CHAPTER FIFTY
FREE MAN
Armstrong Family Farm
“Let me start by saying again that I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
Ewan nodded in acceptance. Kathryn Janeway was no heartless brute. She was starting this now, in the wake of the funeral because she had no other choice. Time was of the essence as there was no secret about the separate paths that they would soon be undertaking. Each conversation that they had over the past several days had been analyzed and over-analyzed by both minds involved. Delicate, even unstable ground lay beneath their feet. They had both survived terrible ordeals, having walked the line between life and death and both of them had made decisions that many would oppose or regret.
“He really was one of a kind,” the Welshman said of his departed friend. Janeway had never met him. Her presence at the funeral was important, however. If her lone mission against the remnants of the Borg Collective had never been undertaken, none of this would have happened. Ewan realized that she knew this. “Starfleet managed without him but those who came here today… well…”
“Crews become families. Losing a member of that family is never easy.”
“You had your final operation this morning, didn’t you?,” Ewan asked, trying to be polite.
“The last implant is in the bin. I’m sure that many divisions will be clamoring for a chance to study what I brought back from the Transwarp Hub or rather what you brought back. In the meantime, Doctor Pulaski will continue with my physical therapy for a couple of weeks. She really has a remarkable talent.”
“Well, on her behalf, thank you again. You know, for what you did.”
“That was the first inquiry that I’ve ever disbanded,” Janeway admitted with a wry smile, her eyebrow shooting upwards to complete the expression. “They’re still looking for somebody to blame, though. I had three calls this morning, waiting for when I got out of surgery, all of them wanting to know details. Not about me or about my experience… Ewan, I know that you’ve made up your mind already, but if you think that resigning your commission will just make all of this go away, then you’re mistaken.”
“If I stay, the details will come out.” Ewan’s face turned grim. “I’ll face a court martial.”
“That’s a rather selfish reason for leaving.”
“I don’t care what they do to me but Starfleet’s reputation will be in ruins. I’m a Vice Admiral, for crying out loud! There hasn’t been a single instance of a public trial for the Admiralty in centuries! Look, I may be done with my career but I refuse to screw over everybody else on my way out the door!”
The temper was unleashed. Ewan had been fighting hard to keep himself in check while addressing Janeway. She had done him a favor in allowing Katherine Pulaski, Sollik, and Gabriel Brodie to keep their jobs, despite their roles in taking the WindRider to Santrag II and illegally rescuing Jim… but then again, it was the least that she should have done. It was her foolish hunt for the Borg, her decision to go it alone for eighteen months ago that had caused all of this afterburn. Damn, Jason Armstrong was dead! If the Fortitude hadn’t been out there, searching for the missing Admiral, they would have never breached Santragan space and therefore never been at this bloody funeral.
“I just think you’re trying to run,” Janeway said,” but you can’t run from yourself.”
“I can try,” Ewan retorted. “If anybody is going to lecture me on the benefits of staying put, it shouldn’t be you. They put you behind a desk for a reason, Admiral. You rush in, all gun blazing, and I’m sure that worked out fine in the Delta Quadrant. I’m not preaching here. I’m as guilty as you, for the same reasons. But your mess has been cleaned up rather smartly. You get reunited with Annika Hansen, and get to defeat the Federation’s greatest enemy. Well, what do I get? Dead friends, gray hair and broken friendships, that’s what, and I’m finished with it. All I’m trying to do is make that finish the least-damaging finish that I can think of… that I can salvage from this nightmare. For goodness' sake, let me!”
Janeway shook her head. “This is deeper than recent events. What is this?”
The Welshman took a long, deep breath. He was struggling to even hold his umbrella upright in the rain. Annoying as it was, for all of his protestations, Janeway was right on the money with every single word that she said. He was spouting out sentence after sentence, yet all that she needed was to make a single observation, and she was done. Her last question threw Ewan backwards in time, back a whole decade in his life.
Slowly, he confessed his self-doubt.
“When I was placed in command of the first Fortitude, I was too inexperienced to be a Captain. Now I find myself too inexperienced to lead other Captains. I began as a pacifist and look at me today. A cybernetic arm, product of a swordfight, and crew members dead because of my decisions. I blew up one Fortitude and gave away another. I’m no leader.”
Janeway let those three final words dissolve in silence. It was more to allow Ewan a chance to realize what he had just said, rather than a chance to absorb it for herself. She knew all of this already. She had seen it the moment that they had met. Half of her expected a quick retraction, hence her allowing a break in the conversation. It never came. Eventually, there was nothing left to do but nod in agreement. She had done her best to convince him otherwise, but the more that she considered it, the more that it made sense just to let the legacy of Vice Admiral Ewan Llewellyn melt away into the background noise of Federation society.
“All right,” she finally told him. “I accept your resignation, effective immediately.”
“Thank you, Admiral. That’s all that I wanted.”
