Seeds and Stars [Complete]

[XR-377]

For those of you that took the time to read this story, or sections of this story, over the last 9 years of writing it or beyond: you have my personal thanks. This has been a labor of love and a story that I have been thorned on for ages. Writing it has helped me deal with personal troubles, economic struggles, the Sunset of the STO Foundry, and close losses.

It was a story I wanted to tell, and I am glad, even if only in parts, it was read.

Thank you.

This was the primary post for stories involving Captain Traise’s road to recovery post Operation Snake-staff. There are other postings in the Kul and Traise thread but they are linked.

Chronology is marked, and not always linear.

Story Chronology
Hot Cider
The War is Over (Kul and Traise)
Foundry Mission: “Compromise” by @XR-377 (AKA: Operation Snake-Staff)
Whiskey Straight (Kul and Traise)
Kareoke
Seeds
First Contact
Goodbye
Hair
Dr. Nazer’s Letter
Sessions Beginnings
Dr. Nazer’s Other Letter
The Not Homework Report
Patient Hunter
Am I Human
En Passant
Wings
Dancing Lessons
Off Color Conversation
Seeing Ghosts
An Emotional Chernobyl
Manes ex Machina
An Apologetic Waltz
The Betazoid/Shark Auras and Playbook, …
…And How to Speak with Ghosts.
We’re All We Need
Boatswain
Stars
Dead Flowers
Reichenbach Falls (Kul and Traise)
The Moonlighter (Kul and Traise)
Blackberries

[XR-377]

Optional Forward

It was what someone four hundred years ago would have called a “simple house.” It sat under blue skies and wispy clouds, surrounded by fields; one of which was discernibly corn. The woman in the pressed Starfleet uniform made her way down the gravel path from the drive and up the three wooden stairs to the porch. There was only the briefest of second guesses while she took a breath before rapping the screen-door’s wooden frame with one hand.

She heard movement echo around from inside the house indicating someone was on their way. This left the unfortunate residue that she shouldn’t pass the time with knocking again and resigned herself simply to stand awkwardly on the porch and wait. She looked out to the fields again. At least, she was pretty sure that tall one with fuzzy bits was corn.

The door finally opened, on the other side was a short cheerful looking woman. The wrinkles around her mouth and eyes betrayed the fact her red-brown hair was probably died. She looked at the officer on her stoop with an excited interest.

“Hello, my name is Commander Sierra…”

“Oh, yes, from the Albion! Come in come in!” The woman’s general excitement was overflowing, “John’s told us about you. You must be here for him.”

The silver haired woman nodded with a smile, partially grateful that she simply had the right place. It was one thing to beam down to a location on a planet, it is a complete other to then need to spend some time traveling around to get where you need to go. For a girl who spent the first twenty years of her life in confined corridors spending so much time traveling and still only being a few hundred miles from where you started was absolutely unnerving.

“I’m his mother, Catherine. He’s just around back in the garden.”

“May I?” Sierra asked with polite tentativity.

“Oh of course, by all means.” The woman gestured through the open house towards the outside door in the kitchen, “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

Seeds

There was a metallic shink as the shovel sank into the dirt.

Shink

Repetitively.

Shink

To call the clay he was breaking up dirt, however, would have been a misnomer. After all, the good land was used for farming; it only made sense to whomever put his parent’s house there some centuries ago to place it on a pile of rocks and then build it using more rocks plowed out from the fields.

But that was ancient history; separated from the now by over four hundred years of corn, clover, and whatever else needed to be planted.

Shink.

Right now the only concern was simply getting the holes deep enough.

Shink.

“Hello, sir.”

John glanced back over his shoulder to the outside door from the kitchen. Standing on the stoop Sierra’s red Starfleet uniform stood in stark contrast to the very real and worn world around her. He made it a point to count her pips before resuming shoveling.

“Commander.” The metallic shink of the shovel forcing its way into the dirt resonated a certain rawness.

“Your mother let me in.”

“Oh, what did you think of her?”

She thought back at the way the petite woman bounded about a room when she walked, “Bouncy.”

“Don’t think I’ve heard that one before.” John sunk the shovel into the clay one last time and finally turned from his work to face his old second in command, “I suppose she does get excited easily.”

“You shaved,” she said, slightly taken aback.

“Yeah,” he chuckled and rubbed the back of his work glove on his smoothed chin, “I felt like looking my age for a once.” There was a smile, but Sierra knew it was just a mask. Without another word he knelt down and started removing a tall potted plant from its container.

“I’m here to bring you back.”

“I had a feeling that would be it. I’m a little surprised though, I really thought it would be Oni.”

“He said that it wasn’t his place to come.”

John thought about the phrase. It was one of Sierra’s polite truths but he could see through it to what it really meant. So, Oni already knew. The fact Sierra was here proved she didn’t.

“It’s nearly been three months, Sir.”

“I know.”

She squinted, “You were granted three months to grieve, Sir. Additionally you haven’t attended any of your mandated counseling sessions. If you are to return to service you will need to do so soon.”

“I know,” he placed the first of three plants into one of the holes he made and started filling around it with garden soil.

“What are you doing?”

“Planting blackberries. The raspberries did rather well this summer and I guess it’s left me a little emboldened.”

“You know what I meant,” her tone was quicker to anger than John was expecting.

He froze briefly, “I’m not sure I’m going back.”

With his back to her John couldn’t see Sierra’s nostrils flare. “You’re joking,” it was a statement, not a question.

“No, I’m not,” he finished the first plant and moved on to the second. “I have yet to decide if I’m going back.”

“Sir, I’m here to bring you back. If you don’t come back with me to the Albion you’ll lose your post in Starfleet. They’ll take the ship from you.”

“And give it to a capable captain. You, most likely.”

“I said no.”

“So they did ask you?” he looked up and back with a smirk and caught the momentary fluster flash across her face. “It’s okay, it would be a good fit. You’re a natural commanding officer and have been with her since day one. You’ll do fine.”

“It’s not about that. Sir. I told them you’re the captain of the Albion.”

“I made a mistake, Sierra.”

“No, you didn’t. The situation changed beyond your control. You couldn’t have saved her.”

“No, it’s not about her!” he practically threw the second plant into its hole, immediately regretting it. As if in apology he began patting the new soil tenderly around it. “It’s that when it happened I…” he shook his head, “… just walked away.”

Sierra knew better than to say anything and merely stood a red synthetic flagpole among a sea of homegrown greenery.

“I left you alone on the bridge. All of you. I had my duty and I simply ignored it. When the ship needed me I cracked and I walked away. You didn’t deserve that. None of you did.”

“Nobody blames you.”

“I blame me.”

“You shouldn’t.”

He turned to look at her, one brow raised irate, “You’re really not giving up on this, are you?”

“Sir, I’m here to bring you back.”

There was a silence as he turned back to his hole. “I shouldn’t have been up there. This is where I belong. It always has been.”

Sierra let the words sink in, understand what they meant when he said them. When they came from her captain’s lips. What it would mean when she walked away.

She didn’t flinch.

“No, you’re not. If you were then you wouldn’t have stuck it through all those years at the academy. If you weren’t something special, something unique, something great, Captain Remoi wouldn’t have given you a second glance. Instead he made it a point to get you your post. He saw it in you then, just like I still see it now. I have no doubt.”

John felt his throat tense up, his breath seize. As he hung his head what last bit of pride he had thanked the lord that his back was to Sierra.

“Sir. There’s nothing for you here but dirt. We both know you are meant for more than that.”

He took a deep breath, then looked over at the last blackberry he needed to plant. Inside his chest he felt an excitement he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “My bags are upstairs, in my room.”

“Sir?”

“My bags, they’re already packed.” John turned so that he could look at Sierra and enjoy her expression. “I had a feeling when Starfleet said it was you on your way that you’d convince me to go.” He turned and began to work with final plant. “I should finish up here first. I wanted to get this done weeks ago. Never got around to it.”

“Why?”

He wanted to say it was because of the depression but he thought better of it in the way people who feel that they are at the bottom will just drag others down with them if they share. He merely shrugged, “Didn’t take the time to do it.”

“No, I mean, why are you still doing it? You’re leaving. You won’t get to see if it produces any berries.” She thought for a moment, “Well, not any time soon.”

“Eh, even if I stayed it would be a while before I got anything from these plants. But it’s not about what you get now, but what you get down the line.” He took off one glove and wiped dirt off his face with a stinky, sweaty, palm. “One day, with enough encouragement, they should do pretty good. Then I’ll get to enjoy them when I come back.”

Sierra nodded, and waited.

Optional Afterword

“Such a nice girl,” Catherine said as they watched the two climb into the hover conveyance and speed away down the drive. “Do you think he knows?”

“Who? Our boy?” He waved at the growing dust cloud, “Not a chance,” he said and brought his arm down around his wife. “The real question is, do you think she knows?”

“God I hope so. For both their sakes.”

[XR-377]

Hair

He woke up during the middle of the night to a familiar sound; the hum of the warp drive as the ship coasted through the space between stars. He had missed it. Shifting his weight he rolled over in bed and caught a whiff of a forgotten smell; lilac, with the ever slightest pinch of sweat. Instinctively he slowly stretched out a hand, catching a strand of stray hair in between his fingers. Reaching out more he searched for warmth, but found none. As if in shock John craned open his eyes before the full realization dawned on him that he was staring at an empty pillow. For a blissful moment before the real world could shake off the memories of dreams he had forgotten.

His hand drifted up into the starlight cast from the window and spun slowly, showcasing the long slick black hair.

His eyes didn’t well up.
He didn’t call out into the night.
There was no angry lament to God.
Just a stare, that met with no response.

Ilana was gone, and he now knew that. Truly knew it.

Grabbing the spare pillow and pulling it close, John squeezed it tightly to his chest and nose before falling back into sleep.

[XR-377]

Kareoke

Standing on the bridge of the Albion Oni couldn’t help but feel as if he was presiding over an empty orchestra. Surrounded by different sections of unmanned instruments trapped in anticipation for the conductor’s swooping directions. The Bolian found the feeling distractingly eerie. An empty orchestra. John had actually told him there was word in a Terran language that directly translated to that. What was it?

He didn’t have time to answer the question himself as Commander Sierra re-emerged from the Captain’s ready room, handing him a PADD.

“I have finalized and submitted the the Albion’s new roster to command. I would like you to go over it.”

