Roaming the ship

Posted on Thu Oct 1st, 2026 @ 7:49pm by Lieutenant Commander Savin & Lieutenant Ashix Zirda

2,438 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Chapter IX: Shady Business
Location: Computer control
Timeline: 2387-10-18, morning

Contact was important, Savin knew from years of experience in the medical field. Especially meeting crewmembers in their own environment in a setting they would feel safe. More importantly, Savin felt it necessary to try and connect to the crew of this ship, outside of a formal session. Though he had little hope ant if the crew would ever come talk to him without the explicit order to do so.

And, doing this round also gave him the opportunity to see the ship beyond an office, his quarters or the bridge. As he walked into computer control and searched for the subject on his list, the counselor froze at the sight of what at first glance appeared to be a Borg drone. As he stood frozen in place, his eyes widening in terror, undesired and almost forgotten memories surfaced. He had been a freshly graduated counselor who had just arrived on his first assignment when a Borg cube has attacked the ship. He has been taken down and he could still feel the uncontrolled terror he had experienced when the assimilation tubules extended towards his throat. Thanks to a security team that happened upon him, that never happened.

Ashix Zirda stood before the primary terminal in computer control, her organic brown eye tracking lines of diagnostic code while the remnant neural interface behind her temple processed sub-routine telemetry. She felt the sudden shift in air pressure before her ears registered the counselor’s abruptly spiking heart rate and rapid, shallow breathing.

Turning her head with deliberate care, the faint metallic housing along her cheek and the few remaining cybernetic implants gleamed under the overhead lighting. Her gaze locked onto Savin. She was intimately familiar with that specific look: the rigid paralysis of someone confronting a ghost from the past.

"Your elevated breathing and micro-tremors suggest distress, Counselor," Ashix stated, her voice calm, measured, and entirely her own. She kept her hands resting quietly at her side, making no sudden movements. "Most of my implants were removed years ago, and my connection to the Collective is long dead. You are safe here."

Eyes locked on the woman, Savin nodded slowly as he forced himself to reduce his breathing to more acceptable levels. "I know," he finally answered, internally chagrined at his unprofessional response. "I apologise lieutenant, I had not expected such an unprofessional response from myself. I believed I had moved well past that trauma." He made himself step forward into the room. "I had intended to introduce myself and have an informal talk just to get to know you."

The counselor offered a small but genuine smile. "I am Savin," he continued, deliberately foregoing to mention rank or title.

Ashix inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his effort to regain composure with a sharp, perceptive nod. Her tone remained characteristically blunt, though free of hostility.

"Trauma is rarely an efficient mechanism, Savin, nor does it yield to rank," Ashix replied, stepping back half a pace to afford him comfortable space. "An apology is unnecessary. Visceral recollection of assimilation threats is a statistically logical reaction given your history." She gestured toward the secondary terminal console, her posture straightforward and confident. "I am Lieutenant Ashix Zirda. How may I assist you, Counselor? If you intend to conduct an informal evaluation, you will find my neural processes remain exceedingly direct."

Savin smiled, relaxing a little. "Counselor counsel thyself huh?" He answered, then shook his head. "No I am not here for an evaluation of any kind, I am merely here to see the rest of the ship and meet the crew. Then if push comes to shove, I will not be a complete stranger to talk to." He paused, giving her words some thought as they sank in. "You are aware of my history of near- assimilation? He finally asked, not certain if he had understood correctly.

"I review the personnel manifests and medical summaries of every officer on this vessel, Savin," she stated bluntly, her voice even and pragmatic. "Preparing for potential operational variables requires complete data, and your file noted the incident. I simply applied that variable to your immediate physical reaction."

"I was under the impression that medical summaries were eyes only to the chief medical officer and if permitted, the chief counselor," a baffled counselor countered, "I shall have to remember that not to be the case here ...it also seems you know more about me than I do about you. When were you liberated?" It was a genuine question, as he was curious.

