For those people who think Like Father, Like Son, Like Hell is a spin off of "Power Corrupts" and saying I am stealing that author's ideas etc. I hope that is chapter will clear things up, because this story is a totally different animal from Power Corrupts.
"It's elementary, my dear Riker... sir."
- Data, Lonely Among Us
"I want every possible idea and theory looked into, I want to know where Wesley Crusher is. We will start gathering evidence at the Station. I want Commander Riker to take Data, LaForge and Worf on an away team." Picard demanded,
" Gentleman, I want to know what he might have found at that station and what he did what he did to lead up to this accident." He continued. "Was he scared, was he happy I want to know what happened on that station."
Picard stood up and looked out the window. "Data, Geordi, Worf meet me in transporter room 4."
Walking out of the room, they left only Picard and Beverly alone with one another. Picard turned and looked out of the window into the emptiness of space. As quickly as the storm had come it had gone just as quickly.
There was a long moment of silence between Picard and Beverly. Then Beverly got up from her chair and started heading toward the door. He knew that Beverly like any mother she would be worried about her son's life. So he said something that would comfort her, but something he wouldn't necessarily be able to keep.
"I promise you Beverly that we will find him. I promise you that, I will not let what happened to Jack, happen to Wesley." Beverly just nodded her head in confirmation and went out the door. Leaving Jean-Luc Picard alone with his thoughts.
Transporter Room 4
Walking into the transporter room with solemn looks on their faces and with tri-coders in hand. The away team stepped on to the transporter pad.
Riker clapping his hands together getting the away teams' attention. "Let's get boy wonder, back!". The away team all nodded in confirmation, his attempt to lighten the mood unsuccessful.
"Mr. O'Brien beam us down."
Once at the station, Riker saw nothing but darkness in the hallways, the away team turned on their flashlights to brighten the hallway. Data automatically activated his tri-colder and started scanning the area.
"Spread out, I want every inch of this station checked out. Myself, Data and Worf are going to check out the room where Wes was doing his work. Geordi go and turn on the generator and see why the power shut off while Wes was here and get it running, while you are at it.".
Riker and his group walked down the hallway. Worf scanned the area, saw a dim beam of light. He walked over to the object and picked it up. It was a Type 2 phaser, a phaser pistol. Set on maximum stetting.
"Commander!" Getting Riker and Data's attention. They jogged over to Worf. "What is it Mr. Worf?" Questioned Riker.
Work put the phaser in Riker's hand. "A phaser, set to maximum setting, sir I theorize that Mr. Crusher may have become frighten, by something or was under attack."
"What in Hell would scare Wesley that much?" Riker said bluntly.
"Something very terrifying, Commander." added Data. Once he said that the lights came back on.
"Thank you Geordi." His communicator chirped. "Commander I have something to report, sir." Geordi reported.
"Well . . Someone pulled the plug." Riker was hoping for sabotage or someone cutting the wire. "And Commander that doesn't require a lot of IQ points." He added. "Thank you Geordi. Meet up with us where Wesley was doing his research." Riker ordered.
Coming to the room where Wesley was doing his research. As they walked into the room his eyes went straight to the words burnt into the wall.
Worf's thick Klingon eyebrows furrowed. "Not an ion storm. What in the world does that mean? Commander." All three officers stared at the wall in horror and disbelief.
"I don't know. I just don't know." With the mounting evidence Riker was starting to think that Wesley was really dead. He couldn't think that way, they had barely even started their investigation. There was still hope that Wesley was alive.
In a desperate need to change the subject. "Data what exactly was Wesley working on?"He questioned.
"He was analyzing a chip I do believe, Commander." Data answered, going over to the desk and logging on to the central computer.
"It will take some time to copy and send the information to the Enterprise, sir." Turning back to continue copying the information. Geordi jogged in, joining Riker and Worf conversation. He hoped that they were having a better luck than he was.
"Please tell me that you have something good, Commander." Riker and Worf looked up. "Unfortunately no Geordi. All we found was a phaser pistol and the words "Not an Ion Storm" burnt on the wall behind us."
