Weird Science, Part 3
Posted on Thu Mar 6th, 2025 @ 11:35pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel & Lieutenant JG Lovisa Montague & Crewman Raine Ni-ya
4,884 words; about a 24 minute read
Mission:
To Boldly Go
Location: Science Lab 2, Deck 6, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 8
[ON - Continued]
"What are you working on?" he asked, casual but genuine. "Need an extra set of hands?"
His question hung in the air for a beat—casual but genuine, the words feeling slightly foreign in his mouth.
He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d asked. Maybe it was an unconscious attempt to smooth the last edges of tension, or maybe he just wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. Either way, the offer was out there now, lingering between them.
He glanced briefly at Lovisa, half-expecting her to be the one to respond first. Of the two, she was the more welcoming presence, the one who would most likely take him at face value rather than second-guess his intentions.
But Raine was an unknown variable.
And whether she saw his question as genuine curiosity or some kind of intrusion would likely determine just how long he actually stuck around.
Mateo shifted slightly, tucking his PADD back into the pocket of his uniform jumpsuit as he leaned lightly against the crate—not impatient, not expectant, just waiting.
"I've just been trying to get the labs prepared and ready for launch," Lovisa admitted softly, but glanced across to Raine with an almost playful smile. Because she *had* noticed him place the biofilter down. Her voice took on an almost tempting lilt, as if trying to subtly coax a little from Raine. "I was actually trying to find out what Raine was working on over there..."
Raine let out a breath that sounded annoyed and turned her head to look at them. She had noticed the biofilter, and had been warring with herself whether to take the bribe. Finally, she reached out with a gloved hand and took it. "I'm working on a simpler way of reversing cellular degradation," she finally said, carefully. It was closer to what she wasn't supposed to work on. At least she was looking at it from a microorganisms. "Specially on multicellular. I was intrigued after reading about the effects breaking the transwarp barrier had on Lieutenant Tom Paris of the Voyager. I decided to make it a side project. Anti-proton radiation is not very...functional. It would be best to find something that works more rapidly, or even a....vaccine. I am still in early stages."
Mateo had expected Raine to deflect, dismiss, or ignore the question entirely. Instead, she took the biofilter—reluctantly, but still. His gaze flicked toward her hand, noting the movement without comment, before shifting back to her as she finally answered.
Reversing cellular degradation.
That caught his attention.
His expression remained unreadable, but something in his posture shifted—an almost imperceptible straightening, like a switch had flipped in his brain, transitioning from social tension to professional intrigue.
"Multicellular degradation," he echoed, his voice measured, his mind already picking apart the implications. "And you're basing this on what happened to Paris after breaking the transwarp barrier?"
He tapped his fingers absently against the edge of the crate, not out of impatience, but as a reflex—one that surfaced when he was thinking.
The biochemical trauma Paris endured aboard Voyager was infamous, a case study drilled into advanced xenobiology and medical science courses as both a cautionary tale and an unsolved mystery. His transformation had been unlike any previously recorded mutation, a catastrophic cascade of uncontrolled mitotic activity, where DNA replication had rapidly introduced unpredictable and irreversible errors at a cellular level. Within hours, his body had been forced through an accelerated, unstable evolutionary process, shifting him into something post-human—something grotesque.
The more Mateo considered it, the more he could see why the standard approach had failed. Anti-proton radiation had been a blunt instrument, a last-ditch effort to halt an already runaway biological process. The treatment had worked, but just barely, and it had lacked any degree of specificity—like dousing a fire by flooding an entire starship. Effective? Maybe. Practical? Absolutely not.
His fingers stilled, his mind catching on an interesting contradiction.
"You want a vaccine," he said, his tone more curious than skeptical. "But that implies a predictable and preemptive countermeasure, which would mean finding a consistent precursor event that triggers degradation before it spirals out of control. Something that presents the same way across multiple species, not just humans."
