Forty-eight hours ago, I accepted command of this vessel, the Excelsior class USS Melbourne. I considered it a stroke of good-fortune that Commander William Riker, First Officer of the USS Enterprise, had refused to take this commission. After all, if he had, then he would be CO here, instead of me. But luck was with me, and I got the job. Oh, I couldn't believe how happy I was.
Almost immediately after taking command though, I realised that my first command could very well be my last. For I have just received word: any available Federation Starship in the area has to report to the Wolf-359 system. This of course, includes the Melbourne. With a fresh Captain, and a crew that has yet to adapt to my command style. Hell, I even have to get used to my command style.
I have ordered a staff meeting in about five minutes. I'd better get going.
Captain Naoto Lao-Chen looked around the Conference Room of this Excelsior class. Somehow, he felt like a fresh ensign again. There was so much to see, so much to learn. Not that he had the time for that though. His hasty study of the ship's blueprints would have to be enough. When he had taken command, Lao-Chen had assumed the Melbourne wouldn't immediately get to see action, since he needed time to get used to a new ship. Now, he knew that getting used here was a luxury he couldn't afford.
Around the conference table sat the rest of the senior crew. It bothered Lao-Chen that he knew virtually nothing about these people. Only what was in their files. But that was all so impersonal. When he had been FO at his previous post, the USS Gage, he had gotten to know the rest of the crew pretty well. He had found that the atmosphere wouldn't only be more pleasant. . . it also meant that the crew would follow orders more quickly, and with more enthusiasm, if they came from someone they knew very well.
Now though, the crew of the USS Melbourne would have to follow orders from someone they barely even knew. So be it. This wasn't the most ideal of situations, but neither was the situation the Federation was now facing.
"Thank you all for coming." Lao-Chen said, looking each person in the eyes. "It has been about two days since we sat here. Those two days might look like an eternity ago, since then the atmosphere was more relaxed back then. Getting to know the new Captain." His lips parted for a moment, remembering the welcome he had gotten from the senior crew. They had been saddened by the fact that their former Captain had chosen to leave, but they were looking forward to all the time they would spend with the new Captain, on new, challenging missions.
When Lao-Chen continued, his face was dead-serious again. "Now, two days later, the Federation is in distress, and we're expected to do our duty. In a few hours, we'll arrive at a system called Wolf 359, not far away from Earth. There, we will defend the Federation, at all costs."
The Security Officer of the Melbourne leaned forward. "Defend her against what exactly, Sir? I mean, there have been rumours, but. . ." she paused. "Are they true? Are the B. . ."
"Yes Lieutenant." Lao-Chen said, interrupting the STC. "One Borg cube has been detected by the USS Enterprise, and it's heading directly towards sector 001. Earth." He paused, his face looking grim. "They're doing everything they can to slow the cube down, but chances are they won't be successful for long. So Starfleet has ordered any available ship to Wolf 359. We'll await the Borg cube there."
One look around the table showed Lao-Chen that everyone understood the gravity of the situation. It was quite something indeed: everyone knew the Borg to be a formidable foe. Their weapons were extremely powerful, and they kept repairing their damage. Their single-mindedness was especially worrisome, according to Lao-Chen. They didn't think as individuals. No, even worse: they *weren't* individuals. People who had a mind and will of their own could doubt, fear, be persuaded, refuse to do something. But not these Borg. And that was something that made them so terrifying. Because no matter how efficient a Starfleet Starship crew could be, nobody could be more efficient than the Borg. In a normal chain of command, one would first have to give the orders, until someone else could carry them out. There was time in between. . . time someone else needed to react. Not so with the Borg though: they gave an order, and executed it at the same time.
As if reading his mind -and he probably was- the Betazoid Counsellor spoke up. "Captain," he said, shattering the silence, "What do you think our chances of success will be?"
Lao-Chen didn't answer immediately. He felt the responsibility of command pressing down on his shoulders. He was responsible for the lives of everyone on board. That was quite something. In normal cases, a Captain would get a few weeks to get used to the crew, the ship, *and* this responsibility. But not this time.
