Rynn Morrow’s footsteps were nearly silent as she crept down the corridor and towards the Captain’s quarters. She stuck to the shadows, nervously checking every corner, searching for any sign of movement. It made the journey, though short, feel unbearably drawn-out. 

She didn’t know who or what she was afraid to run into – the Borg were confined, and the remaining crew wouldn’t have any objections to her making sure their plan didn’t fail. And yet she knew that her following Halden out of the cargo bay had made her loyalties clear – she would choose Halden over Draxon. And she could only imagine how displeased that made him. If there was one thing she had learned from the fate of the prisoners and those who dared to defy Draxon, was that crossing him was a sure way to get killed. 

That was how their last senior engineer had met her end.

She nervously brushed a strand of hair out of her face. Now that she thought about it, was absolutely not happy with the task she had been given. She understood, and agreed, that their “Captain” needed to stay alive, but she hated being the one responsible for ensuring it. 

Rynn had worked with Arys for several months, and in that time, she had always thought of  her as weak and unreasonable – clinging to outdated ideals before ultimately betraying them. Still, Rynn couldn’t deny a certain fascination with Arys’ surgical skills, and it had irritated her to no end that the woman refused to teach her. 

So instead, Rynn had observed her every movement, determined to one day replace her. 

Her family had been loosely connected to the Orion Syndicate for as long as she could remember, but never quite managed to permeate the structures that already existed and break into its inner circles. If Rynn mastered such a skill as valuable as advanced surgery, it could have been their ticket to finally earning a position of real power within the organization. 

At least, that had been the plan. Now, she faced getting captured by Starfleet and spending her life in a prison colony. 

Once Rynn arrived, the unlocked doors hiss open without any resistance, surprising her. She had never been inside the Captain’s quarters before – though she hadn’t been above trying to cozy up with Mahok in the past. 

The Captain’s suite was as luxurious as she had imagined, exuding an air of extravagant taste. At the same time, the space seemed unexpectedly untouched, as if the occupant had only just left, and would return soon. 

Shelves lined with bottles of liquid caught her eye. Some rare, most illegal, all of them undeniably expensive. Clothing and other personal items were meticulously tucked away, leaving no trace of haste. On the dark wooden desk, a crystal glass of amber liquid remained. 

Rynn had expected that Mahok would take his personal items with him, but then again, she thought bitterly, it was clear that possessions nor people meant very little to him. No personal attachments – he had told her that once, as if it were something to be proud of. To her, it just sounded lonely. 

Though that wasn’t Rynn’s main concern right now. 

“What are you doing?”, she demanded, her voice sharp as she looked at the two figures in front of her.

One of them was Arys, curled up into a corner as if she could somehow disappear into the shadows. The woman looked even more pale than usual, her face drawn and damp with sweat. She leaned weakly against the wall, and the ill-fitting shirt soaked in barely dried blood clung to her body like a second skin. She was at best semi-conscious, and neither acknowledged Rynn, nor the other person in the room. 

That other person was Kovin Haynes, one of their … colleagues. A grey-haired man who had primarily focussed on assisting in the extraction procedures, and catalogued the items they had retrieved from the Borg. With him, he had a case with medical supplies, and he appeared to be searching for something.

“What are you doing here?”, Rynn asked suspiciously. Perhaps he was here for the same reason, but frankly, there was a reason Kovin mostly stuck to cataloguing. 

“Getting rid of her, like Draxon said.”, Kovin replied with a frown. But then, something seemed to click. His frown deepened, making him look even older than he already was. Perhaps he was realising that Rynn hadn’t been privy to that particular conversation. 

“Mahok said to blame her.”, Rynn said and folded her arms across her chest. She would very much have liked Halden’s support right about now. 

“And we are in agreement on that.” Kovin nodded. “But what if she talks?”

“I am here to make sure she doesn’t, but Halden said to keep her alive. No point in blaming someone dead and another gone.”, Rynn hissed, fumbling for her communicator before realizing that using it was far too risky with Draxon still out there. “We had a plan!”

“Sounds like you’re already deviating from it.”, Kovin said with a shrug shrug as he reached for the hypospray he had been looking for. “It will be quick and painless. And it’s better than risking her talking.” 

“She won’t, I already told you that.”, argued Rynn. 