The problem wasn’t just about reversing cellular degradation—it was about identifying the root cause before it became irreversible.
He considered the possible approaches. Gene therapy vectors? Too slow for an acute response. Targeted enzymatic repair? Maybe, if she could find a way to halt the mutation process at its earliest stage.
"You’d need an adaptive mechanism that can intervene before genetic instability takes hold," he mused, shifting his weight slightly as his thoughts continued unfolding aloud. "But if it’s happening at the level of DNA replication, then the key would be correcting those errors before they propagate—which means intercepting the process mid-replication, or even earlier, before mitosis begins. The body’s natural repair mechanisms clearly weren’t enough in Paris’ case. So what are you thinking—protein folding inhibitors? Something that acts as a failsafe before the mutation process accelerates?"
There was no sarcasm this time, no posturing or biting remarks. His focus was entirely on the science, his mind running through potential solutions, flaws, and variables with the same quiet intensity he applied in his own field. He wasn’t challenging her personally, but he was challenging the concept itself, testing the integrity of her hypothesis with the same rigor he’d apply to any scientific problem.
Then, after a beat, he glanced at Lovisa, only just registering her earlier playful coaxing.
"Guess that answers your question," he murmured, deadpan, the faintest hint of amusement curling at the edge of his lips. "She was working on something interesting."
Raine nodded, watching him for a long moment before she frowned. "It's just a theory...and it won't get much past it. Once I have narrowed down options and...come with suggestions, gotten some scenarios in the computer, I'll hand it over to the officers. So they can...work on it, with samples and such," she said, her voice oddly quiet.
Mateo studied her in silence for a few seconds longer than necessary, head tilting slightly as he absorbed the sudden shift in her voice. There was a hesitancy there, subtle but unmistakable, as if she’d already decided where her limits were long before reaching them.
His fingers drummed lightly against the crate before stilling. "So that’s it?" His tone wasn’t challenging, just genuinely perplexed, his curiosity evident in the slight furrow of his brow. "You run the scenarios, hand it off, and let someone else take it from there?"
He wasn’t questioning her competence, nor did he think it was the wrong move. It just didn’t make sense to him.
She’d put in the work, set the foundation, and was just as capable of refining the results as anyone else—so why step aside? He understood the necessity of collaboration in science, knew that no major discovery happened in isolation and that shared expertise led to stronger results. His own field depended on pooled data, cross-discipline contributions, and second sets of eyes catching what the first had missed.
But this wasn’t just about data-sharing. This sounded like walking away entirely.
"You’re the one testing the possibilities," he continued, his voice quieter now, more measured. "You’ve already started putting the pieces together, but you’re saying you don’t plan to take it further yourself?"
A pause. His gaze flicked toward her workstation before returning to her, expression unreadable but intent.
"Why?"
There was no challenge in his voice, no veiled criticism—just a need to understand.
Raine glanced at Lovisa, frowning slightly, before she turned to look at Mateo. She met his eyes and held them. "I am not allowed. It's the condition of my asylum in the Federation, and allowance in Starfleet. I can work on theories when it comes to...genes. I am forbidden to do any experiments. Once I have the foundation and put the pieces together...in theory...then it will be handed to those who are allowed to take it further," she said, stating facts as she knew them and understood them.
They might as well know what I am. No point hiding.
Lovisa's gaze drifted from the other woman's screen to Raine's pale face, watching her first with surprise and then regret. Asylum. Conditions. Whatever route she had taken to get here, it couldn't have been easy. And even here, she was still living under different rules and regulations than the rest of them. She resisted the urge to touch Raine's arm to offer solace; she knew enough of her to realise it wouldn't be welcomed. "That hardly seems fair," she replied instead, because it was true. If she'd been accepted as one of them, she should be allowed the same liberties.
