Memories by Lone Wolf
The barmaid approached her tables in a manner that was suggestive that perhaps she had done it for so many years that she no longer thought about it, since she seemed to go from table to table like she were on some form of hypnotic auto-pilot as she went through her shift. She no longer heard the crunch of discarded bits of food and broken glass that she stepped on as she went through the motions of her duties, though she would not be able to see them to avoid them even if she had wanted to. The establishment's management did not feel the need to waste energy on more lighting, and most of their customers preferred the dingy lighting anyway, as it helped to hide the often less than reputable transactions that frequented such an environment.
At a table that was littered with a number of discarded glasses, a man sat staring into his latest concoction and looked deeply into the single ice cube that was melting in the clear liquid there, though without really seeing it. He had a fair growth of beard forming on his chin, as he had not shaved in at least a day. He was not actually sure how long it had been, but knew it was more than a day, but less than four. He was enjoying the act of trying to temporarily lose himself the only way he knew how. He was lost in deep thought of things from the not so distant past. His means of escape was not anything fancy, but it worked for him. Some people he knew had their Vulcan meditation methods, or their favorite holo-programs of Risa, which were the only remains of what had once been known as the paradise capital of the galaxy. He was not the sort of man who found comfort in such things though, so he took his vacations in a bottle. He knew it was not the recommended method of recreational escape, but he knew what to expect and it was easy enough to come by when he could find the time. He also preferred to come to a place such as this when trying to drown his sorrows, as he was less likely to be bothered. People in places like this left each other alone unless they had business together, and he very much liked being left alone when he had that luxury.
His thoughts were drifting back to various highlights in his not so distant past that had been some of the milestones in what was left of his life. There had been the deaths of his friends on countless ships, but one almost expected some of that. It had only been the numbers of ships and the resulting loss of almost every long-term friend he had ever made since leaving home that had made the loss so enormous, and he had left home a lifetime ago. This was soon followed by the loss of his parents when his childhood home had been destroyed by a Romulan attack during the Romulan war that had followed closely on the heels of the massive was with the Dominion. He was at least glad that they were no longer fighting the Borg and intelligence reports were saying that it would likely be decades before they were expected to be a threat again, but he figured that even if they only had half that amount of time, it was going to give a well needed breather that was anticipated would allow everyone time to prepare for their unavoidable return…as they knew the Borg would eventually return. The Borg never gave up.
The thought of Borg suddenly brought back a flash of memories he would have much rather avoided. The horrifying image of his wife and children flashed across his mind and before he could stop it, the memories of their fate flashed through his mind. He had been seriously wounded and the Borg had left him for dead, trapped under debris. He could only watch as the monsters injected his loved ones with nano-probes while they screamed and begged for him to help them. As they were carried off, he could do nothing but hope to bleed to death so his pain would end. He was rescued though, and while he was healing up in a local hospital a month later, the area was attacked by the Borg again. Fortunately he was nearly ready to be discharged, so was only a little under top form when they hit. While the other staff and patients were being evacuated, he and a few others volunteered to try to hold off the invaders long enough for them to make it to the emergency transports and get away. Unfortunately, there were no real weapons in the hospital facility, and all the security people were actively engaging the main force outside the building. He found a fire axe though, and waited for them to come. They did come, as he knew they would. The Borg always come.
He was prepared for their physical attack, but not what he would be faced with when it came. He had jumped up from behind a counter and swiftly planted his axe in the chest of the first Borg he saw, killing it instantly. They had lucked out and caught the Borg off guard. As the other volunteers attacked, he pulled his axe free and turned to face the next enemy. What he saw drained him of all his strength and his legs nearly failed to support him. The horribly altered cybernetic creature standing in front of him, although hardly recongnizable as human any longer, had clearly once been his wife. She no longer had hands, but instead had grotesque mechanical claws. Half of her face had been replaced by implants and an electronic probe extended from where one of her beautiful green eyes had once resided. The one eye that was left still reminded him of the woman who had been the love of his life for more than a dozen years and the mother of his children. It was only because one of the other volunteers had shouted as he attacked that the Borg creature that had once been his wife turned and was distracted from him. She grabbed that man by the neck and instantly snapped it with one claw hand, like the man were a small toy.