He opened the file as they both started for the turbolift; Commander Sierra liked to walk and talk. “Go over it? As a First Officer or as a Friend?”

Sierra stopped at the lift, it was a question she hadn’t considered. “Both,” was her reply. “Commander T’Shmit, you have the bridge.”

“Aye, ma’am.”

The turbolift doors shut and the hum as it sent them down the decks sang to life.

Sierra watched as the usually talkative Bolian rolled his hand across the PADDs surface, reading silently. There was the slightest twinge of worry in the back of her mind. She hoped it didn’t show. “The new crew roster should account for all the transfers and losses. I was able to pull a lot from officers requesting to serve on the Albion, the rest are primarily recruits and from an interesting file I found on the Captain’s computer. Did you know he kept a list of prospective officers?”

“He may have mentioned it,” Oni finally spoke as the lift came to a rest and the doors chimed open. “Any big changes to the roster? I mean… other than the losses, obviously.”

“Many of the crewmembers who were subject to assimilation during their capture have either been granted leave or requested different postings, but not all of them. Lt. Commander Bovard is one of the exceptions, of course. Both she and medical believe she will be ready for active duty within the week.” She paused slightly to watch the Bolian’s scrolling again, “However, I was a bit surprised to see Chief Belu’s name on the list of off ship transfers.” Sierra’s eyes grasped for some outward signal of his response to this.

“Yeah, it uhm… it was something she was considering.”

“I know you two were pretty close.”

He shook his head, but not dismissively, “Having your mind connected to thousands upon thousands of others in the Borg Collective is a pretty jarring experience. Part of the reason for that ‘attitude problem’ so many people thinks she has is it was how she expresses her individualism. Having that taken away from her, even for a short time; she’s not taking it well.

“We’ve talked,” he shrugged, “she thinks more stability in her posting will help. We both agreed that that’s not something the Albion… or I… can really give her right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

There was a slight nod of thanks and a soft smile that betrayed the ache behind it. “These things happen. At least she’s- At least we’re okay. That’s more th-”

“Have you spoken with the dockmaster?”

“What?”

“About the Albion and how long until they are done with repairs? Did they give you an estimate?”

“Uh, Yeah. They agree with me that most of the damage is superficial however considering the crew and operating situation we’ve agreed that we might as well get a Baryon Sweep in. I would really like to convince them to take a look at reinforc-”

Sierra raised a hand, regretting her choice of a conversation change, “I’m just looking for a time estimate, if you please.”

“Oh right,” he said while still flipping through the crew list. “Three weeks, tops.”

“Good, we should be able to have everyone on board by then.”

“Errr… Commander.” For the first time in their walk the Chief Engineer stopped moving. He looked over at Sierra with an honest expression, “I think you made a mistake.”

A raised eyebrow was all that met him as he held out the PADD.

“Uhm… Doctor Sudun is still on this list.”

“Oh, it’s not a mistake. It’s not her, it’s her sister.”

“Wait, Niri?”

“Yes, she is an accomplished surgeon, received stellar marks at the academy and her current service record is exemplary. I saw that she had an outstanding request to serve on the Albion and chose to accept it. She should serve the role of Chief Medical officer and leading ship surgeon perfectly. She won’t be taking up any direct control over counseling like her sister did, but the current counseling department should work well under-"

“You know she’s Ilana’s twin, right?”

“Of course. That’s why I chose her. I thought it would be a good idea for the crew to have a familiar face to turn to.”

“Do you think that’s wise?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

There was a pause as he just stared in a mix of incredulousness and disbelief, “Your people didn’t actually practice cloning did they?”

She just stared back, “Not often. Why?”

“No reason,” he said while trying not to roll his eyes at a superior officer. “If you sent the list out then it there is no changing it now. It looks good to me.”

“Excellent, go ahead and distribute copies of the roster to the department heads. I want them to have some time to familiar themselves with the new transfer’s records before they report for duty.”

“Aye-aye, Ma’am.” They both started down separate ways before Commander Onihill remembered something at the back of his mind. “Wait, Sierra?”

“Hmm?”

“The Captain,” he shook his head, “John once said there was a Terran word for ‘empty orchestra’, do you happen to remember what it was?”

She thought briefly, “Yes, ‘Kareoke’. It’s Japanese I believe.”

His brow scrunched, “Isn’t that the name of a game where people attempt to sing over famous musical audio recordings?”

“I believe they are the same.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well…” There was an undue pause as Oni thought, considering how talkative he usually was he was certainly choosing his words carefully. “Do you think you could take command? Like, really take over Captaining the Albion?”

She stared.

“I don’t think I could,” he said looking off at his thoughts. “I would just be standing up there trying to fill in the same role John had. Trying to be him, take up his part. Do what he did. It would just be… me doing Kareoke.”

Sierra didn’t respond, but her eyes sank to the floor as she considered the concept.

“Do you think he is coming back?”

“He’s coming back,” she didn’t miss a beat.

“How do you know?”

“He’s coming back.”

[XR-377]

Dead Flowers

The ground shifted under the gentle easing of a trowel. Grass gave way to clear dirt at the base of a grapevine that entwined an old rabbit fence. Cathy Traise took a deep breath and stared up the sky, exhaling the early summer air. Wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her gardening gloves she looked over to the north wall of the house.

At the base, near the corner of the structure, was a simple lattice laced with blackberry bushes; stalks splaying out in every direction. Two of them craned especially higher up towards the sky; one up the cedar siding the other around the downspout. Peppered amongst the greenery were the plump beginnings of their namesake, still green themselves but progressing nicely. Catherine, however, couldn’t help but focus on the tattered remains of the dead flowers the berries grew out from. Drying petals of pink and white, slowly browning as they hung on to the new fruit by litigious threads.

Inside, her husband was at the table. Reading, predictably, from an old paper bound publication. She set down her soiled gloves and took a cold pitcher of water out from the refrigerator. She didn’t like wasting energy on the replicator if she didn’t have to.

“The blackberries John planted are coming along, they should be ready to pick in at least two weeks.”

“His raspberries have always done well,” he licked a thumb and turned a page, “Can’t see why these would be any different.”

“It’s been two years.”

“Well, it takes time,” ever the teacher he continued, “The berries only form from the older vines, it takes at least a year for-” He noticed his wife standing there at the sink window, just looking down the road. “Oh…” He set the book down, using a fork to keep his place.

“It’s been two years.”

“I know, Dear,” he wrapped his arms around her, it didn’t help her shaking.

“I just, thought he’d be here for them…” her brow contorted around welling eyes and quivering lips, “…when they finally produced.”

“I know, I did too.”

[XR-377]

The War is Over

[XR-377]

Whiskey Straight

[XR-377]

Dr. Nazer’s Letter

Starfleet Command

Dr. Tiara Nazer,

We are contacting you today in regards to the rehabilitation of Captain Johnathon Traise of the U.S.S. Albion.

As you are aware, the events that took place during Operation Snake-staff resulted in Captain Traise being emotionally compromised and removed from command of his vessel. As per regulation he was granted three month’s leave for grieving and recuperation before resuming his command. In addition, over this period he was required to begin mandatory counseling, which he has yet to start as if this date.

He has since returned to the U.S.S. Albion for the rest of his recuperation at the bequest of Commanding Officer Sierra Ithiliel. Given his record, extension has been approved for his recovery time as long as he begins counseling with an approved Starfleet Medical Officer. He has listed you as his primary choice of Doctor. As you have an astounding work record, familiarity with the man, and have formerly counseled other senior members of the Albion crew (including acting captain Sierra Ithiliel) you would be an excellent choice.

If you are willing to take up his case, his recovery will be under your supervision with his progress detailed and reported to Starfleet Command. You will be provided temporary lodgings aboard Deep Space 13, and will be working under the station’s chief counselor. Captain Traise’s preliminary approval to regain his former command will depend on your appraisals and judgment.

Counseling time and schedule if accepted would be at your discretion, please report back on the matter when possible.

Dr. Elar Mentats
Starfleet Medical Recovery Board
Earth Space Dock

[XR-377]

Sessions Beginnings

The station office was simple, clean, mostly empty, and very much not lived in yet. Tiara thought it was a bit sterile, but she may have a little time to wear it in while she was stationed on DS13. Until that happened, the best she could do would be the various trinkets and gifts she brought with her to color the shelves and clutter her desk’s edge.

There was the standard ‘beep’ that announced the arrival of her patient, Johnathon Traise was at the door.

Tiara Nazer raised her voice, “Come in.”

The door slid open and he marched in, his motions not skittish but still far from comfortable, Nazer put her PADD to one side, coming to her feet. “Captain Traise.”

His mouth opened and closed, his emotions jumping at the title. For the betazoid, it was obvious to see. “Dr. Nazer, thank you again.”

The woman’s lips pursed, “For … agreeing to see you?”

John looked around, wondering if he should sit or stand, “Yeah, well, you know this being something I should do. Sierra speaks highly of you and Ilana always held you in high regard. I figured, they know- err…”

He stumbled.

“They knew… you uh, understand what… I mean.”

Flicking through a separate pile of PADDs for a fresh one, Nazer spoke calmly. “I appreciate that, Captain, thank you. I try my best. Please, have a seat. Wherever you’re comfortable.”

He chose a spot on the soft looking sofa against the wall. Forearms draped across his legs, a slight hunch in his back.

Collecting a new PADD, flicking through its contents as she walked herself over, Dr Nazer took the armchair opposed. She looked up at John.

He was staring ahead a little at the floor, his emotions weren’t riled but were definitely convoluted.

Finally she set the PADD inclined in her lap, “So.” Her smile was half-sympathetic, half-encouraging. “How are you doing?”

“As well as can be expected?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t know, I’d say ‘good’ but… I know I would be lying, you know?”

“How have you been filling your days?”

“Well, I had leave planet-side, back on Earth for three months. Stayed with my parents. I fiddled about with a garden for a bit. But, since I’ve been back on ship, I just have been keeping myself busy with what I can. Not my hobbies, but, you know, things. Things that need to get done.” There was a pause as he thought, “Ilana and I had been living together for about three years, a lot of things needed to get sorted out. But, I don’t know, it feels weird wandering the halls without my duties.”

Dr. Nazer gave a little nod, “It’s a process. How are you sleeping?”

Johnathon Traise twinged, his emotions flared. “Overall? Not well,” he said shaking is head.

“Can’t fall asleep or not sleeping through the night?”

