Regrets Only
Stardate: Sometime in the early to mid 25th Century
Lagos, Nigeria – Earth
1952 hours, local time.
He stood in the shadows across the street from the mortuary, watching people come and go to pay their respects to his best and oldest friend. The night air was thick with humidity and only an occasional breeze disturbed the warm stillness.
The mortuary building was well-lit by accent lights, showing off the architectural details of the neo-colonial structure. The over-abundance of gingerbread trim would likely offend the delicate sensibilities of a modern designer, but he gave it no thought whatsoever.
Solly Brin did not have delicate sensibilities.
He frowned in thought and absently reached into an inner pocket of his cloak and pulled out a Ferengi cigar. He held it for a moment, considering, then replaced it. Someone might smell the smoke and take notice of him.
He did not wish to be noticed.
A slight breeze stirred, causing the three flags representing the Federation, the United Earth and Nigeria to flap languidly from their staffs. A skimmer with official Starfleet markings pulled up in front of the mortuary, depositing three officers in dress uniforms. Solly recognized the petite woman with heavy admiral’s braid and a small smile played on his lips. Though not the sentimental type, a small ripple of nostalgia flowed over him.
“So – are you going to stand out here all night, or are you going to go inside?”
Solly’s hand was already on the butt of his concealed weapon before the familiar voice registered and he relaxed – chagrined that he had been caught off-guard.
“How’d you manage to sneak up on me like that, Admiral?” he asked, trying to keep the consternation out of his voice.
“You’re not the only one who can see in the dark, remember? And it’s not ‘Admiral’ any more – I’m retired,” replied T’Ser as she came up alongside the burly red Orion.
Solly nodded and turned his attention back to the mortuary. “Yeah – I heard. How’s the professor thing working out for you?”
“It has its rewards,” she said, though Solly thought she sounded less than sincere. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Are you going to go inside?”
Solly did not answer, still staring across the street. T’Ser sighed.
“Look, Solly – I know you and the Captain didn’t part ways under the best of circumstances, but that was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“When was the last time you two spoke?”
Again, Solly was silent.
“You haven’t spoken since that day, have you?”
She thought he was going to continue the silent treatment, but finally he shook his head. “No,” he said, simply. But in that simple answer, T’Ser could hear the deep regret.
She placed her hand on a heavily muscled arm. “You can’t change the past, Solly. What’s done is done.”
He nodded. “There were probably a dozen times I almost contacted him . . . I always thought there’d be time . . .”
T’Ser thought about Dale McBride. “We all have our regrets, Solly.”
“I don’t regret what I did, T’Ser – but I regret disappointing the Skipper. I know he was right to do what he did . . .”
“He once told me if he could un-do one thing in his life that would be it,” said T’Ser, quietly.
Solly turned and looked at the Vulcan, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. She still looked much the same as when they had served together on Bluefin all those years ago.
“I can’t get my head around him dying in his sleep,” he said.
“Considering his chronic insomnia, it did seem an unlikely way for him to go.”
“I always figured he would go out in a blaze, you know?” continued Solly.
T’Ser regarded her old comrade in arms. “He found peace in his later years, Solly. He reconnected with his family – especially his grandson. His time as a warrior ended long ago.” She paused, “What about you, Solly? Still ‘fighting the good fight?’”
“I’ve been out of the service a long time, T’Ser.”
“Uh-huh. Funny, isn’t it – how so many of the Syndicate family heads have disappeared in recent years.”
His face remained impassive. “Things happen.”
T’Ser recalled the Terran term, ‘angel of death,’ but Solly’s deep red countenance, yellow eyes and hulking physique belied any angelic qualities. An ironic smile formed on her face. “Yes, things happen.”
They stood together for several minutes in silence, watching people come and go from the mortuary.
“Let’s go inside,” T’Ser said, finally. “The Captain’s family would love to see you. And I think it would please the Skipper.”
Something rare crossed Solly’s features. It might have been fear.
“I . . .” he began.
She took his arm, surprising him with her strength, and began to pull him forward.
“No more regrets, Solly. It’s time for us to say goodbye to an old friend.”
