Chapter 2: All's fare

Darro is reduced to doing cab rides

I unlocked the runabout and activated the hack that let the replicator make coffee without paying Tresk. In case the Ferengi billed me later, I placed my mug in and said, "Coffee, double caf, double hot."

No steam rose from the cold brew.

The cold coffee was surely burnt and probably decaf.. I took it and sniffed it. "Maybe it's poison." I laughed. I'm sure that's a rule of aquisition—dead men offer no bribes. I took a sip of the brew, so foul and bitter its flavor had the desired effect.

My stomach clenched as I slid into the chair and checked my messages. I knew I should look at the message regarding Elise, sooner than later. If I had anything left in my mind to spend I could probably finagle something. The most precious thing they took from us, those undying reserves of hope that kept the Federation in the light for so long.

I just hoped she had been taken to the right place, maybe run by Jellik's people. Or someone soulless and efficient. Under the Founders the Cardassian cruelty had softened to expeditiousness. They would look on her as collateral damage. I sipped the foul, stone-cold coffee and sneered at Tresk's capitalistic mercy. No disrespect—I understood Ferengi as no Starfleet ever could—but I would prefer anything to them. Almost.

I set the important messages for later and attended to business. No solicitations—the software didn't offer to take my money when I had none. Several requests for a ride that would take me too far from Molly for comfort. A couple deliveries.

And one stood out, too perfect to be believed—round trip.

I accepted the fare and drank down the sludge in my cup.

As soon as I did, the computer offered me a fresh cup of premium coffee.

I clenched my teeth and dismissed them, clicking at the 'do not ask again." I dismissed the offer of a fifty percent discount.

The fare took me across town.

My runabout sat for five minutes before a woman's voice addressed me from behind. "Darro?"

I turned to see a fetching lady—the nose ridges were decidedly not Bajoran—wearing gauzy kerchiefs about her head, feigning an attempt to hide her cybernetic implants.

I matched her smile, a questioning look–and gestured open handed toward the entrance. "Feles, I presume? Be my guest."

She walked in and took a seat beside mine. "It's all right if you don't want to take me."

"Even if that were true," I said, as I took my seat beside her, "I can hardly be choosy about my work."

"That's very enlightened, these days."

"You don't look ready to assimilate me." I entered the coordinates she had requested. "Are you a rescue, or…?"

"Elective." She cleared her throat. "Prosthetic."

The language for cybernetic enhancements was as dodgy as that for genetic engineering had been—for much the same reason. These days the prospect of another engineered human warlord had lost its terror. "If I may ask, why not build something a little less obtrusive?"

She smiled. "They didn't kill our idealism, just our government."

Activistic prosthetics? "So you are about assimilating us."

She smiled kindly. "I can, if you like."

"No, thank you."

"Our technology is not coercive. Our motto is, 'Resistance is not called for.'"

I flinched. "Needs work."

"Our technology counteracts all neurological disease," she insisted, "Natural and artificial."

"I'll prefer to keep my personhood." Although I thought about Molly. She would never be alone, hungry, afraid, ever again. "Even if it collapses in on itself."

"You misunderstand. We do not sacrifice our individuality."

"It's a nice pitch," I said. Fiendishly nice.

"We are not like the borg queens of ages past. Our community is open to us, ever present, never oppressive."

It sounded suspiciously like the Federation.

"There is hope." She put her hand on my knee. "I can show you—if you'll consent."

"You're not hooking me up to some bootleg borg wetware."

The hurt in her eyes flickered before understanding. "Darro, we understand consent. What I'm offering is nothing like assimilation—just a touching of minds. Like Vulcans do."

It sounded safer, but hadn't there been abuses of Vulcan sorcery as well? I brushed her beautiful hands away from my knee.

She tilted her head and looked at me. "A tour."

It would be so easy to take her as she offered. My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts. A collective within easy reach—humans weren't meant to be solitary creatures. With the loss of Elise, and Molly's mother, I needed that more than anything. Forget the beauty of this woman, the kindness in her eyes proved the truth of her words—didn't it?

"We understand you won't be ready immediately. That is why we produced these capsules." She took a brown cylinder the size of a small fingernail out of her ocular implant.And then another. "For you. And one for a friend."

"If you touch Molly…."

Her eyes watered. "We would never be so arrogant. I told you, we are not the Borg."

"I was taught never to repurpose technology." I shivered. "An assassin robot is not worth keeping, no matter how good they are at cleansing your floor."

"If that is your final answer, then so be it." She closed my fingers about the pills. "But, in case you change your mind?"

"I never will," I said, filing them carefully for further retrieval.

"I understand if you don't want to finish our contract. I won't ask for a refund."

"I said I'd take you and I meant it." I landed the runabout, and stepped out the door. The sky shone yellow and orange in the setting sun, from horizon to horizon. "Do you need an escort?"

"That's not necessary." She smiled. "But your company would be welcome."

"Deadbeat Darro? Working for the Borg."

My Nausicaan friend had his phaser aimed at me–or at Feles.

Feles grabbed me by the shoulder. "It's all right. Let him have me."

"Yes, Darro," the Nausicaan scoffed. "Impress Feles. Show it your Starfleet warrior code.."

"Damn it, Roger," I said, grabbing for the phaser I had sold last week. "I told you I'm not Starfleet."

"Neither is Starfleet." The Nausicaan fired at his own robot, and it deflected the shot onto Feles.

It cut through any defenses.

She howled in distress and tumbled.

Someone shot at the Nausicaan from behind a building.

I grabbed her up and threw Feles into the runabout, injuring her wounded leg further. The door closed and the Nausicaan resumed fire at us.

Tresk's voice counted the number of 'free' shots his shields absorbed as I started the engine.

I ran to my supply counter. "I've been through the emergency supplies. I might have a bandage or…"

"Keep it," Feles said, her voice suspiciously calm.

I looked down to see her wound healing before my eyes.

"An internal dermal regenerator?"

"It's the neural energy?" She gritted her teeth and flexed as it improved. "Our collective may be small, but it's potent."

"You knew Roger would be there."

She shook her head. "He's been taking bounties. I would never put you in danger. Not without—"

"I know, consent?" Tresk got consent. It wasn't the moral philosopher's stone, but it was a cut above the Borg. For all that, I was just glad this was all that I had to deal with.