There were no more rank pips to attach to his collar, and no more emblems to adorn his belt. From this moment onward, he was a free man. It felt strange but with a pleasing sort of edge because it was what he wanted. Stepping aside, Ewan began to walk away. Much of the farm was turning to mud, along with the parts that he had to walk across. His movement was tentative, similar to those of a baby experimenting with their first steps. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he had other things to think about. It was a new beginning after all.
Before they could part any great distance, Janeway had one final question. She called out across the bad weather, confident that the wind wouldn’t carry her voice too far into the ears of those not cleared to eavesdrop.
“Tell me, what really happened on Santrag II?”
“We rescued Jim,” came the simple reply. “Whatever else, whatever the future may hold for that world… Well, that’s frankly their problem.”
“I assume that I’ll get the same answer from your crew,” Janeway had to say.
Ewan just stared back at her.
“You can assume what you like.”
* * * *
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
EVER ONWARDS
Main Bridge
USS Fortitude, NCC-59757.4
Stardate 59757.4
“Repairs to the port nacelle are complete,” Commander Sollik reported, his words laden with the unique relief of a chief engineer having his ship back together. His mottled green skin was also laden with a layer of grime and grease, but he didn’t care. The chance to get back to work, the chance to climb inside a warp nacelle, was something that he relished after recent events. It shifted his focus away from his emotions. Seated before him in the Captain’s chair with her legs folded and her professionalism intact, Captain Valerie Archer listened as the details of the update continued. “The ramscoop is entirely new. The last of the connections were made an hour ago. I installed the fresh PTC myself. Give the word and we’ll fire up antimatter transfer and get underway.”
“Underway to where?,” Valerie asked of the Suliban. “We’ve got no orders.”
Sollik didn’t have an answer. Perhaps it was some form of punishment after all. The inquiry might have been disbanded, but with no orders, the Fortitude was a starship without a mission. There was nothing more frustrating for Starfleet officers. Trying to look on the bright side, more for his commanding officer’s mental state, the Commander shrugged his shoulders.
“The damage could have been much worse. We were lucky to escape back there.”
“Are you talking about System V-47 or the inquiry?”
“Does it matter?,” Sollik pointed out, making Valerie think. No, it didn’t matter, not in the long run. Both were lucky escapes but they had been made. Today, this morning, they were all back aboard their Norway-class starship. They were all back home. Circumstances had allowed for this and she wasn’t going to question those circumstances, whatever pain or struggle that they had brought along with them. After quiet consideration, Sollik posed another question, altogether more personal and therefore lower in tone. “I would never wish to pry but do you regret leaving before saying goodbye… to him?”
It was obvious who he meant. “No. We said our goodbyes a long time ago.”
“With his resignation, I doubt that our paths will ever cross again.”
“Didn’t we say that about Jason and Jim?,” Valerie cautioned him with a wag of her finger, watching the Suliban’s yellow eyes trace it back and forth. “If there’s one thing that I both adore and loathe about this job, it’s that anything is possible. With that said, he’ll do his best to avoid us. You can be sure of that.”
“I cannot blame him, given all that he’s lost.”
The Captain felt her gaze trail off. Indeed, everything that he had lost included her, which meant that it couldn’t be said without all the wondering and second-guessing that came from failed relationships. The deeply personal flashback was cut short. A voice from the helm piped up, drawing her attention along with her First Officer’s. Swiveling around in his seat, Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris faced them with a report.
“Incoming transmission from Starfleet Command,” he said, keeping it short. “It’s Admiral Janeway.”
“Put it up on screen.”
“Valerie, I’ve got some bad news,” spoke the viewscreen, showing the image of the restored Kathryn Janeway seated behind her desk. Her hands were clasped together and her brow was furrowed. Obviously, something was amiss beyond the blindside that she had delivered to the inquiry. There was no embarrassment on display, no awkwardness, only business.
Valerie leaned forward, accordingly with her own frown of concern. “What’s the problem, Admiral?”
“It seems that the ongoing negotiations with the Sheliak Corporate have taken a turn for the worse. Alan Demitri has sent a request for backup. Apparently, one of the finer points of the Treaty of Armens caused a walkout and he has detected a group of vessels being forward-deployed to the homeworld. He fears reprisals. You’ve got the experience needed in handling them. Do you feel up to returning to your old mission, Captain?”
“Just give the word, Admiral.”
“Good. we’re transmitting Alan’s last message. Watch your back out there. Janeway out.”
It was funny how things had a knack for resolving themselves. She didn’t feel like smiling but all the same, Valerie felt the corners of her mouth rise slightly. The past few months were destined to become remembered as some bad vacation, bookended by the type of intergalactic peacemaking that she had signed up to perform. The more that she thought about it, the more that it made sense. The more that it balanced her life. The more that she thought about it, the more that she smiled. Beside her, Sollik visibly winced. He didn’t want to overload his new engines. Before her at the helm, Tom Paris cracked his knuckles. He was eager to get underway.
They were back to normal.