For a moment, Mateo didn’t say anything. He held Raine’s gaze, absorbing not just her words but the weight behind them, the deliberate precision with which she spoke. She wasn’t seeking sympathy, wasn’t cushioning the statement with justifications or frustration. It was simply fact—a restriction so ingrained that she no longer seemed to question it.
"I am not allowed."
The phrasing sat uneasily in his mind, settling in the space between scientific principle and personal restraint. His fingers skimmed over the crate’s surface before stilling, the earlier perplexity in his expression giving way to something quieter, more thoughtful. He had expected reluctance, maybe even professional detachment, but not this—not a hard limit drawn around her, one she couldn’t cross no matter her intent or ability.
He understood regulations, understood that Starfleet’s ethical constraints on genetic research weren’t arbitrary. But this wasn’t oversight. This wasn’t about ethics or responsibility—this was about control, a decision that had been made for her, not by her.
Slowly, he exhaled, his posture shifting as he straightened. "That’s… restrictive." The word felt inadequate, but it was the best way to describe the quiet discomfort settling in his chest. He wasn’t angry at her, but the idea of someone being barred from the full extent of their own work—no matter how responsible, no matter how capable—didn’t sit right with him.
His fingers tapped against the crate, a steady rhythm that betrayed the thoughts turning over in his mind. Scientific collaboration was one thing—scientific exclusion was another. He had never seen the benefit of people being held at arm’s length from their own expertise, had never subscribed to the idea that a person’s past or circumstances should dictate their present contributions.
He wasn’t naïve; he knew the Federation had reasons for rules like these. He just wasn’t sure he trusted them.
"Doesn’t seem fair," he murmured, almost echoing Lovisa’s sentiment, though his tone carried something sharper, more calculated. Lovisa was compassionate, empathetic; Mateo wasn’t sure what he was feeling, only that the logic of it didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to ask questions—Who made that decision? What exactly were the terms? Was there a way around them?—but he didn’t know if she wanted to answer them, or if this was a subject better left alone.
Instead, he let the moment settle, watching Raine for any sign of whether she would elaborate or if this was the end of the conversation.
She looked at them both before she shook her head, turning back to her work. It was easier than watching them. "It is fair. If you knew anything about my people, you'd know that it is more than fair," she said, her voice raspier than usual. She stopped after a moment and her hands went against the work station. "We destroyed our planet and made our people infertile. We harvest our own and experiment on them to reverse it. So far, unsuccessful. My acceptance into Starfleet meant that those things got put behind me."
Raine looked down, almost thoughtfully. She was usually blunt anyway. Usually more sarcastic. "And besides...I suggested it myself when they hesitated. My morality is flawed, so it was a good way to ensure I did not go down those paths again."
For the second time in minutes, Mateo found himself without an immediate response.
Raine’s voice had lost its usual sharp edge, her raspier tone pulling the words down with something heavier than frustration. He’d been ready to argue the unfairness of her restrictions, to push against the idea that she should be held back when she was clearly capable—but this wasn’t just bureaucracy forcing her into a box.
She’d put herself there.
His fingers curled briefly against the crate’s surface before he stilled them, his mind catching on the words she’d chosen. "We destroyed our planet. We harvest our own." There was no embellishment, no defensiveness, just blunt fact laid bare in a way that almost demanded he process it exactly as it was given.
She wasn’t asking for reassurance. She wasn’t even looking at them.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting his stance, no longer leaning against the crate but standing a fraction straighter. "That’s a hell of a thing to carry around," he said finally, his voice quieter than before, not soft but deliberate, measured. "Hard to call anything ‘fair’ when it comes with that kind of weight."
A beat.
He wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t do comforting words, not the way Lovisa might, and he didn’t know enough about her people to pretend he understood. But he knew what it was like to have something trailing behind you, shaping the way people saw you before they even knew you.