When she turned to kill her would be attacker, she had turned her head enough so that her husband no longer saw her human eye and was faced only with the view of a mechanical killer. The turn of events snapped him out of his trance and he no longer saw his wife in front of him, but one of those who had killed her and his children too. He knew he could not hesitate again, and also knew there was only one way he could ever save the last person he would ever love. He swung the axe with all of his might and easily decapitated the monster in front of him. It all happened in slow motion and when it was done, it would take him days before he would recover from the shock. He still woke up some nights with his screams still echoing through his quarters, sitting up in bed, sweat covering his body and thinking that the pillow in his hands was the head of his dead wife.
A shout of drunken laughter broke him from his thoughts and he quickly gulped back another drink to try and fight off his personal demons. The barmaid's timing was perfect as she placed another glass in front of him and he traded it for the empty one, starting in on the new one without missing a beat. He had not even noticed the tears running down his cheeks as he leaned forward on the table and tried once more to think of something else before he lost his mind.
He would not be allowed his peace though, as two large uniformed men entered the establishment with phasers on their sides. The men spoke to the bartender briefly, who pointed across the room and the uniformed men swiftly and quietly moved to the slumped figure at the table.
One of them leaned forward and said in a hushed tone that spoke of his experience in such matter, "Sir, we need to speak to you outside."
Taking another drink, the man only replied in a determined form of slur that ran his words together, "Go-way." He never looked up from his drink though.
With a sigh, the two uniformed men looked at each other and then with one on each side, reached down and picked the man up to a standing position. He only appeared to mildly be annoyed by this and not really fighting them in earnest, he shook them off once he was fully standing, but his doing so almost made him fall and they caught him and immediately began escorting him to the door.
One of the Security Officers said over his shoulder to the bartender,"Does he owe you anything sir?"
The bartender was honest enough to reply, "No, he paid in advance for enough to drink up half my stock, and he has certainly been doing his best to do just that…but no, he's good."
With a nod of thanks, they exited the building and once in the clear, signaled for transporter lock. The figures quickly disappeared in the shimmer of a transporter beam.
As they appeared in a transporter room, a woman in a medical uniform greeted them with a hypo-spray. She scanned the man standing between the two officers and after making an adjustment to her hypo-spray, injected him. She then gave a sigh and stepped back as another uniformed officer stepped forward. This man appeared all business, but was not phased in the least by the appearance of the man who had been brought in by the Security Officers.
He paused a moment to allow the medication to begin taking effect before saying, "Captain, we've been contacted by Starfleet. The new Federation Council has formed and they are trying to recall as many ships as they can to service. We've only just been relayed the message from the Antaries as she was passing through this sector. The recall codes matched our last known Starfleet confirmation protocols, so we're reasonably certain that this is official and sanctioned by Starfleet Command, or what ever still remains of it."
The man gave a skeptical look and responded in a not so slurred manner this time, "They've managed to reform the Federation? I wonder how they pulled off that small miracle. Wait, there is no way they could have rebuilt the Headquarters for the UFP this fast. I was there. That place was nothing but a smoking crater. They are lucky if they have managed to even make that part of the planet habitable again. I would be impressed if they were even able to scrounge enough technology and materials together to re-stabilize the planet over this last year."
"No sir, it would appear that we're to make best speed to the Eridani system."
The Captain's eyes clearing up now, he stood up straight and gave a nod of understanding, "Yes, that would stand to reason. The Vulcans took much less damage and their system it is a well defended position now."
The First Officer gave a hint of a smile as he said, "Some would say it was a logical choice."
The Captain gave a small bark of a chuckle in response, "Be that as it may, we need to get moving. Break orbit and give me top warp. Let me get cleaned up and I'll meet you on the Bridge."
With a sly grin he replied, "Sir, I've taken the liberty of informing the Engineering staff and they are already preparing to squeeze everything they can out of the engines. I have also had a clean uniform laid out for you in your quarters and by the time you get there, you should have a hot meal waiting on you."
With a smile that belied the friendship that was obviously shared between the two men he said, "Is there anything you haven't thought of?"
With a raised eyebrow he answered, "If there were, I wouldn't be a very good First Officer now, would I. I'll be on the Bridge sir."
With that, they all headed through the doors of the transporter room and into a new day…