's medical record, and any treatments you might require on some type of basis will be known to Avery and he had training and is properly equipped to handle such medical situations.
"He has provided expert care to many Trill, slightly before, during, and after becoming joined, and many Vulcans leading up to their Pon Farr. He may have even re-attached a few antennae, and done transfusions to all species using chemicals and human blood. You will be taken very good care of."
With a nod of his bald head, Picard motioned everyone could get up. "The Prometheus is ready in drydock. Transporter Chiefs have been made aware of how you look, and will beam you up to the ship. If you must go anywhere else, however, you must put in a request. I suggest you all start moving in with the rest of your crew."
With another nod, the Admiral signaled everyone's ability to leave, and they all did. Only Setask lingered for a moment, looking at the Admiral. He stared back evenly, though not with half the intensity any Vulcan was capable of. "Good luck, Cap."