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Hello, Borg? It's the Avalon, is anyone home?

Posted on Sat Jan 12th, 2013 @ 9:52pm by Commander Wesley Chase

Mission: Hugh Again
Location: Gamma Quadrant
Timeline: Current

2375

"... and so we lay to rest a good man, loving husband and honored Captain." And with that farewell to his old friend, Wesley became the acting Captain of the Avalon until a new Captain came up through the ranks. The Dominion War had robbed the Federation of many good men and women, and the shortage of Captain's was starting to be felt fleet wide.

Wesley looked around those gathered here for the funeral to find many familiar faces, but none that could understand what he was about to go through. Commanding Officer of a ship ravaged by war, in a fleet decimated. To command today meant to hold together a ship and crew through the toughest of times. Without so much a counselor aboard, he was not sure how he would manage this, but he was willing to try, because that's what was expected of him. Today he hated the Dominion and its Founders more than he ever had during battle.

Walking away from the coffin that carried his friend, Wesley stopped and only slightly turned for one final look. This was it; this was the cost of war. Wesley had gone into this war anxious for battle, to show off his skill and to teach the evil Dominion a lesson. Today though Wesley aged twenty years, today he no longer felt young nor did he feel eager. Those days were past him now, and he doubted they could ever return.

"Goodbye Captain, it has been an honor." He said towards the only half-filled coffin, for you see, they had to leave parts of their dear Captain back on the battlefield. Leaving behind any man or woman would have been hard enough on Wesley, but leaving behind half of his Captain nearly broke his heart. He was unable to make eye contact with the Captain's mother during the funeral. He just stared down at the floor in his own personal shame.

As Wesley walked off, he couldn't help but remember the good man that he had just said goodbye to. Captain Rake was a man of many talents, juggling and running a smooth operation both being a part of those talents. He was a man that rarely lost his temper and usually knew the answer to any question he was asked. An idea Captain with a command presence, he easily put Wesley to shame. Wesley knew he would be compared to this man for months if not years to come, and he knew he would always fall short in the crews eyes. This was just one more disappointment that Wesley would just have to learn to live with.

"Commander Chase, Admiral Wakeland is looking for you." where the words that brought Wesley back to reality. Time to be an officer again, though not really wanting to, Wesley turned towards the voice. A slick young man of about twenty, jet black hair that was a bit greasy, deep blue eyes and easily physically fit. Not a bad looking young man, but Wesley didn't have time to revel in his good looks, he had to find the Admiral before the Admiral found him. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his Godfather as well.





"Coming." was all Wesley said as he started walking towards the young man who was joined by a very attractive brunette. She stood nearly to Wesley's height which he preferred in women, but then he was instantly brought back to reality as he realized she had been crying. Shaking his head, Wesley realized he probably could do with keeping his head clear, but he was so easily distracted these days. He had been like this since he saw the severed leg of his Captain laying on the Bridge near the Captain's chair.

Wesley had been forced to quickly kick the leg away from the chair, and to assume command by sitting down. The simple act of kicking the leg had been a reaction, a simple gesture in a desperate situation, but now it was an image that haunted him nightly. The disrespect he had shown to his fallen Captain during that battle would nag at his sense of honor for the rest of his life, this much he knew for sure.

".... we only did what we had to in order to survive." Wesley heard a young man of no more than nineteen telling a young woman as he walked by. He turned to see who had said the words, only to find the young man was crying as he said it. Wesley fought back the tears as he continued on to find the Admiral. How many times had he fought back those same tears? How many times had he hidden in a small room, only to let go of the fear and frustration through a torrent of those very tears?

2376

"Evasive maneuver Delta Two." Wesley ordered as he saw the cube come into focus on the view screen. This was the last thing Wesley needed today on the three month anniversary of the death of his former Captain. "Red Alert. All hands to battle stations. Engineering, prepare to jump to warp." He had no intention of fighting the Borg today. He would report this contact to Starfleet and let them send out a better armed armada to defend the sector.

=^= Captain, Engineering. We don't have the power to sustain Warp. I can explain why in technical terms if it helps any, but simply put, we just don't have the power to sustain a field. =^=

Shaking off the disappointing news, Wesley responded quickly, "Weapons stand ready. Auxiliary power to aft shields. Helm hard to port." He knew it was only a matter of time before the Cube destroyed them, seeing as their transphasic torpedoes were current offline with no hope of coming online in time to save them. "Someone start working on the transphasic torpedoes; everyone else pray to whichever Gods you got!" Wesley yelled as he stood up from the now familiar Captain's chair.




Looking back at the ground next to the chair, Wesley saw the leg of the Captain laying there, blood all over the floor making it slippery. Shaking the image from his head by literally shaking his head, Wesley turned back to the view screen to see the Cube. "This is where they inform us that we will be assimilated." He said out loud as he ordered the communications array activated. Being the power hog that is is, it had been powered down to save on reserve power.

"Broadcast on all emergency frequencies..." Wesley started. "This is the Federation Vessel Avalon. We are coming under attack by a Borg cube. We are ill equipped to stand against a Cube and we do not have Warp Drive. Requesting Emergency Assistance. Our coordinates are attached."

"Captain, the Borg Cube is moving on" Ensign Bjor said from the helm. Looking closely to be sure his eyes weren't deceiving him, Wesley confirmed what Bjor had said. "Captain, more Cubes and a Sphere coming ahead." Lt. Kritar said as Wesley rounded on her. "What do you mean?" he asked in disbelief. His hopes of a reprieve dashed in an instant. "How many more? What's their bearing?" he asked quickly.

"Captain, they seem to be avoiding us."

Wesley wanted to test that theory, though he had no idea why. "Match their course." he ordered as he sat back down in the Captain's chair, only seeing the limb for a split second before managing to shake the image. "Captain, they have adjusted course to avoid us." Bjor reported. "Scan them for weapons." Wesley figured they must be without their weapons if they were avoiding a simple and relatively small Federation vessel that wasn't even armed for battle.

"Captain, you have to see this. I am seeing Breen weapons mixed with Klingon and some I can't even identify." which lead Wesley to the obvious question... "If you can't identify them then how do we know they are weapons?" to which she replied "Because they are tied into the targeting systems. Captain, they aren't even raising shields against our scans..."

Notify Starfleet of a possible Borg invasion force heading towards the wormhole. Someone inform Deep Space 9 that they may need to raise their shields. Set course to follow, maximum speed." Wesley ordered as he got word from Engineering that the transphasic torpedoes were finally online. He could attack now, but the question was too great. Why hadn't the call of assimilation ever come?

 

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