This story is set in a 24th Century version of the Kelvinverse. I wanted to write a Trek story that was more of a blend between sci fi and horror. I hope you find it enjoyable... (I had some formatting problems importing my story into the message board. I've tried fixing it, but I've only had limited success so far. Please forgive me if I missed anything.) STAR TREK: WOLF By Greysun Tegg-Ironsnow Chapter One Lieutenant Eddowes thought back to the horror movies he had watched with his brother as he saw the Borg cube transit the blood-red disk of Wolf 359. That diamond-shaped, malignant silhouette filled him with fear as it grew steadily larger on the viewer. When he was a child back on Earth he’d enjoyed the illusions of safety like hiding under a blanket or the reassuring knowledge that his parents were downstairs. When a particularly scary movie ended his brother would make fun of it, putting the young Eddowes at ease so he could drift off to sleep. He was no coward, but he dreaded the notion of assimilation. Giving his life to defend the Federation was something he could accept, but being transformed into a zombie was a notion that sickened him. He had been on many missions with Admiral Hanson and from time to time they had engaged some hostile species, but he had never faced anything like this. Usually they only experienced brief skirmishes that were solved by Admiral Hanson's diplomatic talents. “Starfleet hasn't faced an enemy like this since the destruction of Vulcan,” Hanson had told them as they headed out to intercept the Borg cube. “Vulcan fell, but we will not allow Earth to conquered by the Borg.” The Admiral's orders had sounded less confident moment by moment as the Geneva shuddered underneath them. They had broken away from the questing Borg tractor beam twice, the second time with great difficulty and moderate damage. Jean-Luc Picard's Borg-mutilated face had been a menacing constant on the main viewer since they had arrived in the Wolf 359 system. The gruesome state of one of Starfleet's greatest captains had made Eddowes' skin crawl. At least the Admiral had finally switched that horrific image off, instead talking to Captain Riker on the Enterprise, trying to bring him up to speed on the battle. Eddowes saw the grave concern on Riker's face, his eyes wide as he watched the Geneva shake under the Borg onslaught. His own attack had failed and the knowledge that Admiral Hanson's fleet was being torn apart was devastating news. Forward shields were close to failing when Hanson had begun his transmission. Eddowes could see they wouldn't be able to slip free of the Borg tractor beam a third time. The Admiral was in the middle of instructing the Enterprise to rendezvous at the fleet's fall back position when the cube locked on and struck the bridge of the Geneva with their cutting beam. Eddowes actually saw it out of the corner of his eye – a great column of green energy that melted through the side of the bridge, burning through the turbolift doors. Main power went offline and the emergency force fields failed to engage, so the bridge of the Geneva decompressed. Airless cold clamped down on him as he fought to hang onto his console, but it was no use. Eddowes was sucked from his seat at the helm and flung into what was left of the shattered view screen. For an instant he saw that the beam had sliced through the Admiral's chair, searing him into smoking pieces that were scattered about the ruined bridge. Lieutenant Eddowes could taste the warm, salty flavor of his own blood as his face was bashed into the jagged remnants of the main viewer. He could feel his broken teeth spill out of his mouth. There was pain but oddly it was distant and unimportant compared to the sadness that welled up in him during his last few seconds of consciousness. He lamented the death of the USS Geneva, remembering how beautiful the Galaxy class ship had looked when he first saw her from a dock window at Deep Space 5. Now she was being brutally vivisected, bleeding atmosphere and crew members into space as she died. Hopefully he would be dead along with her. Better dead than assimilated... the thought brought him a strange feeling of relief. Merciful blackness embraced him and the hellish scene of wreckage and flying bodies ceased.