Walk of Shame

Posted on Sat Jan 28th, 2017 @ 7:42am by Lieutenant JG Lura Adona

Mission: Shadows and Whispers
Location: Various
Timeline: Current

Lura was barely listening to the human male talking to her, but she didn’t need to. Even if she wasn’t a Betazoid, his desire for her was obvious, so she played along: smiling, making the appropriate comments at his boastful—and completely untrue—deeds, even touching his arm a few times.

And she hated herself for it.

And she hated the Borg even more for making her this way.

But those hatreds were pale shadows compared to the need.

When she would be naked with the man, he would see no sign that she had once been a member of one of the greatest threats to the Federation, nor would he see the damage done to her that had yet to be repaired.

But he wouldn’t care about that. All he wanted was the physical form before him, and in that moment when they were most intimate, both of their desires would be sated—at least temporarily.

“So, your place or mine?” he asked.

“Seeing as how I’m just arriving here and I don’t have a place yet, it will have to be yours, won’t it?” she said playfully, touching his arm again.

Another lie. She had quarters arranged for her, but if they had gone there, he would know who she worked for, and she did not want to tarnish that—the need was strong, but it had not robbed her completely of her senses.

*****

The nickname for it was the walk of shame: sneaking out in the middle of the night after a rendezvous one knew was wrong.

It was accurate.

As she walked, she knew the need was destroying her. But knowing it and doing something about it were two points on the opposite ends of the galaxy.

When is it going to stop? the counselor part of her asked. It cost you your marriage and your child, is it ever going to stop? Will multiple partners in public be enough? Perhaps you should join a pleasure house then instead?

Or will you need more?

Three of Ten, another voice said.

Even though she knew it was in her head, she turned around and looked.

Three of Ten, it repeated.

Three of Ten. Her designation when she had been one of them.

Resistance is futile, it said.

That was what was said to her as she struggled against them during the assimilation process. She had heard how they had managed to bring Picard into the fold and if they could break him, how could she expect to do any better?

But she struggled anyway; the instinct for self-preservation was still strong, even in this advanced age.

Resistance is futile.

The walk of shame turned into a run of panic.