“There are good nights, and bad, but… yeah, for the most part it is hard falling asleep. Occasionally I wake up and get that brief moment of unawareness, you know? Like, it’s just another day for a moment before things fall back into place.”

“Where you’ve forgotten it happened, you mean?

Traise nodded.

“I understand.”

John tried at a desperate attempt to change subjects, "But, I don’t know, I think I’ve lived too long on a starship. When I do fall asleep on the Albion I don’t wake up as much. The hum. You know?

“I’ve been told. I found it a bit distracting myself, when I was posted aboard the Edison.” There was another flair of emotions that Tiara detected when he spoke about starships. Distinctly regret. She tilted her head just a little, “Have you been able to talk to anyone about what happened?”

Traise nodded, but then wrinkled a brow. Shaking his head, “Yes, and no. My parents, a few others who weren’t there. After all, a lot of my friends are Argo or are on my bridge. But… I talk about what happened but I don’t…” there was a stutter to his thoughts, “I… don’t … I find it hard to talk about some parts.”

“I can imagine.”

“I tried talking about it with my folks but, they didn’t get it. The only person I’ve really been able to say anything about it to is Sierra. It’s like, I don’t mind talking about what happened… the mechanics. The Borg. The mission, what parts I am authorized to talk about. What went wrong. What I did.”

At this point he stood up and started pacing the length of the sofa, Tiara tracked his progress, “But when it comes to the end. I can say what happened, I can… say what she did. But, I can’t…” Johnathon’s voice stopped, he was a beacon of strong feelings of shame.

After a moment Tiara prompted for more, “Can’t what?”

“I just can’t find the words to say how f—ed up.”

The swear was uncharacteristic and he noticeably began to well up.

“I should have stayed. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have just walked away. I just, cracked, like a child.”

“Not like a child. Like a person, Captain. It happens to all of us.”

“No, it was childish,” he wiped his cheek with his sleeve, “I was beaten, I didn’t want to play anymore. I ran to my room to cry. They didn’t deserve that: my crew, Ilana…”

Tiara watched him, “Perhaps not.”

The man tried taking deep breaths, it usually helped calm him down, “It’s like, now, I finally get this chance. This chance not to show a face, a facade. And I still find myself trying to, trying to hide. I mean, I should face this, I know I am suffering from depression, it makes sense to me and it is logical. But, I just can’t… say it to anyone. I don’t, want to make it worse.”

“… make what worse?”

“Everything,” he flopped his hands out, “Nothing… I don’t know.”

She said nothing, encouraging him to go on with her silence.

“It’s… it’s like, I built up to this. For years in command. Everyone looking to me, which I was okay with. Hell, I reveled in it. I was good at it, at least, I thought so. And I built it up and up and now I fail, spectacularly I might add, and they still look to me.

“And… I don’t want it. I don’t want them to see,” he rubbed his bare chin.

“And yet, you’ve returned to your post.”

“No, Sierra convinced me to come back aboard to ship. There is a difference,” he almost sounded insulted that she didn’t notice the distinction, his emotions on the matter were clear however. They were acting in defense of Sierra and her post, “She’s still in command.”

The good doctor said nothing, let him chew it.

“Well, no, you are right. I came back, in a sense. That means I do want to… But…” His emotions suddenly became convoluted again, regret rearing strongly, “I don’t know what I want.” There was silence before he spoke again, “You know… I actually considered retiring? A little over a year ago. Pretty seriously too, me and Ilana.”

“Because?

“I wanted to start a family. Planetside. I mean, if this was 40 years ago perhaps raising a family on a Federation ship would be safer but…”

Tiara nodded in understanding.

“All these wars… one ends, two begin. I thought, it would be a good idea, Ilana and I settling down somewhere nice and quaint. I didn’t tell many people I was thinking about it. Talked with Quaen, she was good help. That’s Skyler Quaen, the Commander… I’m not sure if you know her?”

The doctor gave a slight indication that they were aware of the person, but it was more or less to show that he could go on and finish the real thought he had. He sat back down on the lounger.

“I don’t know, some part of me really… just wants to explore. To know.”

“Your humanity, I imagine.”

“I knew if I settled down I would still be looking up saying ‘what if?’ Do betazoids get that? Restless feet as it were?” he looked up at her.

Nazer pursed her lips again. "They’re certainly capable of it. I imagine most sentients are, honestly.”

“I always expected it to be something with Community when it came to betazoids, no offense. Surround themselves with good people, no matter the type.”

Tiara’s head tilted a little. “Depends on the betazoid. Some will find good people to be around, others find less savory sorts so they look better in comparison.”

John snickered briefly before he drifted back off, his thoughts returning to retirement and the regret that was folded over in the feeling. “It was Ilana. She was the one who ended up talking me out of it.”

“What was her reasoning?”

"She knew I would be bored,” Traise smiled, “She said that I would always be wondering, and while happy I probably would never get a chance like we had. Not many people can dance among the stars, you know? But, now, after all that has happened. I can’t help but think… if we had settled down, she would still-” he rubbed a hand through his hair, “I can’t help but question the choice.”

“It’s normal, you know,” she turned that phrase back on him, “No matter what path you go down, you will always be struck by the uncertainty of the other option.”

He listened, taking slow deep breaths. Finally, he decided to pry, “I understand you’re not married, are you seeing anyone in Starfleet?”

She nodded, the slightest hint of a blush trained well enough not to show visibly, “I am.”

“If you don’t mind me prying, have you two ever talked about this? Well, not this, but… if something happened?”

Nazer’s tone was measured in response. “We haven’t, no. We’re…” she considered and almost almost chuckled. "It seems so new sometimes, still, the two of us. He’s in MACO though, so it is not as if I have never considered the possibility that he won’t come back some day.”

“If … you were here. What would you say to you if something did happen. You’ve seen this a lot, I’m not your first griever I’m sure. But, what would you say to you?”

“I would say…” there was the pause only honesty can accrue, “… that I’m sorry. And that I know it seems hard, if not completely impossible, that you will ever feel differently from what you do now. I would tell myself to take all the time I need to remember what we had."

Thinking on this, his emotions calmed.

“And I would tell myself to remember that there is no way in heaven or hell that Tom would be pleased to know that I might be refusing to move on without him.”

John lowers his eyes to his shoes his thoughts focusing on that idea.

There was another gesture of a tilted head of inquiry. “Surely Ilana would say something similar to you.”

“Is it bad that I don’t want to hear it?” he looked up at Tiara.

“No, not bad. It’s an emotional response, it can’t be good or bad. It’s what you do with what you feel that’s important.”

The betazoid was pleased that she could tell he was feeling relieved by this.

“I understand that you feel like you don’t want to consider a life without her. And … that is an option you have, certainly.”

John shook his head, “No, that… I may be shooken up but I still know that would be unhealthy.”

“No?” Tiara chuckled just a little, “Well, I didn’t say it was the ideal one.”

“I may have done a lot with my life for only being thirty but, I’m not ready to give up on whatever I have left of it. If I never let go-” his thought abruptly shifted subjects and his brow furrowed, “You know that’s what makes me the maddest about all this?”

“What, exactly?”

“I know what I should be doing, and part of me wants to get better. But… I want to try, but… I don’t. It’s like some part of me wants to stay in this feeling of… pain. I know what I should be doing, that I should pick myself up but I don’t want to. I don’t want to do anything.”

Dr. Nazer exhaled a small breath, "You have to give it time. The more… you commit to new things and continue to go on with your life, I believe you’ll start to have less days where you don’t feel like doing anything.”

Traise took his breaths, thinking on the concept, “Is that my homework?” he hazarded a smile. It was a little hollow, another shell and face to play proud.

“If you like. Are you good at homework?”

“Terrible actually. I did spend six years at the Academy for a reason,” he chuckled.

Nazer’s lips pulled to one side. "Ah, well. Some people do really well with concrete assignments. Giving themselves a small victory every day.”

“What’s stopping someone from doing one thing and then being so pleased with themselves they don’t do any more?” he offered in a moment of brief introspection.

“I think that… at the beginning, it’s okay to only do one thing per day. It’s not just one little victory, then you’re done. It’s repeating that victory every day.”

“Well, I can try it. At least, trying something new.”

Nazer inclined her head, adding hopefully, “Worth a shot.”

Traise brushed off his pants, and checks his cheeks for dried salt. “I assume then next time we meet I should have a paper on it? Or at the very least a short description?”

She chuckled. “Not necessary. If you lie about completing it, I’ll know, without a paper.”

“Oh trust me, I learned pretty early on that lying to a betazoid never goes well.” He stood up, ready to go out again, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome, Captain. Thank you for coming.”

As he left she looked down at her lap and mused, she never wrote anything down in that PADD after all.

[XR-377]

Goodbye

The top of the dresser was now clean, mostly. Everything that was left on it was his. His trinkets, his little tray to put the random odds and ends that occasionally found themselves in his pockets, one of the innumerable spare combs he’d used to clean up his beard; now languishing in the spite from his now bare chin. There was however, still one last photo frame. John picked it up, it flickered to show the next in the slide.

It was Batezed, one of the trips he and Ilana had taken to her home town when they were on shared holiday. It was a good trip; consisted of camping, local festivities, and of course her family. The last in the slide was of them, all of them. Ilana had come from a big family, not just due to her four siblings. John thought he came from a decently big family, but Ilana’s… The overarching family photo consisting of at least one hundred and fifty different faces plastered in different parts of the family villa’s courtyard dared for comparison. And that, John understood, was just her mother’s side.

There, in the middle of all of them, as if they were the pride and joy of the gathering, were John and Ilana, arms around one another with a beaming shared smile. It was the first pin that had hurt for a long while.

And then, for a brief moment, Ilana walked out of the picture.

Well… out of the bathroom.

The short hair and last box of personal items she carried betrayed the truth. It was Niri, collecting the last of her twin sister’s things.

John had actually been afraid at first to see Niri’s face when he found out Sierra had posted her as the ship’s surgeon and new Chief Medical Officer; and not for the obvious reason. During their time at the Academy the largest and most formidable obstacle in John and Ilana’s budding relationship, aside from his own idiocy, was Niri. As it happened, despite (or inspite) of John’s interest to Ilana, her sister became infatuated with him; bordering on the edge of obsession. He had tried to explain things to her on occasion but she wouldn’t take it. She pestered him until he finally graduated and was posted on a starship. And yet, whenever they were all together John could still sense the way Niri would look at him, as if she never got the hint that he just wasn’t interested in her.

