"So, that's it: the last report to check." Morisette was visibly tired, and her voice let transpire her relief when she put the padd on the table. She briefly reclined her head on the chair, sighing: "I didn't expect it to take so long. After all, this ship is smaller than the Ananke..."
"...but far newer. All these new systems..." Cmdr. Halora was looking at a padd on her own, while sipping something hot from her black cup. She seemed deeply focused on reading, but Morisette knew it was otherwise. The Bolian had something on her mind, it was clear from the way she was moving her lips forming a grimace on her face once or twice; and Morisette had the distinct impression she already knew what was all about.
"Still thinking about it?" she asked, now pointing her brown eyes directly on her, almost inquisitive.
But Halora didn't do much to hide the truth. She nodded: "Yeah. How could it be otherwise? I spent the last week reviewing reports on reports, and writing other reports on my own, in order to ensure that this ship is fit for service at one hundred per cent; I've checked the schematics, learnt almost everything that was possible to learn, I..."
Morisette raised both hands as to stop the flow of words. She should've known that it was a terrible idea to ask Halora about that, again. Apparently, fatigue let her forget how did it go the last time, when Halora had begun her long, long list of complaints just in the middle of engineering, just while the captain was moving in; only the consequent embarassment succedded in stopping her. Still, Morisette was almost amused by Halora's behavior: the Chief Engineer was the least enthusiastic on board about that transfer, but she also was the last person Morisette would've thought not to enjoy the new environment; still, here she was, alway complaining about something. Halora knew perfectly that the ship was in perfect conditions: the engineers at Utopia Planitia really had done their best, even Halora had to admit that, although grudgingly. The problem wasn't the state of the ship, really: it was simply the change. The Attar was a state-of-the-art starship, the best Starfleet had to offer in terms of technologies. That was the problem. Halora was missing the old Ananke, including her systems, usually on the verge of collapse. She was not alone: of course, it wasn't surprising that Cmdr. Escott, the Chief Medical Officer, was sad of leaving the ship upon which he had served for so many years, as he confessed to Morisette when she last went in sick bay for an headache (too many reports to read); after all, it was commanding that ship that his old friend, captain Tredmore, had died.
What was more surprising, when Morisette decided to run a sort of personal survey on the issue, she discovered that the feeling was shared among many other engineers of the ship; it was in stark contrast with the Science Department, which overall was greatly satisfied and enthusiastic about having advanced sensors and equipments, and new dedicated labs, to carry on with its researches. Perhaps, Morisette thought, Cmdr. Iria, the head of the department, had her part with that feeling: for obvious reasons, she and Lt. Cmdr. Sesit, the two Vulcan senior officers of the ship, were perfectly, almost stereotypically, indifferent to that change.
"Here they come" Morisette said, with a brief smile appearing on her tired face, when she saw both Vulcans stepping into the mess hall. Halora, who, Morisette hadn't noticed it, had continued nevertheless with her list of complaints, turned her face toward the newcomers as well.
Iria and Sesit were moving toward a free table, after having taken one cup each from the replicators, when Morisette waved her hand to them: "Please, join us."
"How was your round of checks?" Halora asked the two while they were still taking their chairs, with the tone of one who's strongly hoping to hear an opinion conforming to her own.
"Necessary, but satisfactory." was the plain answer from Sesit, while Iria nodded in remand.
Halora shaked her head, almost in despair.
Morisette took that window of rare silence to take the word, trying to inflict a last defeat to her friend: "So, I guess everything's alright, isn't it?"
"Indeed. The ship is in perfect shape. When we will arrive at Deep Space 13, I am sure also the engineers there will agree with us." Sesit answered again.
"C'mon, see?" Morisette turned on Halora: "You'd be happy! The ship is fine, you'll get more free time than you had on the old lady."
"Free time...." Halora pronounced the words almost with disgust, while taking a last sip from her cup: "What is the captain thinking about all of this? I didn't have the opportunity to speak with him yet..."
Iria placed her cup on the table: "The captain is doing his job. I doubt he had enough time to think about his personal feelings, with all the issues brought by the actual circumstances."
"As always, Iria, you mistake the captain for a Vulcan" Morisette let another smile appear on her face: "I bet Timoreev think the same as Halora, more or less. He was always deeply attached to the Ananke."
"Luckily for you, Commander, Vulcans do not bet. Still, you are free to personally ask him, if you wish so. He has not left yet his ready room..."
"Still in there?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps I'd go. After all, I still have to give him our last reports. Maybe I'll be able to move him out of that place and of all those padds he's reading right now. He needs a break after all these hours."
