…. “I always wondered who was the best,” this Glover said as he looked around the bridge. Terrence was heartened that this Glover wore the duty uniform that looked the most like his own, except it was lacking medals and the combadge was a delta atop four golden bars.
Terrence seized on the Cardassian at the helm. What was a spoonhead doing on a Starfleet bridge and not in chains?
He felt the trembling before his feet. “I guess we’re about to find out,” the young Andorian woman sitting beside Glover said, through clenched teeth. Terrence imagined that she served as his counterpart’s first officer.
On the view screen was a large, though compact silver-white starship, as advanced as about anything in the Terran Starfleet, save for the Enterprise-D. The attacking vessel unloaded on them as if flew past, scoring several hits.
Terrence didn’t need to be actually on the bridge to imagine the acrid smell of smoke, or the heat of burning terminals. The other Glover gripped his armrests as he barked orders. The klaxons ceased, the flickering lighting abated.
“Shields down 70 percent,” a dark-furred lupanoid was at the operations station, across from the Cardassian helmsman. Just how many aliens were on board this vessel, Terrence wondered, and in important positions at that. It upset his stomach. Even more than the wrecked condition of the bridge. Glover’s ship and his opponent had been in a slugfest, that much Terrence was certain.
“Sutherland is coming about,” the weapons officer, a tall, athletic dark-skinned woman was standing at a console behind him.
“More power to forward shielding,” Glover ordered.
“Sutherland is…hailing us,” the talking werewolf said, its snout twitching.
“Put her on screen,” Glover said.
Terrence wasn’t surprised to see Shelby. The woman, her curly hair down, white-blonde bangs almost hiding her eyes, looked haggard, but as determined as ever.
Her uniform was of the older style, with the division color on the tunic instead of on the shoulders. Her combadge was also slightly different, a delta lacking the four bars beneath. Yet, both this Glover and Shelby were in command chairs. They’re equals in this universe, Terrence surmised. “Terrence,” Shelby said. So, they know each other in this reality as well, but Terrence could tell they had never shared what he had with his Elizabeth. “You know how this goes. If you surrender now, and pledge your loyalty and that of your crew to the Federation, you get to live. If not…”
“Elizabeth, you know I would never surrender Cuffe to you,” He declared.
“You’re barely holding on,” Shelby replied. “You took out the Liger and Yosemite, and for that, I should atomize you. Those were good people you killed.”
“To quote my Klingon friends, ‘Today is a good day to die, and the day is not yet over,’” Glover smirked.
Shelby frowned. “The Klingons are our allies this go-round Terrence. They understand the threat posed by the Dominion, just like Leyton.”
“Don’t you mean Caesar?” Glover rejoined.
Shelby sighed. Terrence could tell these two had had the same argument before. “Leyton did what was necessary to prevent the Dominion from taking over the Alpha Quadrant.”
“That’s what he claims,” Glover was scornful. “It doesn’t matter if he lets the Klingons run roughshod over the Cardassian Union or across the Beta Quadrant in their paranoia, because it reflects his own.”
“Admiral Leyton just wants what’s best for the Alpha Quadrant, for the Federation,” Shelby replied, growing animated as the old arguments took hold.
“At what cost though? What price won’t he pay, or you, in his quest?” Glover charged. “None of this will bring back Erika.”
Shelby sat back, as if the man had struck her. “Nor will it bring back Sisko or your father!”
Glover’s expression grew closed. His eyes smoldered. “Leyton is a traitor to everything we pledged our lives to defend. Ben knew that, so did my father, but you, Benteen, Owens, so many others, you gave in to the fear.”
“You weren’t at Wolf 359,” Shelby replied. “I wasn’t either, but I saw the aftermath. Even more important, I was inside that Borg cube that slaughtered so many of our brethren. I was up close to an extinction level event in ways you can’t imagine, and the Dominion is just as bad.”
“I’m not making light of the Dominion, but we have to ask ourselves just what are we truly fighting for if we sacrifice those principles at the outset?” This Glover was insistent, passionate, and idealistic in a way that felt as alien to Terrence as some of the crew on the bridge.
“Survival,” Shelby said coldly. “For now, that’s enough.”
“Not for me,” Glover shook his head. “Or you,” Glover said, his tone and expression mournful. “Nyota, on my mark…fire.” ….
