<FWG> Re: <Section 31> "Treatment"
- From: Jet <offerings_burnt@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: fwgalaxy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Mon, 14 Jul 2008 09:05:03 -0700 (PDT)
"I know that most people think we're... bad... because we were supposed to be
different..."
"Mmmhmm." Noncommittal and nonpersonal. Good gods -- why didn't these kids ever
realize that she wasn't their friend?
-I almost felt bad, poor kiddo. Liked it a lot, thanks for posting it!!
Jet
--- On Sat, 7/12/08, Jennifer Black <vulcan260@xxxxxxxxx> wrote:
From: Jennifer Black <vulcan260@xxxxxxxxx>
Subject: <FWG> <Section 31> "Treatment"
To: fwgalaxy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Date: Saturday, July 12, 2008, 9:12 PM
Hey there, remaining FWG-ers...
This is a log which I wrote for a non-FWG game which ended up being home to
Fiona Weber, "Spider" of Section 31. This is a flashback log to her days in
S31, and I figured that I'd share. :)
------------------------
Six years ago
It was, as usual, a glorious day on Cardassia. The usual glorious weather,
usual glorious people, usual glorious smells...
If you liked the... superb... smell of fish in the morning. Which the
operative... didn't. Oh well. She supposed one had to be born and raised a
spoonhead for that.
It was "springtime" on Cardassia. A lovely thought -- or at least it should
have been. Unfortunately, Cardassia lacked the seasonal cliches of little
fluffy animals and blooming flowers. The only thing sprouting in the wasteland
was bogweed, and even in the "airtight" barracks that all Starfleet facilities
claimed to have, there was an all-pervading presence of bogweed pollen. Never
in her life had the operative encountered such an allergy-wreaking substance.
The plant was everywhere, causing her eyes to water and her sinuses to be very
unhappy indeed. But now, hopefully, she was getting off this waste-dump of a
world.
Spider had been on Cardassia for nearly five months. Two months of which were
spent ingratiating herself to and fraternizing with the engineering teams
legitimately assigned to the planet. The fact that the Federation was sending
in teams to aid in the Cardassian Reconstruction sickened her, but until her
mission had been accomplished, she'd had to live with her indigestion and play
like it was the greatest humanitarian venture yet.
Granted, in the thirty minutes when she and her companion operative had
completed their mission, they'd managed to set the whole business back about
eighteen months -- and therefore left the formal channels of Starfleet doubting
the viability and even the safety of the project. That did help to lessen the
distaste of actually having to help the reconstruction teams in the time
leading up to their mission's zero hour.
But now, that assignment was complete. The operative had seen her partner go,
along with her "dear new friends and colleagues" in the engineering team they'd
posed as part of. She was now, for all intents and purposes, alone and
assignment-less.
While she waited for new instructions (and she'd been promised that new
instructions would come, she'd been working at a small Starfleet research
institute in the heart of Cardassia's new agricultural "breadbasket". About
four people besides Spider were assigned there, looking at various nutritional
yields of crops and how they could be improved. It didn't do any good for her
bogweed allergy to be right in the heart of Plant Territory, and it was more
humanitarian nonsense, but it served her needs of being a temporary station
where she could join and leave without ever having been part of the spotlight.
But now, her "respite" was mercifully concluded, and she was sitting in a back
room of the primary medical facility in the Cardassian capital city. There was
a high-ranking agent across from her now, half masked behind a tall stack of
padds. She hoped they held transfer orders to an assignment on some, other
world...
"Your continued presence on Cardassia is required," the agent, identified only
as "Raptor" informed, and she had to try hard not to let the chagrin show on
her face. He noticed anyway.
"Let me continue, Spider," he chided. "Now, it is nothing.. particularly
special to Cardassians, but it does have the resources we need easily
available. And Cardassia is an easy place for people like us -- and the tasks
we perform -- to go unnoticed."
Now Spider did interrupt. "What tasks, in this case, are we referring to?"
He nodded slightly, apparently approving of her directness. "Are you aware of
the theorems published by Doctor Regon Lai last year?"
She tilted her head, remembering. "Ah yes -- the most recent in a string of
radical papers that has the anti-eugenics community. What was this one again?"
she asked rhetorically. "Genetic enhancement to ward off viruses in children, I
think?"