“I hope you still know the way to Shelia Major, Tom?”
“More or less, ma’am,” the flyboy nodded with justified self-confidence.
“I’ll be in Engineering,” Sollik growled.
Valerie watched him go before squaring off against the viewscreen and standing. The Bridge around her seemed to collectively hold its breath. Eighty men, women, and transgendered crew members on the decks below them would be doing the same thing. Systems were prepared and energized without a second thought. They had survived Borg nebulas, Santragan space, and they were about to throw themselves into risky diplomacy with a difficult and powerful species. They were still as eager as ever.
There was no doubt about it that they were Starfleet.
“Right then, people. Shelia Major, best possible speed! Do it!”
* * * *
Starfleet Command Headquarters
San Francisco
Kathryn Janeway finished entering the dispatch order for the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A into her log and gently placed the PADD back on her desk. Her forehead found her hands as the pause in her day opened the floodgates. Darkness still haunted the recesses of her mind, whispers of the voices that she had regulated still were echoing despite being long since dead. She had headaches before but this was different. This was more potent, more painful, and it couldn’t be cured by caffeine… although she could try.
Moving over to the replicator, she activated the interface.
“Coffee,” she ordered,” black.”
An instant before she gulped it down, she caught her reflection in the liquid. The face that stared back at her had changed. It would never be the same again. Older, perhaps, but for the first time, tired. She didn’t know what exactly she was tired of. Looking into the coffee, she searched for an answer. The only example that she could think of was the inquiry that she had recently disbanded. Was that why she had done it?
Regardless, Janeway knew the road to recovery would be long.
To get along with it, she would need coffee. On that note, she swallowed the whole mug.
* * * *
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
THE BOTTLE OF CHATEAU PICARD
Type-11 Shuttlecraft Nightingale Alpha
Currently resting on Landing Pad One
Starfleet Medical - Head Office and Wards
San Francisco
“...and I took the liberty of tuning her starboard impulse drive for you.”
Doctor Katherine Pulaski wasn’t even going to pretend to understand what that liberty entailed. She simply stepped forward, taking Geordi LaForge in her embrace and squeezing her tightly. The chief engineer returned the gesture, his exposed teeth glistening in the midday sun that beat down across the entire horizon of the San Francisco Bay. upon parting, they vowed never to leave it so long before meeting once more.
He stayed with the Nightingale Alpha as Pulaski walked inside, accompanied by the third individual who had made the journey down from orbit. It was Commander Martin Madden’s first time inside Starfleet Medical. Finding clean, empty corridors and a distinct lack of the sick and injured, he was only confused for an instant. Before he started to ask questions, his logic center told him to be thankful. The less people there, the less disease that there was back here on Earth and that could only be a good thing. As they walked through a handful of security checkpoints and headed for Pulaski’s office at the top of the towering skyscraper, the conversation being anything but medicine.
“I had started to forget how much I appreciated a job away from space.”
“For a member of Starfleet,” Madden observed,” that’s a rare admission to hear.”
“Rare, maybe, but given the events that have just constituted our mission, is it entirely surprising to hear?” It was explained with a chuckle. Pulaski’s hand went to her blonde curls, once naturally that color. She traced down her temple and jaw to where many more wrinkles appeared each year. “Flying about the Galaxy is for the energetic, Martin, and for people like yourself. I’ve been there and I’ve done that, believe me.”
“That’s one of the many reasons why Starfleet Medical is lucky to have you at the top of the tree,” Madden smoothed with all possible charm. It won him a smile from his colleague as they turned around a corner. “Look, Captain Picard wanted me to apologize for being too busy to see you down here personally.”
“No, he didn’t,” Pulaski shot him down immediately. “You’re just saying that.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I know Jean-Luc Picard,” replied pure wisdom. “He has no ego to protect. That same ego isn’t letting him escort a violator of the Prime Directive back to her job which, by all rights, she should have lost in the inquiry. It wouldn’t be proper. Don’t worry, Martin, I’m not annoyed or angry at him. I have no right to be, but when Admiral Janeway interjected to sweep everything under the carpet, it annoyed Captain Picard, and it also angered him. He probably understands why it was done, and he’ll learn to come to terms with it all, but not too quickly. That’s just the man that he is.”
“After two years alongside him, I’m starting to understand that a little,” Madden nodded, keeping his voice low as they passed by a group of junior medics. “All of the other commanders that I’ve served under in my career have been relaxed… duty-bound, for sure, but definitely more relaxed. Still, there’s something to be said for the Captain’s style.”
“There’s no doubt that it gets results,” Pulaski felt it important to quantify. “Not only that but it also gets my undying respect. Very few men make the grade to command the flagship. Even fewer men have commanded two.”
“That’s a good point. Do you think that he’ll accept it all being classified?”
