"The Science Battlefield"

[OdileCondacin 0]

Odile carried the heavy, silver case into Science, weighed down with apprehension far less comic she'd shared with the Caitian. New technology always made her nervous, wary. It was exciting when she was young, but with age came appreciation for it -- and the proper levels of respect.

 

Engineering had sent the orders -- and Oddly had retrieved a trio of the ball weapons -- up to Science an hour or so earlier when they'd thrown up their hands on the console. Condacin was glad they had. It'd been a few years since she'd made a quiet, respected name for herself in bioweapons studies, and hadn't had much chance to play in the field since.

 

This fit her realm nicely, and by coincidence. The luck of Engineering to have her heading Science. From what they'd been able to tell, this weapon, too, was at least partially biologically-based -- and acted like it. It had memory -- shape-memory, to be more specific. One of the less popular fields, but, to be sure, one that had come up occasionally in the journals. And people had critiqued her for staying in her quarters to read them instead of heading to the lounge -- hah! She missed her journals -- even more than any other communications she ever received, but at least when they were back within reception range, she'd have a large pile to go through...

 

Ensign Meyer was finishing up something in the labs when Condacin entered -- ah, yes, more Soltan-biology-based simulations. Ever a source of amusement. He gave her a sharp nod, turning off one of the consoles. Ah, was it the end of Alpha already?

 

"I was just switching things over to Beta mode, Sir," he said, his hands resting on the edge of a screen. Apparently, it was. Time slipped away so easily... "If you'd prefer I can leave the auxiliaries active," he offered, pausing before deactivating another.

 

She nodded. "Yes, I think it's a late shift for me today." Odile smiled. "Engineering sent up a few things they can't make heads nor tails of."

 

"Or anything in between?" he asked, knowingly, and they both chuckled. "If you'd like, I can stay and help..."

 

The Xenexian cut him off. "Nah, go enjoy yourself. It might be awhile."

 

"Coffee, then, before I go?"

 

"Sure."

 

He brought the cup, black and without embellishment of sugar or cream, just as she liked it. Then he left, and aside from the barebones Beta crew in the main labs outside, Odile was alone with her subjects.

 

USS Antietam

December 27, 2393

 

"Ah, there you are, crewman."

 

Well-knived Crewman Condacin paused in her steps, glancing nervously at the chief. "Yes, Sir?"

 

"I've been meaning to catch you. My office," he gestured to the door. "Yearly review."

 

Ye gods.

 

"You've done very good work for an enlistee," he noted.

 

"Yes," Condacin admitted, not smiling for fear it turn smug. "I have." A quick glance at her made her quickly add, "Have -- have tried very hard to be the best Starfleet could want me to be."

 

"Ah. Yes. Well, you've done a good job at that.

 

Because cleaning test tubes and running comet analyses isn't something a trained nonsentient could do.. "Thank you, Sir."

 

"I've been reading about your species."

 

Now, that was interesting. "Oh, have you?"

 

"It says that you're very warriorlike, driven by pride. 'Arrogant' and 'difficult', as well as 'unorthodox' comes up in a few of the descriptions and files of other Xenexians in the Fleet."

 

"Calhoun natives are stubborn as a rule."

 

Commander Hale half-smirked. "I think that should be altered to say 'Xenexians' are stubborn as a rule. Of the four Xenexians I was looking at, all of them were noted to have some sort of personality 'defect' or a touch of headstrong wilfullness. So I have to ask -- as a member of a warrior species -- and obviously a follower of such philosophy -- why go into Science?"

 

"Obviously?" O'd'yl frowned, puzzled. "I don't think I've sworn blood vengeance on any of the crew..."

 

"Look at your hip, Odile."

 

She glanced down. Just Knife. Nothing unusual. Then it hit. "Oh."

 

"So, why go into a field best suited to exploration and knowledge, instead of warcraft?"

 

"Enlistee command training ensured I'd never lead."

 

"Then why not tactics or security?"

 

Odile shrugged, a bit puzzled. "I was always scolded as a child for taking everything apart..."

 

"Engineering, then?"

 

She shook her head, frowning. "I wanted to know why they worked, not how."

 

"Ah."

 

"Then when I was a little older, I'd be bringing home rocks and little desert plants and animals. And when I studied seriously as a student, I was drawn to the sciences." Condacin shrugged. "Then, even later, if I wasn't training I was learning..."

 

He nodded. "An interesting combination of specialties..." Hale noted, thoughtfully.

 

"Why protect what you don't even understand? Blind pride is no better than foolhardiness."

 

"Fascinating," the chief murmured. "Yes, yes, I see that this is a good fit for you indeed..."

 

O'd'yl wrinkled her nose. " 'This'?"

 

"How much do you know about our upcoming assignment, Condacin?" he asked.

 

She shrugged. "Nothing. It wasn't passed on to the crew, I thought?"

 

"Rumors spread. We'll be patrolling the border of Tholian space, and we're receiving a few items that I'd like someone to help me with."

 

"One of your commissioned assistants?" she offered, a bit humbled.

 

"I could, if you're not interested. They're working on some biologically-powered weapons."