Inside his ready room, captain Timoreev wasn't looking at any padd of sort. He was standing not far from the windows, looking outside, deeply immersed into his thoughts. He was recalling to his memory the events of the last days, since he was recalled back on Earth all too hastily: his meeting with Endermann, after two years he hadn't seen his former commanding officer; his surprise announcement, when they were visiting Utopia Planitia, that the ship they were looking at, the Attar, was to be his next command. He was still astonished, thinking about it. For sure, it was quiet unexpected. Still, when doubts arised on Timoreev's face, Endermann was quick to explain everything: the need for a newer ship for the 38th after the loss of three vessels; the confidence he personally had in Timoreev's ability to handle with the new challenge....what a shame such confidence wasn't in Timoreev's mind as well, he thought that moment.
At least, it was good to meet Endermann again.
The thrilling from the door sensor wrestled the captain from his thoughts.
"Come in." he said, without even turning toward the newcomer. He smiles, thinking at his first officer coming in, ready to propose a break to him. As soon as he heard the door opening, he exclaimed: "Sarah, put the report on the desk...and nope, I'll not take a break before I'll finish with the reports, but thank you."
The door closed, but instead of the clear, sometimes cutting, voice of Morisette, he heard in response a brief clearing of throat. He finally turned toward the visitor, and when he saw Lt. Sumida standing in front of him, the hands respectfully tied behind her back, a sense of embarassment suddenly took him: "Oh, well..." he said clearing his throat as well: "Lieutenant..."
"Captain..." the girl said, a bit embarassed as well: "Am I intruding?"
"Not at all!" Timoreev had immediately recovered from the surprise. After all, he was glad to see Sumida again: "Please, take a seat" he indicated one of the sofa.
The young lieutenant moved few steps toward it, but she didn't sit. It was clear that something was on her mind.
"Something's wrong?" Timoreev asked, kindly. For a moment, a terrible doubt emerged: perhaps, she was again....no, no way. Escott had already assured him she was moving toward a full recovery, and there was no reason to assume that the situation could reverse in worse.
Still, it was with something of a relief that he saw a smile appearing for a second on her face: "Not exactly. I just had...a question, sir."
"Please.."
"Sir, I was wondering....well, I don't know exactly how to ask..." she paused for a moment, breathing: "Well, sir, why am I here?"
Silence fell on the room while Timoreev pondered that weird question. Then, as a suddent illumination, he understood.
"You mean, why have I chosen you to stay on the Attar?"
Sumida nodded lightly: "Yes, sir. I know you had to make a difficult decision, by choosing who, of the former crew, had to stay, and who had to be transferred to other units. I admit I was surprise to see I was among the former ones."
"Surprised, you say?" the captain made few steps around, before turning his eyes on her: "Let me ask this to you: why do you think I've chosen you?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted."
"My fear is that....well, that you may've been affected in your judgment by....well, I don't know. The fact is, I'm not sure I'm fit for serving on board this vessel."
"It's about that....incident, isn't it?" he was looking straight in her eyes. He wanted to see.
She nodded: "Yes, sir."
"You've already resumed service, and Dr. Escott assured me everything's alright. I see no reason not to consider you fit for service."
"Still, I could be better suited, maybe, for service on the ground, instead of a starship..."
"Is that what you think?"
"Perhaps...."
He stopped her with a gestue of his hand: "You're afraid, you said, that I may've been affected, in my judgmennt, isn't it? Affected by what?"
He paused, but he didn't need an answer. He knew what the answer was. In a different situation, or, better, with a different person, he might even felt insulted by that insinuation. However, he was looking at Kanae, and he didn't even felt able to get angry. It was a strange feeling and, for a moment, he was scaried by that.
"You're saying all this because you're afraid my feelings toward you could've affected me." he resumed.
Sumida didn't answer. She didn't have to. The answer was written on her face.
Timoreev smiled: "Well, that would be an obvious reason of concern." he made few steps toward her: "But I'm a Starfleet captain: I've been trained to handle with my feelings, my sentiments, and to not let them guide my decisions."
He sighed: "I'm grateful for what you did, during her service under me. You saved my life, and that of the whole crew. You faced a terrible challenge. In few words, Kanae...you've demonstrated to be a true Starfleet officer, whom I'm proud to have under my command. That's why I've chosen you."
Sumida took a deep breath. A light emerged in her eyes: a light of pride. Something Timoreev was beginning to fear he would've not seen again.
She smiled, but this time it was not a brief hint. It was a true smile, one of those Timoreev had learnt to appreciate so much, almost to.....Sumida was still smiling when he said: "Thank you, sir. I'm sorry I bothered you with this question."
"You didn't, Kanae."
She nodded, moving toward the door, but Timoreev stopped her again: "Oh, and Cmdr Iria informed me she intends to keep going on with her Chess Club on the Attar too, so, I strongly hope to see you there."
She smiled again: "I'll be there, sir."
When she stepped out, Morisette was already entering. The first officer looked at exiting lieutenant, then she turned on her captain: "Well, sir? Did I....interrupt something?"
