I sat, freezing, in a brightly lit classroom, awaiting the commencement of classes. Three hundred years, and they were still using the same old tactic to keep students attentive. Of course, that was assuming that things were done the same way three hundred years ago in this universe. Already I was aware of certain differences between it and my universe. For example, the Eugenics Wars, from which came the villainous Khan Singh, never happened in my universe. The nineties had passed without a trace of Mr. Singh, for which I should doubtless be grateful. Other differences, most of them slight, were beginning to appear as well. Many of the events leading up to the third World War, which should have already happened on the Earth of my universe, had not. It was a spark of hope to think that this might mean there would be no such war there, but as soon as the thought entered my brain, I once again visualized an assimilated Earth. This had the effect of depressing me at first, but gradually I began to feel as though this fight, which I was about to embark upon in this universe, was really just the first step towards saving my own planet.
I glanced around the room at several new faces. Everyone was now clad in Starfleet attire, though their ranks were varied. I had thought that Jerry's uniforms also held the rank of captain, but apparently I had seen them incorrectly. His uniform placed him at commander level, though, which was still fairly elevated. The people around me ranged from ensigns to lieutenant commanders. To my left, two rows down, sat a tall, lanky young man with fiery red hair. His gaunt, freckled face was animated with the story he was telling to those around him.
"...and ahm tellin' y'all, ah 'bout crapped mah britches when ah found mahself in that room" he drawled loudly. Most of the room on that side erupted into laughter. I chuckled a little myself; he seemed an unlikely candidate for Star Trek fandom, but I seriously doubted that he would have been there otherwise.
"A'course, I didn' pannywaist out like some of 'em. I figger we ain't got much of a choice. 'Em sonsabitches'll get Earth no matter where we are. Might as well fight 'em where we can put a real boot up their ass" More laughs. He seemed likeable. Jerry, who was sitting directly in front of me, was grinning, even though his gaze was fixed upon the padd in his hand. Already studying, I thought. He's taking this very well.
I glanced to my immediate right, and my heart fluttered. There sat the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in a Starfleet uniform (well, real-life girl, anyway. But then, what did real mean these days?). She had blonde hair tightly pulled back into a ponytail, except for two strands spilling across the sides of her lovely face. Her full lips were turned upward in what appeared to be a perpetual smile.
"Hi" she said as I regained my composure, hoping that my expression had not betrayed me.
"Hello. You new here too" I asked. Lame, Mike. Really lame. Fortunately, she smiled.
"Yeah. I'm Ju- uh, Lieutenant Julie Brock" she said, proffering her dainty hand. I took it, gazing into her gorgeous green eyes.
"And I am, uh, Captain Mike Allen." Simply saying the words gave me a sudden surge of confidence I could barely believe. It had not dawned on me that, since I was the only one in the room with a captain's uniform on, I must be a candidate for the captaincy of a ship. My eyes suddenly widened.
"I'm sure it will be a pleasure to serve under you" Miss (I presumed) Brock said, turning back to her padd. Suddenly I was unable to continue my people watching. A much more pressing item was screaming for attention at the front of my brain. I tapped Jerry on the shoulder.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me I was the only captain in here" I whispered. Jerry smiled.
"Why didn't you listen when I told you about it last night" he whispered back. "This room is for the upper level command staff of one ship. There are ninety-some other rooms exactly like this one, training crews together. It makes everyone comfortable with everyone once we finally get aboard the actual ship. Look around you, Mike. These are the people who will be under your command."
"But how did I make captain in the first place" I demanded. Jerry shrugged.
"Beats me. They must've done some sort of serious background check on all of us before they chose us, and you must have really impressed them. I was hoping to get a ship of my own, but I guess they decided to lump me with you. That suits me, though. After all, my guess is that I really don't want the responsibility that goes with the job."
"Responsibility" At the back of my mind, a serious red flag began waving violently.
"Oh yeah" Jerry whispered. "You're responsible for the lives of the people in here, as well as however many other people are aboard your ship. You have to make decisions that will save or kill them all, or worse..." Suddenly, the glorious image of captaincy faded from my mind. I didn't like the way this was going. Risking my own life was one thing. Being responsible for the lives of others, especially a lot of others, was something else entirely. I did not have time to finish the thought, however, as the classroom doors suddenly swooshed open, and in walked our instructor.
By this point, I had imagined myself to be fairly jaded to seeing new things. I had even finally seen an alien (only from a distance, but it was a Bolian, and therefore easily recognizable). But nothing could have prepared me for the shock of seeing Admiral Kathryn Janeway walk into that room. I think the entire room must have felt similarly, for suddenly the air grew deathly still. Stiffly, almost regally, she walked to the lectern. She smiled warmly at us, and began to speak with that matronly tone of voice that we had all learned to love over the course of seven years.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I'm told that no introduction is necessary, as most of you know me better than I know myself. So we will simply begin with the introduction to what has been unofficially labeled as the 'Two Weeks of Hell' you're all about to go through. Let's start with the roster." She glanced down at the padd in her hand. "Captain Michael Thorne Allen" It took me a moment to realize that she was calling my name, but I raised my hand. She moved on, but I barely heard. The thought of being a captain had returned. I looked at the admiral's face. Beautiful, yet grim from long years of hard decisions, many of which had led to the death of people under her command. Maybe that was why she had accepted admiralty so soon after returning the Voyager...