“You mean, personally? Never… but professionally to other officers, he’ll keep the silence ordered of him. Besides, he’s surrounded by some wonderful people. I’m thankful that I got the chance to meet you, Martin. I also got to meet Sandra. You’re both good for Captain Picard and good for the crew of the Enterprise.” They reached the large glass partition between her office and the rest of Starfleet Medical. Pulaski faced her escort with glowing warmth. “I won’t ever have to worry about your missions again. Thanks for coming down here with me. I wish you a safe journey to wherever you may explore.”
Madden gently kissed her on the cheek and walked away. Once back inside her expansive office, the physician exhaled loudly upon seeing the enormous stack of PADDs and reports balanced precariously on her glass-topped desk. There was nothing like getting back to work, was there? Replicating some tea, she settled in and picked up the PADD from the top of the pile. The text that she found was formal, precise… and very Borg.
“Subject: Janeway, Admiral Kathryn. Biradial clamps required additional torque to remove. Neural interlink frequency prevented possible interference with higher brain functions until the actions of Subject: Janeway overrode all frequency functions. Recommend specific observation of the cerebral cortex for two months. Subject: Janeway is expected to make a full physical recovery within five months.” As the report came to a close, Pulaski smiled at the personal edge with which the final sentences were written. “It should be noted that Subject: Janeway is an individual of utmost resilience and strength. It should also be noted that Subject: Janeway is an individual most challenging to examine with medical equipment and procedure. Good luck, Doctor. Technical and scientific postoperative analysis filed by Hansen, Annika.”
It was another ten minutes before Pulaski had worked through enough of the mountain to reveal another item on her desk, an unopened bottle of wine. Frowning, she didn’t recall leaving anything like it behind. Only upon leaning forward and picking it up did she notice the label addressed to her and so she read it.
Her smile returned. Turning the bottle over, she scanned the bottle.
Sure enough, the name Chateau Picard was printed with care.
Pulaski took it with her to the window, cradling the gift. Outside, the hustle and bustle of the United Federation of Planets continued unabated. Vehicles and shuttles nipped in and out of the concrete jungle below and beyond, each structure stacked with people. She watched for a calm moment. It had to continue with so many worlds supported by the regulations and systems in place. To ensure that continuance, Starfleet had to stand proud, strengthened by their mandate rather than weakened by it. She reflected upon all of this quicker than ever, simply knowing things that ended the way that they had to end. Could it have all finished on a higher note? Sure, but then it always could.
Looking down, she re-read the label dangling from the bottle of Chateau Picard.
“For the next time that we drop by for dinner. Best wishes from Jean-Luc.”
Absolutely, it could have all ended better.
For now, however, Katherine Pulaski was satisfied with the ending that they had got.
* * * *
EPILOGUE
THE FINAL SUNSET
Waikiki Beach, Honolulu
Oahu, Hawai’i
Thursday, November 11th (PM)
2382 AD
He smeared the tear-stains across his cheek as he walked out onto the decking.
For what reason he had started to cry, he didn’t know. The day had been a long one, serving to end one chapter of his life and begin another. It was the first time that he had actually stopped, actually sat back and given his mind some processing time in months. Everything had connected, one crisis merging into another, one battle to another… and one farewell to another. Maybe it was just down to that. Maybe it was because the adrenaline had kept him going, detaching him from his humanity and his emotions. Now, with no more adrenaline left, and no more battles to fight, he was overcome with remorse.
Slowly vanishing behind the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean, the golden sun served to warm his middle-aged face and dry away the wet lines that fell from his eyes. Standing perfectly still, he allowed the coastal breeze to wash over him. The open shirt and loose-fitting slacks fluttered across his body which was no longer encased in a uniform that weighed heavily on his shoulders with sheer responsibility and duty. He took several refreshing gulps of the sweet air, hoping they would regenerate his reserves but they didn’t. They couldn’t. Once again, his lips began to tremble and contort. Once again, his vision became clouded, the spectacular view lost behind fresh tears.
He had to let himself cry. He had to dispel it from his system.
While he failed to pinpoint the exact reason for this breakdown, there were plenty of possible choices from which to make a selection. Not least of which was the latest sacrifice in his tumultuous life. Jason Armstrong, buried six feet under some fencepost in Kentucky, gone but not forgotten. Then another image invaded his sobbing recollection which was Valerie Archer, his past love with whom he could never love again. The dramatic nature of a physical collapse coming hot on the heels of scoring a major victory against the Borg Collective had motivated this change that he had always wanted anyway. He had given so much and sacrificed so much. Well, those days were over now, and behind him.
The tears stopped. Another deep breath regained his composure, and he leveled his head towards the half of the sun that remained to provide the orange glow of the evening. With that sun went everything from his past. Tomorrow was another day.
The future was a total uncertainty. Whatever it would hold, Ewan Llewellyn would have to discover it along the way as it happened. Despite that being a somewhat daunting notion, he wasn’t scared in the slightest. For the first time in a long time, he was free to chart his own course into tomorrow. That freedom made him stronger.
He gazed into the sunset one last time before returning inside.
