Captain’s Log – Stardate 86293.1
The refit of the U.S.S. Falcon has been completed on schedule, thanks to the hard work of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers. Final preparations for departure are under way.
Strolling along the corridor, Christopher Campbell ran his hands over the smooth surface of the walls. He marveled at the efficiency of the engineers. In just under two months, they had completely repaired the wrecked hulk of a ship that was over half of a century old. Every system was brand new and state of the art. By all rights, the Falcon was a new ship, fresh off of the assembly line, and unlike any other Starfleet vessel.
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Captain’s Log – Stardate 86270.5
Refit of the U.S.S. Falcon is on schedule and nearly complete. Final crew assignments are coming aboard, and we’re preparing to set sail in eight days.
The ship was certainly new. But, it was small, and it looked fragile. Had Cazeash designed the ship, he would have made it intimidating to look upon. It would have been larger, more durable looking, and bristling with weapons arrays. Of course, if he had been designing ships for Starfleet, they would be winning this war.
Instead, Cazeash was stuck flying shuttles around Spacedock. That was until he had been assigned to the Falcon. Now, he stood on the bridge, just outside of the captain’s ready room. He was not sure exactly why he was here, but he estimated an eighty-three-point-four-seven percent chance he had received another disciplinary transfer. Reaching up, he pressed the door’s call button.
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Captain’s Log – Stardate 86231.4
Refit of the U.S.S. Falcon is progressing well, with much of the original superstructure replaced in just over three weeks. Meanwhile, a new crew is beginning to filter aboard.
The new engine room, while similar in layout, held vastly new and different systems. A brand new warp core had been installed only two days earlier, and technicians were still hooking up more systems. At the moment, Chief Petty Officer Jessi Womack, was just finishing the installation of an EPS flow regulator.
Lying on her back, halfway inside of an access hatch, Jessi felt right at home. Back on her family’s farm, she had learned how to fix her father’s tractor, among other farm equipment. Her petite frame and tiny hands definitely made it easier while working on delicate equipment in difficult to reach places. And, nothing made her happier than working on machines in cramped conditions. Lots of people thought of it as an odd mentality, especially the claustrophobic people, but she didn’t care. Joining Starfleet had been one of the best decisions of her life, and she loved her job.
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Captain’s Log – Stardate 86169.3
Ensign Christopher Campbell commanding. After our encounter with the Borg at Vega Colony, the U.S.S. Falcon has returned to Earth Spacedock. Many of the remaining crew have already been reassigned and I have been summoned to meet with Admiral Quinn.
Walking quickly through the corridors of Spacedock, Campbell thought back over the last few weeks. The battle at Vega Colony had left him in command of the Falcon, which had suffered serious damage. Half of its crew had been casualties, and many of its systems had been smashed beyond repair. They managed to repair the warp drive and had limped back home over the course of a month. Their trip would have been faster had they used the Federation’s Transwarp Network, but their hull damage had been to severe.
Upon their arrival, they had been hailed as heroes. News of their one lucky shot, which had led to the total destruction of the Borg Cube, had preceded them. Now, he was on his way to be personally debriefed by the sector commander.
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Captain’s Log – Supplemental – Stardate 86088.5
Ensign Christopher Campbell commanding. Captain Qat’Anmek and all other senior personnel aboard the U.S.S. Falcon are dead, leaving me in command. The Borg have left us disabled in their wake of destruction while assaulting Vega Colony. However, we are conducting emergency repairs with the intent of returning to the battle.
Command. On his very first engagement, Campbell had been forced into a leadership role, and he felt that he was nowhere near ready for the responsibility. But, a responsibility it was, and he was determined to do his best. He told the crew that they were going to re-engage the Borg, which they had to know was against all odds. However, not one word of protest had been uttered. That meant that the crew trusted him, which gave him all the confidence he needed, at the moment.
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Ensign Christopher Campbell – Personal Log – Stardate 86088.5
The Borg have attacked Vega Colony. A small fleet of Federation starships are the only thing standing in their way. And, my ship, the U.S.S. Falcon, is a member of that fleet.
Ensign Campbell dropped into his seat at the Ops station and ran a quick sensor sweep. A single Borg Cube was pushing through Vega Colony’s defenses. Scrambling to intercept the intruder were two dozen Federation starships. They had not expected any form of attack, and thus were not stationed for defense.
They had certainly not expected a Borg attack. Admiral Janeway’s nanovirus was thought to have defeated the Borg three decades earlier. While some had suspected the Borg of surviving, common thought said otherwise.
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Ensign Christopher Campbell – Personal Log – Stardate 86088.4
The U.S.S. Falcon arrived at Vega Colony two days ago. Given the number of other Federation vessels here, the place appears to be a jumping-off point for operations on the Klingon border. We’ve taken on sufficient supplies for a six month cruise, and we’ll be heading out tomorrow.
The door hissed open in front of him, and Christopher Campbell stepped into the ship’s lounge. One of the few recreation areas on the small ship, it was currently packed with just about every off-duty crewman. Of course, that still only numbered about thirty people. Miranda-class vessels weren’t known for their size.
Walking over to the replicator, Campbell ordered a Bolian tonic water. His friend, Imjim, had turned him onto it over the course of their years at the Academy. He found the taste to be decent, but it was the drink’s calming qualities that he most enjoyed. And, right now, he needed to relax.
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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.
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He ran his hands across the wheel, feeling each bump and stitch of its surface. Gripping it, he heard a squeak and became aware of the leather’s grip to his bare hands. Niko Bellic sat in his jet-black Infernus, cradled in the luxurious cockpit, and he relished the adrenaline rush he knew was to come. Looking up at the stars, he felt that they were on his side. The left corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk as he dialed his friend.
“Yeah?!” the voice on the other end barked.
“Hey, Brucie. I feel like winning something. Know of any races?”
“NB! You’re an animal, baby! Yeah! There’s one in mid-Alderney! Get to Roebuck Road in Alderney City! Destroy ‘em!”
“Thanks.” Read more…
Finally, the rolling Banshee came to a sudden, sliding stop against the sound wall. Looking around, he could barely believe that, once again, he was not only alive, but relatively unharmed. Through the ringing in his ears, Niko Bellic could just barely hear the sirens. The police were still on his tail.
Crawling from the wreckage, Niko silently cursed the Mr. Faustin for sending him on yet another chore. Can’t this Russian thug take care of his own damn business? He quickly scanned the area and noticed he was near the highway. Perfect, I should be able to hitch a ride here. So, brazenly, he hopped the short wall and ran out onto the road. A minivan refused to stop and sped by, followed by a pair of taxis, then a sedan. The cops were getting closer and Niko was going nowhere fast.
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