She paused briefly, her brown eye darkening slightly as her focus shifted to his question. "I was not 'liberated' by Starfleet or any other government for that matter. In 2384, the Borg Sphere I was assigned to suffered a submatrix collapse and was severed from the Collective in an effort for the damage not to spread further. My neural link broke, my memories returned, and I reclaimed my autonomy on a dying vessel... entirely on my own terms."

"How did you decide to reclaim your autotomy rather than try to return to the collective? Did anyone others survive with you?" He considered it a remarkable feat considering drones were programmed to return to the collective. At least, as far as he knew.

"When the submatrix collapsed, the Collective severed Sphere 618 entirely to prevent systemic contamination," she stated with clinical detachment completely devoid of sentiment. "There was no Hive mind left to compel my return; only silence and the sudden, overwhelming weight of my own identity returning after 13 years as a drone."

She tilted her head slightly, the sights and sounds of the Sphere coming back to her momentarily before the remaining Borg circuits inside her head quelled the growing feelings. "The rest of the crew succumbed to endless, repeating directive loops, driven mindless by corrupt programming," she explained evenly, like she were talking about the weather. "I survived on that drifting hulk alone for nearly 2 years before securing my extraction. Autonomy was not a philosophical decision, Counselor; it was the only logical alternative to annihilation."

Sensing a shift in her emotions, however brief, Savin cast her an apologetic smile. "I apologise for causing you distress," he offered quietly, "I had not intended for this meeting to become a formal counseling session, but if you are willing we can discuss your feelings at a later time." A more genuine smile followed as he reached out to her. "I am glad you did make the choice to survive, and I am certain that given the opportunity you will thrive in this community."

"I am not in distress, Counselor, nor do I require emotional mitigation," she stated, her tone characteristically blunt and direct. "Recalling operational facts is merely data processing, not a vulnerability." A faint, pragmatic edge entered her voice as she gestured toward the main diagnostic console. "Your optimism regarding my 'thriving' is an illogical emotional projection, but your presence in Computer Control is no longer disruptive. If you wish to observe system operations without formal therapy protocols, you may remain."

"I did not suggest you were in distress. I am not here to observe you ma'am, I am here to get to know you so we are familiar with each other." He did watch her for a moment, however, before continuing. "As far as logic is concerned, it has its merit but I do not abide by it. As you are aware, I am not Vulcan."

"I am Sikarian, though my native culture's preoccupation with leisure and hospitality was something I discarded long before my assimilation," she replied as she turned back toward the main interface. Her fingers dancing over the panel as diagnostic sub-routines scrolled across the screen, "If your goal is familiarity, then understand this: I am defined by efficiency, strategy, and results. I do not require emotional rapport to perform my duty, but I do not object to your presence -provided it does not interfere with Computer Control operations."

"Why did you discard your native preoccupation?" Savin asked curiously. As she had turned away from him, her last statement went unseen. "Lieutenant, I would appreciate it if you faced my way when we speak. I rely on visuals when communicating as I cannot hear you speak."

Ashix paused, her hand hovering over the console as she processed the request. She turned back to face Savin fully, ensuring her face was clearly illuminated under the overhead lighting.

"Noted. I will maintain line of sight," she said, her voice dropping into that familiar, unvarnished cadence. "As for my culture... Sikarians prioritize storytelling, indulgence, and hospitality above all else. I found those pursuits frivolous and inefficient long before I was assimilated. While my family was content telling stories, I was interested in governing, strategic expansion, and operational output." She crossed her arms, her brown eye locking onto him with cool certainty. "Sikaris proved too small for my ambitions, and the Collective certainly had no use for leisure. By the time I reclaimed my identity, there was simply nothing about those traditions worth reclaiming."

"Storytelling does have a purpose, especially when it comes to cultural history or perhaps even education. It trains the ability to efficiently pass on relative information, perhaps even in a covert fashion. For example in war time, or even other dire situations, essentially informal may be hidden into something that to an outsider may seem frivolous or simply nonessential," Savin explained patiently. "It is a useful skill to possess. Vulcans, unfortunately are not much of a storyteller either I fear, despite being efficient in many ways. I actually do not know about Romulans but given their passionate ways, I would not be surprised if they actually are."