“Bring it on…”
THE END
FREE MAN
Armstrong Family Farm
“Let me start by saying again that I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
Ewan nodded in acceptance. Kathryn Janeway was no heartless brute. She was starting this now, in the wake of the funeral because she had no other choice. Time was of the essence as there was no secret about the separate paths that they would soon be undertaking. Each conversation that they had over the past several days had been analyzed and over-analyzed by both minds involved. Delicate, even unstable ground lay beneath their feet. They had both survived terrible ordeals, having walked the line between life and death and both of them had made decisions that many would oppose or regret.
“He really was one of a kind,” the Welshman said of his departed friend. Janeway had never met him. Her presence at the funeral was important, however. If her lone mission against the remnants of the Borg Collective had never been undertaken, none of this would have happened. Ewan realized that she knew this. “Starfleet managed without him but those who came here today… well…”
“Crews become families. Losing a member of that family is never easy.”
“You had your final operation this morning, didn’t you?,” Ewan asked, trying to be polite.
“The last implant is in the bin. I’m sure that many divisions will be clamoring for a chance to study what I brought back from the Transwarp Hub or rather what you brought back. In the meantime, Doctor Pulaski will continue with my physical therapy for a couple of weeks. She really has a remarkable talent.”
“Well, on her behalf, thank you again. You know, for what you did.”
“That was the first inquiry that I’ve ever disbanded,” Janeway admitted with a wry smile, her eyebrow shooting upwards to complete the expression. “They’re still looking for somebody to blame, though. I had three calls this morning, waiting for when I got out of surgery, all of them wanting to know details. Not about me or about my experience… Ewan, I know that you’ve made up your mind already, but if you think that resigning your commission will just make all of this go away, then you’re mistaken.”
“If I stay, the details will come out.” Ewan’s face turned grim. “I’ll face a court martial.”
“That’s a rather selfish reason for leaving.”
“I don’t care what they do to me but Starfleet’s reputation will be in ruins. I’m a Vice Admiral, for crying out loud! There hasn’t been a single instance of a public trial for the Admiralty in centuries! Look, I may be done with my career but I refuse to screw over everybody else on my way out the door!”
The temper was unleashed. Ewan had been fighting hard to keep himself in check while addressing Janeway. She had done him a favor in allowing Katherine Pulaski, Sollik, and Gabriel Brodie to keep their jobs, despite their roles in taking the WindRider to Santrag II and illegally rescuing Jim… but then again, it was the least that she should have done. It was her foolish hunt for the Borg, her decision to go it alone for eighteen months ago that had caused all of this afterburn. Damn, Jason Armstrong was dead! If the Fortitude hadn’t been out there, searching for the missing Admiral, they would have never breached Santragan space and therefore never been at this bloody funeral.
“I just think you’re trying to run,” Janeway said,” but you can’t run from yourself.”
“I can try,” Ewan retorted. “If anybody is going to lecture me on the benefits of staying put, it shouldn’t be you. They put you behind a desk for a reason, Admiral. You rush in, all gun blazing, and I’m sure that worked out fine in the Delta Quadrant. I’m not preaching here. I’m as guilty as you, for the same reasons. But your mess has been cleaned up rather smartly. You get reunited with Annika Hansen, and get to defeat the Federation’s greatest enemy. Well, what do I get? Dead friends, gray hair and broken friendships, that’s what, and I’m finished with it. All I’m trying to do is make that finish the least-damaging finish that I can think of… that I can salvage from this nightmare. For goodness' sake, let me!”
Janeway shook her head. “This is deeper than recent events. What is this?”
The Welshman took a long, deep breath. He was struggling to even hold his umbrella upright in the rain. Annoying as it was, for all of his protestations, Janeway was right on the money with every single word that she said. He was spouting out sentence after sentence, yet all that she needed was to make a single observation, and she was done. Her last question threw Ewan backwards in time, back a whole decade in his life.
Slowly, he confessed his self-doubt.
“When I was placed in command of the first Fortitude, I was too inexperienced to be a Captain. Now I find myself too inexperienced to lead other Captains. I began as a pacifist and look at me today. A cybernetic arm, product of a swordfight, and crew members dead because of my decisions. I blew up one Fortitude and gave away another. I’m no leader.”
Janeway let those three final words dissolve in silence. It was more to allow Ewan a chance to realize what he had just said, rather than a chance to absorb it for herself. She knew all of this already. She had seen it the moment that they had met. Half of her expected a quick retraction, hence her allowing a break in the conversation. It never came. Eventually, there was nothing left to do but nod in agreement. She had done her best to convince him otherwise, but the more that she considered it, the more that it made sense just to let the legacy of Vice Admiral Ewan Llewellyn melt away into the background noise of Federation society.
“All right,” she finally told him. “I accept your resignation, effective immediately.”
“Thank you, Admiral. That’s all that I wanted.”
