New Beginnings: An Assassin on the USS Enterprise. An Assassins Creed\Star Trek 2009 Crossover Disclaimer: I own nothing of either franchises, both of which are awesome. I only own my character.

Chapter 1

Nothing is true, everything is permitted. You might as well include "nothing is impossible" as well.

My name is James Kempton, and I am an Assassin. I remember nothing of my parents, since they were killed by Abstergo shortly after my birth, in 1989.

I was raised on a Farm in Pennsylvania, which was a community of Assassins, trained to be a killer. My parents were both in the military, and were Master Assassins.

That's all I needed to know, or so my mentors claimed.

I was tall, and light-skinned. I had short, thick brown hair, green eyes that never left anything unscrutinzed, the body of a fighter, and had a long oval face that sported a red beard.

People often said that I was intimidating without trying to be, and I took that as a compliment.

My senses, like the rest of my Assassin brethren, were powerful and sharp. I went on many missions in various parts of the world, and was considered to be one of the best Assassins of my age-group.

Then, after my twenty-second birthday, everything took a wierd turn. I was trying to assassinate a key Abstergo employee, a low-key mission, but I failed.

I was caught and executed, shot in the head at point-blank range. I felt the gun pressing against my right temple, and heard the gunshot.

I died, at least, I think I did.


I woke up in pitch-dark, and a woman in golden robes appeared before me. She had long red hair, golden eyes, and an owl was perched on her shoulder. "James Kempton, do not fear me." Her voice, strong and warm, filled the space around me.

"You are Minerva." I said, realization flooding through me.

I had heard of her from Assassin legends, but I had thought they were just that: legends!.

"Your knowledge serves you well, young one."

"So, I died?" I asked.

"Your natural body did, but your soul did not. You are everywhere and nowhere. I have a mission for you: you will assist Earth in a war that shall occur shortly after you will arrive at your destination. Your enemy is the same: Abstergo, and you know what you have to do. This is a strange time I send you to, so you must choose who to trust, as long as you serve whoever Earthlings tell you to serve. Safety and peace, James Kempton."


With that, she was gone.

A second later, I stood in what looked like a engine room. Pipes, computers, and other such things of various sizes surrounded me.

I was wearing my white hoodie, throwing knives, and my Hidden Blade.

I looked at my watch, and saw that it was dead.

Damn it, I liked this watch!

I raised my hood over my head, and suddenly, a voice shouted from behind me, "Who are you, and how the bloody hell did you get on the ship?"

I turned slowly, and say a small, portly man with a small face, short brown hair, and wide blue eyes staring at me. He wore a red long-sleeved uniform, black pants, and black boots. His voice had a heavy scottish accent.

"Ship? what ship?" I asked, confused.

The man stared at me for another moment, looking me over, then ran to a nearby console. "This is Scott in the engine room to Bridge! I have an unidentified male who just appeared out of bloody thin air. Send men down here now!"

"Really? I was a big fan of William Wallace!"

At the sounds of boots coming my way, I realized that I needed to be somewhere else, and looked for an exit.

I saw a huge door about thirty yards to my right, and sprinted for it. Before I could get there, the door opened, and a handful of large men entered, carrying what looked like side-arms. Like Scotty, they wore red uniforms.

I turned to run, and heard one of them say "Stop him! Set Phasers to stun!"

I tried to put some distance between us, but I heard a zapping noise, and something hit me in the center of my back.

I was out cold before I hit the ground.


I woke up in a small white room, and I sat up.

I noticed that I was lying on a white table, and I felt it's smooth edges with my hands.

I stood, and noticed that the door to the room was a clear white panel, and it shocked me slightly when I touched it, making me yelp. "Motherfucker!"

I saw two guards on either side of the door. One of them saw that I was awake, and spoke into a small walkie-talkie: "Security to bridge. The intruder is awake."

The reply was immediate. "Understood, I'll send someone down."

I waved to get the men's attention. "Hey, Mulder and Scully, don't I get my phone call?"

They snorted, and ignored me, so I sat down on the bed, and waited.

It didn't take long before the door opened.

A tall, black-haired man entered. He had the same uniform as the guards (black pants), except that his shirt was sky blue. On one shoulder, a strange emblem shaped a little like a capital A, but without the line through the middle shone like silver.

The two guards followed him in, pointing some kind of pistol at me.

His hair was short and immaculate, his expression was devoid of emotion, and he had pointed ears. His dark eyes surveyed me with utter calm, and he folded his hands behind his back before speaking in a calm tone. "Who are you?"

I realized that I gained nothing from lying. "James Kempton. And you are?"

The man, or being, took a moment before answering. "I am First Officer Spock. I believe that I will asking the questions, and you would do well to answer them."

"Okay, fine."

"How did you board this vessel?"