Timoreev smiled. He felt so good in that moment that he was even ready to accept Morisette's insinuations: "Not at all, Sarah. Did you bring the report?"
The first officer waved a padd she had on her hand.
"Well, let's do it, then. You know, I've this strong feeling, that it will be a very, very, interesting journey..."
Commander Escott was alone in sickbay, or at least he felt that way. Only two nurses were in the same room at that time, but they already had their assignments, far from Escott's sight. And so he was in practice alone, checking the hyposprays he had gathered on the trolley, carefully, almost maniacally divided per functions and doses.
He heard the doors opening behind him, but he didn't even turn to see who was entering. He sighed. Perhaps, he thought, it would have been better if he had activated the EMH; that way, nobody would've disturbed him. Now, it was too late.
"Still here, doc?"
Hearing the captain's voice, Dr. Escott almost winced. With a sudden turn back, the Bolian now faced Timoreev: "Captain, what can I do for you?" he asked, with a tone of voice underlying the fact he knew it was a rethorical question.
Timoreev didn't answer immediately. He looked at the trolley, moving few steps forward: "They told me my Chief Medical Officer was still in sickbay collecting hyposprays, so I jumped here to see if it was true."
A grimace appeared for a moment on Escott's face: "Captain, I..."
He was silenced by a sudden movement of Timoreev's hand. The captain looked around briefly, as to see that nobody could listen: "Look, I know what's happening. And I understand it."
The Bolian was almost going to speak, but he refrained, leaving Timoreev keeping going on with his speech: "It has been, how much? Three weeks? One month? Since we came on board this ship, I rarely saw you outside of sickbay. And it isn't just me. Everybody I spoke whom said the same thing."
Escott sighed: "I had to...organize everything. Transfers are always a delicate thing."
"Yes, they are. And you did an admirable job. Now" the captain took a deep breath: "Would you like to tell me what's happening? Or should I guess it? Because I have my own idea; but I'd really like to hear from you."
Escott left the last hypospray he was holding on the trolley, without caring too much about its position, and started walking briefly around the room: "It's not easy for me....it's just, just....."
Timoreev didn't intervene immediately. After few seconds, he said: "...that you're not comfortable of having left the Ananke, perhaps?"
The Bolian looked straight in his captain's eyes, nodding vigorously: "Yes, captain. It's just that....after all the time I've spent on board that ship...all my experiences there..."
Timoreev nodded too: "Yes, I can understand. Indeed, I thought it was probably this." he sighed: "I was sorry myself when they told me about the transfer. I didn't want to relinquish command of the Ananke."
Escott looked surprised for a moment: "Even for such a newer ship?"
"Indeed."
"Why, if I can ask?"
Timoreev shook his head: "I didn't feel ready. Moreover, I also felt nostalgic about the Ananke. Of course, not as deeply as you, I imagine. But still..."
The doctor looked around him for a moment, then nodded: "I understand." he said, almost murmuring.
"What I'm trying to tell you, doc, is that leaving the Ananke doesn't mean leaving also Tredmore's legacy."
Hearing that name, this time the Bolian really winced. He turned back on Timoreev.
"It wasn't easy for me to take command of the Ananke after such a captain." he continued.
"You proved yourself, captain." the doctor said, almost murmuring again.
"Maybe. Still, it was like a shadow hovering all around the ship."
"So, that's why you finally accepted this new assignment? To free yourself from that...shadow?"
Timoreev smiled: "On the contrary, doc. I wished to bring it with me."
The Bolian now looked surprised.
"I realized that that shadow was a powerful stimulus. It was like bringing a noble legacy further ahead. So, when I realized this, I finally understood I was ready."
Those words didn't leave Escott untouched. It was like a light had been switched on somewhere inside him, all of a sudden. The Bolian smiled: "I understand."
Timoreev nodded. He turned on his backs, heading toward the doors, when he was suddenly stopped by Escott's words: "Captain. I am glad to serve under you."
The captain smiled again: "It means something to me."
"If I may..." he moved few steps toward him: "Lieutenant Sumida is fine. I can finally say she's fully recovered, in practice. Although she may have few setbacks once in a while, but she's fine."
"How..."
The Bolian smiled.
"Only..."
"Only?" Timoreev looked at him.
"Captain, I say this to you not as your Chief Medical Officer, but as a friend: you should stop asking me about her, and start asking her."
Timoreev fell silent.
"Otherwise, you'll regret it. I learnt it the hard way, I'm afraid."
The captain didn't answer. He looked straight into the Bolian's eyes, and he understood.
He nodded: "Thank you, doc."
The doctor smiled, a sad smile: "That's a shame, however. I was getting used to your visits here."
"We'll find another excuse." Timoreev smiled in remand.
When he left sickbay, he felt a sort of growing confidence: Escott was right, he had to talk with her. He was lucky: he still had time.
The day after...