"I will be honest with you." Lao-Chen continued, slowly. "The chances of success are slim. It all depends on whether or not the Enterprise can buy us enough time to form a reasonable fleet. The Klingons should be coming to our aid as well, although we have no idea when they'll arrive." He paused, and looked around again. "But there *is* a chance of success. If we look at efficiency, firepower, hull strength. . . virtually everything, then I agree, the Borg are superior to us. They're the proverbial hare, whereas we're the poor turtle." His face showed a meek smile. "But in the end of that story, the hare got beaten, since the turtle just kept on going. If we keep on going as well. . . if we give it everything we got and then some, then I think we might make it."
'Might make it'. Those weren't comforting words for the crew, and Lao-Chen could see this. The moral took another plunge, when the STC, Lieutenant Orvelle, spoke up. "Sir, with all due respect. . . if I remember the story of the turtle and the hare correctly, it was the hare's overconfidence that ultimately caused his defeat. The Borg will not react that way."
Again, all eyes in the room were directed at the new Captain. "You are correct, Lieutenant." He told Ms. Orvelle. "But we shouldn't give up just because the chances of us succeeding are slim." Another pause followed. "Look, I understand you're all frightened. Hell, I sure am. But in the battle to come, one ship. . . one crew, might be able to make a difference. That could very well be us. I know this doesn't comfort you, nor should it. But we *will* confront the Borg at Wolf 359. And we *will* do our duty, and more. And if we're lucky, history will remember that battle as the Battle of Wolf 359, where the Federation defeated the Borg."
Another silence. And again, it was shattered. This time, when Lao-Chen spoke up. "I would like you all to prepare for the hours to come, ladies and gentlemen. Try to rest. Relax."
The Betazoid Counsellor glanced at Lao-Chen. "That's quite an assignment, Captain." He gave his opinion, and Lao-Chen valued that. "How do you suggest the crew does that, while they know they could all die in a couple of hours?"
Again, silence. The Counsellor had said what nobody else wanted to say. For it was true: everyone on board this ship might be dead before the next day. Lao-Chen was aware of this. But how to boost moral? Generally, if people thought they would die soon, they would find a way of making that happen. How to prevent this? How to let his crew get the mental boost they needed, in order to do their duties in the best way they could?
And then it came to him. "I might have an idea. . ." He said, smiling. Indeed. . . this might just work.
***
Captain's Log, stardate 43998.9. We're still on route to sector Wolf-359, and we'll arrive there in less than two hours. The atmosphere on board is tense, to put it mildly. But I need my crew to be in top shape when we face the Borg. So, to boost moral, I've organised a reception of some sorts. A party, if you will. I know, it's a helluva time for a party, but it just so happens that in early Earth tradition, this time of the Earth year there was a celebration called New Years Eve: to say goodbye to the old year, and hello to the new. It's a time where everyone thinks about what the new year will bring us, and where all hope for the best. And is that not what we're doing now?
Captain Lao-Chen entered the messhall, which had been decorated for the occasion. It still felt weird: celebrating while the battle -and near-certain death- were just a few hours away. But that was what this party was for: to forget -just for a little while- the impending doom.
"Captain!" Was that a cheery voice calling him? He looked around, and immediately saw the Chief Medical Officer, a female Bolian, standing there. "What a great idea, such a party! I must say, I could use some relaxation."
"As could I." Lao-Chen answered with a nod. "It is good to see you enjoying yourself, Doctor. I hope you've told your staff that this celebration is not voluntary?" he asked her with a grin of his own.
"I certainly did." Came the reply, while the Bolian took a sip of her drink. "Hmmm, what is this, anyway?" she asked.
"Champagne." Lao-Chen knew champagne when he saw it. Back in his Academy days, this had been a favourite drink of his. And since champagne was often drunk at parties where Cadets didn't, and classy Admirals did go to, he had build up quite a few 'acquaintances' in those days. People who, later in his life, had helped him with problems he sometimes faced. . . be it personal or professional, those people had always been here.
