Writing Contest: Sagas of Sorrow
#WritingContest
The holodeck gateway opened onto a rain slick street, lit by incandescent bulbs sprouting from telephone poles and squat apartment blocks. A yellow and red taxi belching exhaust drove past that gateway heedlessly as Saadia Shah stepped through and into the program. She wore a grey trench coat over her uniform; somehow, she knew it would be raining.
The heels of her boots clicked on the pavement as she walked out into the night of Hong Kong in the early 1960s, her slightly embarrassing personal holodeck programme based on an old Earth romance holo. It was a strange place to meet but it was where she was asked to go, and this was a request she’d never dream of denying.
The woman who made that request stood about half a block away, where the narrow street bent into a curve to twist between more Kowloon apartment buildings. Her beaming face somehow outshone the streetlight, the Chinese neon sign above it—and her vivid red trench coat. “Vice Admiral! You came!”
Saadia approached, hands buried in her pockets, and smiling. She’d gotten all too good at projecting calm, even when everything was falling apart. When she was three metres away, she stopped. This was close as she was allowed to get. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Pythia.”
Pythia bounced on her heels and clapped, threatening to shake her dark hair out of its pristine, period-appropriate updo. “I had hoped to see you one last time, Vice Admiral Shah. I hope you approve of my choice of venue? I thought you'd be more comfortable in your favourite romantic period-piece sim and that it would make this, well, easier. I know you weren’t keen on my decision about the Borg virus…”
Saadia took a deep breath. Suddenly she didn’t feel the rain anymore, even as it soaked through. “It’s beautiful, Pythia. When you dematerialised to pursue your plan, we didn’t think we’d see you again…” she tried to sound hopeful, but she knew a permanent goodbye when she saw one. Still, there was a chance. Surely? She’d do what she always did, give an inspiring speech, talk her way out of this… “You know you don’t have to do this. We can find another way to purge the Canberra’s systems of the virus; it’s what we always do, Pythia. We always find a way.”
They had to. Saadia knew it was her own fault this had even happened this way. She gave the order to scan the Borg probe, after all.
Pythia smiled serenely. “We always do. And we did! Today, I am the way.” She flickered suddenly, her photonic body turning into a wave distortion for three painfully long seconds. “…Oof. Yep. 75% deleted. It was the only way, Vice Admiral.”
“Really, call me Saadia, please,” she said with a soft smile. She’d often tried to get Pythia to refer to her less formally, but to no avail.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Saadia. But it had to be this way. There were no other solutions! You said yourself that being in Starfleet means being willing to do the right thing even at great cost to yourself. Well, there's no higher cost for me. But I’ll pay it to stop this ship from being turned into a weapon against the very people we’re trying to save. I know some people still doubt that synthetics can be trusted with Starfleet’s mission.” That serene smile again. “Now there should be statistically less doubt.”
“The colony is safe, Pythia. We’ve moved a safe distance away thanks to Lieutenant Legasova’s heroic efforts, you…”
“Oh, Lieutenant Legasova! I will miss her and her balalaika-playing. I don’t think I complimented her enough… she stopped playing in the lounge re…” Pythia shimmered into another distortion. “Oof. 85%. It is getting more difficult for me to sustain this representation of myself, Adm…Saadia. I’m sorry; the holodeck was the only place I could boost myself with enough efficiency to re-materialise without jeopardising my sterilisation scheme. But even that's becoming difficult. There won't be anything left of me soon, anyway...”
Saadia frowned deeply; Pythia’s plan was dark genius. To stop the Borg nanovirus she dematerialised her entire code into a form that could overwhelm and eliminate it. Not isolate it from key systems or stop it from reproducing—which was all they could achieve in the preceding twelve desperate hours—but obliterate it. Pythia turned herself into an anti-Borg retrovirus. At the cost of her own life. Every bit of Borg virus deleted consumed some other bit of her.
“She played just last week. You said it was beautiful and that you wanted her to teach you to play. She agreed,” Saadia reminded her.