His gaze flicked toward the workstation where she’d braced her hands, fingers pressed against the surface as if steadying herself. "And morality’s not static," he added, tone still even, still neutral but thoughtful in a way that wasn’t dismissive. "If it was, we wouldn’t bother studying ethics at all. Wouldn’t bother having discussions about what’s right and what isn’t."
It wasn’t an argument. It wasn’t even disagreement. Just… a fact.
He didn’t try to tell her she was wrong, because that wasn’t his place. But if she had accepted her own limits for the sake of never repeating the past, that was one thing. If she actually believed she was fundamentally incapable of being anything different—that was another.
Lovisa watched Raine with dark eyes full of the pain she felt for the other woman. Not just from the limitations, but clearly the view she had of herself. It was so hard to keep herself from touching her arm, forming contact in someway...so hard, that she pushed her hands into her pockets to keep them constricted. She wanted to tell her that she could be whatever and whoever she wanted to be. That she believed in her. But she somehow knew the words would fall outside of Raine's comfort zone, especially in the presence of Mateo.
So Lovisa tried the next best thing to try and make Raine feel better...find a solution. Her gaze flickered towards Mateo thoughtfully, thinking on how easily he had followed what she had been talking about. "Then...what you need is a partner?" she said lightly, casually. "Someone who can take what you have worked on and carry it forward, past your limits...an...expert you know can do it justice..." she motioned delicately in Mateo's direction.
Raine looked at Lovisa, her eyes widening slightly. She looked over at Mateo the following second as the words truly sank in. It was not just about finding a scientist...Lovisa was suggesting Mateo. Her head tilted to the side as she studied Mateo, taking in his breathing pattern, his eyes, his skin. Every physical aspect, every clue. Her eyes drifted to his hands, looking at them. He took care of himself, yet he was still a scientist. He still worked with his hands and those hands were steady. She met his eyes again. "I would be willing to...hand it over to another capable scientist. One with a focus on..." and she was able to recall what he said. She even used the same accent, the same cadence of the words he had said earlier. "Microbiology, hematology, histology—it’s all about looking deeper. Finding answers in places most people overlook..."
Mateo blinked, a breath catching at the back of his throat, though outwardly, he remained still. Raine’s words weren’t just an offer—they were an assessment, a deliberate handoff of something she couldn’t complete herself. But before she had spoken, she had studied him. Not just his skill set, not just his words, but the physical details—his breath, his stillness, his hands. He could feel the weight of her scrutiny even after she’d finished speaking, as if she were still calculating something.
Then there was the way she had repeated his own words back to him—the same cadence, the same phrasing, every inflection intact.
It was a test.
No, more than that.
His fingers curled briefly against the crate’s surface, pressing into the cool material before relaxing again. The silence between them stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was suspended, something hanging in the air between an offer and a decision. His dark eyes flicked toward Lovisa, the orchestrator of this entire moment, who had seamlessly shifted the conversation into something neither he nor Raine had expected.
Clever.
His gaze returned to Raine, but this time, he wasn’t just looking—he was evaluating, much like she had done to him. She had been blunt about her limitations, about the lines she couldn’t cross. This wasn’t about ego or delegation, about proving himself or taking over something she’d abandoned. This was about being handed a puzzle that someone else wasn’t allowed to solve—one that already had Federation-imposed boundaries, ethical constraints, and unspoken weight attached to it.
And yet, there was something about it that pulled at him.
His lips parted slightly before pressing together again, his body language controlled, measured. "You remember that?" His voice came quieter than usual, not out of hesitation, but curiosity edged with something deeper.
Of course she did.
He exhaled slowly, fingers tapping lightly against the crate as he considered the implications. He didn’t take on projects lightly—certainly not ones that came with predefined limitations and a level of scrutiny he hadn’t yet mapped out. But this… this was different.
"I don’t take things lightly," he said at last, his tone even, deliberate. "Especially not someone else’s research." His gaze flicked toward her workstation before returning to meet her eyes again. "If I did this—if I took it forward—it would have to be exactly that. Forward. Not just a preservation of what you’ve done, but something built on it."