Those words were still in his mind, when he entered cargobay 1. He was still in time....he was.... He looked at the six black torpedoes laying in front of him, each of them covered with the Federation's flag. Each of them, a crewmember who would've never walked again through the Attar corridors. All because of that ship which decided to ram into the Attar....
Timoreev closed his eyes for a second, and sighed. He moved his eyes from one coffin to the other, looking at them so intensily as he was trying to penetrate inside them, to see with his own eyes...then, he stopped, on that particular coffin.
He moved forward.
"I'm sorry Kanae." he murmured.
She winced, suddenly turning toward her captain, parts of her silhouette mirrored on the black, polished surface of the torpedo not covered by the flag: "An...captain." she said, trying to regaining her composure.
"I didn't want to disturb you. Just...just checking how you were going."
The young lieutenant nodded slowly: "Thank you. But I'm fine, really. Well...fine as the others."
Timoreev posed his hand on the torpedo: "He was a fine officer, Crondell."
Sumida also turned toward the coffin: "He was. One of the best physics I ever met. And he loved the fleet."
"I heard he always complained of his assignment on board the Ananke. "Too old" he used to say, didn't him?" Timoreev asked.
Sumida smiled, a faint, sad smile: "Yeah. He really made a point of that."
"Well, I'm glad he had the time to see the Attar."
Timoreev turned back on Sumida, this time placing his hand on her shoulder. She didn't say anything.
He was still in time. He came terribly close to loosing his occasion; the first seconds after he heard the ship had hit the laboratories he feared it was too late. Then, he found that it wasn't. Sumida had survived, but she was lucky. It wasn't time to waste luck anymore.
He embraced her, without saying anything.
"I should've expected something similar from you, Andrej."
The unmistakable quizzical tone of voice made Timoreev smile. He turned his back on the windows of his quarter, and looked toward the door: "Anja!" he exclaimed, moving toward his old friend: "Late as always. What did hold you back, this time?" he was smiling, reminding of the times at the Academy. Anja Leonardsen was famous for her ability to be always late. One time, she even missed a whole party, coming out only when almost everybody was leaving the bar.
Leonardsen moved to hug Timoreev. They stayed there for a few seconds, before finally leaving each other: "Don't bother yourself, Andrej. If even Iria is not here yet, it means I'm in time." she smiled: "I know, that sounds surprising even to myself."
They moved toward the centre of the quarters. The woman began to wander around, looking at everything with her usual curiosity: "Nice place you've got, Andrej." he said, while finally throwing herself on the large sofa: "I almost envy you. A ship fresh out of space dock. I can almost smell it yet."
"And I envy you, Anja." Timoreev said in remand: "You took the lady, after all. Congratulations."
"Don't flatter me" the smile on Leonardsen's face was widening: "To be honest, it was quiet a surprise when Endermann turned on me and asked me to take his chair. I was expecting he would've proposed you for the Na'el."
Timoreev scrolled his shoulders. He moved toward the sofa, but didn't seat: "I was surprised as well when he announced me of my new assignment. I wasn't prepared for that..."
The fellow captain vigorously shook her head, her long black hairs moving all around for a moment: "Come on, Andrej! You're doing that modest thing again. You're the first one of us to be promoted captain. The first Quartet captain! I'm not surprised they gave you a newer ship."
Timoreev chuckles: "By the way, you haven't told me to what you were referring few minutes ago. What was that you expected from me?"
"Oh, about that."Leonardsen waved her head: "Well, to be honest I was referring to two different things: first, the idea of moving a whole ship to pick me up on Earth, not that I didn't appreciate the gesture...."
Timoreev sighed. He began talking with an almost mechanical tone, as repeating something he's said many, many times already: "The Valley Forge was already in the sector for other assignments. I didn't move anything, just asked for a favor to her captain..."
"You mean Keelah Se'Lai?"
"Did you met her?"
"Of course I did!" Leonardsen looked straight into Timoreev's eyes for a moment: "She was increadibly cordial with me, even offering me a tour of the ship. Nice vessel, by the way. Oh, and she's also incredibly funny, a true surprise coming from a Vulcan. Those are the Vulcan kinds I like the most..." he stopped for a moment: "Please, don't tell Iria I said that. And, by the way, I also met the other friend of yours, Captain Bishop. Glad to know he's completely different from his brother, I was almost afraid I was going to repeat the recent experience I had with him when he decided to step in...."
Timoreev cleared his throat, the unmistakable, universally recognized (among them) sign that she was losing the thread, another thing for which she was famous during the old days.
"Oh, sorry, you're right, Andrej. By the way, what I wished to say, is that I'm glad that you made both of them your friends. They seem nice."
"And the second thing?"
"I heard you decided to adopt a young girl."
"What....who tell you that?"
"Guess..."
"...Iria."
"Incredible. You win."