“Oh yeah! Gwah, this dang ol’ Borg virus. There’s so much I want to remember… things I wanted to say to you…”
Saadia shook her head. “It’s alright, Pythia. Truly.” She tried her best to smile. “You know, if you let us find a way to get you out of this, I’m going to promote you, right? Lieutenant Commander, like you always dreamed. We talked about it so much, I said you were just one solid experiment away. Well… this counts!” She laughed, trying so very hard not to get choked up.
“Aww, that’s sweet, Saadia! Really! That’s… that’s so good to know. Can you call me Lieutenant Commander Pythia? I want to hear it in your voice! The way you say it like 'left-tenant!'”
Saadia grinned and looked away for a moment, nearly losing it right there. “Lieutenant Commander Pythia… you’re the best of us. A noble and brilliant woman. And you still have so much to give the U.S.S. Canberra. And the Federation. You’ve neutralised 85 percent...”
“92 percent!”
“…92 percent of an unstoppable Borg virus! You can do so much more. Why let it end here?”
“I’m sorry, Saadia. But as a Lieutenant Commander… wow that feels so good to say!... I have to make hard choices! There’s no other way to save the crew in time. You understand, you’d…” she dissolved into a distortion.
“Pythia!”
“…do the same for us,” Pythia’s voice returned, and enough of her face for Saadia to see her smile. “… love you all… say bye to… but... I... please… keep believing in synths!”
Then nothing but the sound of falling rain, perfectly rendered. A monsoon was coming in.
“Computer…” she called out, knowing full well the answer she’d receive. “Locate Lieutenant Commander Pythia.”
“Lieutenant Pythia not found on board. I noticed that you used a new rank for her; would you like to log a promotion?”
“Yes,” Saadia said tersely.
“Record updated.”
“Admiral!” came a voice over her combadge. Her XO, Commander Flores y Santiago, sounded exhausted and ecstatic all at once, “the virus is gone! Every system is purged but intact!” she said rapidly.
Then, nothing but rain again. Saadia turned around to walk back to the gateway. She’ll be stoic about this, the way she always was. “Copy. Run another scan, have Delta do a Level 5 Diagnostic. Then gather the crew…”
Saadia would do what she always did. Be the mother of the crew, be the pillar for everyone to lean on, to cleave to… There was no time for her own grief right now.
A friend had just died, a friend she’d thought immortal. Some part of herself grieved the loss of what she now realised was a foolish dream: the hope that synthetic officers could spare everyone the grief of loss, that they would always be one repair or molecular-reconstitution away from cheating the death that stalked all organics relentlessly--especially in Starfleet. These officers would be courageous yet undying. But now all that was left of Pythia was a memory strangled by grief that she’d tamp down, for the good of the crew. She’d have to be strong for them when they found out.
Then suddenly another sound peeled through the gathering monsoon. The distinct, metallic ringing of an old telephone. It was coming from the red, British-style phone booth across the street.
It rang again.
Saadia stared at the phone box and walked over curiously. Her romance programme was supposed to be paused. Once Pythia had… died… there should’ve been no other events beyond environmental effects. She stepped into the booth, finding relief from the rain and picked up the beige receiver, putting it to her ear. “…Hello?”
“Hi Vice Admiral!”
“Pythia! I… how…?”
“So, don’t be mad but this is a recording. If you’re hearing this, it means I’ve died. I slapped this together just before I started running my Pythia_IsTheAntibody program, because I knew that going all retroviral would screw with my memory, so I’m going to say all my proper pre-death goodbyes here in case my scheme with the holodeck doesn’t work out. First of all, you were really cool. Thank you for creating a home for me and other synths aboard the Canberra and treating us just like everyone else. So much love for you.
“And tell Commander Flores y Santiago that I love her too. But also tell her I hid her anbo-jyutsu stick in Jeffries Tube 26, in the entrance by the Cosmozoology Lab. I meant to tell her but with everything happening this week I kinda forgot about that prank…”
Saadia leaned against the wall of the booth and sank. Slowly. Until she sat on its floor, legs gathered against her chest. The tears were coming in sheets now as she heaved with sobs. “Don’t… please… don’t do this…” she whispered.
To no one in particular.
But she listened to every word.
