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Time Index: 6 yrs ago
Location: USS Hope
Stretching, Brett untangled from the covers which were soaked, as were her clothes. "Damn it," she said pulling off her sweat drenched tank top. "Well, at least I got some sleep." Rubbing her headache she headed to the bathroom for a shower and good teeth scrub.
"Better," she said rinsing her mouth out and checking her teeth in the mirror. Zipping her jacket as she entered from the bathroom, she paused near the couch. Eying the cushion she debated whether to take the drug with her or not. "I did sleep and I don't remember any nightmare though I must have had one.....I can't I have to do this with a clear head. Besides I have other helpers I know work. .... Back up plan," Brett said turning and heading to the mess hall for breakfast.
Sitting in her office, Brett's thoughts wandered. After five years and lots of practice, her defenses she painstakingly built were rubble on the floor of my soul. Thoughts long believed held back, now oozed and interrupted her mind anytime she tried to rest.
"I wonder if he's dead? I hope so but...," she trailed off and she was back in the walkway, face burning and bleeding, his weight burying her into the path. She could feel him everywhere, hear him in her head but his words were noise. Finishing, he stepped over her and had the gall to lean over, look her in the eye with a satisfied smile and say, "Thank you," before walking away as if he just left a dinner party. His face seared in her mind forever, she knew instantly who he was and he was above prosecution because of who his parents were. ***Son of a Bitches always get what they want,*** she thought laying there bleeding, crying, and praying for death.
Just then she felt a hand on her arm breaking the trance of her nightmare.
"You ok doctor?"
Brett looked up to find Nurse Evans standing there with a concerned look on his face.
"You're late for your meeting."
"The senior staff meeting. The captain called it about fifteen minutes ago. It's starting now," handing her a tissue, "Is everything alright, you're crying."
"I'm fine," she said turning away, quickly wiping her eyes, grabbing a padd to look busy. "You have sickbay," she replied exiting out the lab entrance before he could push the issue. Stopping in the hall to compose herself, Brett had to fight the urge to go to her quarters and drink herself into the present. Five minutes later she slipped into the meeting as the captain was beginning.
Brett tried to focus on the meeting, but in her effort to block her own emotions she kept sensing the intense emotions between Amelia and Byrne. He never looked at her but Brett could sense the fear and loathing that hung heavy across the room between them and several others.
Barlow wrote: The Captain leaned back. "Doctor," he passed his attention moving to Reese, "synthesis more of this. Hocevar, Vreenak, weaponization in both ship's offensive measures and personnel armament. The next time we go toe to toe with a Collective ship or drone, I want them to remember that encounter. Everyone is to be armed."
"Aye captain," she replied automatically and then realized what he was planning. "Sir, I modified the nanoprobes to heal not destroy. I'm a doctor, not a murder. I realize I am new to this quadrant and conflict but this seems to go against everything we are supposed to stand for."
When the meeting was over her mind thankfully was entirely in the present but spinning with the reality that her first official duty on the Hope was to synthesize the virus that would eliminate an entire species. Granted it was the Borg but still, her ethical code was do no harm regardless of the species or race. If they are physically attacking me I will defend myself to the death but that's not the same as murder. Leaving the observation lounge she paused at the turbolift a minute and observed the captain and the bridge crew trying to sense their emotions to get a sense of the kind of people she was trapped in space with for the long hall. "Welcome home Brett," she said under her breath as she entered the turbolift. "Sickbay."
Leaving the turbolift, she looked at the specs for the captain's virus that she unwittingly provided the heart. She entered the lab and then her office. "Evans," she called.
"I have to do some work in the lab. Don't disturb me unless it's an emergency."
"Yes doctor," he said with a bit of confusion and concern. Brett took the padd she entered with and headed to her quarters. Minutes later she entered her generically decorated quarters and went to a small memory stick on her nightstand. The only thing left from her former life. Going to the computer terminal on her coffee table, she inserted the stick. "Computer, create a file for Brett Kathryn Reese and secure," she said providing her access passcode as the computer replied, "File created."
"Copy the contents of the memory stick to the file and secure." "
"Transfer complete." Brett removed the stick and left in on the table and returned to the medical lab. "Computer play Reese file Nicks 1," she said as she entered the lab. Instantly the raspy voice from decades past filled the lab and she began her insidious task of synthesizing the virus.
Dr. Brett Reese