Star Trek: On the Line – Prologue
Captain’s Log – Stardate 86047.8
U.S.S. Renaissance en route to the planet Maru at maximum warp. We received a general distress call that was broadcasting on all frequencies, however the message was jammed before any details could be learned. Other Starfleet vessels are responding, but we’ll be the first to arrive.
Christopher Campbell sat forward in his command chair, his left hand aimlessly rubbing his chin. He didn’t like the odds. Not one bit. When going into any situation, information is the key to success. At the moment, he had no idea what was going on, which had put him on edge. He stood and quickly crossed the bridge to stand next to the Bolian sitting at the Ops station.
“Well, what do you think we’ve got here Imjim?”
“I’ve no idea, sir.” Imjim shrugged and let out a sigh. “Could be anything.”
Campbell lightly chuckled and countered, “We’ve been doing this stuff for four years and that’s the best you’ve got, my friend? C’mon. What’ve you got?”
Imjim called up the system and planet information on his screen, quickly browsing it for clues. “Well, it’s an agricultural world with a primarily human population numbering around two million. The planet resides in the Kobayashi system, which puts it on the Romulan-Federation border, about ten light-years from Klingon space.”
“There’s a shocker,” chimed in Dor’pon, the burly Andorian tactical officer. “Planet’s sitting right in the middle of a war zone. We’re probably wandering straight into a Klingon trap. Recommend we sit back, wait for reinforcements, and enter the system in force.”
“Not necessarily Klingon, Dor’pon,” Campbell interjected. “That close to the border, could be Romulans or Remans out for misguided revenge for the Hobus incident, Orion Syndicate or Nausicaan pirates, or even the Gorn. It’s a pretty contested region of space. But, duly noted.” He turned to the petite woman sitting at the helm. “Davina?”
“Sir?”
“What’s our ETA and how far behind are the nearest Starfleet vessels?”
Her fingers danced across the controls and she glanced back up at Campbell, and took a deep breath. “Um, we’re approximately ten minutes from Maru, sir. The next ship behind us is about three and a half hours away. Whatever’s going on, if we stop to wait, there might not be any civilians left to rescue.”
Campbell’s jaw clenched in frustration. “I’m well aware of that possibility, and I don’t think we can risk it. Whomever is attacking Maru isn’t just going to wait for us.”
Someone cleared their throat at the back of the bridge. “Why is it that we assume that the planet is under attack?” That was T’Eama, their Vulcan science officer, interrupting almost on cue. She had a knack for playing the Devil’s Advocate. “Making assumptions, in this case, is illogical. We have no evidence to indicate that a hostile force is even present. A distress call simply states that emergency aid is required. It could merely be a natural disaster has caused extensive devastation and may be contributing to their inability to communicate.” The bridge went quiet while the crew digested this piece of wisdom.
“Well,” Campbell broke the silence, “we’ve got no choice. We go in now, prepared for anything. The longer we wait, the more we put innocent people at risk. Red Alert, all hands to battle stations!” He returned to his chair and regarded his bridge crew. “If we’re walking into a trap, I don’t want us caught with our pants down. If not, it won’t hurt to be cautious.”
The next few minutes were nerve-wracking. Their brainstorming session hadn’t given him any more information and left him just as concerned as he had been before. If anything, his mind was now racing with the possibilities.
He was confident that his crew could handle anything. They’d spent the last few years truly getting to know one another, and he trusted them completely. Of course, this could be the most difficult test they’d ever undergone.
“Sir!” Imjim’s voice broke him from his thoughts. “We’re in sensor range of Maru. Long range sensors are picking up weapons fire and numerous vessels. And . . . oh hell. Sir, it’s the Borg!”
Campbell jumped out of his seat. “What!? On screen! Now!” The main view-screen flickered and the distant image of Maru was replaced by the imposing sight of a Borg Cube flanked by a pair of Spheres. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and everyone on the bridge was frozen in shock. The Borg were blasting smaller civilian vessels as they attempted to escape the planet below.
“Full power to the shields! Helm, get us between the Borg and the civilians! As soon as we’re in range we’ll hit ‘em with everything we’ve got! Let’s give ‘em something bigger to shoot at.” He knew they wouldn’t last long, but there was no way he was going to stand by and watch innocent people die. “Send to Starfleet Command: Borg incursion in the Kobayashi System. Request immediate assistance!”
Dor’pon looked over his shoulder and shook his head. “No good, sir. They’re jamming all transmissions.”
Suddenly, a chilling message cut in over the ship’s speakers. It was the sound of dozens of synthetic voices droning on in unison. “We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile.”
“Right,” Campbell found himself saying. “I’ll give ‘em this, they’re consistent.”
Dor’pon looked up from his controls, “We’re in range!”
“Fire! Fire at will!” The Renaissance’s phaser banks lanced out at the Cube, torpedoes trailing behind. Small explosions danced across the Cube’s shields.