*

In his defense, there wasn’t a moment John ever left Niri with an iota of confusion on the matter. And he had never once mistaken the two for one another.* Well, except for that one time, but that was when he was trapped in an alternate dimension so that didn’t count. And even in that all he did was complement her hair…)

John glanced back at the final family photo, there she was, the slight look of longing and the twinge of a secret she thought she had plastered across her face. And yet, now… he hazarded a glance at her.

Niri set down the final box on the bed, she looked relaxed, but tired, and immeasurably sad. She looked over at him, the flat face of a doctor having finished a long operation was now all he could see.

“That’s everything, I would have had this done before you returned to the ship but… after all this time I didn’t know what was hers and what was yours.”

“It’s fine, Niri, really. Thank you for stopping by to take care of it. After all, these are the last memories of your sister we have.”

“For you maybe… Me, I have every time I look in a mirror. With any luck I’ll even get the satisfaction of seeing what she would have looked like as an old woman. Most people aren’t that lucky.”

“That,” John thought, “Is an interesting way of looking at it. Probably a better one than I would have had.” He glanced down at his hands, the frame had bounced back to another picture of just Ilana and him holding each other in their arms. “Oh, uh, you forgot this by the way.”

Niri stepped over and took the frame, “This was of your first trip to Betazed together, right? No, you keep it. She’d have wanted you to keep those memories of her home, and all of us.” The full slide of her family appeared again, she smiled and handed it over. “You know, even though the two of you weren’t married,” she hazarded a, “…yet, Mother already considered as part of the family. She liked you, a lot.”

John chuckled, honestly, “I’m glad, I liked her too.”

“Well, she was pretty broken up to not see you at the memorial gathering back home. You know, you will always be part of our family, John. Never forget that. You’re always welcome. You can’t escape us now.”

There was a slight smile as he set down the frame, but then a fear gripped him as he turned to Niri and she brought up a hand to caress the side of his face.

“John, I need you to know, whatever we had… whatever we could have had… it died with Ilana.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but, really couldn’t find any words in the brief moment of confusion. Niri probably thought she was being sweet, or showing some type of soothing affection, but in truth it was likely the most awkward and cringeworthy thing she could have ever done to anyone. But, to John’s great surprise, all he felt was relief and a little giggle of odd humor at the fact it was finally over.

He pulled his hand up to bring her’s down, “It’s okay, I… understand.” He smiled at her and wondered how the Betazoid had always seemed to miss it. Maybe she had, but never really wanted to see.

“Besides,” her tone was now matter of fact and dismissive, “I think I really only loved you for your beard. You look so ugly without it.”

They both laughed, they needed it.

Niri returned to the bedside, grabbed the tote, and went to the door. She turned one final time silhouetted in the ambient honey light from the hallway and said it, “Goodbye, John.”

And John said, “Goodbye,” and tried to tell himself that he was talking to Niri.

[XR-377]

The Not Homework Report

“Let’s change gears, how’s your not homework coming?”

There was a pause as John thought about it, and found himself surprised at the answer, “It’s coming along well, really.”

“Good,” Nazer’s lips tightened into the slim smile of someone who has been proven right yet again, “So, what is it? How have you been spending some of your time?”

“Chess, actually. I’ve been playing against Commander Sierra.”

“Oh?” an eyebrow peaked.

“It was her suggestion, to tell the truth. As it happens we both enjoy strategy but neither of us are so good at math to play pattern recognition with it. Ends up being just being a game of tactics, which suits both of us just fine. Best partner I’ve had to play the game with since grade school.”

“How do the games go?”

“Pretty good for the most part. We’re evenly matched. Both find it a lot more fun than trying to play against a computer. Conversations are a heck of a lot better too. It’s really no fun to swear at an algorithm or an ExoComp.”

“And the two of you don’t get too heated?”

John gave the counselor a puzzled look.

“It’s just that Commander Sierra tends to be a… competitive individual.”

He waved a dismissive hand, “It’s not been an issue, for both of us there’s more fun in how we get there than who wins.”

Nazer’s glare was hard, and knowing. The kind of glare a mother gains instinctively.

“Well, okay,” John relented, “She does like to win. And I do like to work myself into a stalemate when she gets the upper hand. I’ll admit she’s ‘won’ more than I have, but I sure as heck don’t have as many losses as she does,” there was a cocky grin there that the doctor hadn’t seen in the sessions up to that point and she took note of it.

“Because if nobody wins in a stalemate, nobody loses, am I right? And you don’t like to lose.”

“It does tend to drive her nuts,” he sniggered, “In fact I’m pretty surprised how often I am able to pull it off.”

“It’s because you get her excited and she gets so aggressive she loses track of what she’s doing during the chase,” Doctor Nazer had acted as counselor for both individuals involved, so she did have a pretty good cross section of the two herself. But still, she had to concede at how effective the chess games had been to parse out their two personalities so well. “So you’ve been enjoying yourself then, with the added activities?"

“Yeah,” Traise said with a smile plastered on his face and his chest puffed up with air.

Nazer waited.

Traise’s plaster started to sag, air leaked out of the holes in his heart.

“It’s been fun. I’ve enjoyed it, and enjoyed the company. Everyone’s company. I missed my friends, and the ship.”

“But.”

“But it doesn’t take it away,” there was a long exhale.

“It doesn’t take what away?”

“You know what,” he was bitter, and wanted his tongue to feel sharp.

Dr. Nazer didn’t flinch, didn’t respond, she just waited and let the silence draw out the words.

“The pain, the loss,” his head shook in defeat.

“The depression,” she finished for him, “You do know that branching out wasn’t supposed to take it away, but to help you move through it? It’s not going to be an overnight thing, it takes time.”

“I know… I know.” he sighed.

“Have you talked to Sierra about it?”

“What, the depression?” he shook his head and his voice was absolute, “No.”

“Why not?”

John thought ‘I don’t want to’ loud enough for Nazer to practically hear before he actually said, “I figure she knows. It’s probably an unspoken truth among everyone aboard the ship. They’re all trying their best to support me, let me work through it. You know, that knowing look at a distance. The comforting nod.” he made some gestures with his hands before rubbing one of his sore eye-sockets with a cold thumb.

“Are you sure she knows?”

Traise looked over incredulously, “I’m sure she does, she’s smart and not an idiot. Hell, it’s most likely why she offered to play the games with me anyways. It’s her little way of trying to help get her Captain back to normal and on duty.”

“So, you believe she and your crew are acting the way you think they are in order to get you back into command… or to help you?”

“Yes… err…” the question tripped him up, “both?”

Nazer sighed and shifted her weight, “Did it occur to you that maybe Commander Sierra asked to play the chess games with you because she wanted to? Because she’s your friend?”

John didn’t respond, but it was a thick question and he found himself wading through it waist deep like a molasses swamp.

The Doctor, feeling the distress and worrying slightly about pushing too hard, changed focuses, “I understand the Albion will be taking a bit of an extended cruise?”

“Oh, yeah, the uh ship’s going to be going on long range science mission. Going to pass through the Azure Nebula and then make a series of stops at points of interest. Kind of doubles as a shakedown cruise for the ship and crew after… everything.”

“I’m glad to see it sounds like you’ve taken an interest in it. Do you happen to know how long you’ll be out?”

“Time’s variable, could be anywhere from one to three months. Captain’s discretion. We’re not really going far, so if we get the call back we can return to Federation space quickly. Not really expecting much trouble out that way; at least, now that things with the Klingons and Romulans are mostly settled.”

“You’re going with the ship then?”

He nodded, “I’d like to.”

“Do you expect to pick up any more of your duties, or take part in some of the projects the Albion will be undertaking over that time?”

“I don’t know,” he was honest.

“Well, while I will encourage it, know you don’t need to push yourself. Take things your pace, when you are ready.”

“And if I’m never ready?”

“Then you’re not. And, perhaps, when you get back to Deep Space 13 you’ll need to make a decision.” Her tone lightened, “But, I think this is good for you. And the ship being under way is another aspect of normalcy I think you are chasing. It may also be good for your crew to act in more than just a… pantomime mode. This sounds like a long mission and will require everyone aboard to act as members of an independent starship.

“Now, I know you’ll not be able to make a session with me in person for a while, and that’s fine. They’re giving me plenty to do around here in the meantime," Nazer really did hope she was helping. She would have no clue how one person alone could handle it if they had to. "We can keep in contact via long distance if you feel we need to for any reason. Furthermore, if you feel you want a more personal session I encourage you to speak with one of the Albion’s counselors; the familiar perspective may be refreshing.” She saw the pivot, and took it, “For this mission, Commander Sierra will still be in command?”

“Yes, unless she finds a way to trick me into taking the bridge.”

“To catch you before you work your way into another stalemate, you mean?”

He looked up at her with slit pierced eyes, and then relented with a slight smile and a nod. She had him there.

There wasn’t a curious tone when Nazer spoke next, but it was definitely the voice of someone trying to find the answer to something they didn’t know, “Do you think Commander Sierra would directly try something to force you into taking your command?”

“Like, do something that doesn’t give me the choice? That I have to do it and there is no other option?”

Dr. Nazer nodded.

He shook his head, “No, not really. She cares too much about the ship to do that. I mean, I do know she picked up some tricks from me and I can be a bit surreptitious but that’s probably going a hair too far, for both of us.”

“I see,” the voice shifted back to normal, “Well, I guess this means the next chance I we probably meet will be in one to three months.”

John’s voice was hesitant, like the first eager bare foot testing beach sand just in case it was too hot to walk on and you’re just going to have to run (or hop), “So, you’re going to approve of me going on this mission? I mean, at this point I’m technically going to be a glorified civilian aboard. I’m pretty sure to go I need your direct medical approval.”

The tone he used was encouraging and she smiled to push him to the water faster, “The thought of denying you never crossed my mind.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He got up to go, but Nazer had one last thread to try and tuck up.

“John, do remember, Sierra is a person too. If you recall, I’ve needed to be her counselor too from time to time. She may act her best to emulate her mother…”

“Be a machine, you mean.”

She nodded, “…but she is just a person too. One who can suffer, lose friends, and isolate herself as much as anyone else. In fact, she may be more prone to. My point is, yes, you are her Captain and she will always view you as that. But, she may not be trying to pity you. There is a good chance she offered to play chess with you because she wanted to spend time with a friend.”