There were no more rank pips to attach to his collar, and no more emblems to adorn his belt. From this moment onward, he was a free man. It felt strange but with a pleasing sort of edge because it was what he wanted. Stepping aside, Ewan began to walk away. Much of the farm was turning to mud, along with the parts that he had to walk across. His movement was tentative, similar to those of a baby experimenting with their first steps. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he had other things to think about. It was a new beginning after all.
Before they could part any great distance, Janeway had one final question. She called out across the bad weather, confident that the wind wouldn’t carry her voice too far into the ears of those not cleared to eavesdrop.
“Tell me, what really happened on Santrag II?”
“We rescued Jim,” came the simple reply. “Whatever else, whatever the future may hold for that world… Well, that’s frankly their problem.”
“I assume that I’ll get the same answer from your crew,” Janeway had to say.
Ewan just stared back at her.
“You can assume what you like.”
* * * *
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
EVER ONWARDS
Main Bridge
USS Fortitude, NCC-59757.4
Stardate 59757.4
“Repairs to the port nacelle are complete,” Commander Sollik reported, his words laden with the unique relief of a chief engineer having his ship back together. His mottled green skin was also laden with a layer of grime and grease, but he didn’t care. The chance to get back to work, the chance to climb inside a warp nacelle, was something that he relished after recent events. It shifted his focus away from his emotions. Seated before him in the Captain’s chair with her legs folded and her professionalism intact, Captain Valerie Archer listened as the details of the update continued. “The ramscoop is entirely new. The last of the connections were made an hour ago. I installed the fresh PTC myself. Give the word and we’ll fire up antimatter transfer and get underway.”
“Underway to where?,” Valerie asked of the Suliban. “We’ve got no orders.”
Sollik didn’t have an answer. Perhaps it was some form of punishment after all. The inquiry might have been disbanded, but with no orders, the Fortitude was a starship without a mission. There was nothing more frustrating for Starfleet officers. Trying to look on the bright side, more for his commanding officer’s mental state, the Commander shrugged his shoulders.
“The damage could have been much worse. We were lucky to escape back there.”
“Are you talking about System V-47 or the inquiry?”
“Does it matter?,” Sollik pointed out, making Valerie think. No, it didn’t matter, not in the long run. Both were lucky escapes but they had been made. Today, this morning, they were all back aboard their Norway-class starship. They were all back home. Circumstances had allowed for this and she wasn’t going to question those circumstances, whatever pain or struggle that they had brought along with them. After quiet consideration, Sollik posed another question, altogether more personal and therefore lower in tone. “I would never wish to pry but do you regret leaving before saying goodbye… to him?”
It was obvious who he meant. “No. We said our goodbyes a long time ago.”
“With his resignation, I doubt that our paths will ever cross again.”
“Didn’t we say that about Jason and Jim?,” Valerie cautioned him with a wag of her finger, watching the Suliban’s yellow eyes trace it back and forth. “If there’s one thing that I both adore and loathe about this job, it’s that anything is possible. With that said, he’ll do his best to avoid us. You can be sure of that.”
“I cannot blame him, given all that he’s lost.”
The Captain felt her gaze trail off. Indeed, everything that he had lost included her, which meant that it couldn’t be said without all the wondering and second-guessing that came from failed relationships. The deeply personal flashback was cut short. A voice from the helm piped up, drawing her attention along with her First Officer’s. Swiveling around in his seat, Lieutenant Commander Tom Paris faced them with a report.
“Incoming transmission from Starfleet Command,” he said, keeping it short. “It’s Admiral Janeway.”
“Put it up on screen.”
“Valerie, I’ve got some bad news,” spoke the viewscreen, showing the image of the restored Kathryn Janeway seated behind her desk. Her hands were clasped together and her brow was furrowed. Obviously, something was amiss beyond the blindside that she had delivered to the inquiry. There was no embarrassment on display, no awkwardness, only business.
Valerie leaned forward, accordingly with her own frown of concern. “What’s the problem, Admiral?”
“It seems that the ongoing negotiations with the Sheliak Corporate have taken a turn for the worse. Alan Demitri has sent a request for backup. Apparently, one of the finer points of the Treaty of Armens caused a walkout and he has detected a group of vessels being forward-deployed to the homeworld. He fears reprisals. You’ve got the experience needed in handling them. Do you feel up to returning to your old mission, Captain?”
“Just give the word, Admiral.”
“Good. we’re transmitting Alan’s last message. Watch your back out there. Janeway out.”
It was funny how things had a knack for resolving themselves. She didn’t feel like smiling but all the same, Valerie felt the corners of her mouth rise slightly. The past few months were destined to become remembered as some bad vacation, bookended by the type of intergalactic peacemaking that she had signed up to perform. The more that she thought about it, the more that it made sense. The more that it balanced her life. The more that she thought about it, the more that she smiled. Beside her, Sollik visibly winced. He didn’t want to overload his new engines. Before her at the helm, Tom Paris cracked his knuckles. He was eager to get underway.
They were back to normal.