"Romulans do not tell stories to educate or preserve culture, Savin; they weave narratives as tools of deception, leverage, and political survival," Ashix countered, her voice unyielding. "I spent years in Romulan space after my escape from Sphere 618. Their penchant for drama is merely a calculated camouflage for strategic maneuverings."

She tilted her head slightly, keeping her face fully turned so he could comfortably read her lips. "As for the Sikarians... their storytelling serves no covert strategic purpose. It is pure, unadulterated escapism, an indulgence born of isolation and a refusal to engage with the harsh realities of the broader galaxy. Encapsulating tactical intelligence within allegories is an inefficient transmission vector when concise, direct telemetry yields zero margin for misinterpretation."

"I agree that being direct leaves little margin for error, but surely even Romulan parents tell their children stories? And even as means for deception it is still a developed skill." He watched her as she spoke, still wondering if there might be still some small part of her that might enjoy a story. "What do you do to unwind?"

"'Unwind' implies a tension that must be released before systemic failure occurs," Ashix replied smoothly, her organic brow twitching slightly at the phrasing as she maintained direct eye contact. "I do not require leisure activities to process cognitive fatigue, Counselor. Further, since my de-assimilation, I am acutely aware of the visceral reaction my physical appearance provokes in non-Borg personnel - a reality you demonstrated upon entering this room. Consequently, I do not frequent social gatherings, nor do I engage in recreational holodeck programs."

Savin nodded, a sense of shame washing over him upon the recollection of his response to her. "I was unprepared," he admitted freely, "perhaps you should venture out more, because the more they see you the more the crew will get used to your appearance. My recommendation would be to do exactly what you say you would not do. Do engage in the social gatherings and make it a challenge for yourself. And do engage in the recreational opportunities. It may also be beneficial for when assistance is required or simply desires, if people know you then they would be more open to accepting or offering assistance."

Ashix raised an eyebrow, her gaze fixed on him.

"I am an operational officer, Counselor, not a public relations project," she replied, her voice remaining firm and direct. "Forcing my presence into social environments to desensitize the crew creates unnecessary friction and degrades efficiency. My function is to optimize system performance and maintain operations... tasks that require precision, not personal popularity."

She took a small step forward, maintaining clear line of sight. "Respect is earned through performance and reliability, Savin, not forced familiarity over recreational beverages. The crew does not need to be comfortable with my appearance to follow my operational parameters."

"Respect is earned, I agree," Savin acknowledged, as he was finding himself having to do just that in the minor hope that eventually people here would trust him enough to confide in him. "But I disagree on the need to follow parameters. They do need to be comfortable around you, but that will take time and effort on both sides. You need to understand you are not alone, and they need to understand you are here with a purpose. And you need to learn to work together for the purpose of efficiency."

"Comfort is an emotional variable, Counselor; execution is a professional requirement," Ashix countered after having processed Savin’s persistence. "The crew does not need to feel comfortable around my implants to execute sub-routines or process diagnostic telemetry. They simply need to recognize that my calculations are flawless and my directives are sound."

She turned slightly back toward the main console, keeping her face angled so her lips remained visible, but her posture was unyielding. "I do not seek isolation out of fear or resentment. I choose it because managing the emotional discomfort of others is an inefficient expenditure of my energy. If you wish to build trust with this crew, Savin, teach them to focus on mission parameters rather than aesthetic anomalies."

With a final, sharp nod, she tapped the interface, returning her focus to the scrolling diagnostic code. "Now, if there are no operational emergencies, I must return to my duties."

"No emergency," Savin acknowledged, "but i may yet find one in the future. I shall leave you to your duties lieutenant. Thank you for indulging me." He sighed inwardly as he turned to leave, realising he had quite a challenge ahead of him.

"You did not present an operational emergency, Counselor, nor did you interfere with system diagnostics," Ashix stated a brief second before returning to the diagnostic telemetry scrolling across her console. She adjusted a sub-routine frequency on the panel without breaking her rhythm, "If you require further operational data regarding my department, or wish to observe computer control efficiency, you know where to find me. Good day, Savin."

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