"Lieutenant Junior Grade Francis William Newman" The lanky fellow raised his hand.
"That's me, ma'am. But mah friends call me 'Tex'". Admiral Janeway smiled.
"Very well, Tex. Ensign Maria Grijalva Perez" The list went on. I tried to focus; after all, I would need to get to know these people. But all my attention was torn between seeing what I assumed was the actual Kathryn Janeway for the first time, and the implications of being responsible for scores, if not hundreds of lives. But my brain, ever the dreaming optimist, soon began replacing scenes of horror with scenes of valor on my part. Before long, I was daydreaming about what it might be like to sit in that chair. To give orders and have them followed to the letter. To hear myself say...
"Mr. Allen, would you mind joining us" Admiral Janeway sounded stern, but her gaze gave her away. I got the feeling that she knew exactly what I was thinking. She then turned to address the class. "I assume you're all wondering how you got your ranking. It's quite simple, really. A few weeks before you were brought here, you each received a 'Star Trek' survey, which you were to complete and send in to our front corporation. Although you didn't know it at the time, you were actually rating your ability to function in Starfleet as an officer." There were several groans, presumably on the part of those in the room who now wished they had worked a little harder on that survey. I thought back to how easily I had completed the survey. Was it possible that of the people in this room, I was most fit for leadership? The admiral continued. "Over the course of this week, your performance will determine several things. The class of ship you are assigned to, the sector you are assigned to, your duties there...all this and more will depend on how well you adapt to your surroundings and how well you work together. Any questions before we begin" Slowly I raised my hand.
"Yes, Mr. Allen"
"Ma'am, what are the chances of any of us in this room surviving this conflict with the Borg" Kathryn Janeway looked me squarely in the eye.
"Very little, Mr. Allen. Very little."
At the front of the darkened classroom rotated a holographic projection of a human male, clad only in shorts. As it rotated, it began to change; slowly at first, then picking up pace as we watched. First, his skin turned pale, and black rivulets of nanites began to appear beneath the skin. Over the left eyebrow, a metal piece appeared, folding out several sharp edges to cover more space and dig into the skin. A type of carapace began to form over the chest, widening and lengthening to gradually cover the abdomen. Suddenly, his left eyeball was gone, exposing the tissue behind. I heard several noises of disgust, but most of us simply stared and listened as Janeway's voice droned on.
"Note that the nerve is carefully preserved during the removal of the eyeball. The ocular implant depends on this. It's a delicate process, and sometimes cannot be done. If a subject has any sort of deterioration..." As she talked, more and more of the human became Borg. His right arm disappeared below the elbow, leaving a bloodless stump that was soon replaced with a large mechanical arm. Vicious-looking pincers were attached to that arm; they twitched in seeming anticipation for some terrible deed.
I found some of the information to be helpful; that is, some of it I didn't already know. But for the most part, I felt like I was really wasting my time in here. Finally, all traces of humanity had been removed from the projection, and he was fully Borg. Janeway raised the lights and touched her padd. Suddenly the drone in front of us changed from male to female. It took a moment, but we realized that the face was that of Admiral Janeway. Before any of us could say anything, the real Janeway took a hand phaser from her side and blasted the holograph into oblivion. A wisp of acrid smoke caught in the light as she reset her phaser and returned it to her side.
"That, students, is the most important thing to remember about the Borg at this point." We all stared at her, speechless. "I know. It seems cruel."
"'Specially since y'all can bring 'em back" objected Tex.
"Mr. Newman...Tex...I don't think you understand the magnitude of what we are about to face. We are looking at millions, perhaps billions, of drones on our hands in a matter of months. Every single one of you has to be prepared to put a phaser to your friend's head and fire. The medical staff of every single ship and every station and every planet in the Federation will be hard pressed just to deal with the wounded. So it is not Starfleet's intention that we should make much of an effort to "bring back" drones. It's a very complicated and dangerous procedure, with limited effectiveness."
"What would Seven of Nine have to say about that" asked another student, one Carrie Johnstone I later found out. Admiral Janeway nodded with understanding.
"I understand your point. But Seven of Nine was a special case. Understand that we are not happy about this decision. Starfleet's mission is one of peace. But we absolutely cannot tend to our own people and Borg at the same time. And trust me, killing your friend would be much better for them than allowing them to remain Borg."
"Well, ah wouldn' do somethin' like that" said Tex, folding his arms.
"You don't have a choice. It's an order. If you don't like it, go home." Janeway glared at him, and Tex backed off.
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry ma'am" he drawled slowly, sinking deeper into his chair. Janeway sighed.