“Okay then.”, Kovin sighed. “But we can’t rely on that. And what do you think will happen to me if Draxon finds out I didn’t follow his orders?”

“You don’t have to worry about that.”, Rynn admitted quietly. “Halden will take care of him.”

There was a moment of silence between the two. 

“Are you insane?”, Kovin hissed. “Draxon is a soldier, Halden is a fucking engineer. What’s he gonna do, throw a wrench at him?”

“You know she is tougher than that.”, Rynn pointed out.

“You know this is insane.”, countered Kovin. 

“Okay… okay…”, Rynn exhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I get your point, I really do. But think about it. If we want to sell the lie, it needs to be convincing. If you inject her with… I don’t know, whatever you have there-… “ 

“Xynaphal.”

“Yes, this thing. If you inject her with that, Starfleet will notice.”, Rynn said, trying to hide the desperation in her voice. And the annoyance. “It shows in scans, and if they do an autopsy – well.. we’re screwed. .”

Kovin’s fingers tightened around the hypospray. “I didn’t know that. What do you propose?”

“Let’s give her silvoxene”, Rynn suggested, pointing at another vial amongst Kovin’s supplies.

“What is it?”, he asked, and Rynn just about resisted rolling her eyes.For someone calling himself a doctor, he was pathetic. 

“Its a clotting agent”, Rynn explained, and approached to pick up the vial and hand it to Kovin. “I know she already received it to help slow down the bleeding. If we give her more, she will probably have a stroke. Maybe two. The more, the merrier, as they say.”

“Can’t Starfleet fix that?”, Kovin asked. 

“Maybe.”, Rynn admitted. “But probably not entirely, and it means everything she says can be dismissed as brain damage.”

“That’s.. smart”, admitted Kovin reluctantly. He thought for a moment. “Just make sure that no one comes inside. I hear some of the crew decided to go haywire.”

Rynn nodded and returned to the door. She cautiously peeked into the hallway, scanning for any signs of movement. But even though she found the corridor deserted, the silence was still unnerving. 

Satisfied, she turned to let Kovin know that they weren’t being watched, only to freeze before she could get a single word out. Her eyes locked onto the silvoxene that lay discarded on the floor, and then the hypospray – the one loaded with xynaphal.

He was gonna kill Arys, and with that, their scapegoat.

And with that, their means to get out of this whole thing. 

“Stop!” Rynn cried out, her voice high-pitched and panicked as the adrenaline surged through her. She launched herself at Kovin, moving faster than she thought possible, and barrelled into him. There was the soft crunch of cartilage breaking, accompanied by a scream. 

Kovin was fueled by anger and pain, but Rynn was a lot younger and the adrenaline gave her the edge. Finally, with a sharp twist, she managed to pry the hypospray away from him. 

“Give it back! it’s what Draxon wants!”, Kovin yelled so loudly that Rynn was sure the whole ship heard him. 

He tried to grab it, and then froze. The only thing audible was the familiar hiss of the hypospray dispersing the medication – into Kovin’s hand. 

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Rynn’s thoughts, her breathing, her heartbeat. 

Then, Kovin’s eyes widened in sheer terror and he struggled away from Rynn. Unable to get back to his feet, his hands clawed at the floor. He dragged himself into the direction of the door, a hoarse, voiceless cry barely escaping his lips. 

But Rynn couldn’t let him escape, could she? 

She scrambled to her feet and rushed towards the door, climbing over Kovin’s tortured form in the process. Her hands trembled as she slammed her palm against the control panel, locking the door. 

“P… please…”, Kovin whispered, his voice breaking. His breaths came in short and shallow, and he tried to reach up to her in a final plea, his fingers already turning grey.

Rynn didn’t answer. Instead, she watched the unnatural color expand to the rest of his body, and listened to the strange gurgling sound that accentuated every weak breath Kovin took. Until he finally stopped moving.

“Draxon to Kovin. Is it done?”, Draxon’s voice came from somewhere inside Kovin’s pocket. 

Rynn didn’t move. 

“Answer me!”, the voice came again, louder and sharper this time.

Rynn stayed completely still, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Draxon knew. Or at least he would know once Kovin didn’t reply. 

Draxon didn’t make another attempt at communication. He would come here and see for himself. Rynn could only hope that Halden got to him before he arrived.