"Close," he answered. "And I'm impressed, Spider. I see we picked the right
operative for this assignment," Raptor added, suddenly brightly. He poured a
small cup of water from the ice-laden pitcher adorning his desk, taking a sip
before continuing. "Doctor Lai, in this case, abandoned enhancement in a strict
sense. His genetics modeled simulated victims of various DNA and RNA-afflicting
conditions and purified the unwanted genetic material in their bodies."
"Naturally," Spider offered, "his research is illegal, and could never be
tested..."
The man across from her was suddenly wearing a chilling smile. "You'll be
leading the research, Agent. The laboratories and test cases will be prepared
by a week from tomorrow."
"Oh? And where?"
"In this very building." He smirked, sliding the stack of padds towards her.
"You'll be conducting tests on fifty Cardassian children. Twenty-five were part
of a military eugenics program started before the war. Fifteen
otherwise-healthy children will be infected with a nucleotide-disruption virus
of our own creation for research purposes. The remaining ten are our control
group, to see how the process affects the healthy. What we're giving you to
perfect is a rough version of a retrovirus several agents had been working on
several years ago. The retrovirus works off of a sample of genetic material
taken prior to any genetic alteration or damage that occurred, strains out the
unwanted elements, and reconstructs any missing genes."
She nodded, looking over the padd topping the stack. "In theory, curing both
the Cardassian genetic alterations and our own test nucleotide virus, and
meanwhile having no discernible effects on the healthy subjects?"
"You're a quick study," he answered, smirking.
"And what about the children's parents? What cover story are we giving them?"
"Oh, that's not a concern. They're all orphans -- were wards of the state. And
the state was happy enough to trade them for some favor or another."
The operative nodded, smirking. "We always manage to get what we want, don't
we?" she commented, gathering the stack of padds. "A week from tomorrow, you
said?"
"A week," he agreed, and Spider followed suit as he rose. "There was one other
thing, Operative..."
"Yes?" she asked, peering up at him curiously.
"The agent assigned to you previously had made some note of... emotional
attachments to the Cardassians... in the mission report. This won't be a
problem, will it?"
She laughed outright, genuinely amused. "My partner had a very dry sense of
humor. You can be assured I have no love for Cardassians," she answered.
"Very good," he answered, smirking. "After meeting you, I was rather struggling
to see you the warm, friendly type."
"Then you're a wise man," she answered, her eyes glittering.
* * *
Thanks to a good bottle of Chardonnay and a mysteriously-requisitioned hypo of
some (probably-illegal) anti-allergen, Spider had a plan of attack in place
before a day and a half had passed. Three groups of test cases: Group One was
made off the castoffs of the Cardassian Eugenics Program; Group Two was those
to be infected with the nucleotide virus; Group Three was the healthy batch.
She was splitting each of the three groups into halves, assigning around two
and a half months for each segment. Each segment would consist of a preparation
stage, when "clean" genetic samples would taken of groups Two and Three before
any infections with either the nucleotide virus or the retrovirus; an infection
stage, in which the subjects would be kept at the medical facility for
monitoring; and a final stage in which closing observation or treatment would
be offered.
But there were other considerations as well. Ten of the twenty-five eugenics
cases had terminal conditions or conditions predicted to end fatally. To
further complicate things, one of the twenty-five was a Bajoran halfling -- a
case Spider intended to make special note of. Hybrids always fascinated her,
and the chance to examine hybridization coupled with non-"natural" genetic
drift... the thought sent true shivers down her spine.
This was why she left Starfleet, she acknowledged as she worked. The lack of
limits meant purer science.
[align=center]* * *[/align]
"So your stomach is always aching?" It seemed like the twenty-thousandth time
she'd had this "conversation" -- listening to a group of children describing
the same symptoms over and over quickly became tiresome. Digestive afflictions
of varying sorts. Various growth defects -- all except four were either sizably
over or undersized for their ages. Ongoing headaches, insomnia, and insulin
imbalances usually characteristic of old diabetes-group diseases. This was what
the grand plans for the Better Breed of Cardassian had resulted in -- a
complete waste of resources. It was really no wonder that eugenics research was
banned by the orthodox Federation -- genetic research always ended up rushed
for martial purposes or horribly mangled by some amateur.
