Popular Post Zephyr Posted November 6, 2022 Popular Post Share Posted November 6, 2022 ((ooc: 101 and 000 are unconscious but I wanted to contribute something, so I wrote some internal flavor text!)) ((Sickbay Complex, Deck 10)) One hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand and six hundred seconds. No matter how you sliced it, that was a long, long time for a pair of Bynars to be unable to connect to their mother computer on Bynaus. Machine or not, that computer was the giver of life of their people. It was the deep well from which they drew everything they had, from their language to the firing of neurons in their brains. The fact that Bynars could connect to it from across the galaxy was a miracle of engineering, truly— but it was technology born of necessity. No human could go without oxygen to breathe or food to eat, and no Bynar could go without the implant gifted to them at birth despite the double-edged blade. The incredible integration of their bodies and minds with technology was a marvel, a blessing, but it was also a curse that instilled them with a terrible weakness. As powerful as machines were, they were easy to overload. Too much energy would fry them. Environmental changes, magnetic waves, electrical surges— they were all terrible hazards. 101 and 000 had learned about their people’s encounter with the Enterprise as children studying Bynar history in school. A star had threatened to blow out the master computer on their planet, which meant they had to shut the entire thing down before the shockwave hit and turn it back on afterwards. A group of four Bynars had scrambled to back up as much data as possible onto the Enterprise’s computer. It was a security blanket, a failsafe, some last-ditch effort to preserve the knowledge of their race in case the computer never turned back on. For a while, while the computer was off and they waited for the shockwave to pass, every single member of their race had been close to death. They simply couldn’t survive without it. Neither 101 nor 000 knew how long it would take to die. They didn’t know how long their predecessors had had to cling to life while their brains shut down without the support needed. Perhaps they hadn’t voiced the urgency of such an emergency clearly enough to the crew. Did they have themselves to blame? 000 might think so— they blamed themself for most of the misfortunes of their life— but 101 was more likely to think that it wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes things just happened. An hour was a long time to wait to die. It was a blessing, really, that they lacked the strength to reliably cling to consciousness— 101 went out like a light and stayed that way. 000, however, fought and struggled and clawed their way back up. They woke a few times, eyes fluttering open but unable to focus on anything. They'd get a good, full breath and feel a quickening of their pulse, and then slip away again. There was a strength there, a refusal to stay down that 000 rarely expressed. Even so, they weren’t doing well. Neither Bynar was doing well at all— despite a clean bill of physical health, it was as if their bodies were losing the will to go on. It was a terribly lonely way to go, floating through a disoriented haze instead of being awake and alert together. When they pulled through, they’d be alarmed to hear they’d survived for over an hour. For the time being, though, all they could do was wait to wake up. The clock ticked on. ————————— Ensigns One Zero One (101) and Zero Zero Zero (000) HCO Officers USS Chin'toka NCC-97187 C239907OZ1 8 Quote Link to comment
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