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That's Truly Effed Up

Posted on May 02, 2017 @ 11:31am by Evangeline “Sedna” Montoya
Edited on on May 02, 2017 @ 11:31am

Mission: Aftermath


“That's truly effed up”

Continued from Marko’s "सफलता"


Location: ACAMAR III

Scene: Pinewood Village

SD: [2.17]0501.2304

Deep within the recesses of her cobwebbed and deeply broken mind, Evangeline Montoya knew that she had the memories of shitty places. If pressed, she maybe could have cobbled together some half-formed words to explain the sheer desolation of living on being a Lake rat on LUNA. She grew up on the moon next to the seat (well now former seat) of the Federation government but it was clearly in the shadows...there was nothing but broken buildings, overcrowding and mean people who were trying to elbow you out of the way.

Standing outside a hut, in the middle of a muddied field, listening to various screams that were supposedly *natural*, Montoya wondered if being a Lake rat kid wasn’t somehow a better life than this one.

A small kid, with messy brown hair and golden skin, came running up; the battered rags he wore barely covered him. “Sorry they’re running late. I got told that there’s a problem in the huts.”

A little girl, her hands overflowing with what appeared to be scraps of cloth, stopped short next to the boy. “Cam!” she said, not paying Montoya any attention. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

“She’s the off-worlder with the shipments,” he hissed.

Montoya, who was getting itchy from being so close to these *children*, looked up at the sky, over at the horizon at the huts that clearly had seen better days that were being held together by straw and palm fronds, wondering what the hell she was doing here. She had gotten a runaround at the mine site where she picked up the cargo, but she still had to drop her own cargo.

“I’ll find out,” the boy who went by Cam explained to Montoya. “Just don’t go too far.”

“Sure,” Montoya nodded; as soon as she did so the kids went running off. Stuffing her hands in her pockets, she wandered through the Village wondering how to find someone in charge to drop off her crap so she could go. It was supposed to be a dump and--


No good ever started with *YOU*.

The dark haired woman turned around and waited, not saying a thing; but for good measure she took out a new lollipop, and stuck that in her mouth. “Yo,” she replied, hoping that was universal enough for “Stop bothering me, you fuck-face.”

Clearly it wasn’t universal, much to Montoya’s dismay. The Acamarian woman came running up and began to beg. “We need all available women to come to the new worker hut. There’s an emergency! Please we need your help!”

Evangeline rubbed her eyes, totally baffled. Trying to figure how she could bill for time and half for this crap she asked, “What the what? Me?”

As Montoya continued her questions, she was led away by a woman who dragged her by the arm to a hut. Flinging her into the hut with surprising force, the woman yelled, “I found another helper!”

An older woman came forward and stared at Montoya. “You can help with the rags,” she ordered pointing to the cloth pile.

“I think you have the wrong--” the pilot began to argue before she was cut off by screaming. Clapping her hands over her ears she looked around until she saw the source of the screaming: a heavily pregnant woman, drenched in sweat, who was wearing a thin shift as she was pacing while leaning on two other women. “Sweet Masaka,” Montoya muttered, her jaw dropping so much that her blueberry lollipop fell to the floor.

The older Acamarian woman gave a glare. “Have you never seen a new worker come into the world? At your age I had birthed a half dozen at least! Now help child!”

There was so much wrong with that statement that Montoya was rendered mute, which was in and of itself a feat.

But for the next hour, Montoya passed along wet cloths to help with the birth (or as the women kept insisting “bringing a new worker into the world”) and taking soaked cloths into the wash. Finally when the time came (not that she knew it was *time* but even Montoya could listen), the Human woman watched the Acamarian woman groan as she passed a baby from her body.

This was the first time Montoya had ever seen an actual birth (not in a holodeck or a vid) and it took her a few moments for her brain to catch up with reality. The reality that there was no tenderness (like they showed in the vids) at a baby being born. Despite being in a dark, dirty hut, the motions that these women went through were very clinical. It was clear to the pilot that they went through this *a lot*.