“I hope you still know the way to Shelia Major, Tom?”
“More or less, ma’am,” the flyboy nodded with justified self-confidence.
“I’ll be in Engineering,” Sollik growled.
Valerie watched him go before squaring off against the viewscreen and standing. The Bridge around her seemed to collectively hold its breath. Eighty men, women, and transgendered crew members on the decks below them would be doing the same thing. Systems were prepared and energized without a second thought. They had survived Borg nebulas, Santragan space, and they were about to throw themselves into risky diplomacy with a difficult and powerful species. They were still as eager as ever.
There was no doubt about it that they were Starfleet.
“Right then, people. Shelia Major, best possible speed! Do it!”
* * * *
Starfleet Command Headquarters
San Francisco
Kathryn Janeway finished entering the dispatch order for the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A into her log and gently placed the PADD back on her desk. Her forehead found her hands as the pause in her day opened the floodgates. Darkness still haunted the recesses of her mind, whispers of the voices that she had regulated still were echoing despite being long since dead. She had headaches before but this was different. This was more potent, more painful, and it couldn’t be cured by caffeine… although she could try.
Moving over to the replicator, she activated the interface.
“Coffee,” she ordered,” black.”
An instant before she gulped it down, she caught her reflection in the liquid. The face that stared back at her had changed. It would never be the same again. Older, perhaps, but for the first time, tired. She didn’t know what exactly she was tired of. Looking into the coffee, she searched for an answer. The only example that she could think of was the inquiry that she had recently disbanded. Was that why she had done it?
Regardless, Janeway knew the road to recovery would be long.
To get along with it, she would need coffee. On that note, she swallowed the whole mug.
* * * *
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
THE BOTTLE OF CHATEAU PICARD
Type-11 Shuttlecraft Nightingale Alpha
Currently resting on Landing Pad One
Starfleet Medical - Head Office and Wards
San Francisco
“...and I took the liberty of tuning her starboard impulse drive for you.”
Doctor Katherine Pulaski wasn’t even going to pretend to understand what that liberty entailed. She simply stepped forward, taking Geordi LaForge in her embrace and squeezing her tightly. The chief engineer returned the gesture, his exposed teeth glistening in the midday sun that beat down across the entire horizon of the San Francisco Bay. upon parting, they vowed never to leave it so long before meeting once more.
He stayed with the Nightingale Alpha as Pulaski walked inside, accompanied by the third individual who had made the journey down from orbit. It was Commander Martin Madden’s first time inside Starfleet Medical. Finding clean, empty corridors and a distinct lack of the sick and injured, he was only confused for an instant. Before he started to ask questions, his logic center told him to be thankful. The less people there, the less disease that there was back here on Earth and that could only be a good thing. As they walked through a handful of security checkpoints and headed for Pulaski’s office at the top of the towering skyscraper, the conversation being anything but medicine.
“I had started to forget how much I appreciated a job away from space.”
“For a member of Starfleet,” Madden observed,” that’s a rare admission to hear.”
“Rare, maybe, but given the events that have just constituted our mission, is it entirely surprising to hear?” It was explained with a chuckle. Pulaski’s hand went to her blonde curls, once naturally that color. She traced down her temple and jaw to where many more wrinkles appeared each year. “Flying about the Galaxy is for the energetic, Martin, and for people like yourself. I’ve been there and I’ve done that, believe me.”
“That’s one of the many reasons why Starfleet Medical is lucky to have you at the top of the tree,” Madden smoothed with all possible charm. It won him a smile from his colleague as they turned around a corner. “Look, Captain Picard wanted me to apologize for being too busy to see you down here personally.”
“No, he didn’t,” Pulaski shot him down immediately. “You’re just saying that.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I know Jean-Luc Picard,” replied pure wisdom. “He has no ego to protect. That same ego isn’t letting him escort a violator of the Prime Directive back to her job which, by all rights, she should have lost in the inquiry. It wouldn’t be proper. Don’t worry, Martin, I’m not annoyed or angry at him. I have no right to be, but when Admiral Janeway interjected to sweep everything under the carpet, it annoyed Captain Picard, and it also angered him. He probably understands why it was done, and he’ll learn to come to terms with it all, but not too quickly. That’s just the man that he is.”
“After two years alongside him, I’m starting to understand that a little,” Madden nodded, keeping his voice low as they passed by a group of junior medics. “All of the other commanders that I’ve served under in my career have been relaxed… duty-bound, for sure, but definitely more relaxed. Still, there’s something to be said for the Captain’s style.”
“There’s no doubt that it gets results,” Pulaski felt it important to quantify. “Not only that but it also gets my undying respect. Very few men make the grade to command the flagship. Even fewer men have commanded two.”
“That’s a good point. Do you think that he’ll accept it all being classified?”