Nazer felt the ping of shame ricochet off of him so hard that she almost ducked herself.

“But, don’t forget, there is also the chance the things you think she knows she doesn’t; because she can’t bring herself to see them in you. Just a warning.”

It took John a long time to realize why it was a warning, and longer still to make sense of it after it happened.

[XR-377]

Dr. Nazer’s Other Letter

Dr. Tiara Nazer

Hello, with everything considered I hope this correspondence finds you well. My name is Sujoi and I serve as a Counselor aboard the U.S.S. Albion. As you are no doubt aware the loss of Dr. Ilana Sudun has put some strain on our department as we work to spread out her former case load. One such duty I have specifically taken over is counseling for Commander Sierra Icai Ithiliel, of whom I understand you are familiar.

At present I am required to submit and evaluation of the Commander’s mental well-being and capabilities but I am running into some difficulties I am hoping you can help me with.

As you know, Starfleet counseling policy dictates that a report on the mental well-being and faculties of any officer assuming command via traumatic events should be filed promptly after official debriefing at the officer’s earliest convenience. However, it doesn’t take a look at a calendar to notice timeliness is well behind us. Despite this being a routine evaluation Commander Sierra has taken great pains to avoid my every attempt to solicit her session. I could understand a few delays but this is beyond reasonable, and it has me thinking.

(Former) Captain Traise had this tactic (if I can use that word) to utilize paperwork or the misfiling of such to manipulate certain command situations. I worry that this is an attempt by the Commander to do something similar, my guess to force Johnathon Traise to somehow resume command.

In going through Sierra’s case files, Dr. Sudun had it listed that for a period of a few sessions some years back she referred the Commander to you, and indicates you had great success in counseling her where Ilana was unable. It is my hope you could find a way to do so again.

If you could find any way to convince her to attend this session or perhaps take it with her yourself I would be eternally grateful.

I am reaching a dangerous precipice here and I do not wish to see the ship lose two captains in such a short time. I am at wit’s end.

Counselor Sujoi,
U.S.S. Albion

[XR-377]

En Passant

So far it had been a good battle, an even battle. There had been a few small skirmishes, and some losses on both sides, but nothing major. Yet. Opposing knights stared across to one another, waiting, daring. Until from on high the hand of God came down upon them… and tapped a finger indecisively on one of their heads.

Sierra picked up the chess piece and weighed it, as if weighing the move itself. The Kai played chess like a Kai* should.

*

*That is to say: like the member of a race genetically engineered with a predisposition to value the lives of their fellows above all else.

Every piece was valuable. And while there are twelve different idioms in seven languages about how some sacrifice is necessary in chess, she always refused to listen. After all, it was bred in her not to. Any move she made in the game was protected, no piece moved into danger without another guarding it in advance. And when she was to lose a piece, the strike was always met with a reply. When you played chess with Commander Sierra Icai Ithiliel you played against a patient, tactically cautious, but overwhelmingly oppressive opponent.

It was to her great joy that she found Captain Johnathon Garret Traise played the exact same way.

Finally deciding she planted the knight firmly in position, cutting off the encroaching line of sight of John’s bishops.

They looked at the game, and strategy as a whole, under the same overly complex multifaceted light. The end result was complicated plans and moves supported by three others made five turns in advance. Each game wasn’t just complicated, it was a Master Class in complicated, and that’s where someone would always make a mistake. When those eventual faux pas happened it inevitably fell into a brawl where they would grab whatever they could take in their final desperate pushes.

They were sword fighting on tight-ropes strung between the tops of sequoias; everything is fine and dandy (maybe even elegant in a frightening sort of way) until someone slips and tries to drag the other one down with them.

The thing about how Traise played chess, however, was that while he never liked willing sacrifice, he at least understood the concept of exchange.

It was a lesson he had learned well when he was nine, from the first time he stood up to a bully and punched her right in the face. The first thought he had afterwords had been, “Ouch, I didn’t expect that to hurt my hand so bad.” His second thought was, “Oh hey, why am I on the ground getting kicked in my ribs?”

The two axioms he took away from that day; “When you punch someone you are really hurting two people, the person you punched as well as yourself,” and the equally valuable but far more specific, “If you do punch someone don’t just stand there shaking your hand like an idiot or you’ll get thrown to the ground and beaten up by all of their friends.”

A Knight for Knight balanced the board and sometimes made it a bit more manageable. Sometimes Queen for a Queen was even better. It caught Sierra for a loop the first few games when it happened, but she was a quick study and had adapted fast.

The games these days Traise found it harder and harder to get an edge, although, he was still successful in engineering those fall back stalemates.

He took the Knight with the Bishop, Sierra responded with another Knight in retaliation, Traise used one of his Knights to knock away a now less guarded Bishop of the Commander, and she had to pull her Queen back from the ‘front lines’ to settle the assault. An even trade. She relented her disappointment, yet acknowledged it as a good exchange with a head nod.

They both assessed the now slightly smaller board.

“I sometimes wonder if I am hamstringing myself choosing to play like this,” John said, referring to their shared stratagem.

“I don’t think you are. You’re being true to yourself,” she chose a move, “You play the game on the same principles you do a lot of things; intelligent analysis, clever solutions, a significant amount of feigned nonchalance…”

There was a smirk as he slid his Queen.

“If you tried to play differently you wouldn’t be inherently strong at it. It would be a foreign way of thinking to you.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Oh? Not so sure of my analysis?”

“No, I mean, well, the part about it being foreign. It’s not that hard to use Vulcan logic and act rationally. This is tactics, I can see a lot of different ways to win if I just don’t care about how I do it.”

“That’s not who you are.”

His brow arched defiantly, thinking on past words he had heard, but arguably not in the right way, “Is it too much of a stretch for you to conceive I couldn’t think in a way that was different to what you believed.”

“I suppose, if you were specifically focused on the end results,” her voice drifted.

“Winning you mean.”

She turned her head slightly, signifying she knew he wasn’t necessarily talking about the game, “Logic and rational have their places, and their advantages in some situations,” another piece moved, reinforcing two others, “but purely following those types of decisions would lack heart, and I don’t think you could ignore yours.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“What, that I think you value the means to an end? Take pride in it even?” She shook her head, moving another piece.

“No, that I don’t see the better ways to win.” He should have said, ‘That I can be heartless.’

Sierra allowed herself one brief glance to look at him, before trying to return her focus on the board. “Better ways? John, there is never a way better than the one you end up choosing.”

John heard the words, but focused on the wrong ones. And all they did was made him angry.

He moved his Queen.

Sierra leaned back and blinked. It wasn’t the move she was expecting, let alone the reaction she was expecting to what she had just said. She looked up at him, his arms crossed, his brow knitting a scarf. She looked back down close at the piece. In the open, in threat from multiple directions, no protection, no apparent goal. It was a trap… it must have been. But she couldn’t see it. He just gave up his Queen. Was he throwing the match?

She chose her remaining Bishop, and took his Queen.

He responded in an instant, Knight takes Pawn.

Sierra balked again silently. It was another one, he took the Pawn but, there was no protection, the Knight was vulnerable. Was he trading a Knight for a Pawn? She took it as well.

Traise moved again, barely looking at the board.

“I don’t undersa-” Sierra started when she moved in response to another random move.

He moved instantly again, this time with a higher target but still equally as unguarded.

The Commander responded to the loss in kind and took the piece, still just as bedraggled as moments before. She spun her thoughts on what his strategy was, what this plan he was doing could possibly be.

In truth, John had no plan; he was acting angrily and impulsive. But he knew if he bloodied her up, Sierra would make him an opening. There. She left a high value piece fully defenseless to a Rook.

“There is no way you planned-,” Sierra started while moving a piece to shore her defenses but it left her once offensive pieces flanked.

Traise snatched up one there in the confusion, and one back on Sierra’s end of the board during her reaction. It was like chasing an avalanche.

The Commander tried to steel herself, “I see what you are trying to do. It isn’t going to work, you lost too many good pieces.”

“Well," there was no laughter in his voice, "I don’t have to worry about fighting the next game with only these pieces now do I?” He moved, “Check.”

“What?” She moved.

He moved, “Check.”

“Now just hold on,” the steel she was relying on was apparently too brittle; it was starting to crack. She chose a move that gave her enough protection to try and put Traise against the forge again. But two moves later and it didn’t work.

“Check.”

Her King itself had the opening to be aggressive and took out the threat. It didn’t last, Sierra pulled her Queen back in an attempt to quash the violent throws.

Traise just had to move one piece when he stood up, it knocked over the Queen and left the King trapped in a dead end valley of his own pawns, “Mate.”

John passed by and out of Ten-Forward without looking back, leaving Sierra alone with the pieces of a broken heart he had left strewn across a chess board.

[XR-377]

Reichenbach Falls

[XR-377]

The Moonlighter

[XR-377]

Wings
(Open Title Link in a new Tab for the Secret Soundtrack.)

It was the closest thing Sierra had ever found to flying. While true ice skating was remarkably similar to piloting a starship it wasn’t the same as flying, truly flying. The difference for her was the Neurogenic Interfaces all Kai ships had, the ships Sierra had first learned to fly on, pealed away the senses of your body and infused them with those of the ship’s sensors. To fly a Kai starship was to literally soar through space unfettered. After she left the Fleet, she had never truly flown again. This, when she was introduced to it at the academy, was the closest she had come since. The closest thing to having wings.

Toes curled over the hard rock as she stretched up on the balls of her feet, arms reaching up to the sky. Rolling her neck she brought her arms down from the stretch and fixed the bottom of her suit with her thumbs and a snap of the material. She took one more calm breath, bent her knees, and took the leap.

And she was gone. For those moments, where the only thing acting on her was gravity, she was free; falling.

Life trickled into treacle; into thick, slow, motion. For her it was beauty incarnate, one that if she ever let it would never fail to take her breath away. And her breath was one thing she needed desperately to hold on to.

Slashing suddenly into the water she bent herself back and upwards towards the surface.

Gulping for air she didn’t give herself the opportunity to slow down and clawed her way back to shore and up the cliff-side again, almost giggling.

Zero-G never felt like flying to her because there was no real movement, or momentum aside from what you got by rapid flailing. It needed a force and after all what was flying, or orbit for that matter, but throwing yourself at the ground and missing. And for seconds this was it. No being strapped to some contraption pushing you violently along or restrained in a Risan floater; this was what she was after.