…. It’s another Glover, and yet another Shelby. Their embrace was strong, though brief. This time the uniforms they wore were more austere, with grayish-blue shoulders, black tunic and pants.
As Shelby pulled away from this Glover, Terrence saw that the woman’s face was red and puffy. She had been crying. Terrence noticed that she was holding a glass sculpture that looked arachnid. They were alone this time, in a small, neatly furnished room that reminded him of a captain’s ready room aboard an Imperial vessel, and not just any Terran ship, but one of the more prestigious conquest vessels. The two stood in front of a large desk. Only two glasses of dark blue liquid and a wine bottle shared the desk with a desktop computer. Behind them was a port window that showed stars streaking by.
“It’s over, it’s finally over,” Shelby sighed, holding the sculpture aloft. The light danced off it. The combadges they both wore resembled the previous reality Terrence had witnessed more than Imperial insignia.
Glover nodded his head. “Yes,” he said, his words hollow, his expression even more so. This Glover was older, with more age lines on his face, dark spots under his eyes. There were also healing cuts and paling bruises across his face. This was a haunted, but even more distressing, this was an empty man. What could have drained the vitality from him, Terrence wondered. Ever perceptive, Shelby sensed the man’s mood.
“We won Terrence,” she said. “I thought you would at least be relieved about that.”
“I lost my ship,” Glover groused. “I lost good people over Cardassia Prime.” Terrence’s ears perked up at the mention of his hated enemy. So, there had been another war in this reality, but this time, the Terrans had won. The previous reality, Starfleet was losing to the Klingons; this one, they defeated the Cardassians. Did the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance only exist in Terrence’s reality?
“We all did in this war,” Shelby said, her smile fading. She carefully placed the glass spider back on the desk. She picked up both glasses filled with a dark blue liquid there. She handed one to Glover.
“Nyota.” Shelby raised her glass. Nyota? Lady Uhura? Terrence shuddered at the name, even though there was no way the dreaded woman could reach him now, or so he wished to believe.
“Ben,” Glover added. “Pedro.” Surely this Glover couldn’t mean Pedro Rojas. Terrence hated the glad-handing, backstabbing man. How could any Glover, no matter the reality, mourn Rojas’s passing?
“And to so, so many others,” Shelby replied before she downed the drink in one gulp. She was still wincing when Glover did the same. He slammed the glass down so hard on the desk it trembled. Terrence would’ve been more impressed if the glass had shattered.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Shelby inquired, reaching out to him. Glover avoided her touch. Shelby looked concerned. She put her empty glass beside Glover’s.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” She offered.
Glover shook his head. “I got out of that biobed to be here,” he declared. “No way I’m missing a memorial to our fallen.”
“People…would understand,” Shelby replied.
“I wouldn’t,” Glover rejoined. “I’m grateful I was able to catch a ride with you on the way to Rashanar.” Terrence scratched his chin. He had never heard of a Rashanar. He didn’t know if it was a planet, system, or some other cosmic phenomena.
“It’s the least I could do,” Shelby smiled. “I know you had to be going stir crazy in the Starbase 375 infirmary.”
“You know, it felt obscene to be taking a bed when there were still so many wounded, many with injuries far greater than mine,” Glover said, looking down at the empty glass as if he sought escape there. “But Admiral Salk insisted,” the other him shook his head.
Shelby raised both eyebrows. “I know that didn’t go over well with you.”
Glover finally grinned. “Of course, it didn’t.”
“I’m surprised you’re still a captain,” she matched his smile. Terrence did a double take. Did she say captain?! Captain?! I’m-no he-no we-are captain in this universe! Terrence pumped his fist.
“Even Salk didn’t want to can a war hero,” Glover’s smile was mirthless.
“Don’t be that way,” Shelby shook her head. “You earned that medal, and every honor.”
“For burning an entire planet?” Glover retorted. This Glover was quite surprising, Terrence nodded with growing appreciation. But also confounding. Why was the man regretful about wielding such power? This was standard Imperial procedure; Terran General Order Four. Terrence longed for the day when he could give such an order. Perhaps this other Glover was disappointed because he didn’t immolate all of his enemies?
“You saved a lot of lives,” Shelby was firm. “You helped save the Federation.” There was that term again, Terrence thought. Federation? That must be the name of the Terran Empire across multiple realities? But why hadn’t more replicated or emulated his civilization?
“Yeah, that’s what they say,” Glover looked back at the glass, as if it was calling him. “But all I can think about-all I can imagine-is how many lives were taken when I razed Loval.”