“You mean, personally? Never… but professionally to other officers, he’ll keep the silence ordered of him. Besides, he’s surrounded by some wonderful people. I’m thankful that I got the chance to meet you, Martin. I also got to meet Sandra. You’re both good for Captain Picard and good for the crew of the Enterprise.” They reached the large glass partition between her office and the rest of Starfleet Medical. Pulaski faced her escort with glowing warmth. “I won’t ever have to worry about your missions again. Thanks for coming down here with me. I wish you a safe journey to wherever you may explore.”
Madden gently kissed her on the cheek and walked away. Once back inside her expansive office, the physician exhaled loudly upon seeing the enormous stack of PADDs and reports balanced precariously on her glass-topped desk. There was nothing like getting back to work, was there? Replicating some tea, she settled in and picked up the PADD from the top of the pile. The text that she found was formal, precise… and very Borg.
“Subject: Janeway, Admiral Kathryn. Biradial clamps required additional torque to remove. Neural interlink frequency prevented possible interference with higher brain functions until the actions of Subject: Janeway overrode all frequency functions. Recommend specific observation of the cerebral cortex for two months. Subject: Janeway is expected to make a full physical recovery within five months.” As the report came to a close, Pulaski smiled at the personal edge with which the final sentences were written. “It should be noted that Subject: Janeway is an individual of utmost resilience and strength. It should also be noted that Subject: Janeway is an individual most challenging to examine with medical equipment and procedure. Good luck, Doctor. Technical and scientific postoperative analysis filed by Hansen, Annika.”
It was another ten minutes before Pulaski had worked through enough of the mountain to reveal another item on her desk, an unopened bottle of wine. Frowning, she didn’t recall leaving anything like it behind. Only upon leaning forward and picking it up did she notice the label addressed to her and so she read it.
Her smile returned. Turning the bottle over, she scanned the bottle.
Sure enough, the name Chateau Picard was printed with care.
Pulaski took it with her to the window, cradling the gift. Outside, the hustle and bustle of the United Federation of Planets continued unabated. Vehicles and shuttles nipped in and out of the concrete jungle below and beyond, each structure stacked with people. She watched for a calm moment. It had to continue with so many worlds supported by the regulations and systems in place. To ensure that continuance, Starfleet had to stand proud, strengthened by their mandate rather than weakened by it. She reflected upon all of this quicker than ever, simply knowing things that ended the way that they had to end. Could it have all finished on a higher note? Sure, but then it always could.
Looking down, she re-read the label dangling from the bottle of Chateau Picard.
“For the next time that we drop by for dinner. Best wishes from Jean-Luc.”
Absolutely, it could have all ended better.
For now, however, Katherine Pulaski was satisfied with the ending that they had got.
* * * *
EPILOGUE
THE FINAL SUNSET
Waikiki Beach, Honolulu
Oahu, Hawai’i
Thursday, November 11th (PM)
2382 AD
He smeared the tear-stains across his cheek as he walked out onto the decking.
For what reason he had started to cry, he didn’t know. The day had been a long one, serving to end one chapter of his life and begin another. It was the first time that he had actually stopped, actually sat back and given his mind some processing time in months. Everything had connected, one crisis merging into another, one battle to another… and one farewell to another. Maybe it was just down to that. Maybe it was because the adrenaline had kept him going, detaching him from his humanity and his emotions. Now, with no more adrenaline left, and no more battles to fight, he was overcome with remorse.
Slowly vanishing behind the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean, the golden sun served to warm his middle-aged face and dry away the wet lines that fell from his eyes. Standing perfectly still, he allowed the coastal breeze to wash over him. The open shirt and loose-fitting slacks fluttered across his body which was no longer encased in a uniform that weighed heavily on his shoulders with sheer responsibility and duty. He took several refreshing gulps of the sweet air, hoping they would regenerate his reserves but they didn’t. They couldn’t. Once again, his lips began to tremble and contort. Once again, his vision became clouded, the spectacular view lost behind fresh tears.
He had to let himself cry. He had to dispel it from his system.
While he failed to pinpoint the exact reason for this breakdown, there were plenty of possible choices from which to make a selection. Not least of which was the latest sacrifice in his tumultuous life. Jason Armstrong, buried six feet under some fencepost in Kentucky, gone but not forgotten. Then another image invaded his sobbing recollection which was Valerie Archer, his past love with whom he could never love again. The dramatic nature of a physical collapse coming hot on the heels of scoring a major victory against the Borg Collective had motivated this change that he had always wanted anyway. He had given so much and sacrificed so much. Well, those days were over now, and behind him.
The tears stopped. Another deep breath regained his composure, and he leveled his head towards the half of the sun that remained to provide the orange glow of the evening. With that sun went everything from his past. Tomorrow was another day.
The future was a total uncertainty. Whatever it would hold, Ewan Llewellyn would have to discover it along the way as it happened. Despite that being a somewhat daunting notion, he wasn’t scared in the slightest. For the first time in a long time, he was free to chart his own course into tomorrow. That freedom made him stronger.
He gazed into the sunset one last time before returning inside.
“Bring it on…”
THE END