Nothing That Belonged to It Exists Anymore
The holodeck gateway opened onto a rain slick street, lit by incandescent bulbs sprouting from telephone poles and squat apartment blocks. A yellow and red taxi belching exhaust drove past that gateway heedlessly as Saadia Shah stepped through and into the program. She wore a grey trench coat over her uniform; somehow, she knew it would be raining.
The heels of her boots clicked on the pavement as she walked out into the night of Hong Kong in the early 1960s, her slightly embarrassing personal holodeck programme based on an old Earth romance holo. It was a strange place to meet but it was where she was asked to go, and this was a request she’d never dream of denying.
The woman who made that request stood about half a block away, where the narrow street bent into a curve to twist between more Kowloon apartment buildings. Her beaming face somehow outshone the streetlight, the Chinese neon sign above it—and her vivid red trench coat. “Vice Admiral! You came!”
Saadia approached, hands buried in her pockets, and smiling. She’d gotten all too good at projecting calm, even when everything was falling apart. When she was three metres away, she stopped. This was close as she was allowed to get. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Pythia.”
Pythia bounced on her heels and clapped, threatening to shake her dark hair out of its pristine, period-appropriate updo. “I had hoped to see you one last time, Vice Admiral Shah. I hope you approve of my choice of venue? I thought you'd be more comfortable in your favourite romantic period-piece sim and that it would make this, well, easier. I know you weren’t keen on my decision about the Borg virus…”
Saadia took a deep breath. Suddenly she didn’t feel the rain anymore, even as it soaked through. “It’s beautiful, Pythia. When you dematerialised to pursue your plan, we didn’t think we’d see you again…” she tried to sound hopeful, but she knew a permanent goodbye when she saw one. Still, there was a chance. Surely? She’d do what she always did, give an inspiring speech, talk her way out of this… “You know you don’t have to do this. We can find another way to purge the Canberra’s systems of the virus; it’s what we always do, Pythia. We always find a way.”
They had to. Saadia knew it was her own fault this had even happened this way. She gave the order to scan the Borg probe, after all.
Pythia smiled serenely. “We always do. And we did! Today, I am the way.” She flickered suddenly, her photonic body turning into a wave distortion for three painfully long seconds. “…Oof. Yep. 75% deleted. It was the only way, Vice Admiral.”
“Really, call me Saadia, please,” she said with a soft smile. She’d often tried to get Pythia to refer to her less formally, but to no avail.
“Okay. I’m sorry, Saadia. But it had to be this way. There were no other solutions! You said yourself that being in Starfleet means being willing to do the right thing even at great cost to yourself. Well, there's no higher cost for me. But I’ll pay it to stop this ship from being turned into a weapon against the very people we’re trying to save. I know some people still doubt that synthetics can be trusted with Starfleet’s mission.” That serene smile again. “Now there should be statistically less doubt.”
“The colony is safe, Pythia. We’ve moved a safe distance away thanks to Lieutenant Legasova’s heroic efforts, you…”
“Oh, Lieutenant Legasova! I will miss her and her balalaika-playing. I don’t think I complimented her enough… she stopped playing in the lounge re…” Pythia shimmered into another distortion. “Oof. 85%. It is getting more difficult for me to sustain this representation of myself, Adm…Saadia. I’m sorry; the holodeck was the only place I could boost myself with enough efficiency to re-materialise without jeopardising my sterilisation scheme. But even that's becoming difficult. There won't be anything left of me soon, anyway...”
Saadia frowned deeply; Pythia’s plan was dark genius. To stop the Borg nanovirus she dematerialised her entire code into a form that could overwhelm and eliminate it. Not isolate it from key systems or stop it from reproducing—which was all they could achieve in the preceding twelve desperate hours—but obliterate it. Pythia turned herself into an anti-Borg retrovirus. At the cost of her own life. Every bit of Borg virus deleted consumed some other bit of her.
“She played just last week. You said it was beautiful and that you wanted her to teach you to play. She agreed,” Saadia reminded her.