And now he was fighting -or about to fight- to protect those people -and all the others in the Federation- from destruction. Those Admirals had always told him that Lao-Chen would one day have to repay the favours he had asked them. Well, if he would be successful now, he would considered them all repaid. . .
"Maybe we shouldn't drink this then." The Bolian answered, glancing at the glass with a frown. "Isn't there real alcohol in such drinks?"
Lao-Chen shook his head slowly. "No. . . we don't want the crew to get drunk while fighting the Borg, so I took the liberty to having the bartender replicate champagne with synthehol. It tastes the same, but the effects of alcohol will stay away."
The Doctor started smiling, and then laughed out loud. It was a pleasant sound to hear. . . her laugh was almost like a melody. But Lao-Chen didn't understand what he had said, that could be so funny. That didn't stop him from smiling as well. Doctor Teck's laugh was infections. "Doctor," He asked nevertheless, "What are you laughing about?"
Tears came from the Doctor's cheeks. . . tears of laughter. "I. . . I. . ." she stated, but she was interrupted by her own laughter again. "I just thought. . . maybe we should let the helmsman get drunk: he'll let the Melbourne execute very strange manoeuvres then, making it impossible for the Borg to hit us!"
Lao-Chen smiled, grinned, and then erupted into laughter as well. This wasn't funny, although that didn't matter at a moment like this. Somehow the Human mind possessed the ability to see the funny side of darker situations. It would be interesting to do some research on this. . . but that would have to wait. Or it would just never happen, based on the outcome of the coming battle.
However, not even the Human mind could withstand the cold logic of a Vulcan. "I am afraid, Doctor, that your logic is wrong. Allowing the helmsman to get drunk will only result in him being unable to do his duty." It was the Vulcan Chief of Operations, Mellek. Of course he too had come to the party, but only because he had to. It *was* mandatory, after all.
"Oh come on Mellek, don't be a party pooper." Teck said, still keeping a smile on her face. Her melodious laughter was gone now, though.
"Party Pooper?" Mellek replied. "Might I inquire what you mean by that, Doctor?"
"Now now people." Lao-Chen interrupted, putting up his hands. "Enough of that. We're here to celebrate New Years' Eve. No hostilities, please. Now. . ." he looked around, and noticed that most of the crew was here. "Let's all ask ourselves. . . what will next year bring us?"
Before anyone could reply, Mellek spoke up. "Obviously nothing more than death, Captain. We're nearly at Wolf 359, the Borg should be here fairly soon as well."
There was another drop in moral. . . one didn't need to be a Betazoid to sense that. "Mister Mellek." Lao-Chen stated, turning to the Vulcan. "I am pleased to see that you're being. . . realistic, but I for one consider being optimistic a helluvalot better. In fact, I order you to be optimistic, for the remainder of this party. Understood?"
The well-known eyebrow gesture was the man's only reply.
"Good!" Lao-Chen said, addressing the crowd again. "Assuming we'll be successful in our mission. . . what do you wish the new year to bring?"
For a moment, there was a silence. But not for long. Two crewmembers, Harriete and Malcolm Steers, looked at each other, and then looked at the Captain. "Sir. . ." Harriete said with a big smile on her face as well as tears in her eyes. "We were going to wait with announcing this, but. . ." A tear fell from her cheek, while she tried to smile even more. "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a little baby boy!"
It was impossible to ignore the feeling of sadness coming up in Lao-Chen. Yes, he was immensely happy for the couple, but he also knew that the unborn child might not live long enough to be born. And even if he -and the mother- would, there was no telling if his father would be alive then.
Lao-Chen swallowed, and then focussed on the happiness he felt for these people. "That's wonderful." He said to them. "See, that's a bit of happy news, right in our midst! It would seem your new year will be wonderful!" If the Borg didn't destroy them first, of course. But he had to remain positive. Or else the crew would just give up already, without actually putting up a fight. "So, who's next?"