Spider had been careful enough in her planning to ensure that none of the usual
flaws would be present in her own work. The project was going to last about
five months give or take a few weeks. Certainly not rushed. And she had been
extensively trained by Starfleet for scientific research -- and had been doing
it for years. Certainly she was no amateur.
The preparation stage for the first set had already begun -- as the fact she
was sitting in the same room as a child showed. In a day she'd begin the
"innoculations" on Group One, and would be monitoring the progressive
reformation of genetic material. While she knew the first round of treatment
wouldn't have a necessarily high rate of success, she was sure the procedures
used on the second set would. She was better at fixing kinks than predicting
them, after all, and as long as the final result came out the same, what did it
matter? Better to run a complete survey once through.
"All the time," the little ridge-nosed half-spoonhead girl answered. "And a lot
of headaches." Yeah, same as always. "Nothing seems to work."
"Hopefully this will," she answered, barely listening.
"I know that most people think we're... bad... because we were supposed to be
different..."
"Mmmhmm." Noncommittal and nonpersonal. Good gods -- why didn't these kids ever
realize that she wasn't their friend?
"I would have been different anyway." This one was a little older, Spider
suddenly remembered -- six or seven, and quiet. The type who didn't go play
with the building blocks with all the other children in the corner -- the one
who tucked into a little chair and watched the world go by. "Mama's people
hated Papa's... Papa's looked down on hers..."
"Such was always the way," the scientist agreed, half-mindedly.
"But they loved each other very much... that's why Papa had me in the same
program as the other children. He wanted me to be happy and liked even though
Mama wasn't a Cardassian..."
She gave a short laugh to herself. "Naturally, playing God with your child's
DNA is the right way to do it..."
The child seemed on the verge of tears. "He just wanted me to be happy... but
it just made me sick..." She was full-on crying now, and looked up at Spider
through a mist of tears. "Please make it better, Doctor..."
"Now, there, there," Spider gave her a little pat on the head, having by now
managed her "touched Cardassian - recoil" reflex. "I promise when we're done --
you'll be all better."
[align=center]* * *[/align]
"Good news or bad news first?" Spider's aide asked, holding out two padds.
Three weeks' progress was coming to a head; she'd been called into the facility
early that day, and privately hoped there was a good reason.
"Any news is good," she answered, waiting for the padds. "You pick."
"All of the eugenics-tests subjects have either been terminated due to the
complications or are scheduled to be later today. Half have recovered from the
nucleotide virus; all of the healthy ones are remaining healthy."
"Good. So it's a reaction with the genetic oddities that's killing the
children, not with the virus itself. Is that the so-called 'good' news?" When
he nodded, the operative smiled. "Excellent. And I've just been looking at some
of the scans -- I think I know what's causing the breakdown in the
treatment..." It didn't take long; too late Spider had noticed that it was
locking onto seemingly random genetic receptors; simulations (and some
additional injections) had shown that the newest modifications to the
retrovirus should have corrected it for the next round.
"One other thing," Spider asked, catching sight of a denotation for the test
group's "special" case. "Did the halfling die?"
"The Bajoran? Ah, no. She's still alive -- for now."
"Oh." The operative considered for a moment. "One room over, right?" Her aide
nodded, and for a few moments, it seemed unclear on what she'd say. "Ah, good
then," Spider finally settled on. "Make sure you gather the additional data on
hybrid-retrovirus interaction before the subject is terminated."
For a moment he seemed skeptical, and she raised a brow. "Was there something
more?"
"No," he answered, seeming to shake back to reality. "The rest is on your
terminal."
"Very good."
* * *
"Successful tests, then, I garner from these materials?" Raptor motioned to a
padd, and Spider smirked.
"Oh yes, very successful. If you read, by the end of the second trials, we were
operating with a ninety-five percent survival rate and ninety-eight percent of
DNA fully restored."
"Excellent!" He gave her a confident smile. "You've done... superb work here,
Agent."
"I know, Sir," she answered, smugly. "As always, the best I can do."
"If we had a commendation -- we don't -- I'd offer it to you. However, I can
offer you your next assignment based on your preferences, as a reward. Any
thoughts?"
She smiled, leaning forward conspiratorily. "Something where I won't see a
child or a blooming bogweed for an epoch."
Raptor considered. "Andoria?"
The same, dazzling smile. "Sounds perfect to me. Tell me more."
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