“Oh yeah! Gwah, this dang ol’ Borg virus. There’s so much I want to remember… things I wanted to say to you…”
Saadia shook her head. “It’s alright, Pythia. Truly.” She tried her best to smile. “You know, if you let us find a way to get you out of this, I’m going to promote you, right? Lieutenant Commander, like you always dreamed. We talked about it so much, I said you were just one solid experiment away. Well… this counts!” She laughed, trying so very hard not to get choked up.
“Aww, that’s sweet, Saadia! Really! That’s… that’s so good to know. Can you call me Lieutenant Commander Pythia? I want to hear it in your voice! The way you say it like 'left-tenant!'”
Saadia grinned and looked away for a moment, nearly losing it right there. “Lieutenant Commander Pythia… you’re the best of us. A noble and brilliant woman. And you still have so much to give the U.S.S. Canberra. And the Federation. You’ve neutralised 85 percent...”
“92 percent!”
“…92 percent of an unstoppable Borg virus! You can do so much more. Why let it end here?”
“I’m sorry, Saadia. But as a Lieutenant Commander… wow that feels so good to say!... I have to make hard choices! There’s no other way to save the crew in time. You understand, you’d…” she dissolved into a distortion.
“Pythia!”
“…do the same for us,” Pythia’s voice returned, and enough of her face for Saadia to see her smile. “… love you all… say bye to… but... I... please… keep believing in synths!”
Then nothing but the sound of falling rain, perfectly rendered. A monsoon was coming in.
“Computer…” she called out, knowing full well the answer she’d receive. “Locate Lieutenant Commander Pythia.”
“Lieutenant Pythia not found on board. I noticed that you used a new rank for her; would you like to log a promotion?”
“Yes,” Saadia said tersely.
“Record updated.”
“Admiral!” came a voice over her combadge. Her XO, Commander Flores y Santiago, sounded exhausted and ecstatic all at once, “the virus is gone! Every system is purged but intact!” she said rapidly.
Then, nothing but rain again. Saadia turned around to walk back to the gateway. She’ll be stoic about this, the way she always was. “Copy. Run another scan, have Delta do a Level 5 Diagnostic. Then gather the crew…”
Saadia would do what she always did. Be the mother of the crew, be the pillar for everyone to lean on, to cleave to… There was no time for her own grief right now.
A friend had just died, a friend she’d thought immortal. Some part of herself grieved the loss of what she now realised was a foolish dream: the hope that synthetic officers could spare everyone the grief of loss, that they would always be one repair or molecular-reconstitution away from cheating the death that stalked all organics relentlessly--especially in Starfleet. These officers would be courageous yet undying. But now all that was left of Pythia was a memory strangled by grief that she’d tamp down, for the good of the crew. She’d have to be strong for them when they found out.
Then suddenly another sound peeled through the gathering monsoon. The distinct, metallic ringing of an old telephone. It was coming from the red, British-style phone booth across the street.
It rang again.
Saadia stared at the phone box and walked over curiously. Her romance programme was supposed to be paused. Once Pythia had… died… there should’ve been no other events beyond environmental effects. She stepped into the booth, finding relief from the rain and picked up the beige receiver, putting it to her ear. “…Hello?”
“Hi Vice Admiral!”
“Pythia! I… how…?”
“So, don’t be mad but this is a recording. If you’re hearing this, it means I’ve died. I slapped this together just before I started running my Pythia_IsTheAntibody program, because I knew that going all retroviral would screw with my memory, so I’m going to say all my proper pre-death goodbyes here in case my scheme with the holodeck doesn’t work out. First of all, you were really cool. Thank you for creating a home for me and other synths aboard the Canberra and treating us just like everyone else. So much love for you.
“And tell Commander Flores y Santiago that I love her too. But also tell her I hid her anbo-jyutsu stick in Jeffries Tube 26, in the entrance by the Cosmozoology Lab. I meant to tell her but with everything happening this week I kinda forgot about that prank…”
Saadia leaned against the wall of the booth and sank. Slowly. Until she sat on its floor, legs gathered against her chest. The tears were coming in sheets now as she heaved with sobs. “Don’t… please… don’t do this…” she whispered.
To no one in particular.
But she listened to every word.