"This isn't going to good, sir." Worf said.
"I know, Mr. Worf." Riker answered.
Data got up and went over to Riker and the others. "Commander, I have complete copy the information." Data reported. "What should we do now?" He added.
"Data, you said that Wesley was studying a chip? Was he not?" Riker questioned.
"Indeed he was, Commander."
"Now where is the chip?"
"It is not here."
Riker sighed. The present evidence was stacking up against them that Wesley wasn't still alive. Knowing that there was nothing left to investigate at the station. "Let's beam back and tell the Captain of our findings."
Tapping his communicator. "Mr.O'Brien beam us up."
Picard got out of his chair when he heard the turbolift's door open to reveal Riker and the away team.
"Number one. What did you find at the station?" He stared at his defeated demeanor and knew the news could not be good.
"Captain all we found was a type 2 phaser set on level ten, and the words "Not an Ion Storm" burnt into the wall in the area where Wesley was working." Riker reported to his Captain. Looking into Picard's eyes when he spoke.
Picard took a few moments to try to piece the evidence together. He was convinced that Wesley was scared because the only reason that a person would grab a phaser was to defend themselves, but whatever it was, must have been bad. But what would in the world did "Not an Ion Storm" mean? He was totally and utterly confused to what in happened on the Messier Station."What caused the "mysterious" blackout at the station?" He asked when he came out of his own thoughts.
"Well, someone pulled the plug literally." Riker continue with his reported. Picard sensed that Riker's disappointment, it was not often that he sensed disappointment from his First Officer. There was only a few times that he could think of that gave Riker that feeling, but only one stood out against all the other. The death of Tasha Yar.
"Tell me what was he working on?"
"He was studying a chip. But once we got there the chip was gone."
This caught Picard's attention, what was so important about the chip? Obviously it held importance to the people who "captured" Wesley, was worried about it being found. But why would they capture Wesley of all people? He held no important rank in Starfleet and he knew no valuable information. He half expected people to capture Riker or Data, but not Wesley.
The evidence in Picard's mind didn't make sense, if Wesley was alive, which he hoped, he had to be somewhere in space; totally and utterly alone. He turned away from Riker and walked toward the view screen.
"Where the devil are you Wesley?" Picard said to himself and even bothering if anyone heard him.
*****Like Father, Like Son, Like Hell *****
It was sticky was the first thing he noticed. It was so hot . . . his eye weren't even opened, his mind was saying it was at least 38 Celsius (100.4 Fahrenheit), he was sweating and his uniform was sticking to him like unwanted layer of skin.
Wesley noticed that he wasn't in much pain anymore other than the searing pain in his skull and his entire body felt sore. His eyelids slowly lifted open, but they were heavy from sleep. As his eyes opened he saw the blurry images of people. He shut his eyes again, what his eyes saw was the people were wearing metal implants. His mind was slow to register the information it was given. The only people who had mechanical implant were the Borg . . . He opened his eyes again and slightly turned his head to the side to get a better look at the machine people. He closed his eyes again and he rolled over, his body said it needed five more minutes. Then his mind reconnected with his body.
Wesley's warm chocolate brown eyes snapped opened. He sat up briskly. No. No. No. NO! His mind screamed. He didn't want to be assimilated, but one thought did cross his mind. Why hadn't they assimilated him yet? The drones held Wesley as he struggled.
"No! I am not going to be assimilated!" Wesley screamed. Pushing the drones away from him in vain, but as much as he struggled he couldn't get off the cold metal table. Tears were starting to blur his vision. He had no desire to join the collective, after what had happened to Picard, a man who he greatly admired and respected, he didn't think he could survive it. Picard was strong, and Wesley even thought nothing could frighten him. But oh was he wrong, the Borg, he couldn't even explain it in words, but whatever they did it left him shaken and not the man he was before.
One of the drones had clasped his metal claw around his neck, Wesley couldn't move his neck. As one of the other drones came toward him, with something that looked a tiny phaser, Wesley shut his eyes it would be over soon. He felt a tingle on his forehead, then he noticed that his cut on his head was gone. The claw let go of his neck and Wesley felt his forehead, the cut was gone, but there was still dried blood that was caked on to his face.
