Bring Out Yer Dead

[Tachyon 0]

“Bring Out Yer Dead”

A Joint Log by Ensign Sean Xiang and Lieutenant Dave Grey

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

In the non-existent science lab, Grey made last-minute calibrations to the scanners and analysis units. He fine-tuned a molecular resonance unit and reset the parameters for the DNA resequencer. Ensign Xiang would be arriving in any minute with the sample of cellular residue they would need to compare with Grey's data from the planet.

 

Ensign Xiang walked into the science lab, the door closing behind him. This was the first time he had stepped foot in the place. Taking it all in, what there was to take in that is, he walked over to where he saw Grey. “I have the samples, sir,” he said, producing a small data chip from his PADD.

 

Grey took the offered chip and plugged it into the analysis unit. He had already entered his data into the computer, so they were ready to begin. “All right, let's get a full scan of each genome. Then we'll run it through the sequencer for any anomalies.” He motioned for Xiang to start the scanning process.

 

Taking his place beside Grey, Sean began typing on the keyboard. The machine whirred to life scanning the data at a molecular level. It hummed as it compared the amino acid configurations and catalogued each base sequence, completely recording the entire genome in its memory.

 

“As I told the captain,” said Grey while the scanner worked its scientific magic, “I think that we'll find an altered genome—a significantly altered one. Those tombs down there looked anything if normal. Has your uh . . . research . . . been able to shed any light on that?”

 

“From what I can tell, the Alliance developed some sort of 'Super Warrior'. Strength, agility, intelligence . . . you name it, it was altered.” Sean watched the screen as the computer worked. “How they accomplished this I have yet to figure out.” He paused considering his words. “On a side note though, I do believe I know why they did it.”

 

“Oh?” asked Grey, his mind recalling Earth's own experiments with eugenics back at the turn of the 21st century--and its disastrous results. Or, more recently, Enterprise's encounter with contemporary “augments”. Human history was rife with examples of selective breeding for particular traits.

 

“The Bo-Fang were many, they had the backing . . . however they attained it.” He sighed. “The Alliance had no choice . . . they were out numbered . . . they had to make their people count for two, three, even four of the Bo-Fang warriors.” Sean said as the computer completed its task.

 

Grey watched the results on the screen. Both genomes had successfully been analysed and computed. He now instructed the computer to compare each genome and inform them of any discrepancies that were not natural mutations. Then he turned to Xiang. “Still seems like a pretty bad idea, if history is any benchmark. Any indications of how these super-warriors turned out, socially?”

 

“Not really, we must remember history is written by the victors. It is hard to believe any faction such that of the Bo-Fang including great stories of their enemies greatest warriors.” Sean monitored the comparison along with Grey, genetics had not been his best subject, but he understood it well enough.

 

Grey had no love of genetics. He had been skilled in biology, but the sheer organic components to it had thrown him off from the start. As the codons flew past and comparisons made, all of his old genetics courses began to come back in stark detail. Then, just as abruptly, the were banished by the dull tone emitted from the computer console as it finished the comparison.

 

Grey leaned forward simultaneously with Xiang to see the results. “Intriguing.” Sean said, as he read the words scrolling along the screen. “I must say, I find myself wondering how the Bo-Fang won the war. Look at those genetic markers. If I am reading this correct, these Alliance 'super warriors' were exponentially stronger and faster then their Bo-Fang counterparts. . . .”

 

Grey's voice was deadpan as he replied, “Well, the only way I can think of beating an enemy with stronger manpower is . . . stronger equipment and stronger . . . weapons.” He shivered, not wanting to run into any more L'Traisan weapons.

 

Tone shifting slightly, Grey looked at the results again. “Looks like our suspicions are confirmed, though. Let's inform the captain that we have a match.”

 

“Indeed.” Sean replied. He stood there for a moment, staring at the screen. Then finally he said, “After you, sir.” As the two walked towards the door, Sean paused for a moment. “Sir?” He said, in a tone he worked hard to keep level.

 

Preoccupied with permutations and possibilities, Grey nearly walked into the wall rather than the through the door. He stopped in time and managed to ask, “Yes?”

 

“Sir, are any of those people on the surface. That is, those in the tomb.” Sean swallowed. “Are any of them...still alive sir?”

 

“What? Oh, no, certainly not,” replied Grey reassuringly. “As things stand right now, the only beings who call Nequencia III home are ghosts.”