“How many lives did the Dominion take?” Shelby rejoined. “Did they care?”
Glover just shook his head. “They didn’t, but I wonder, I fear, if we do either.” The other Shelby had been stunned into speechlessness. Terrence chuckled. He had never been able to do that with his Elizabeth.
Shelby looked away and then at the desk. “Care for another glass of port?”
Glover considered her offer, before shaking his head, “No,” he finally said. “If I take another drink, I might not stop.” He worked up a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Besides, I’ve got a stack of crew personnel reports to go through.”
“Oh,” Shelby said. “Still reassigning your crew to new postings?”
Glover smirked at her. “Did that last week. What did you think I did when I was on bed rest?”
“Of course,” Shelby rolled her eyes. “Can’t just, I don’t know, relax?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m…” Glover didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. The light went out of his eyes. Shelby’s expression was drawn. The other man sighed, “Well, I guess now, is as good a time to tell you as any. After the memorial at Rashanar, I’m taking a shuttle to the Beta Antares Shipyards to pick up my new ride: the Aegis.”
Shelby’s eyes widened, “A Prometheus-class?”
Glover nodded. Shelby whistled. Terrence scratched his chin. There was no Imperial line of vessels of that name. From Shelby’s reaction, the posting was prestigious, a plum assignment. Terrence felt another twinge of shame that other versions of himself, were more accomplished than he was.
“This is great news,” Shelby said.
“Yeah,” Glover replied, as glum as Terrence was starting to feel. Shelby playfully punched the man’s bicep.
“You’ve worked so hard to get here, this is one rung closer to an admirals’ bars,” Shelby said. “And you deserve it.”
“I know,” Glover said. He shook his head. “I should be ecstatic, and around others, I do my best to be, sometimes I even convince myself, but the war…it just changed my perspective, and I-I just need to not be…Terrence Glover around someone, at least once, and,” His smile was sad, but genuine, “You got the fortunate misfortune of being the friend who picked me up from Starbase 375.”
Shelby lowered her own shields. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so glad you said that,” she replied. “I’ve needed the same thing.”
They embraced again, this time longer. They still held each other as reality warped again around Terrence….
*********************************************************************
Terrence seized on the Cardassian at the helm. What was a spoonhead doing on a Starfleet bridge and not in chains?
He felt the trembling before his feet. “I guess we’re about to find out,” the young Andorian woman sitting beside Glover said, through clenched teeth. Terrence imagined that she served as his counterpart’s first officer.
On the view screen was a large, though compact silver-white starship, as advanced as about anything in the Terran Starfleet, save for the Enterprise-D. The attacking vessel unloaded on them as if flew past, scoring several hits.
Terrence didn’t need to be actually on the bridge to imagine the acrid smell of smoke, or the heat of burning terminals. The other Glover gripped his armrests as he barked orders. The klaxons ceased, the flickering lighting abated.
“Shields down 70 percent,” a dark-furred lupanoid was at the operations station, across from the Cardassian helmsman. Just how many aliens were on board this vessel, Terrence wondered, and in important positions at that. It upset his stomach. Even more than the wrecked condition of the bridge. Glover’s ship and his opponent had been in a slugfest, that much Terrence was certain.
“Sutherland is coming about,” the weapons officer, a tall, athletic dark-skinned woman was standing at a console behind him.
“More power to forward shielding,” Glover ordered.
“Sutherland is…hailing us,” the talking werewolf said, its snout twitching.
“Put her on screen,” Glover said.
Terrence wasn’t surprised to see Shelby. The woman, her curly hair down, white-blonde bangs almost hiding her eyes, looked haggard, but as determined as ever.
Her uniform was of the older style, with the division color on the tunic instead of on the shoulders. Her combadge was also slightly different, a delta lacking the four bars beneath. Yet, both this Glover and Shelby were in command chairs. They’re equals in this universe, Terrence surmised. “Terrence,” Shelby said. So, they know each other in this reality as well, but Terrence could tell they had never shared what he had with his Elizabeth. “You know how this goes. If you surrender now, and pledge your loyalty and that of your crew to the Federation, you get to live. If not…”
“Elizabeth, you know I would never surrender Cuffe to you,” He declared.
“You’re barely holding on,” Shelby replied. “You took out the Liger and Yosemite, and for that, I should atomize you. Those were good people you killed.”