The two captains chuckled.
"Well, I wouldn't call it an adoption, you know." Timoreev moved few steps around, before positioning himself once again in front of the window, but still near the sofa: "It's just that...the poor girl has lost everything. Really everything. She doesn't have memories of any kind. And just because she was in the wrong place, in the wrong time. That doesn't sound fair to me." his tone of voice was now serious, his expression a mix of melancholy and sincere concern.
Leonardsen immediately adapted her tone of voice to the new circumstances. She looked at her old friend with a faint smile on her face: "And so you decided to put her....under you wing, so to say?"
"She wants to do something. To help. To learn again. I simply want to be sure that she will have the chance to do so."
The thrill of the door interrupted their conversation.
"Come in!"
The doors opened, and Commander Iria stepped in to the room.
"Iria, welcome!" Leonardsen raised from her sofa and moved as to hug the newcomer. But she stopped at short distance, limiting herself to lay both hands on her shoulder: "It's nice to see you again."
Obviously, Iria didn't move a muscle. She plainly said: "I'm very glad to see you again, Leonardsen. And I wish to congratulate with you for your recent promotion."
"Oh, thank you very much, my friend." Anja moved back toward the sofa, this time literally dragging Iria with her.
They both took a place on it, while Timoreev was moving toward the replicator. Few seconds after, he reached them with a tray, upon which three glasses stood.
Silence fell on the room, and even Anja assumed an extraordinarily calm demeanor.
"Well, it's time, I guess." Timoreev said with a faint smile on his face, giving the glasses to his guests.
He was going to raise his own, when the sensor bell thrilled again. Timoreev frowns: "Come in."
With his utmost surprise, the figure of Dr. Escott emerged as soon as the doors opened.
"Doc, there's something I can do for you?"
The doctor stood silent for a moment. He was clearly surprised to see other people inside the room, and equally embarassed. He began to mutter something: "It's...it's nothing...really. I...I was just...about what we spoke about....few days ago....nevermind."
He was already turning back when Timoreev stopped him. The captain had understood almost as soon as his chief medical officer had begun to speak. He had taken his advice, finally moving forward. And he needed someone to talk with. He needed a friend.
"No problem, doc. Come in." he repeated.
The Bolian finally entered completely in the room.
"This is captain Leonardsen, a very old and dear friend of mine. Anja, this is Commander Escott, chief medical officer of the Attar."
The two exchanged a pair of nods.
"I'm sorry if I'm intruding."
"Not at all, commander." Anja intervened: "Andrej told me very good of you, during our rare calls, so I'm glad to make your acquaintance, finally. Also, we were doing nothing special...."
The cordiality of captain Leonardsen seemed to greatly relieve Escott. The Bolian smiled, then noticed the glasses: "A drink?"
"A toast." Timoreev corrected him. He was already back at the replicator, and a new, fourth, glass was materializing right now.
"To what, or whom, if I may ask?"
Timoreev offered the glass to Escott: "Well, it is an old tradition of ours. I assume you know that me and Commander Iria were at the Academy together..."
The Bolian nodded.
"Every semester, at the beginning, we were used to gather, me and my three deared friends, to make a toast, to us, as a wish of good fortune."
Escott looked around, and Timoreev guessed his thoughts: "The fourth one is not here. He died during the war."
"...and since then we kept going ahead with our little tradition." Leonardsen suddenly said: "We met, the same day, and we make a toast. A sort of way to remember the days now gone, and the friends lost."
Escott didn't say anything. His own memories were resurfacing. After all, he thought, he was not alone in always remembering someone.
"What was his name?" he asked
"Avetis, Ruben Avetis." Timoreev answered.
The Bolian raised his glass: "To Ruben Avetis, then."
Timoreev raised his glass too: "And to Yara Tredmore."
Escott smiled. He looked at his captain, and in his eyes it was possible to see his gratitude for that gesture....and for all the rest. He finally felt good. He was at home, after all.
"...and to the good choices." Anja said, winking at Timoreev.
All glasses were finally raised, and they drank.
"Red alert, red alert. All hands man battlestations."
Timoreev opened his eyes. He found himself looking at the ceiling of his quarters. It wasn't dark: he never liked to sleep in total darkness. Instead, he preferred to leave whatever light came from the windows flooding the room. And now the room was equally divided between light and darkness: that strong, yellowish light coming from the nearby sun around which Deep Space Thirteen laid its orbit, divided in two, perfectly shaped, rays. Timoreev could see perfectly whatever was in the light: a table, a sofa, his own desk and the small library behind it; a painting of Moscow; the door. Around those objects, only shadows. And for a moment, Timoreev could feel those shadows around them as a distinct, concrete, substance. Sitting on the bed, he was completely immersed into them.
He looked around, and took his communicator from the bedside table.
"Timoreev here, what's happening?" he asked.
