The day had been uneventful, although Molly wouldn’t really know. Her mind had been all over the place and she had let Renveer take the reins in most tasks, preferring to be mostly absent. She was sure he had noticed something was off, but knowing the man and both his observation skills and his discretion, he had opted not to mention anything about it to her. It would probably come up in one of their counseling sessions further down the line, but for now, Molly was grateful he had allowed her the time she needed.

She had spend most of her day chasing loose crumbs of information through the Starfleet Intelligence database looking for something that could relate to the Monty, to the Borg, some new Borg species or experiments done in that regard, or even anything relative to the deceased Starfleet Officer, Belle Harper. From news reports, to the fluff articles, to a stray reference to the USS Draco, Holloway had found a little of everything, and yet, nothing seemed to relate in any meaningful way to the reality she had at hand. There was nothing left for her to do but wait for that evening to talk to Harper, hopefully without the two security officers that seemed to follow her around everywhere. Molly made a mental note to mention it to Forgrave so that he could put them to good use rather than just having them waste their time follow Belle around.

And so, five minutes to the agreed upon time, Molly was walking to the Intel Chief’s quarters – her old quarters. Belle, or whatever remained of her in this new version of her, would know that Molly was someone that would wear her uniform to any occasion. And this time, was no different.

At 2200 on the dot, Molly was standing outside of Belle’s door. Her red uniform was wrinkled in places, and the stray hairs in her ballerina bun had been hastily tucked in – a clear indication that Holloway had not even gone to her quarters yet, but rather had chosen to work until a few minutes before.

Pressing the chime, she waited.

Holloway, CO