Her feet left again and the world drifted out behind her as she curled.

She sometimes even imagined herself as a bird in a steep dive. Gravity giving her wings.

Until she would break the surface of the water bellow.

Cliff diving in the Holodeck wasn’t her first choice for a recreational hobby, but, it was one that stuck. And it was mostly safe; she’d only gotten careless and hurt herself a few times but Holographic safeties usually protected her from serious injury. The first time she had tried this she’d been terrified of the literal gravity of it, with very good reason. But it had all been worth it.

Sometimes now she even threw her legs out underneath her first, spinning backwards into the dive.

And into the water.

She ran up the worn path she had programmed in. It was easy enough to code the system with a lift or an internal elevator. Heck, she even received a program once that cut out the landing, giving an eternal controlled fall until one asked for water. But that ruined the fun. Without the climb up the jumps had no meaning. And with an eternal fall there was no respect for the brevity of the drop. It was all part of the experience, and for Sierra it was just how she loved it.

Once more she lept into nothing and waited for the pull to take her forward, onward.

And downward until the water caught her.

Quickly righting herself after her momentum arrested, she bloomed up for air, heavy groupings of wet hair often covering her eyes and never flowing out behind her majestic as she hoped. Still, this wasn’t about impressing anyone, or how she looked, it was about how she felt.

She didn’t invite anyone else, she was always a bit too self conscious. For her these moments were private, introspective, and devoted to a feeling of detachment. From her work, from her station, from her command, from her responsibilities, from the galaxy. Digging up the path with her bare toes was climbing a ziggurat to herself, one she always intended to throw herself off from.

For those brief moments between when her feet left the clifftop until her arms breached the water, she was liberated.

And those half seconds might as well be hours of freedom.

Again she broke the water, and again she clamored up the cliff, ever eager to work her way to her next jump.

Although she knew every aspect of this was artificial, and extremely complicated, she still always allowed herself to be lost in everything it gave her. Long ago limiting the headache of how ‘hard light’ and elaborate force-fields made her hair feel wet. Every simulated bit was equally valuable to her as it would have been if it had been real; an epistemologist’s nightmare.

She rushed and dove, watching the world spin out around her. Loving every sensation; the wind in her hair, the rush past her ears, the pit growing in her stomach as knew she was approaching the water.

Bracing, she shut her eyes and absorbed the changes from behind her eyelids as she passed between worlds; her senses rushed with the differences in sound, temperature, and light. She opened them again and absorbed every color as she spun out underwater: the sky blues, the orange of the sunbeams through the waves, the sea teals, the red and tan of the blurred earth and sand, the purples of-

Wait… purple?

Sierra poked her head out of the water and floundered as she looked around, bewildered. There was purple there, she was sure of it. What was purple? She hadn’t seen that in the simulation before.

She made her way to the shore and hauled herself up, “Computer, Arch.”

The world obliged, breaking the illusion while she picked up a towel and begun to dry her hair. While she dabbed the other hand poked through the system settings for the last few minutes. No change, no alteration. Everything was normal, just as expected.

She tapped her head on one tilted side, just in case there was excess fake water in her ears. One last glance around the simulation revealed nothing unexpected so Sierra resigned herself as being the problem. She checked the time. Maybe she should call it early tonight, perhaps her thoughts were more elsewhere than she liked to believe.

So she finished drying herself off (out of habit), slipped on her jacket and pants over her suit, and called on the computer to end program. Her hair bounced up, immediately free of fake water and weight, and she rolled her eyes at the impossibility of it all while leaving the holodeck.

The Albion’s hallways were mostly cleared at this hour, when Acting Captain Sierra told herself she was off duty, and bathed in a dark blue light. They had been passing through a nebula during this leg of their little three month exploration tour, testing its particularly interesting electromagnetic properties as they went, and now as they drifted away further along their course the glowing clouds still shown bright enough to illuminate the ship with indigo ambiance.

It was quite a sight, one Sierra saw was being appreciated by at least one individual at this hour. When she got closer she realized it was Traise.

It had been two weeks since their last chess game, three since they left Starbase 13. Traise had been the one waiting for her every time to play, but after their last game he was no longer there when she finished her shift. Sierra at the time felt like she had pushed a few too many of the wrong buttons, and was too afraid she’d push them further if she pressed on him again too soon. So she waited a week before she sent him communication asking if he was ready for another match.

He didn’t respond.

She only lasted a few days before she asked him in person, he replied he wasn’t interested. The next half week until now had been hell. This was going to be a long trip and part of the hope among the officers was that it would spark Traise back into the groove of exploration, but if he continued as he was in self isolation. She was worried, they all were worried, and he wasn’t letting her or anyone else in anymore.

Sierra passed by him, and hoped his head would turn. When it didn’t she forced herself to stop and look back.

His eyes were facing the nebula, but they weren’t looking at it. They weren’t staring at anything. Sierra knew that look well, it was the one she first saw back at his parent’s house on Earth. It was permanently infused with her image of him without a beard; the eyes of a different man. One who no longer had a care for what they looked upon.

It scared her to the core, just like it did when she saw it before. She felt the nagging grip of the thought reach around her temples and could swear the world shifted from blue to teal and green.

“Nope!” she said, resolute, and out loud.

“What?” Traise responded, a hair confused, but betraying he was in fact paying some small change in attention.

“Nope,” she marched over and grabbed his arm, “I still have at least an hour tonight. You’re coming with me.”

“Wha-,” he started again before he was dragged away from his window, “Where are we going?”

“The shuttle bay, I can give myself authorization. I’m teaching you how to fly.”

“Bu-,” wasn’t a better starter as she gave his second pullback a firm yank, “But, I know how to pilot a shuttle?”

“Yes, but you don’t know how to make one dance.”

“Sierra, what are you doing?” he protested with desperate pride.

“I’m doing what I know, I know how to fly Starships. And I am going to teach you.”

His mouth opened once more, but Sierra was ready.

“Until now you’ve done things your way. Alone. Well, now we try something different, and do things my way.”

He was going to say, ‘But what about what I want?’ but she cut him off during the thought process.

“You don’t get a choice. I’m the Captain now, remember?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” was stammered out as she drug him around a corner.

The lights twinkled blue.

[XR-377]

Seeing Ghosts

“If it’s not one thing it’s another.”

“Brdee-be-deep.”

“I mean, I’m not wrong that there is always something going wrong on the Albion?”

“Beur-de-bur-dee.”

“She is a big ship, you’re right. Things happen, that’s why you need space janitors-”

“BRDEEEP!”

“Alright, I’m sorry, maintenance engineers, like us in the first place. Sometimes the sonic shower breaks or the waste disposals don’t dispose. I get that, but we just got out of an extended repair at a drydock. We even had a baryon sweep.”

“Chirdip-be-de-beep.”

“Exactly, there is no reason a month out we should be pulling out hair out like this.”

“… dur-reep be-dee?”

“Okay… that’s a good point, neither of us have hair. Maybe I shouldn’t use that metaphor. But, you at least understand what I am saying.”

It was one of the universe’s small wonders that a Bolian and an Exocomp could in fact understand what one another were saying, let alone prattle on as they where known to do aboard the ship. To be fair, Vizith Klorn and the Maintenance Exocomp were perhaps two of the most respected duty officers aboard the Albion next to the counseling staff.

That exaltation, however, didn’t stop Vizith from instinctively rolling her head back into a disgruntled sigh when their workshop notification panel sang to life… again. She reached out to the hook she had just set her tool belt on and scooped it back up. She knew she would need it before they even checked the repair request.

“Brderree-ree.”

“Let me guess, internal lighting? Where is it this time?”

“Raw-dee be nee.”

“What? Again? I know I was just in Ten-Forward this morning, are they sure?”

“Beep. Bee-bee.”

“Full color spectrum switch? I pulled apart that whole system to check, nothing was wrong with it. I even ran a full diagnostic on the programming.”

“Gree-wee?”

“Yeah, that’s what I told them, back down on the actual stuff and put a lock on Mazen’s Not So Secret Stash for a while. But… if she’s bothering to fill out another repair request there must be something going on.”

“Baw dee-ree doo.”

“You may be right… even if we’re not finding anything we’re getting flooded with these reports. What has the count been on these so far for the last two weeks?”

“Nee-za-neep.”

“Twenty-seven sounds about right. Geh, whatever is going on it isn’t isolated and may be systematic.”

“Odee beep?”

“I’d love to go to Oni, but, what would we tell him? ‘Sorry, Chief. We’re getting visual reports of lighting fluctuations around the ship but can find no signs of them actually happening anywhere within ship systems.’ “

“Doop. Bree-dee-be-dee Ko-ree?”

“Hah, you’re right, he would too! ‘Well, so long as it isn’t messing with my Baby’s Warp Core I’m sure it will sort itself out.’ I swear, if he didn’t have such a one track mind when it came to this ship I’d-”

“Deep.”

“Okay… I probably would.”

“Bee-be-weee.”

“W-well, that might be saying a bit too much.”

“Bah-ree-ra-ree rooo.”

“Hey now! That’s getting a little too personal-”

And that’s when the door opened and a ghost floated in. He looked rather stereotypical; floating, white, transparent skin, and even had his chains. He was positively the physical embodiment of ghost, and usually took pride in the fact he was programmed to be that way. But today, this particular photonic member of the Albion’s crew wasn’t rattling his chains with the same gusto, and looked far more paranoid than usual. He kept checking over his shoulders and even took the time to check behind him through his chest after coming to a stop before the ship maintenance team.

“Ghost of Hamlet’s Father? What’s up? You look like as if you’ve just seen a… well…”

“Beep.”

“Right, a… you.”

The Ghost looked paler than usual, if that was even possible for someone translucent, and said, “I think may have,” and started to shake.

[XR-377]

Dancing Lessons

“What are you doing?”

Sierra’s fingertips danced across the shuttle’s console to a music of their own making, “I’m tuning the inertial dampers down. It should help you feel the Aurora’s momentum better.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve been doing this for days and you’re still not getting it. Aside from finding an asteroid field and allowing you to play around with their gravity fields this is the best I can come up with.”

The ship lurched when she finished.

Traise couldn’t help but remark, “Woah.” He tested the controls and felt the pull as they turned, “You really can really feel it, can’t you?”

Sierra looked ahead, still standing behind his chair but with her legs firmly braced and one hand pressed firmly to the canopy. “You may get a little sick to your stomach. If you do, don’t puke on the controls.”