"Apology accepted, lieutenant. Hopefully you won't face that decision. But if you do" she looked at me"you have to be ready to make a very tough decision." Responsibility, Allen. That choice could be yours.
We spent the next several hours examining Borg cadavers, a process which very much bothered me at first. Eventually, I had to detach myself and begin to look at them as a mere science project. It was difficult, but I was successful enough at it that by the time lunch rolled around, I felt quite capable of eating something.
Our group was released, and we eventually found ourselves sitting inside a giant lounge. Through the large windows, one could see most of Starfleet Academy, Starfleet Headquarters and, farther off, the Golden Gate Bridge. Shuttles of every shape and size whizzed around from place to place. One thing that continually amazed me was just how much all of this looked exactly as I had seen it in the show. That, of course, was backward reasoning. Actually, the show had looked exactly like the reality around me. I was going to have to get used to that...
My crew (what a thought!) and I sat together at three tables in a corner of the room. I looked around and noticed that most of the other "crews" were doing the same. Getting to know one another better. Good idea. I managed to get situated between Julie Brock and someone whose name I could not remember. It was awkward having to ask after having already heard it on the roster, but fortunately Ensign Greg Walker seemed to be more than happy to repeat his name. I vowed silently at that point to always know the names of everyone in my group.
We sat, eating and talking. I learned the backgrounds of several people. Julie Brock, for example, had come from Minnesota, where she had been a waitress. Her love for Star Trek was primarily academic; she had seen every episode and read every book she could get her hands on. She even boasted having memorized the Starfleet Technical Manual. I was impressed, to say the least.
Tex had, of course, worked on a ranch in Texas. His father's ranch, to be precise. His only connections with fellow Star Trek fans had been a mailing list and the occasional convention, but he knew Starfleet history inside and out. He seemed to be especially interested in battle tactics for starships, something that I imagined I would have to tap into at some point.
Ensign Walker might have had the most interesting history of all of us. At the age of twenty-four, he was already a multi-million dollar heir. His father had made a fortune on Wall Street, and had left the entirety of it to Greg when he died. Walker now owned several business firms scattered across the United States, and one in Japan. Still, all the money in the world could not keep him from accepting Starfleet's proposal. I was silently grateful that he seemed so grateful about only achieving the rank of ensign. Of course, I would have been happy with being an ensign. Perhaps more happy...
After lunch, we returned to the classroom to find that we were being tested. Everything one could possibly wonder about the Borg was addressed in that test; there were three hundred questions. We had an hour and a half to complete it, and by the time we were finished, we were all exhausted. Fortunately, we were given the rest of the afternoon off. There would be an additional class at 2100 hours (it took me a while to remember that was 9:00), but it would be a short one, dealing with command chain protocol.
Everyone broke off to go exploring, and I was left alone in the halls. I walked for some time, passing empty labs and classrooms. Finally, I rounded a corner, and bumped into her.
"Oh, excuse me, Julie" I said.
"Lieutenant...sir" she corrected.
"Uh, right" I replied, with a grin. I noted that she was alone. "I guess I'm going to have to get used to calling you that. Um, I was thinking about getting some air. We don't seem to be restricted from going outside. Care to join me" She looked at me for the longest moment, then smiled.
"Absolutely, Captain! I'm getting tired of the stuffiness anyway. Let's find an exit and get out of here."
We walked for several hours in the warm June air. We talked primarily of our past on our Earth. I told her about my job as a sales clerk in a men's clothing store. I told her of my Bohemian apartment, my love for iced brandy, and generally all those interesting little details that make a person a person. She told me about her family, who never came to visit her after she had moved away and gone to college. She mentioned with obvious chagrin her recent unsuccessful attempt at a romantic relationship, which I secretly filed away for later use.
"I know what you mean" I said. "I've had a pretty decent-sized string of bad luck in that department myself."
"Yeah" she said, hands clasped behind her back as we exited a shop. "You don't seem like the type to have that problem." I raised an eyebrow. "You just seem like the type that girls would like." I smiled.
"Oh, they generally like me. For a while." She grinned.
"What, until they find out you're really a eunuch" We laughed. "I think, Captain Allen, that you just haven't found the right one yet." I nodded my head. Suddenly, her attention was drawn away from me. "Ooh, let's go into this place" Silently I acquiesced, and we entered.
Twenty-fourth century San Francisco was amazingly different than the one I had visited as a kid. There were still some old buildings around from the twenty-first century, which we hunted out and gazed upon with pride. We even stumbled upon a museum of the twentieth century, which was inadequate and even inaccurate in some of its descriptions, but it felt homey anyway, especially in the company of an attractive young woman.
As evening fell, we both decided we were rather hungry. Without thinking I offered to buy her dinner, and she laughed. It took me a moment to remember that we had no money and that money was not an issue anyway.
"Well, may I at least escort you to dinner, then" I asked with a gentlemanly air.
"You may, sir" she said, and we went off in search of a restaurant in twenty-fourth century San Francisco.