Ah, good old Doctor Teck. "I hope to fall in love in the new year." She said with a smile on her face. "The man I'm looking for has to be about my age, needs to have an interest in medicine, and of course, he has to be a great cook." She grinned, as she looked around. "Well, anyone feel like I'm describing you?"
A few giggles came, but no real response. Lao-Chen smiled, and then gestured at Ms. Orvelle, allowing the STC to speak up. When she did, her voice wasn't harsh, as Lao-Chen had gotten to know the woman. No. . . she was speaking in soft, almost whispering words. "I uhm. . ." she said, apparently not really knowing what to say. Judging by the reactions of the bystanders, the fact that Ms. Orvelle was trying to find something to say, was unique. She quickly continued though. "I would like the next year to be relaxing, without any security threats." She smiled weakly. "That is, if we survive the Borg, of course."
This statement seemed to bring around a gasp of awe. "But. . ." one of the security officers -Lao-Chen almost felt guilty about not knowing this man's name- started, "I thought you were Iron Orvelle. . . the Security Officer who got a thrill out of security issues!" He paused, and then realised what he had said. "At least, that's how you are known throughout the department."
A faint smile could now be seen on 'Iron Orvelle's' lips. "I guess you don't know me as well as you thought you did, Parsons."
"Well, then that's my goal for the new year." Parsons said with a little smile on his own. "Get to know you better. . ."
CMO Teck quickly interrupted. "Sure. I'm the one asking for a love life, and it would seem you're getting it, Isabel Orvelle." She winked at the woman. "Some day, you must tell me how you do that."
Orvelle winked back. "Practice, Teck. Practice."
A couple of laughs were heard in this messhall. They sounded good. . . as if the crew was finally putting the impending doom aside. None of them had forgotten the upcoming battle of course, but at least now they were able to relax somewhat.
More stories were told. Wishes for the new year, stories about the old. Crewman Hudson said that he missed his family, and that he would like to get back to Earth when all of this was over. Ensign Melayne was so very proud about her daughter getting straight A's at school, and FO McLaughlan spoke with passion about his hobby: painting. He was talking about all the ideas he had in his mind. . . of painting trees, space ships, people on board. . . or all of them together. Everybody listened to the FO without interrupting, since nobody knew this side of an otherwise stern man.
"And now that I've said what I'd like the next year to bring," McLaughlan said with an actual smile, "It's time for our new Captain." Again, every eye in the room was directed at Lao-Chen, although this time, the new CO of the Melbourne enjoyed the experience.
It had been about two hours since the beginning of the party, and nearly everyone had stated their wishes. Except the Captain of course. "My wish for the new year." Lao-Chen started, but then paused. "Let's see, that's a difficult one."
"Oh come on Captain!" Teck said out loud. "You asked us to think of something. . . surely you have thought of something too?"
"Yeah!" Lieutenant Orvelle added. "We all said what needed to be said. . . it's time you did too, Captain. Surely you have something you want us all to know. . . something you want to share with us?"
Surprisingly, Lieutenant Mellek, the Vulcan Chief of Operations, supported Teck and Orvelle. "It is logical, Captain." He said, in his ever-so-logical voice. "You have asked all of us to speak up and produce a wish. It would only be logical that you proceed with a similar ritual yourself." He paused, and added "Sir."
Lao-Chen smiled. "How could I ever present a valid counter argument to that line of reasoning?" he asked. "Very well. My wish for the new year." He took a deep breath. "Well, my entire life, I had been. . ." He grinned. "Well, you could say I was always trying to do things as well as I could do them. I always wanted everything to be perfect." He paused, and realised what he was doing here. He was actually telling his new crew. . . a crew of strangers to his eyes, some of the most important, emotional things of his life. And he also realised that he didn't care. This was *his* crew. And that was saying a lot.
"In my struggle for perfection," Lao-Chen continued, again without anyone interrupting or even trying to say anything, "I've made a lot of sacrifices. I placed work above pleasure, duty above. . . well, above everything else." He paused once again, feeling his emotions rise to the surface. "Which brings me to Risa. . ."