“Heh, comforting, but I only get motion sick when I read.”

“Stop stalling. Accelerate.”

“Yes, ma’a’m.”

The ship shot forward and true to Sierra’s word left John’s stomach trailing twelve meters behind it. Eventually he caught his breath before Sierra’s free hand touched his shoulder.

“Port,” she directed, the shuttle swayed. “Now, starboard. Feel it?”

John didn’t look up at her but still nodded, now testing the weight on his own.

“That’s the Aurora’s mass. The controls on Starfleet vessels are all so finely tuned that controlling them are effortless. Behind the conn every cruiser feels no different than this shuttle does. But, they are different.”

The Aurora rocked again, Traise twisted out a lazy loop.

“Each vessel has a different mass, a very really force when given the right… momentum. But without inertial dampers adjusted up you’ll never feel it.”

His head turned back and raised a insubordinate eyebrow and a smirk at her, “If they turned the inertial dampers up like this on every cruiser the moment we hit anything we’d all go flying across the bridge like ragdolls.”

“True,” she conceded, “But, I never said it was a good idea. Oh well, the prices we must pay for safety.” Sierra’s face cooled again, and she directed his attention back ahead. “Now, bring us alongside of the Albion.”

“Alright,” he hesitated, “What for?”

“Every ship has her mass and reacts differently when thrust is applied. When you are used to understanding the momentum you are working with you can start use it. I’ve been trying to teach you to get a feel for it on your own, but, I have forgotten one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I told you I was going to teach you how to make a starship dance. And sometimes you just can’t learn to dance without a partner,” she nodded up at the cruising Odyssey.

“What?” He double checked her steely glare to verify her commitment. “The Albion!? How am I going to ‘dance’ with her?” John chortled, Sierra didn’t look too amused. It was a pretty sobering stare she gave in response. “I uh… seriously? How are we supposed to dance with the Albion?”

Sierra gave that terrible grin she always did whenever she had the upper hand, “You’re the one who specialized in astrophysics at the Academy; you figure it out.”

“Gravity? You want me to use the Albion’s gravity to maneuver the shuttle?”

“No, that would be preposterous," And with that, her tap-dancing hand disabled the shuttle’s primary impulse engine, "I want you to use both the Albion’s and the Aurora’s gravity to do it.”

He shook his head, “The Albion is some… two-thousand times larger than our shuttle but that doesn’t mean her pull on the aurora will be noticeable. Compared to us she might be big but she’s no moon.”

Sierra rolled her eyes and used her free hand to sweep the shuttle into a slow barrel spin under the Albion.

John felt the pit in his stomach swing to his forehead and he stared out the canopy like he was watching the forces at work visually, “Holy hell, I can-”

“Feel it? The Albion’s gravity?” she licked her lips like a lioness over a fresh kill; after all, this was her business, “The dampers accentuate it, but, it’s always there. Can’t escape the fundamental laws of two bodies.”

“That’s a clever trick, adjusting the dampers to notice it. Where did you even learn to do that?”

“Amarao-…” She stopped, but only short enough to not let another word in, “Someone I once knew used something similar to teach me when I was first learning to fly solo.”

While she did very well keeping a neutral tone John could still hear the needles in her voice and attempted to refocus the subject, “So you’re saying you want me to swing the shuttle using the gravity between us? Like, attempting an orbit?”

“ ‘What’s orbit but throwing yourself at the ground and missing?’ ”

“Did you just quote-?”

“-Yes, I did. Now miss! Aim for just under the port nacelle.”

Traise piloted dutifully with the thrusters, and felt what Sierra had been claiming about their shuttle’s natural ‘pull’. Without the main engines they were at the mercy of their momentum. He could direct it minutely with the directional thrusters but nothing like the command he had over the ship with the impulse engines running.

“Stop trying to control it, you can’t. Just guide it, let her show you the way.”

For some reason the image worked and he backed off on his aggressive commands. And, against all expected odds, he felt the shuttle curve ever so slightly towards the Albion’s center of mass. They started to turn.

“Now, follow her lead. And dance.”

He followed her direction, and the subsequent direction of their pull, it raised them forward and they soared under the Port nacelle. The Aurora was already starting to crook to loop around the other pylon on their arch, he obliged but chose to pick at Sierra’s allegory while doing so, “You know, in traditional Terran dancing men lead.”

“The bigger partner led,” she corrected, “sex never had anything to do with it after the 21st century.” With a flourish she gestured towards the Albion, “She still gets to lead.”

“So, when you fly a ship, any ship… you can’t feel this but you… what do you do, try and use this momentum anyway?”

“There is no trying involved, I do use it.”

“How? Without actually feeling it, what do you guess?”

“Experience is the best teacher, but that said… I suppose after so long I am accustom to thinking about it. Even on a ship like the Albion; you’ve seen what I can make her do when I get her ‘weight’ behind something. After doing it so long you get the feel for what it will do.”

“Sailing.”

“What?” she was caught by the sudden dichotomy.

“I get what this feeling reminds me of, small boat sailing. Only, the gravity is your wind. Shifting momentum’s direction is like adjusting the sail.” He reveled in the revelation, “I get it.”

“Good. Took you long enough. But, right now don’t forget about your partner, this exercise is still about dancing.”

“Right,” and he let the Albion lead them into a twirl. He actually laughed lightly when he felt the two ships actually straightening them out after. It was like dancing; holding hands and lightly leading one another.

As they corkscrewed around the Albion’s necks and lower saucer, silhouetted by stars, Sierra waxed poetic, “It may be slight but you need to remember, in deep space there is only you… and her. You’re the only two around. You can’t do a thing without affecting her, and likewise her affecting you.”

“Heh, of course. I should’ve expected romanticism from someone named ‘Moon-daughter’.”

Sierra blinked and looked down at him, agap, “You… know what my first name means?”

“Ithiliel? Of course I do.” John lathed the Aurora into a tighter spin, the Albion axeling over their spinning heads. “It’s Tolkienic Elven, of course I know what your name means. I knew the moment I first read your file years ago; never forgot it. It’s Sindarin. Leave it to your mother to pick the language of the Grey-elves.”

Sierra was speechless, she tried to rally behind direction, “Arrest your spin, flip us around the Albion’s port bow.”

John had been admiring his tutor’s fluster and glanced back at the massive ship he was supposed to be focusing on. It was closer than he was expecting it to be. A lot closer. He saw a flash of green which must have been from the Starboard nav lights and cursed.

“Port?!” they lurched as he attempted to correct.

“Yes, Port! Her left! LEFT!”

The Aurora’s nose tipped one-eighty in order to try and throw them the right direction but without the support of the main engines the thrusters started to spin them out. Sierra reached to correct it herself but the inertial dampers locked in on the spin and suddenly her other hand bracing the ceiling wasn’t enough. She lost her footing and her head bounced off of the canopy when she went flying.

“Sierra!” he grabbed for her but was snagged back by his own seat-belt. Straining and arm back to the conn he did all he could to arrest their tumble. When he over-corrected the spin and Sierra was flung back at him, yelling! He was able to snag her by the waist before they were both slammed back into the shuttle controls. She had enough grip to grab the console with one hand and angrily fly with the other; the ship was under control again within seconds.

“I said port!” she actually shouted while nursing her bruised head, “Why the hell did you try and go to her right?”

“I didn’t!”

“You went to her right!” She pointed rigidly at the navigational light mere meters above their heads, blinking a defiant red. Port.

“But… I saw the nav light. I swear it was green. I thought we were under the wrong side and you were telling me to turn us around.”

“We weren’t even near a nav light before you spun us out.”

“You didn’t see it?”

“I wasn’t looking outside, I was watching you.”

“Then how did you know where we-”

“John, this is me you’re talking to. I fly the Aurora around the Albion with my eyes closed.” This wasn’t a supposition, she spoke this as a fact.

“I guess the Kai were specifically designed for this kind of spatial awareness.”

“Sure, insult your best pilot’s skills, blame it on her blood.” She checked the hand she’d been holding her head with. Said blood had appeared.

“I’m sorry, Captain. We should get you back in and to medical.”

“Don’t… call me that.” She exhaled slowly. “We’re off duty, call me Sierra or Ithiliel.” To John her voice sounded exhausted, “Whatever you like. Just, not that.”

“Okay.”

Sierra winced and rubber her new growing egg on her temple, “But yes, lesson’s done for today. I knew I needed to dumb down to basics with you but I didn’t expect to need to go ‘left and right’.”

“I was scared, I saw green, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, just turn the right way next time.”

“… you mean the left way.”

“Jooohn…”

[XR-377]

Off Color Conversation

“And there we go, the connection is stable. Good to see you, Doctor.”

On the small personal vid screen in his cabin, Dr. Nazer’s visage smiled, “Likewise, Mr. Traise. How has your trip been?”

“Good so far! Well… ah… not all good. There have been some… hiccups. But I guess that’s why I am calling you.”

The doctor leaned closer on screen, as if trying to perform a better inspection of what was appearing on her end, “Is everything okay on the Albion?”

“As a whole, yes, everything is fine. I mean, I’m feeling a bit conflicted about something and I wanted to talk with you about what you said-"

“No no,” her face was really close now, “I mean is there something wrong with the ship itself? The lighting in your cabin doesn’t look right.”

“Oh, oh that. Well, the current mystery aboard is some type of electromagnetic interference messing about with the ship lighting controls. Maintenance is having a hard time of pinning it down. Nothing widespread just hard to track the issue.”

“Ah,” her brow relaxed, “That would explain it. Your image had a…” there was a long pause as she fought for the right word, “an interesting hue for a moment there.”

“Sorry I just assumed you were talking about me from the start, not the ship.”

“Don’t be, John.” Her posture on screen relaxed, “After all, I did offer to lend a long distance ear if you needed. And by the sounds of things you have something on your mind other than ship glitches. So, what do you want to talk about?”

“Yeah, well, it’s actually about something you said in our last session aboard Deep Space 13. Do you remember near the end, when we were talking about Commander Sierra, you gave me a warning?”

The doctor stiffened, “Yes…”

“Well, I think I may have missed what your warning was about.”

“Go on,” her tone was noticeably concerned.

“A few weeks back, shortly after we started out, I may have… blown up on her during one of our chess games. And I think I may have overreacted over something she said.”

“Something she said?” was a curious response.