The drones roughly took him off the metal table and made him walk. Two of the five went down other corridor, so there was only three left. As Wesley walked he studied his surroundings, he had never actually been on a Borg ship before. Maybe, he thought, he could find some useful information to take back to the Enterprise….if he ever made it back.
His heart was pounding uncontrollably, Wesley's anxiety was mounting as he looked further down the corridor. There wasn't much he could do but walk, he was completely helpless. He had no Captain Picard or the strength of the Enterprise's crew to help him get out of this situation, he was alone and he was feeling weak and pretty useless.
Sweat covered Wesley's face like a thin layer of film. His uniform was in shambles. It had burn holes which made Swiss cheese out of the red of his uniform jacket, he had a slash on the back of his shoulder on his jacket, his cuffs frayed along with his collar, he had ash and grim on the black of his uniform. The knees of his pants were worn and scruffy. The stitching in his left arm of his jacket was popped. His uniform was a disgrace for what it stood for and to Picard.
The corridor was filled with drones that appeared to be in some sort of stasis state and above him it looked like alcoves of green circles which had electricity running though them. The drones made him turn into an another corridor. Walking down all these dark corridors made Wesley feel like he was in a prison. The corridors were dark and in some places a light kept going off and on slowly like as if it had some rhythm.
Thoughts raced though Wesley's mind like lighting jumping from cloud to cloud. What in the world would the Borg want with him? Why would the Borg want him and not Riker? Or someone else important? What made him special? Wesley was out right confused. He was so absorbed into his thought that he didn't see a drone step off it's alcove in front him.
The drone turned toward him, it alarmed Wesley which made him jumped back and fell to the hard metal floor. The drone went along as if nothing had happened. The drone behind him unsympathetically picked him off the ground and roughly shoved him forward.
He entered an open central area. The drones roughly shoved him forwarded toward the guard rail balcony. He was at the center of the cube, Wesley gulped to try to calm himself. Two of the three drones stood beside him as he was addressed by the Borg. As the other stood behind him. If this was a form of intimidation, it sure was working, because he was afraid and he could not help but feel totally helpless.
"ENSIGN WESLEY ROBERT CRUSHER, YOU HAVE BEEN SELECTED FOR ASSIMILATION." Boomed the trillion voices of the Collective mind of the Borg, but spoke as one voice. It was several seconds before Wesley had the courage to speak.
"I have nothing to say to you. And will resist you with my last ounce of strength!" Wesley yelled trying to show some courage in the face of a formidable enemy. What he didn't know that he was repeating the same identical words that his Captain had said a couple months before him. He didn't even notice that the drone behind him went away to find a vial.
"STRENGTH IS IRRELEVANT. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. WE ADD YOUR KNOWLEDGE AND EXPERIENCE TO OUR OWN, TO BETTER OURSELVES." The collective spoke thunderously again. Wesley heard a click from behind him it sounded like a battery being put into a remote, but he ignored it.
Wesley was scared out of his wits and very desperately said something. "I . . . I will resist!" His own voice wavered, he couldn't act afraid, but he was. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his gut told him to look behind him there was danger. But Wesley once again ignored it.
"RESISTANCE IS FUTLE."
But once he heard the heavy feet behind coming closer, Wesley turned around and gasped. Wesley felt a hand on his hair and then the hand pulled his head back exposing his Jugular. Wesley squirmed trying to get free from the grasps of the drone, the drone then put his other free hand on his shoulder trying to keep him from moving. Wesley started to claw in vain to get free, his finger were bleeding and even turning sliver because he was clawing so hard to get free. No. No. NO! This could not be happening to him, Wesley screamed in his mind.
Wesley saw the other drone which stood on his left just standing there watching the whole thing. He was acting like a bystander and doing nothing. He continued to struggle, but if he wasn't for his soreness and the fact that he was tried, he might have been fighting harder. When the drone was mere inches from his face, it curled it's fist and two metal tubules came out and pierced his skin. Wesley screamed, but nothing came out, only his mouth moved in the motion of a scream. He felt like the energy was being drain from him, the clawing stopped as his body went limp.