A chorus of 'oooh's' and 'aaah's' came from the crowd, but they quickly stopped, when Lao-Chen raised his hand. "Yes, it's like that. I met a girl on Risa. A wonderful girl, named Emoli. She wasn't only extremely beautiful, she was also funny, had a way with words, loved to surf and swim, and could easily be counted as one of the brightest minds in the Federation. And what did I do?" He shook his head, letting out a sigh. "I tried to persuade her to come with me. She refused, of course: she was happy with her job there. So. . ." he swallowed. "Despite my feelings for her, I told her I had to go again. I broke her heart, and in the process, I broke mine as well." He took a deep breath, and wiped away a beginning tear. "So, in the new year, I want to go to Risa. I want to take back Emoli, and love her, the way I was meant to love her. And who cares if that's not a good career move!"
The crew in this room cheered as one, and Lao-Chen joined them. This was an important moment. Now, after a couple of days, the CO had gotten to know his crew better.
When the cheering ended, Lao-Chen raised his glass, while everyone in the room followed his example. "I'd like to make a toast." He announced, and then cleared his throat. "To the crew of the USS Melbourne. May all our wishes come true."
"Here here." Came the chorus.
It was at that moment that the celebration was interrupted. =/\=Ensign Mandrick to Captain Lao-Chen.=/\= came the voice of one of the few people who had been allowed to stay on duty. =/\=We've arrived at Wolf 359. Admiral Hanson has ordered all ships to go to battle stations immediately.=/\=
Lao-Chen remained silent for a moment, but then took a deep breath. "Understood." He replied. "Lao-Chen out." He glanced around the room. "As you might already know," He continued, as if nothing had happened. "The tradition of New Years' Eve is accompanied by fireworks." He gestured out of the windows, to where -instead of the familiar stars warping by- a lot of ships lay, awaiting the upcoming battle. "Fireworks which will soon be lit. How about adding an extra spectacle to those fireworks, in the form of a Borg cube exploding?"
Again, cheers rang through the messhall. Over the shouts, Lao-Chen bellowed: "To the crew of the USS Melbourne! Hip hip. . ."
"Hooray!"
Silence followed this burst of positive energy. Silence which Lao-Chen used to once again address his crew. . . perhaps for the last time ever. "I'd like to add something to my wish." He told the crew. "I wish that we get the chance to let our wishes come true." He took a deep breath, and looked at everyone in the room. "I know you'll do your best. I know I can count on you. And I hope you know that, despite my relative short stay here, I. . ." he bit his lip. "I am proud of you."
Another deep breath. "Now. This party is hereby over. Everyone, report to battle stations. We have a Borg cube to defeat."
An ear-deafening "Aye Sir!" came from the crew, as they all exited the Mess Hall, to go to their battlestations. It might be the last time they would do that. It might be the last time anyone would ever see each other again. It might be the last time for anything. But if it was, then at least Lao-Chen would die with the knowledge that he and his crew didn't die as strangers. No. . . if they would die, then they'd die as comrades. Brothers and sisters. Family.
Looking out of the large windows, Lao-Chen spoke up softly. "Happy New Year." He muttered, before he too, made his way to the Bridge.
***
Captain's Log, Stardate 43999.7. The Borg are coming. The Melbourne has been assigned to the first wave to attack the Borg cube, lead by the USS Saratoga. The Borg have already appeared on short range sensors, so there's little time left. Everyone here is nervous. Nevertheless, we'll give it our best shot.
Before I end this log, I want to say that I've gotten to know my crew better. And I'm proud of each and every one of them. I'm afraid there's not enough time to put a letter of recommendation in their official records, otherwise I would have certainly done that. Now, this log will just have to do.
I have to end this log now. . . the Borg have come out of warp directly in front of us. The Saratoga has ordered us to attack in formation. Well. . . here goes.
Signed,
Captain Lao-Chen, USS Melbourne.
