Literary Challenges : The Library Computer
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Really? What a surprise! This is a great idea!
05-08-2011, 02:04 PM
A Fatal Thread
As the bookmark of a classic page turner, or the knot affirmatively tugged around his finger; a single thread is kept in memoriam to the life he left behind. The terror was inexplicable, as the needles pierced his flesh; the invasion of machine commenced on the human front lines, within his very bloodstream.
Having just earned the captains seat, Aindreas received a new parcel which he immediately dawned as part of his uniform: a Starfleet issued captainís vest. But it was far from standard, it was a nano-fiber enhanced shield, the first of its kind; a testament to his new "cozy" position, as the eggheads would tease him. He had earned this casually trimmed uniform, having often served as a guinea pig for Daystromís field testing extravaganzas.
Of course this was slightly prior to the easing of the uniform policies. A proper test pending, the jacket would surely become standard issue. Unfortunately, it never made it back for confirmation.
ďSo, Starfleet wants their apparel to be as diverse as their communities. Well, looks like this little addition wonít be a unique benefit for much longer; Iíll wear it with pride until I wear it out.Ē
Indeed he did, it accompanied him on 46 missions, but it had yet to meet any conflict. He was just about to head another away team before he went missing in action, & was eventually presumed killed in the line of duty.
As part of a squadron of 5 starships that branched from the reserve station now orbiting Delta Vega, they soon came to realize that an unexpected enemy had their flank. Klingon ships, presumably approved for a diplomatic voyage through federation territory, descended upon them without warning. As the fighting broke out, a boarding party tried to overtake the bridge of the U.S.S. Copperwire, Aindreasí charge of the time. The nano-fiber mesh successfully dispersed several disruptor blasts & deflected many a batíleth strike.
Aindreas acted swiftly & somewhat recklessly, using every advantage at his disposal. He rushed into each confrontation as though he were invincible, not taking into account the fact that his shipmates did not have such beneficial technology. Eventually, he lie soaked in the blood of his aggressors & comrades alike. All were too engaged defending themselves & the ship to help each other. Acts the survivors would writhe in guilt over, though it would be short-lived.
Word had been spreading that splinter factions of klingons were acting without the consent of the council. But it was becoming alarmingly clear that their support was growing within the empire & a declaration of war would soon be inevitable. A standoff crept in like a rolling fog; Starfleet personnel had clear homefield advantage but their spirits were beginning to dwindle. Sensing this, the klingons prepared to attempt withdrawal once the fight seemed meaningless.
When it looked as if the situation couldnít get any worse, the rain turned to hail; borg sphere sized hail. The borg, thought defeated & crippled beyond recovery, dropped out of transwarp & assaulted both sets of vessels indiscriminately. They were not known to host such violent salvos on ships of such meager technological value. But as was later affirmed by Starfleet intel, these rogue drones were acting without the direction of a queen & simply, instinctively began lashing out en masse to replenish their numbers.
UFP & KDF were suddenly fighting side by side against their common enemy, but the effort was given too little too late. The spheres outnumbered them 2 to 1 & they were ruthless, factually brutal in the execution of their objective. Most of the klingons met their end head-on in the devastating encounter. Several Starfleet personnel saw little hope & set the auto-destruct aboard their ships, & resigned to their fate. Quite as anticipated, the borg had succeeded over their quarry nevertheless, sustaining minimal casualties. All whom were not killed were captured & arbitrarily assimilated.
Aindreas met his captor face to face, it seemed to toy with him. He couldnít deny that he was frightened, & why hide it from beings with not a single shred of empathy. He cried out for his peers, comrades, even his enemies to be avenged; as if the wavelength of his pain could be transmitted loud enough to carry on subspace. Alas, the tubules unalterably pierced his collar, in the vein of ancient myths now made reality, such as the vampire sinking its teeth into its latest victim. A blood soaked fiber of the vest became lodged between the newly growing implants & his skin; & there it remained until his body was salvaged 25 years later.
It was spotted during his implant-removal by an artificial being. The E.M.H. caught it mid-air as it drifted gently to the floor. Of all the stabbing sentiment & personal questions asked in their attempts to bring him around, his humanity refused to surface; until he saw the string, shimmering like a gilded piece of shrapnel.
This sent a spark throughout his neurons, an humane wedge now held open the lids pulled over his mindís eye. After the procedure he finally lifted his head, blinking rapidly. The first thing that came into focus was the shipís plaque which read: ď
Ē & the quote "
I swear by Apollo, the healer, by Aesculapius, by Health and all the powers of healing...
" Salvaging the mind would be another task altogether for his memory, up until the moments before the battle with the klingons, was all but lost or hopelessly suppressed.
However, the sensation in the air, & the comfort the plaque & the people gave him, he knew his calling was to save lives; & thus a new human life was born. He had forsaken the name of the man he was, systematically deeming himself a failure with no regard nor interest in his actual history. All he remembered was what she called him... Droidrewid. Almost all at once, a new order was in place, when her mind became the new driving force. She was the borg. He ultimately chose the new name of Droid, since that is what many began calling him upon reading his report after his liberation from the collective.
Not being complete enough to be of any use to the Daystrom institute, their hands now full supplying the war-effort, he keeps the frayed nano-fiber to remember his friends. He composed an ode to honor those victims of circumstance who were not recovered from the day the borg eclipsed their lives, & extinguished their individuality. He had the dirge etched onto the string with a micro-scribe, to further discourage his wish to throw it away & forget its role in all that had transpired.
Upon a first glance one might simply brush it away,
But from hence on to forth, there it doth stay,
Never again shall it lead the team astray,
As when the shadows fell on that fateful day,
Though be it ever so soft,
On & off it floats aloft,
Splitting hairs all too oft,
Still it rests anon forgot,
On & on as no other knows,
Where & how the story goes,
Betwixt its fibers frozen pose,
Final taken thoughts of thy foes,
The first to fall the last to flee,
From the onslaught of thine enemy,
A devastating blow began the siege,
Behind the lines no eyes could see,
A key component to your downfall,
A suffering mortal cry is outlawed,
Drag them through your trough of flaws,
Shed the fear that nearly draws,
In excess excrement of seething evil eyes,
In unvoiced atonement for detrimental lies,
In abhorrent insurrection from decadent ties,
In abysmal proliferation of reeling cries,
O be there no formal address,
For the dues of the confessed,
Are not the survivors truly blessed,
To the wall their backs firmly pressed,
Channeling churning shapes of shame,
Images fall upon the deaf or lame,
Their nature is not ours to tame,
They knew not a single name,
Still they would dare to delve,
Into realms deep as a darkened well,
Resistance is futile; no thoughts withheld,
We know no heaven without hell,
So upon a fatal thread may rest,
The final fiber of a long lost vest,
Take the time now to invest,
Surely the inferno will arrest,
Nightmares come no more no less,
To this day I cannot win nor best,
The enemy within, but I digress,
Life is not a dream; I do not jest.