“Keep up a rotating modulation, don’t let ‘em adapt! T’Eama! Use the deflector dish to fire a tachyon beam. It might help drain their shields.”
“Aye sir.” Cool under pressure, the Vulcan woman quickly obeyed his command. “The Borg are returning fire.”
“Evasive maneuvers! Brace for impact!” The ship rocked underneath him with such force that Campbell was ejected from his seat and sent rolling across the floor. Behind him, a console exploded, sending sparks and acrid smoke into the air. Picking himself up, he shook off the sudden disorientation and scrambled back to his chair. “Imjim! Damage report!”
“Forward and port shields failing, hull integrity at sixty percent! Hull breach on decks four through seven! Primary life support offline, switching to back-up.”
“Auxiliary power to the shields! Dor’pon, keep up the pressure!” Another impact shook the ship causing a floor panel in the middle of the bridge to explode. Davina was hurled from her station and she landed in an unmoving heap below the main screen. Imjim was motionless in his seat, burns covering the right side of his body. Campbell’s ears were ringing and his head hurt from some impact he didn’t recall. “T’Eama, take the helm!”
Bounding forward, he pulled his friend out the Ops station and sat down. Hull integrity had dropped below twenty-five percent and the shields had all but collapsed. “I’m rerouting emergency battery power to the shields and activating a frequency rotation to reinforce them.”
T’Eama sent the ship into a series of turns keeping the ship’s strongest shield arc facing their attackers. “Sir, at this rate, I estimate a ninety-eight percent probability that the ship will be destroyed in the next sixty seconds.” She glanced over with one eyebrow raised. “Give or take two percent, of course.”
“Of course,” Campbell smiled back. “Fine. Let’s do this. I’m putting all remaining power to the forward shields. Dor’pon, sound the evacuation alarm and fire a full forward spread. T’Eama . . . ramming speed.”
“Yes sir,” their response came in unison.
The ship rocked with detonations as it moved closer and closer to the Cube. One explosion sent Dor’pon hurtling across the bridge. Campbell watched the distance indicator rapidly click down from kilometers to meters. He was proud of his crew, they’d done very well against these odds. Today was a good day.
There was the sound of a massive explosion and everything went white. But, there was no heat, no debris, and no shaking of the deck. Then, there was no sound. Only a disembodied voice, strong and loud. “End simulation.”
The bright, white nothingness dissolved, replaced by the black and yellow grid of a holodeck. The wounds on Campbell’s fellow cadets vanished and a medical officer moved to revive them with a hypospray. In the holodeck’s doorway stood Admiral William T. Riker, current commandant of Starfleet Academy. His imposing stature accentuated by his immaculate uniform and perfectly trimmed gray hair and beard. Dor’pon must have been the first to spot the officer, since he suddenly shouted, “Ten-hut! Admiral on deck!”
Admiral Riker frowned and regarded each of the young people now standing at attention. “Congratulations cadets. You’re all dead. The Renaissance is destroyed and most of the citizens of Maru will be assimilated into the Borg collective. But,” a smile formed on his face, “that’s what we call a ‘no-win-scenario’. The Kobayashi Maru Test is one of the most difficult simulations we teach here at the Academy, and you performed admirably. Well done. You’ve all proven you have what it takes to be Starfleet officers. I look forward to seeing you all at Graduation tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The other cadets began to file out of the room and Campbell stopped next to the Admiral. “Sir?”
“You have a question, Mister Campbell?”
“Yes sir.” Campbell’s brow furrowed. He was glad the Admiral was proud of his performance in the test, but something bothered him. “Sir, why the Borg? No one’s seen them in almost thirty years. Not since Admiral Janeway defeated them, anyway. Given the war with the Klingons, why not test us against them?”
Riker inhaled sharply. “Always be prepared, cadet. Just because we haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they’re gone. Besides, what better ‘no-win-scenario’ than a lone vessel against the Borg?”
“If I recall, you seemed to handle yourself pretty well, sir.”
Riker laughed, “Well, I got lucky. Now, get out of here. I think your fellow cadets are going to want to party.”
“Yes sir!” With that, Christopher Campbell marched off to join his friends for a celebratory drink.
* * *
Ensign Christopher Campbell – Personal Log – Stardate 86053.2
I’ve been assigned to the U.S.S. Falcon, a Miranda-class scout vessel under the command of Captain Qat’Anmek. I’ll be serving as Operations Officer while we patrol the Neutral Zone watching for Klingon invasion forces. Our first stop is Vega Colony. We’ll be taking on supplies and a few more crew before we head out. I’ve wanted to serve in Starfleet since I was a boy. Now, I have a whole career ahead of me.
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Author’s Notes: This is the first in what is planned to be a continuing fan-fiction series here on Professional Procrastinators. Any stories in the future will be based upon my experiences, as a player, in Star Trek Online, the new MMO from Cryptic Studios. The images above are screenshots from the game that I’ve taken personally.
This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons or events is purely coincidental. Star Trek is a Trademark and Copyright of Paramount Pictures.