 

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Why me? I don't have the rest of your department's training."

 

"Unique background? You're unusual -- I want to see what you make of them. If you're interested," he added.

 

"Very well..."

 

USS Agincourt

November, 2397

 

Odile was glaring stubbornly at the little balls, innocently looking like a child or pet's toys in the metal tray she'd finally set them in. The one she'd been fussing with had gone back to its spherical shape after being pried off her hand.

 

She'd turned one on -- that was easy enough. Squeeze it just so, and within a few seconds it gelled, morphed into a neat little weapon on her hand. She hadn't fired it yet -- that part always made her nervous. But nerves she would have to get over.

 

Fiddling with it on her hand, she shifted, aiming at a small metal trash can she'd set a few paces away on the floor. She considered it, reminded herself that she was expendable, reminded herself that the lab was all but compartmentalized from the rest of the ship, and flexed her hand.

 

Odile played with it until the bio-gel controlling it took to whatever signals she was sending, and...

 

There was a word for the result, and through her startled reaction, she muttered it.

 

"Boom."

 

The trash can was gone. The supply cabinet next to it was scorched, the deck plating beneath was black, and...

 

Hell, there probably wasn't a way she could turn down the power on it, not with as much trouble as she had getting the damned thing just to fire. At least it wasn't set to super-disintegrator.

 

Peeling it off, it regelled and reballed in her hand. Still fascinated, she repeated the process, minus the blast, putting it on her left hand, She worked it carefully, unwilling to fire, tricorders recording and scanning constantly.

 

From what she could tell, they drew quite a bit of energy from... some sort of biological component she hadn't seen thus far, to shift the atomic positions and thusly rotate between the two forms.

 

This biological component Odile was determined to locate -- she had a feeling it was related to the console's interface apparatus -- was going to be under the 'skin' of the thing, and, assuming goggles and laser scalpel on her right hand, started shaving away at the casing.

 

USS Antietam

February 20, 2394

 

"So it's like the famed Tholian webs, but miniature and destructive, instead of confining."

 

"Basically," Hale nodded and replied.

 

"So where's the bio component? Do they have radioactive spiders spinning the webs?"

 

"No, the biocomponent controls the weapon. Here -- try it on." Odile complied, and it snapped around her wrist, painfully tightly.

 

"Ow."

 

"It's made for one of those thin Tholian legs, you know," he commented, running a tricorder over the enlistee's hand and tightly-clinging weapon. "And it doesn't adjust to how thick your own hand and wrist are."

 

"Yes," Condacin replied, then with more force, "Ow.."

 

"Oh, come, you're a Xenexian warrior. You've probably had worse in battle."

 

"Didn't know science was a battlefield," she muttered, holding still. "It's burning."

 

"Oh? I didn't notice that. Maybe part of a firing mechanism," he suggested, and pointed towards a target. "Now, point and click -- it'll work."

 

Odile complied, aiming it towards the target -- and her eyes bulging from her skull as the energy burst wrapped around the entire target and disintegrating it, instead of offering a full burst. "My gods..." she breathed, staring.

 

"You've seen Tholian webs," he reminded. "Same concept -- different energy frequency."

 

"Yeah, but... what the..." She looked down at her wrist, shaking the weapon roughly. "Get it off! Get it off!"

 

It took far, far too long for the head of science to comply, and her skin looked an ill shade once he had, a shining, burning red.

 

"What the hell?" he asked, scanning the weapon now lying on the floor.

 

"You tell me!"

 

"Oh..."

 

"Oh?" Odile demanded, her voice hoarse in pain.

 

"Well, uh... the feedback from the energy burst made the wristband hot, and it was so pressed to your skin..."

 

"You didn't tell me it would get burning hot."

 

"Well, the Tholians exist in such hot environments that they wouldn't even notice it. I didn't think of that..."

 

"You didn't think of it?"

 

"Oh, come," Hale replied, all too brightly considering the quickly blistering (she was certain third-degree) burn. "Be glad it's not a commissioned officer's hand -- enlistees only need one to scrub lab glass," he teased. "We'll try it again later."

 

USS Agincourt

November, 2397

 

 

It burned, and she wrapped said burn quickly in a bit of gauze, scowling but undeterred. That was the problem with having to dissect with the stupid thing on... poking into the bio-nervous components shocked the hell out of her left hand, sending her peeling it -- and a bit of skin -- off in a rush.

 

After a foul bit of swearing and quick "field" dressing, she glared at the inoffensive little greenish ball, leaning over it with violence in her eyes and motives.

 

But...

 

The frowned deepened.

 

She was carving, yes, and it should have been working. But with every little line of the laser scalpel it sealed back over...

 

Damn the thing.

 

Her tricorder had all the intricacies of the nerve-powered "battery" system saved -- and saved again to a second tricorder and third in triplicate. By no method would she lose the data that she'd been electro-burned to obtain.

 

Her attentions turned to the console, sitting also quite innocently in one corner of the cargo bay as if it had no idea in the world what trouble it caused Engineering. Hah!

 

She looked over the alien-tongued display, and gave it a stern look. She'd master the thing if it took burns on her entire body...