“Yeah, she… I think she was trying to be kind and said I wasn’t the kind of person who could be heartless and I kind of lashed out at the time. And, I feel terrible about it now. I actually didn’t talk to Ithiliel for almost two weeks after that.”

A betazoid eyebrow arched “Oh?”

“Well, she reached out to me again, like the chess games and… well… didn’t give me much of a choice this time to tell the truth. But, it’s been helping.”

Tiara Nazer didn’t move, she just stared back on the screen.

“She’s been trying to teach me some piloting tricks in one of our shuttle craft. It’s actually been helping me a lot.”

“The piloting or the reaching out?” the quizzical tone remained as her image flickered again.

“The latter, I admit. Anyway, it got me thinking about how I lashed out, and how bad I feel about it. And just today I remembered your warning. When you said it, what did you mean?”

His counselor froze, not long, but long enough that Traise gave her the reprieve from answering by answering himself a half second later in his runaway thought’s stampede.

“I got to thinking, if what you meant was that she actually couldn’t bring herself to see me as depressed, me lashing out at her like I did would have come almost out of no-where.”

Nazer sighed.

“Sierra has really tried through all this to help me, at every point, and I had just assumed she knew. And if what you meant was that she was also hurting, or my pain… my rawness… wasn’t as in the open as I was so sure it was when I felt like I was burdening people…”

“Then you’re afraid you hurt her by being curt when she was looking for a friend or…” she was squinting at the image on her end.

“Something like that… I… I haven’t actually apologized to her yet.”

“You haven’t had the chance or?”

“No, there have been plenty of times. Like I said, Ithiliel has been teaching me how to fly, or well, trying to. I just, haven’t really thought about it and what I did until now.”

“Uh-huh,” her expression was now a permanent skeptical squint, “And now that you have thought about it, what do you want to do?”

“I think… well… I think I want to tell her the truth.”

“That?”

“That I’m depressed, and that I was lashing out before for foolish reasons and to thank her for helping… and…”

“And?”

“Apologize for not being there for her, as a friend, when she needed one.”

Incredulism was the fashionable look for the good doctor tonight, “Uh-huh.”

“What is it, Doc?”

“Are you sure it is just the Albion’s lighting controls giving trouble?” she looked to the side, as if at another screen monitoring their subspace communication, “The transmission… I swear it was giving me a double image of your silhouette for a moment or two.”

“As far as I am aware, everything looks good on my end. You’re coming in crystal clear.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting, I didn’t mean to derail your train of thought.” Nazer paused, “So, the Commander has been really supportive of you when she can?”

“Ithiliel? Yeah, she has.”

“You’ve been calling her by her first name a lot. You… are aware that there is some sort of cultural significance to that for her people, right?”

“Yeah, actually, it is a sign of close friendship to them. Honestly, it has me feeling rather humbled. We’ve worked together for years but never gone on first name basis until now. I must have been on first name basis with everyone else in my command crew for years now but her… I… feel kind of bad I didn’t notice.”

“So now that you have, what does that mean to you?”

“It… feels nice to have a friend like her. I mean, I’ve had her as a first officer and professional confidant for years but to have her as a friend, after all this, I feel like I’m not really worthy. You know? Like, now of all times?”

Nazer looked like she took a hint from the hues she was seeing, “You … feel regret, you think she needed a friend all this time and you weren’t there for her.”

“Exactly.”

“John,” she started, “About these color-”

“Exactly!”

“Wh-what?”

“I am feeling regret because I wasn’t a friend to her! Hell, I don’t know who she even counts as a friend, perhaps the closest person to her besides, say you and Quaen was… Ilana. Oh… Oh God.”

“Uh, John, you’re turning green.” her face was pure concern, frightful in fact, if Traise was actually looking at the screen by this point.

“She lost one of her few close friends on the same day I did and… I never once thought about her and how she was doing… how I forced command on her. On that moment of all times…”

“John, I’m sorry, I need to stop you.” Her face and tone was serious, “There is either something wrong with your room’s lighting, your desk screen, or the transmission because I swear that it’s-”

“Oh, okay, I understand. I’ll tell maintenance. Sorry, that we’ll have to cut the call short because of the technical errors on our end.”

She tried to stem the tide of Traise’s thought process but it was five colors to the wind, literally. “Well, I’m not sure it is just technical…”

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve answered my question and given me quite a bit more to think about. Thank you again, Doc. I’ll keep you informed as things progress, hopefully after the ship is sorted. You have a good night, Doctor. Thanks again.”

Her mouth opened one last time in a final attempt at reason before John cancelled the link and the image squashed her mouth closed.

[XR-377]

An Apologetic Waltz

The shuttle was close to dancing. That is to say, it was dancing of a sort. It had a rhythm and flow and swung around the cruising Albion with great ease. It just wasn’t a complicated dance; more like a simple waltz in triple. Which would be all fine, dandy, and fairly impressive to most people but Commander Sierra liked to dance Samba and Swing and listened to Terran Punk Rock among other things…

Johnathon Traise was pretty pleased with his piloting progress though, even if his instructor was content leading him further. Still, as he looped and bended the Aurora there was something edging into his mind as the Commander leaned down to dispense another titbit of advice while slightly adjusting their course.

“I, uh, went to stop by your cabin last night,” he said, negating to mention that it was immediately after he closed his call with Dr. Nazer.

“Oh?” she looked down, thoroughly perplexed by his sudden conversation topic.

“Yeah, it was pretty late though, about 0200 ship’s hours.” The Albion kept a delayed ship clock. To anyone with any semblance of a decent posting it equated to 8 pm.

“I was actually still awake, you probably could have stopped by.” There was a pause, “I keep weird hours, too, Sir.” He looked up to her arched brow and slight sneer of a smile, “You don’t have a monopoly on wandering around the upper decks at three.” They shrugged at each other before Sierra prodded, “So… what did you want?”

“Oh I… well…” John’s tone was different than usual. If anyone could bottle a puppy’s pout when it knew it had done something wrong you could have accused him of having a half empty one in his pocket.

For some reason that look made Sierra very concerned.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said.

“For what?”

“I… I hadn’t thought of you when…” his voice was an ichor of pained honesty and regret. It left his sentence jumbled when he finished, “with everything that happened when we lost Ilana.”

Sierra repositioned herself, less braced (as she was still regularly doing during their piloting lessons), but still stood solidly balanced over his right shoulder, “I told you, Sir, you don’t need to apologize to me. I understa-”

“Ithiliel,” John pleaded, “you don’t.”

The interruption was solid and Sierra listened in silence.

“Ilana was your friend too. You served with her as long as you served with me. I know you told her things, things about your mother and your people that I’ll never expect to hear. She may have been the woman I loved but you loved her too, in your own way, and I…” He glared ahead while slowly adjusting course in another instinctive manuever, “I never let you have a chance to grieve.”

Sierra said nothing and looked ahead along their path.

He almost stopped and left it at that, until he remembered Nazer’s words, and the guilt did its work, “Not like I had.”

She looked down at him with a quick look, which he caught, but continued to let him speak.

“With everything that happened, I always assumed it was an unspoken truth but I was suffering from depression. Severe depression. I wasn’t lying, when you came to my family’s house to pick me up I wasn’t sure if I was coming back to Starfleet. Some part of me still doesn’t know.”

“But you already had your bags packed?” she timidly asked.

“I… I did. I don’t know why but all the times I thought someone would come it would be Oni and I knew how the whole conversation would go but… I don’t know. When I heard it was you…” he took a breath at his own confusion and pride in his Number One, “You’re a good First Officer, Sierra. You follow my orders when I need and question them at the right times. You balance me out and stop me from making stupid mistakes.”

She looked at him flatly.

He noticed, “Okay, the most stupid mistakes.”

The Commander relented her stare.

“Maybe somewhere in my twisted mess of a head I knew that outright leaving was a stupid mistake and if anyone would talk me out of it, it would be you.” There was only silence for a few agonizing seconds before John continued, “The point is you do your job well and I guess, some part of me gave you the credit you deserved.” He added, “That you deserve.

“I was in a dark place, Ithiliel, I was going to give up on this. All this,” he gestured at open space out the window, at the Albion coasting gently before them. “I was going to give up on myself and you have helped me not to.

“Doctor Nazer told me that you may not have known how bad it was for me.”

She went to speak but he cut her off again.

“That’s not true, you did, but… she said you may have put me on some pedestal. That some part of you wouldn’t see me in depression because you didn’t expect to. Like, some sort of cognitive dissonance. Well, whether you knew it then or not you know now. It was bad. I was bad off, and you helped me to not stay there.”

There was a long silence, one that was almost painful, John could feel the hairs of his neck craning up in reflexive awkwardness before Sierra leaked out a quiet, “If… you ever want to talk. About anything, John, no time is too late.”

“Thank you, Ithiliel.”

There was another silence in the clearing air before Sierra asked, “Does this mean you are going to retake your command?” her voice carried the slight air of a shake.

“Are you nervous I am going to take the ship back?” he chortled, “I… I don’t know. If I was asked what I want I couldn’t tell you. Like Saturday night in front of the replicator, I got no clue what I want right now… but…” He looked up at her and waited till she looked him directly in the eyes for his honesty, “I know I couldn’t ask for a better friend than you, and the family I still have aboard our ship. This is my home, and I… I am eternally grateful for all I have here. Thank you.”

Sierra Ithiliel smiled her little smile and returned to looking out the forward shuttle canopy. For the longest time she said nothing before smiling an edge wider and chuckling out a simple, “Dôl lost.”

“What was that?” John asked. He wasn’t wearing his universal translator.

“What?” she said turning her smirk slightly at him, “I thought you spoke Sindarin?”

He opened his mouth in protest but a chime echoed through the cabin, a message from the Albion, “Captain, sorry to disturb you.”

“Go ahead-” They both started. John blinked and replied with a sheepish look to Sierra, who merely flashed a snicker before taking over.

“Not a problem, Commander Noemi, what is it?”

“Sorry to bother you during your downtime but, Ma’am, we may have a possible explanation for all of maintenance’s trouble with the Albion’s lighting.”

Sierra looked to Traise who merely shrugged back an equal amount of confusion, “That’s nice but why do you feel I need to know now? Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow.”

“You see, Ma’am, that’s just the thing. We may have an explanation but… well… it’s a very complicated one. We’re prepping up a Senior Officer’s meeting in the briefing room. You’re both going to want to see this.”