“To quote my Klingon friends, ‘Today is a good day to die, and the day is not yet over,’” Glover smirked.
Shelby frowned. “The Klingons are our allies this go-round Terrence. They understand the threat posed by the Dominion, just like Leyton.”
“Don’t you mean Caesar?” Glover rejoined.
Shelby sighed. Terrence could tell these two had had the same argument before. “Leyton did what was necessary to prevent the Dominion from taking over the Alpha Quadrant.”
“That’s what he claims,” Glover was scornful. “It doesn’t matter if he lets the Klingons run roughshod over the Cardassian Union or across the Beta Quadrant in their paranoia, because it reflects his own.”
“Admiral Leyton just wants what’s best for the Alpha Quadrant, for the Federation,” Shelby replied, growing animated as the old arguments took hold.
“At what cost though? What price won’t he pay, or you, in his quest?” Glover charged. “None of this will bring back Erika.”
Shelby sat back, as if the man had struck her. “Nor will it bring back Sisko or your father!”
Glover’s expression grew closed. His eyes smoldered. “Leyton is a traitor to everything we pledged our lives to defend. Ben knew that, so did my father, but you, Benteen, Owens, so many others, you gave in to the fear.”
“You weren’t at Wolf 359,” Shelby replied. “I wasn’t either, but I saw the aftermath. Even more important, I was inside that Borg cube that slaughtered so many of our brethren. I was up close to an extinction level event in ways you can’t imagine, and the Dominion is just as bad.”
“I’m not making light of the Dominion, but we have to ask ourselves just what are we truly fighting for if we sacrifice those principles at the outset?” This Glover was insistent, passionate, and idealistic in a way that felt as alien to Terrence as some of the crew on the bridge.
“Survival,” Shelby said coldly. “For now, that’s enough.”
“Not for me,” Glover shook his head. “Or you,” Glover said, his tone and expression mournful. “Nyota, on my mark…fire.” ….
…. It’s another Glover, and yet another Shelby. Their embrace was strong, though brief. This time the uniforms they wore were more austere, with grayish-blue shoulders, black tunic and pants.
As Shelby pulled away from this Glover, Terrence saw that the woman’s face was red and puffy. She had been crying. Terrence noticed that she was holding a glass sculpture that looked arachnid. They were alone this time, in a small, neatly furnished room that reminded him of a captain’s ready room aboard an Imperial vessel, and not just any Terran ship, but one of the more prestigious conquest vessels. The two stood in front of a large desk. Only two glasses of dark blue liquid and a wine bottle shared the desk with a desktop computer. Behind them was a port window that showed stars streaking by.
“It’s over, it’s finally over,” Shelby sighed, holding the sculpture aloft. The light danced off it. The combadges they both wore resembled the previous reality Terrence had witnessed more than Imperial insignia.
Glover nodded his head. “Yes,” he said, his words hollow, his expression even more so. This Glover was older, with more age lines on his face, dark spots under his eyes. There were also healing cuts and paling bruises across his face. This was a haunted, but even more distressing, this was an empty man. What could have drained the vitality from him, Terrence wondered. Ever perceptive, Shelby sensed the man’s mood.
“We won Terrence,” she said. “I thought you would at least be relieved about that.”
“I lost my ship,” Glover groused. “I lost good people over Cardassia Prime.” Terrence’s ears perked up at the mention of his hated enemy. So, there had been another war in this reality, but this time, the Terrans had won. The previous reality, Starfleet was losing to the Klingons; this one, they defeated the Cardassians. Did the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance only exist in Terrence’s reality?
“We all did in this war,” Shelby said, her smile fading. She carefully placed the glass spider back on the desk. She picked up both glasses filled with a dark blue liquid there. She handed one to Glover.
“Nyota.” Shelby raised her glass. Nyota? Lady Uhura? Terrence shuddered at the name, even though there was no way the dreaded woman could reach him now, or so he wished to believe.
“Ben,” Glover added. “Pedro.” Surely this Glover couldn’t mean Pedro Rojas. Terrence hated the glad-handing, backstabbing man. How could any Glover, no matter the reality, mourn Rojas’s passing?
“And to so, so many others,” Shelby replied before she downed the drink in one gulp. She was still wincing when Glover did the same. He slammed the glass down so hard on the desk it trembled. Terrence would’ve been more impressed if the glass had shattered.