On the other side, he could hear the voice of a young male lieutenant. He recognized him: it was Emile Hirschen; he held the bridge during the night shift.
"False alarm sir: the starbase went on red alert, and we followed procedures doing the same. But everything's back to normal, now. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir."
Timoreev waited a few seconds, as to fully assimilate the news, then answered: "No problem, lieutenant. Timoreev out."
He kept the communicator into his hand, looking at him for a minute or two. Silence was all around him. Silence and shadows.
For a moment, he felt the impulse of pressing the communicator again, of calling her, eventually asking her to come to his quarters. Or to go to the mess hall, for a drink, a talk.
What a stupid idea.
He launched the communicator back on the bedside table, before falling back on the pillow, his eyes looking again at the ceiling. He knew it would be difficult to get asleep again, so he stood in that position for a while, while thoughts and memories launched their confused assault to his mind. Slowly, the ceiling became nothing more than the background for a kaleidoscope of pictures, scenes from his life or his imagination. It was difficult to distinguish between them. Places and faces, Moscow and Gurshieva, Marseille and Bercè, San Francisco and his friends from the Academy, Deep Space 13 and Sam, Keelah....all messed up, confused. He could almost hear their voices...Valeryia....
"Starfleet? That's absurd!" Gurshieva was saying, laughing at him: "Why should someone choose to join Starfleet, I ask?"
They were walking along one of those long, beautiful, promenades which surrounded the main building of the Moscow Federal University, a wonderful monument to ancient Soviet architecture once known as MGU. Timoreev was just at her side, and that laugh of her took him almost by surprise. He felt uncomfortable, and decided to look at the building instead: "It's not so absurd, you know, Valeryia." he murmured: "Not only does Starfleet protect the Federation, but it also pushes the boundaries of our knowledge to the furthest edges...you, above all, should appreciate that."
The laugh became a grin on Valeryia's face: "You've read too much articles of the Federation Herald, Andrej. Starfleet is nothing more than a military organization with a bit of flavor for exploration. Once century ago, perhaps, what you've said would've been true, but now...."
"What do you know about that?" Timoreev had suddenly stopped walking. He now was looking straight at her.
Gurshieva returned the glance: "Come on, look around you. It's obvious! People die, in Starfleet. You, of all people, should know that too well."
Timoreev didn't reply immediately. He was feeling the rage rising inside him, ready to explode now that she dared touching that...
But Gurshieva preceded him. She raised her hand: "Sorry, I didn't intend to.....well, you know...."
Few snowflakes were falling around them now.
Gurshieva sighed: "You can't understand, don't you?"
"Understand what?" Timoreev was still trying his best to keep calm.
"Do you really think your place is somewhere into deep space, lost among who knows what unnamed star, surrounded by the bulkheads of a starship, blindly following orders? Really? Have you such a low esteem of your own mind to refuse to use it?"
"Joining Starfleet doesn't mean to...."
"Yes, it means so!" Gurshieva's cry echoed into the silence of the promenade: "Yes, Starfleet protects the Federation, but that's not the right place for you: you could much, much more here, with full freedom. Think about it: what would Starfleet give you, that you don't have already, or that the Federation cannot give you, through another way? Damn, you deserve to be free, I deserve to be free! But that's what they ask to their officers: to obey orders! To follow procedures, to enforce regulations; to abide to their own judgement, following that of another man or woman, who has the only merit of outranking them! Your life will be dictated by someone else. Where would your freedom be, then? You will not be able even to choose to love somebody!"
"That's not true!" Timoreev screamed. He was losing his temper, second by second: "My mother and my father got married..."
"...and then your mother left both of you! Think, Andrej! Don't be silly!"
The sound of a slap resonated. Time seemed to stop: Gurshieva moved a hand to touch her cheek, her eyes barred, looking to the ground, while Timoreev stood motionless, his left hand still at mid-air.
Snowflakes were densely falling all around them.
"You're such an idiot, Andrej. Such a silly, stupid, idiot." Gurshieva murmured: "A time will come when you'll regret your choice. You'll miss your freedom, and the life you could've had. I'll not have such a regret." she didn't look at him: "Farewell, Andrej."
Those were the last words she ever said to him, before slowly resuming her walk along the promenade, under the falling snow.
Those snowflakes...those damn snowflakes. He always saw them. Even at the Academy. Even when looking at the stars, during his first assignments. He hoped to have finally left them behind now but....Always snowflakes.
"Farewell...."
"Computer: lights."
Sumida was standing up, near the window of her quarters, leaving the light of the star coming directly to her. It was like she was trying to absorb any single ray.
"How beautiful..." she murmured to herself, while looking at that spectacle. Yes, it was the kind of scene that Mikako would've loved to see. How many of them did she actually see, before...
Sumida closed her eyes, calling back her memories: another sun, her sun, the beaches, the beauty of the ocean, the wind and the waves.