* * *
Stardate: Sometime in the early to mid 25th Century
Lagos, Nigeria – Earth
1952 hours, local time.
He stood in the shadows across the street from the mortuary, watching people come and go to pay their respects to his best and oldest friend. The night air was thick with humidity and only an occasional breeze disturbed the warm stillness.
The mortuary building was well-lit by accent lights, showing off the architectural details of the neo-colonial structure. The over-abundance of gingerbread trim would likely offend the delicate sensibilities of a modern designer, but he gave it no thought whatsoever.
Solly Brin did not have delicate sensibilities.
He frowned in thought and absently reached into an inner pocket of his cloak and pulled out a Ferengi cigar. He held it for a moment, considering, then replaced it. Someone might smell the smoke and take notice of him.
He did not wish to be noticed.
A slight breeze stirred, causing the three flags representing the Federation, the United Earth and Nigeria to flap languidly from their staffs. A skimmer with official Starfleet markings pulled up in front of the mortuary, depositing three officers in dress uniforms. Solly recognized the petite woman with heavy admiral’s braid and a small smile played on his lips. Though not the sentimental type, a small ripple of nostalgia flowed over him.
“So – are you going to stand out here all night, or are you going to go inside?”
Solly’s hand was already on the butt of his concealed weapon before the familiar voice registered and he relaxed – chagrined that he had been caught off-guard.
“How’d you manage to sneak up on me like that, Admiral?” he asked, trying to keep the consternation out of his voice.
“You’re not the only one who can see in the dark, remember? And it’s not ‘Admiral’ any more – I’m retired,” replied T’Ser as she came up alongside the burly red Orion.
Solly nodded and turned his attention back to the mortuary. “Yeah – I heard. How’s the professor thing working out for you?”
“It has its rewards,” she said, though Solly thought she sounded less than sincere. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What question?”
“Are you going to go inside?”
Solly did not answer, still staring across the street. T’Ser sighed.
“Look, Solly – I know you and the Captain didn’t part ways under the best of circumstances, but that was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“When was the last time you two spoke?”
Again, Solly was silent.
“You haven’t spoken since that day, have you?”
She thought he was going to continue the silent treatment, but finally he shook his head. “No,” he said, simply. But in that simple answer, T’Ser could hear the deep regret.
She placed her hand on a heavily muscled arm. “You can’t change the past, Solly. What’s done is done.”
He nodded. “There were probably a dozen times I almost contacted him . . . I always thought there’d be time . . .”
T’Ser thought about Dale McBride. “We all have our regrets, Solly.”
“I don’t regret what I did, T’Ser – but I regret disappointing the Skipper. I know he was right to do what he did . . .”
“He once told me if he could un-do one thing in his life that would be it,” said T’Ser, quietly.
Solly turned and looked at the Vulcan, his yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. She still looked much the same as when they had served together on Bluefin all those years ago.
“I can’t get my head around him dying in his sleep,” he said.
“Considering his chronic insomnia, it did seem an unlikely way for him to go.”
“I always figured he would go out in a blaze, you know?” continued Solly.
T’Ser regarded her old comrade in arms. “He found peace in his later years, Solly. He reconnected with his family – especially his grandson. His time as a warrior ended long ago.” She paused, “What about you, Solly? Still ‘fighting the good fight?’”
“I’ve been out of the service a long time, T’Ser.”
“Uh-huh. Funny, isn’t it – how so many of the Syndicate family heads have disappeared in recent years.”
His face remained impassive. “Things happen.”
T’Ser recalled the Terran term, ‘angel of death,’ but Solly’s deep red countenance, yellow eyes and hulking physique belied any angelic qualities. An ironic smile formed on her face. “Yes, things happen.”
They stood together for several minutes in silence, watching people come and go from the mortuary.
“Let’s go inside,” T’Ser said, finally. “The Captain’s family would love to see you. And I think it would please the Skipper.”
Something rare crossed Solly’s features. It might have been fear.
“I . . .” he began.
She took his arm, surprising him with her strength, and began to pull him forward.
“No more regrets, Solly. It’s time for us to say goodbye to an old friend.”
* * *