“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Shelby inquired, reaching out to him. Glover avoided her touch. Shelby looked concerned. She put her empty glass beside Glover’s.
“You don’t have to do this, you know?” She offered.
Glover shook his head. “I got out of that biobed to be here,” he declared. “No way I’m missing a memorial to our fallen.”
“People…would understand,” Shelby replied.
“I wouldn’t,” Glover rejoined. “I’m grateful I was able to catch a ride with you on the way to Rashanar.” Terrence scratched his chin. He had never heard of a Rashanar. He didn’t know if it was a planet, system, or some other cosmic phenomena.
“It’s the least I could do,” Shelby smiled. “I know you had to be going stir crazy in the Starbase 375 infirmary.”
“You know, it felt obscene to be taking a bed when there were still so many wounded, many with injuries far greater than mine,” Glover said, looking down at the empty glass as if he sought escape there. “But Admiral Salk insisted,” the other him shook his head.
Shelby raised both eyebrows. “I know that didn’t go over well with you.”
Glover finally grinned. “Of course, it didn’t.”
“I’m surprised you’re still a captain,” she matched his smile. Terrence did a double take. Did she say captain?! Captain?! I’m-no he-no we-are captain in this universe! Terrence pumped his fist.
“Even Salk didn’t want to can a war hero,” Glover’s smile was mirthless.
“Don’t be that way,” Shelby shook her head. “You earned that medal, and every honor.”
“For burning an entire planet?” Glover retorted. This Glover was quite surprising, Terrence nodded with growing appreciation. But also confounding. Why was the man regretful about wielding such power? This was standard Imperial procedure; Terran General Order Four. Terrence longed for the day when he could give such an order. Perhaps this other Glover was disappointed because he didn’t immolate all of his enemies?
“You saved a lot of lives,” Shelby was firm. “You helped save the Federation.” There was that term again, Terrence thought. Federation? That must be the name of the Terran Empire across multiple realities? But why hadn’t more replicated or emulated his civilization?
“Yeah, that’s what they say,” Glover looked back at the glass, as if it was calling him. “But all I can think about-all I can imagine-is how many lives were taken when I razed Loval.”
“How many lives did the Dominion take?” Shelby rejoined. “Did they care?”
Glover just shook his head. “They didn’t, but I wonder, I fear, if we do either.” The other Shelby had been stunned into speechlessness. Terrence chuckled. He had never been able to do that with his Elizabeth.
Shelby looked away and then at the desk. “Care for another glass of port?”
Glover considered her offer, before shaking his head, “No,” he finally said. “If I take another drink, I might not stop.” He worked up a smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Besides, I’ve got a stack of crew personnel reports to go through.”
“Oh,” Shelby said. “Still reassigning your crew to new postings?”
Glover smirked at her. “Did that last week. What did you think I did when I was on bed rest?”
“Of course,” Shelby rolled her eyes. “Can’t just, I don’t know, relax?”
“I’ll sleep when I’m…” Glover didn’t finish whatever he was going to say. The light went out of his eyes. Shelby’s expression was drawn. The other man sighed, “Well, I guess now, is as good a time to tell you as any. After the memorial at Rashanar, I’m taking a shuttle to the Beta Antares Shipyards to pick up my new ride: the Aegis.”
Shelby’s eyes widened, “A Prometheus-class?”
Glover nodded. Shelby whistled. Terrence scratched his chin. There was no Imperial line of vessels of that name. From Shelby’s reaction, the posting was prestigious, a plum assignment. Terrence felt another twinge of shame that other versions of himself, were more accomplished than he was.
“This is great news,” Shelby said.
“Yeah,” Glover replied, as glum as Terrence was starting to feel. Shelby playfully punched the man’s bicep.
“You’ve worked so hard to get here, this is one rung closer to an admirals’ bars,” Shelby said. “And you deserve it.”
“I know,” Glover said. He shook his head. “I should be ecstatic, and around others, I do my best to be, sometimes I even convince myself, but the war…it just changed my perspective, and I-I just need to not be…Terrence Glover around someone, at least once, and,” His smile was sad, but genuine, “You got the fortunate misfortune of being the friend who picked me up from Starbase 375.”
Shelby lowered her own shields. Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so glad you said that,” she replied. “I’ve needed the same thing.”
They embraced again, this time longer. They still held each other as reality warped again around Terrence….
*********************************************************************