"So....our last ride, isn't it?" she asked to her sister. She was trying not to cry, but it was difficult.
Mikako smiled: "Not at all, Kanae. I'll come back at times, and we could ride the waves again."
Sumida nodded. She didn't want her sister to see how broken she really was. She need to be strong, for her.
"After all, I'm going to ride just another kind of waves." Mikako continued, still smiling.
"You could've done it here...." Sumida murmured.
"Yes. But..."
"But?"
Mikako sighed: "All life is a journey, Kanae. And everybody has his or her own path to follow, during this journey. Starfleet is my path. I know that."
Kanae looked into her sister eyes: "How could you know?"
"Because that's what I'm, what I feel to be: an explorer. And that's what Starfleet does: it explores. It discovers. It brings us, men and women, to the farthest stars, stretching toward the yet unknown."
Sumida smiled back. It was the first time in days, since she first knew of her sister's departure: "That looks beautiful, Mikako."
"It is."
"Perhaps, I should try as well. I may like this path."
It was the truth: she liked that path. She loved it. Back in her quarters, Sumida smiled at that memory: "Mikako...wherever you are, I'm proud of you. And I'm proud of myself: I've found my path." she murmured at the silent star.
Lieutenant Sumida walked through the corridor, her eyes glancing at the closed door at her left as she moved suddenly faster.
The temptation was there again: just to stop by that door, signalling her presence through the sensor, and waiting for an answer. Time and time again, she felt that temptation during the last four days. Everytime she passed through that corridor. She even got to think that, perhaps, she was passing there on purpose, although inconsciously.
She hadn't seen Timoreev for four days: since the Attar had reached Deep Space 13 from her last mission, almost towed by the Valley Forge, the captain almost never stood on the bridge. He helped down in engineering, with the repairs; then he took a break, occasionally receiving a few of the senior officers in his quarters, but nothing more than that.
He didn't say anything to her. Not a word, or a message. Nothing.
"Lieutenant, your thoughts are clearly elsewhere." the plain voice of Commander Iria took Sumida out of her mind. Without even noticing it, she had stumbled into her superior officers. Kanae stood there, clearly embarassed, clearing her throat: "Ehm, commander. I'm sorry, I didn't notice you, I...."
Iria didn't answer. She looked at the door as well, then nodded: "I understand." she paused: "You are worried for the captain."
"I...."
"There's no shame in admitting it, lieutenant."
Sumida tried to resist another bit, but then she sighed: "Yes, commander. I am worried."
"That's natural. The captain has took it hard on himself, recently."
It wasn't only that, of course. Something else was taunting Sumida, a thought she didn't even had the courage to fully admit. But how could Iria know about that? She couldn't.
The commander made a few steps, as to finally pass over, when she suddenly stopped: "Lieutenant, would you mind if I give you an advice?"
Sumida looked at her, quirking an eyebrow: "Not...not at all, sir."
"Don't let that distance scare you."
"The distance?"
"Between yourself and captain Timoreev."
Sumida stood silent: how could her...?
"We Vulcans let logic, and logic alone, dictate our decisions, but I understand that it works differently for you. Without the support of logic, the only advice I can give you is not to leave fear dictate those actions for you."
Sumida didn't say anything, for a few seconds. Then she finally decided to speak out: "Commander, what would you suggest, then?"
Iria quirked an eyebrow. She looked at the closed door, then back to the lieutenant: "I know what is happening inside that room. I know the captain since the Academy, and I understand his mind pretty well. However, even I found it difficult to penetrate inside his heart. That's something you brilliantly succeeded at, lieutenant. Captain Timoreev is a competent, well disciplined, officer. He knows his place far too well. But he is also experiencing one of the worst enemies a man can have in life: doubt. If you want to help him, then I would suggest to do exactly that: to ring that bell."
The commander nodded, then left. And Sumida was left alone, in front of that door, and with a choice to make.
"The defendant shall now stand up."
The room was dark, too dark for Timoreev's tastes. Still, a bright light was in the center, fixed upon the massive figure of Captain Alistair Nimitz. He stood, silently, his hands crossed behind his back, looking at the committee on the other side of the room.
"Captain Nimitz, for the charge of disobeying a direct order...."
Timoreev looked at the members of the court: he saw Admiral Konieczko standing at the center, surrounded by a few officers he didn't recognize. He looked back at Nimitz, and sighed. He didn't want to be there. And he didn't want to see Nimitz there as well.
"...Captain Timoreev, would you please stand up?"
Timoreev turned instinctively toward Konieczko: "Sorry, Admiral?"
"You put the charges, after all. It is your right to question the defendant."
Timoreev raised from his chair, and moved a few steps toward Nimitz. What was he going to ask? What should he have said in such a situation? Nimitz didn't even look at him, his eyes fixed on a point straight in front of him.