He knew what he was asking for. If he accepted this, it wouldn’t just be an assignment or an experiment—it would be a responsibility, one that came with more than just scientific weight.
His fingers stilled against the crate. "I’d need to know exactly where the restrictions are. What’s off-limits, what’s not. And if I do take this on, I expect you to tell me the moment I start screwing up your work." He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable but focused. "Because if I’m gonna do this, I’d rather do it right."
He wasn’t asking for permission. He was setting terms, just as she had set hers.
And now, the question hung between them, waiting.
Interesting. The word came to Raine as she watched him, considering what he was saying. What he truly was saying. No backseat science bickering, she would be looking at it and offer her expertise to his face. He would take it and move forward with it, discarding what wasn't needed. She had to let go of control, even if he was offering her to retain a voice in it. A collaboration. It felt scarier somehow, like she was pushing at her own restraints and finding it loosened on her wrists.
He is intelligent though. He could do it. He could do this without me, but it would take more time.
It wasn't about ego, or her wants or needs. This was science, a problem that needed a solution, if one was within the capabilities of this time. "You already have the boundaries. We're not looking at augmentation or eugenics. These are...Federation imposed boundaries. We stick to the rules..." she glanced over at Lovisa. "And have the oversight of an officer to make sure it is above board." She was not letting her get out of this unscathed. "I agree, this will...go where the science leads it. I am not going to hold onto theories that don't work...or let anyone discard good science for a shinier idea."
Mateo let Raine’s words settle, giving her the space to process what she had just agreed to.
She was letting go—just a little. He could see it in the way she framed her conditions, in how she laid out Federation boundaries like a protective buffer between them and what she wasn’t willing to cross. This wasn’t just about research; this was about trust, about relinquishing control over something deeply personal.
That wasn’t lost on him.
His fingers curled briefly before relaxing, a subtle, deliberate movement grounding him in the reality of what they were actually discussing.
"Federation boundaries," he echoed, voice neutral—not dismissive, but carefully considering. "I can work within that. Not much of a eugenics enthusiast myself." His lips twitched faintly at the understatement, though his tone remained measured.
As he spoke, he reached for one of the crates he had originally come to retrieve, checking the label before lifting it onto the hover cart with smooth efficiency. If this was going to be an ongoing collaboration, he might as well finish what he’d started.
His gaze flicked toward Lovisa, adjusting his stance as he worked. If she was going to serve as oversight, then she needed to understand exactly what that meant to him.
"If we’re doing this, I’m not interested in surface-level oversight," he said, voice edged with quiet precision. He wasn’t going to jump through bureaucratic hoops for the sake of formality. Lifting another crate, he set it onto the cart with a dull thud. "If we hit a roadblock, I want access to the right people—medical, biological, computational. If there’s a limitation, I want to know why. No red tape, no waiting weeks for approvals that don’t make sense."
He adjusted the crate’s position slightly, ensuring the stack remained stable before glancing back at her.
"If the Federation is drawing lines, I expect transparency on where and why those lines exist."
His fingers tapped briefly against the topmost crate, a rhythmic, unconscious habit when deep in thought. This had started as a simple retrieval of misdelivered medical lab supplies. Now, it had evolved into something much bigger. The realization sat heavily in his mind. This wasn’t just an idea anymore. This was happening.
Lovisa's smile was warm as she watched him, her eyes full of sincerity and honesty as she folded her arms comfortably across her chest. Seeing them speaking with each other rather than at each other had clearly made her relax. And she was more than happy to play the part of project manager if it helped ease them into a more comfortable relationship. "All of which sounds more than reasonable," she assured, her nod offering her consent.
Mateo met Lovisa’s nod with a small, measured tilt of his head—acknowledgment without excess. Unnecessary gestures weren’t his thing, but he understood the weight of what had just been settled between them. This wasn’t just about lab logistics anymore; it was a professional pact, one that carried an unspoken thread of trust.