And while clearly she was far from an expert, the next thing that struck Montoya was that while everyone focused on the baby (or “worker”), there was still a lot of blood and liquid streaming out of the woman who had just given birth. Passing cloths over to the older woman, Montoya pointd over and said, “I think -- uhm -- she needs them.”

The older woman consulted with an outdated piece of technology and scanned the woman. Shaking her head she shuffled back to Montoya. “Save your cloths. She’s not worth saving. We’ll have another new worker coming into the world soon, we’ll need them soon enough.”

Evangeline Montoya held up a cloth and looked at the ashen woman who was slumped over a stool, still breathing, but in shallow breaths. Looking back at the older woman, who had moved onto other things she said, “Bu-bu-but this’s only...cloth.” After a moment she said, “Can’t you do something? Make her comfort--”

But the older woman was already gone and off onto the next baby; no the next “new worker”.

Dropping the cloths, Montoya ran out of the hut and tried to find her way out of the maze of huts, each with various sounds -- yelling of new “workers” (and now she could only think of babies like that), then of children crying and yelling by various people to keep the “workers” quiet.

Finally the yelling became less...childish. More adult. Montoya paused her running, bending over and resting her hands on her thighs. Looking around she didn’t see anything different on the outside of the huts but pausing she definitely heard different things.


Turning her head over her shoulder, the Human woman saw one of the little kids from earlier running up to her. “You shouldn’t be here,” Cam explained. “You don’t want to be here.”

Rolling her dark eyes, Montoya figured it couldn’t have been worse off than her last place. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

“This is where they make the workers,” Cam explained slowly as if Montoya was the child. “Did you want to come here? Are you joining us to make a worker?”

The pilot for Pangeos Pathways furrowed her brow at that, trying to puzzle that. “Make workers? What the--” Suddenly the pieces fell into place. If workers were babies then children, then she looked at the huts in front of her, realizing what they were used for…

“No-no-no, I won’t be going in them,” she said, a trail dread going down her spine. “Back to my ship. Call me when you find someone for me to talk to.”

Cam nodded. He trailed along behind her, explaining that he’d find the leader for the village to accept the cargo, but Montoya made some noises until he left her alone.

Once she got back to her cargo freighter, Montoya hoisted herself onto the floor and locked herself in. There was still a small part of her that thought she should tell someone that this was happening. But truthfully...ACAMAR III was not a Federation world, so would anyone care? And then there was the point of who could Montoya tell?

Looking over sedimentary rock that was a silvery-blue sitting in the rear of her cargo-bay area. Pulling up her bill-of-lading she looked up the name again. Bramatine. It certainly was not anything she had heard of before. What is the fuck is all the fuss about this crap? Why die for it? Why force people to do anything over it? Why am I the only one who cares about it? Cause really that’s truly effed up, Montoya sighed to herself as she leaned against the cargo freighter.


NRPG: I thought it was time to take the view back to ACAMAR III but this time the view was via Montoya. Back in “All That Glitters Is Not Gold” the workers were established to be children (for a variety of reasons). For ACAMAR III the way to continually produce a steady workflow is to essentially enslave their adults to producing children.

Montoya, however, is not part of Starfleet, so it’s not like she can report to a CO. So how will she tell anyone who will care? Cause it’s not like her bosses at Pangeos Pathways (the unethical organization loosely tied to the Federation Council) will care.

Also, why is bramatine (what is being produced on ACAMAR III -- a new material for purposes of this story) so important?

For this and more - same bat time, same bat channel :)

If you have any thoughts/suggestions/cookies -- please let me know!


Sarah Albertini-Bond

~writing for~

Evangeline Montoya

I've been reading books of old

The legends and the myths

Achilles and his gold

Hercules and his gifts

Spiderman's control

And Batman with his fists

And clearly I don't see myself upon that list

-- Coldplay & The Chainsmokers’ “Something Like This”


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