I shrugged. "I don't know where I am. Regardless, it was magic."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I find that quite difficult to believe. When I checked out security footage, I found no evidence that you were beamed on to the ship. You simply appeared. Can you please be more truthful in your replies?"

I nodded. "Fine then. I am an Assassin."

The guards stiffened, and Spoke raised an eyebrow. "And who is your target?"

I began to lose my patience. "Look, Buddy, I don't even know where I fucking am. If I wanted to kill any of you, I'd know everything about this place before I got here."

Spock grimaced. "You are on the USS Enterprise."

I frowned. "I've heard of the HMS Enterprise, but that was in the 16 or 17 hundreds. I've never heard of the USS Enterprise."

Spock tilted his head. "Who sent you? StarFleet?"

I shook my head. "What's StarFleet?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, and stepped forward, his hand reaching for my face. I leaned away, suddenly realizing that I had no weapons on me.

Spock, seeing my alarm, spoke again, "I will not harm you. I need to look into your memories to see who you are."

I nodded, and felt his hand pressed against my forehead.


A short time later, Spock stood back. "Fascinating. Quite fascinating. However, I must make sure. Follow me, but do not attempt to escape, or I shall be forced to take action." I stood, and followed him out the door.

As I did so, I began to ask my own questions as we walked through lighted hallways, the two guards at either side. "I don't mean to be rude, but you aren't human, are you?" Spock looked back at me, and shook his head. "I am half-human, and half Vulcan."

When I didn't get it, he explained that Vulcans were aliens from another planet, and proceeded to give me a short summary of his childhood, his education at Starfleet Academy, and how he got here.

"Out of curiosity, what year is this?"

Spock answered. "I believe it is 2260."

I sighed, suddenly getting a head-ache. Why the hell did Minerva send me into the future?

"I imagine that you have many questions, Mr. Kempton, but they will have to wait."


We entered what looked like a medical bay, with tables and shelves of medical equipment, and many beds, similar to the one I had just left.

A tall, black-haired man wearing the same clothing as Spock (albeit with sleeves that only reached to his biceps) looked up from a table that I realized my weapons had been placed upon. The man had a weary face, dark eyes, and seemed like a capable sort. "So this is the intruder who appeared out of nowhere while we were flying over Saturn." His gaze was business-like, and his tone slightly cantankerous.

"Doctor McCoy, this is James Kempton, an-"

McCoy interrupted with a slightly impatient wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, an Assassin. It took me hours to go through historical records, looking for what his emblem meant. Dammit, man! I'm a doctor, not a historian! The Assassins are an Order that is supposed to have existed about two hundred years ago, so either this guy is a big fan of theirs, or he is two hundred years old."

He gave me a quick once-over, and I found that I was smiling. I liked this guy. "And you don't look a day over twenty-one, by the way." He said to me, then turned to Spock. "Why is he here? He doesn't look hurt."

Spock, seeming to be used to McCoy's mannerisms, replied calmly. "I looked into his memories, and it seems that he might be from the past, judging solely by his memories. I would like to make sure that what I saw was either true or not."

McCoy groaned. "Good God, man! Not another of this time-travel crap! Fine, but I need a sample of his blood to check, and it will take a few minutes to check it."

Spock nodded, and McCoy approached me with a needle.

Acting on instinct, I put my guard up. "I won't hurt you, kid. It's just a little scratch."

I forced myself to relax as he cut into my forearm slightly, getting the sample McCoy needed.

"Not even a flinch. I wish patients would be like this more often, but most are practically infants." McCoy told me, looking slightly impressed.

I shrugged. "I've had worse."

McCoy grimaced. "I'm not surprised, considering your profession." He replied, as he inserted the small tube of blood into his computer.

"That's quite an impressive array of sharp stuff." McCoy said, pointing to my weapons.

I smiled with pride and said, "I'm not stupid enough to believe that you guys will give them back anytime soon."

McCoy shrugged. "Good, because you probably won't. Ah! the results!" He finished, and after a minute, he began to list them. "Male, human, normal blood-type, date of birth: 1989?" He finished, blinking at the screen, then looking at me.

"Now I've seen everything. You are over three hundred years old, but you damn sure don't look it. According to Pointy-eared's story, and your weapons, I would say that you are in the interesting position of being the oldest guy on this ship. I don't know how you got on the ship, or why you are even standing here, but this will interest the Captain and probably all of StarFleet itself."

McCoy looked at Spock, and asked, "What now, Science Officer?"

Ignoring the sarcastic tone that his rank was referred to in, Spock looked at me, then said. "You will stay here for the present time. I will get the Captain to come decide what your future holds." I nodded, and Spock left.

McCoy rubbed his hands together, looking as if Christmas had come early. "Well, this is one medical mystery that I won't soon forget! Take a seat, and we'll run some tests." I sighed, and complied with his order.

This was going to be an interesting mission for sure!