His dark eyes flicked toward Raine, absorbing the lingering tension in the air. She had drawn her lines, set her terms. He wasn’t planning to test them—not yet, anyway.
"Fair enough," he said simply, tone even. “Federation rules it is.”
He tapped a quick sequence into his PADD, verifying the retrieval data twice before nudging the crate’s lid shut with controlled efficiency. He liked when things were conclusive, when a task had a clear resolution. The cargo was secured, the logistics resolved. But there was still one last thing to settle.
His gaze lifted to Raine, considering her for a beat before speaking.
"Send me what you have so far." The words were direct but not unkind, his tone shifting from dry humor to something more measured—professional, but not impersonal.
"Data, models, projected scenarios—whatever’s relevant. No rush, just when you have it ready."
A pause. His fingers tapped twice against the edge of the crate in a quiet rhythm, grounding himself before adding, "And we should set up a time to go over everything. Figure out where to start."
It wasn’t a request, not exactly. But it wasn’t a demand, either. Just a simple statement of fact: If they were doing this, they had to do it right.
He glanced toward Lovisa, giving her an almost imperceptible nod—acknowledging her role in this, her quiet facilitation. Then, with one last flick of his eyes between them both, he curled his fingers around the hover cart’s handle, gripping it with just a fraction more pressure than necessary.
"Appreciate the help." The words carried an easy neutrality, but after a breath of hesitation, a faint smirk flickered at the corner of his lips.
"Even if I had to endure a crash course in existential philosophy to get it."
His fingers flexed slightly against the hover cart, recalibrating the pressure. He was ready to leave—but he didn’t move. Not immediately.
A pause, deliberate but unspoken. His body language didn’t shift, but something in his stance lingered just for a breath longer than necessary. Not waiting for permission, but… something. A response. A reaction. An unspoken social cue.
And then—unless either of them stopped him—he would leave, heading back to his own lab with more than just a reclaimed shipment.
He was leaving with something far more interesting.
Raine hesitated, looking at him at the pause, clearly trying to figure out what she was missing. There was something, something about his body language. She glanced at Lovisa and for a moment she looked as if she was looking to the officer for guidance. And then she let out a sharp breath, almost a huff. "Get used to it, especially if you want more help," she said and her lips curled in a small smile. It lasted a second. It was genuine then and she gave Mateo a small nod. "It shall be interesting working together," she added and turned away from him, back to her work...
There was going to be a lot of talking in the future after all.
Mateo watched Raine for a fraction longer than necessary, cataloging the brief flicker of hesitation in her expression, the sharp breath that bordered on a huff, the split-second smile that appeared and disappeared before he could fully register it. It was real—genuine, even—but gone in an instant, like something she wasn’t entirely comfortable showing.
Interesting.
His dark eyes flicked toward Lovisa, catching the subtle shift in her expression, the quiet ease in her stance now that the tension had begun to unravel. Raine had glanced at her before responding, as if weighing something before making her choice. Another small detail to file away.
Mateo’s lips twitched slightly, not quite a smirk, but something close.
"Wouldn’t go betting on that just yet," he said in response to Raine’s remark. "I’m an acquired taste."
His tone was dry, but not biting. Not quite.
Adjusting his grip on the hover cart’s handle, he angled it toward the exit, the soft hum of the antigrav platform punctuating the lull in conversation. He had what he came for. And, somehow, a hell of a lot more than he’d expected.
With a final glance between them, he gave a slight nod—acknowledgment, or maybe just habit—before guiding the cart toward the doors.
"See you both around," he added, voice carrying the casual certainty of inevitability.
And then, without fanfare, he was gone.
[OFF]
Crewman Raine Ni-ya
Science Officer
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Hanlon]
&
Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir
&
Lieutenant JG Lovisa Montague
Science Officer
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Blake]
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