The drone let go of him and fell to the ground, he couldn't even get up. Wesley felt like he was dying, whatever the drone inserted into him it was changing him from the inside out. His muscles were flinching. GOD! It was so painful, no it was agonizing, every cell in his body was being destroyed and changed into something hellish and abhorrent. Tears were cascading from his eyes like a flooded river. His breaths were becoming haggard and course to the point of wheezing. Wesley shut his eyes to try to hide from his suffering, but he couldn't.
A shot of pain shot up his arm like lighting, his eyes snap opened. He looked up to see the drones staring down at him with their lackluster eyes. He wanted the pain to stop. He just wanted it to stop! He frantically rolled over to his side, his pigment was starting to die away and being taken over by the bloodless color of slate near his ear. Wesley caught a glimpse of his right hand which was being taken over by silver coloring, Borg implants and covering up the tips of his fingers and going up to his wrist and bonding with his bone and replacing the thin skin with thin steel armor. But still it continued its journey to his forearm like snake, then it went back into his skin.
Wesley felt his skin explode in and around his clavicle bone and deltoid muscle barely had any time to register the discharge of pain in multiple area of his body in his pectoralis, external oblique and his infraspinatus muscles.
Wesley was aware of something near his upper spinal column. "What is going on?" he cried out in his mind. Then he arched his back as an unbearable pain shot through his spine when the implant binded with Wesley's spine. His shoulders seized together, when the neural transmitter touched his spinal cord, it was growing and spreading across his spine, as it was growing Wesley's body started to have a spasm.
They were changing him, rewriting his DNA and striping him of his individuality, the things that made him unique, his essence and Wesley was helpless to stop it from happening.
Memories flashed before Wesley's eyes as they were ripped from his mind in pure anguish. Memories longed suppressed, that he didn't even what to think about any more like when Captain Picard brought home his father's body and memories of early childhood. He was getting exhausted both mental and physically, in his mind he started to hear the trillions of voices of the collective, Wesley fought to keep some aspect of his individuality as his brain came to a point where he couldn't even think straight anymore. But all was in vain has his abilities and strength and knowledge were being added to the Collective mind.
Then the motion of Wesley's body ceased as Wesley's mind went into a state of mindlessness, his eyes were still open, it felt as if he wasn't in control of his own body, but somewhere deep in his own mind. Wesley's mouth was opening and closing like a fish swallowing water, in almost meaningless fashion but Wesley was fruitlessly trying to scream for help.
"Captain Picard . . . Mom . . . help me!" He screamed in the back of his mind, as the three drone picked him up and his body willingly walked with drones with their strides in perfect synchronization with one another to Grid 66 of Subjunction 27 to Assimilation Chamber 041.
The look on Wesley's face was flat and the total aspect of emotion was gone. His brown eyes were dulling and becoming a darker shade of brown every passing stride. The rest of his skin was becoming devoid of all color. Wesley felt his hair becoming weaker and weaker, when they turned a sharp left a large clump of his hazelnut bangs fell down to the metal floor.
When they turned they turned into a room with a metal table surround by equipment. The door swoosh shut. Wesley felt his body willing lay on the cold metal table and he shut his eyes. He heard the sound of the drones building armor. He was aware of a drone near him, Wesley opened his dark sepia brown colored eyes, that had no trace of the warmth of brown. His eyes traveled to the drone by his left side and then to the drone that was coming back to the metal table with a part of his exo-plating. The drone on his left start to strip him of his disgraced Starfleet uniform, his starless sepia brown eyes looked up at the metal ceiling.
Ensign Wesley Robert Crusher was becoming a drone and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
I was tearing up when I was writing this.
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Won't that make your day?
Because it would sure make my day for sure.
Please don't nitpick about Wesley's assimilation I did the best I could and put things in there that would be within reason. I know about how drones assimilate people with their assimilation tubules, but in my story only for Wesley's assimilation the Borg will use the vial with the assimilation tubules, it hold significant in later chapters in the story. OK. Do you understand?