"Captain Timoreev, your words..." the admiral's voice was cold. So cold that Timoreev almost felt a thrill shivering on his back.
But Timoreev had nothing to ask. At that precise moment, the only thing he felt was shame.
"Did you disobey my orders?" finally the words erupted from his mouth, almost on their own.
Nimitz looked back at him: "I did."
"Why?" again, Timoreev had the distinct impression that it wasn't himself talking. The words were just pouring out.
"Because he has a conscience." a voice said. It was a female voice, a voice Timoreev knew far too well.
He turned to look toward its origin, and he almost fell when he saw Valeriya Gurshieva sitting in the chair where, until few seconds before, was admiral Konieczko.
And without even noticing it, Nimitz was gone as well, and now it was him, Timoreev, to stand up under that bright light.
"He had a conscience, Andrej...the conscience of disobeying unjust orders. Something you could never possiblty understand." Gurshieva said.
Timoreev looked around him: "I gave those orders because it was necessary. The Prime Directive..."
"The Prime Directive!" the girl yelled at him: "Directives! Orders! Rules! Where's your heart, Andrej? That small thing that makes life really unvaluable?"
"I had my duty..."
"If it was for your duty, people would have died. Innocent people" Valeriya pointed her deep blue eyes just on Timoreev: "Oh, I forgot. People died, indeed. How many? Two hundreds? Two hundreds and thirty?"
Timoreev didn't answer. The thought of all those lives, lost while he was in charge....
"Is that what you call exploration?" Gurshieva continued: "People dies, in Starfleet, Andrej."
Timoreev didn't reply. At first, at least. He looked around himself, that weird dark room, and the young girl, beautiful and young as he remembered her, pointing at him her charges. He wasn't at all aware of how that whole situation looked weird. He simply kept looking at her, into those deep blue eyes he once fell in love with. He was feeling something...deep inside his hearth, a feeling that he thought was slowly disappearing, but still, it was there, strong, clear. For a moment, it seemed to Timoreev to see his mother's face, just somewhere where the audience to that strange inquiry should've been. And he understood.
"You're wrong, Valeriya." he said, and his voice was totally calm, without a hint of rage nor anger in it: "Starfleet is more than that, far more."
He expected Valeriya to keep yelling at him, to reply vigorously, to say something. But it didn't happen.
The girl stood silent, just in front of him.
And before Timoreev could even realize it, he found himself looking at the ceiling of his quarters. He looked around himself: he was on the sofa. Probably, he had fallen asleep while relaxing.
He recalled for a moment that weird dream of him, and he suddenly remembered how his grandmother used to tell him that behind every dream there's always a deeper meaning. He never believed those words, even as a child. Still, for the first time in his life, he understood them, although probably not the way his grandmother would have hoped.
Yes, there was a deeper meaning. He had just faced his conscience, once again. He took his padd (it was on the table just in front of the sofa) and recalled the list of all the people who had died in that last confrontation against the Sacred Band. He had read those names a hundred times, now. But this time it was different: he still felt that sense of responsibility for their death, but he also felt something else. All those officers and crewmembers were brave people, he thought, who gave their life for more than a single mission. They gave it for an ideal, just as his mother had done. Silently, inside his mind, he thanked everyone of them.
He left the padd on the sofa, thinking again: there was one thing he had to do, now, before everything else. He knew that that inner conflict with his doubts was still far from the end, but he also felt like he had just won a battle in that long war, and he now wanted to share that small victory with her, for the first time. He thought at Kanae, and he smiled.
And just at that moment, he heard his doorbell ringing.
With a mechanical move of his right hand, Andrej Timoreev adjusted his uniform. For a moment, a very brief moment, he touched the four golden pins on the collar. An undecipharable feeling came to his mind. Memories resurfaced.
Betrayal.
Yes, he felt betrayed. Personally betrayed. It was an odd feeling, that never before had come to him so strong, so clear. Weird. It was very similar to what he felt when he heard about Valeriya's wedding: when he had looked at Rianni's face, her eyes simply looking at him as nothing had happened, as everything was completely normal, with all the wounded still being moved to K-7 sickbay all around them, he felt betrayed. And he felt rage. Rage as never before had touched him. He trusted that young girl; he believed in her, in her potential. Still, he had been blinded, clearly. He was not personally responsible for what had happened to Deep Space 13, to those twenty thousands men and women...he knew that. Still, he felt that, at least, he had had a part in all of that.
The part of the betrayed.
He had not seen Rianni since then, firmly refusing to take part to any further investigation. Better to leave it to captain Skye, to Keelah...
Andrej Timoreev made a few steps. His quarter's doors opened, and he found himself inside the hallway.
Wound.
"What? A mutiny? On the Endeavour?"
"Yes, sir. We have just received the communication from Command. I may forward the message to you if...."
He had stopped his first officer from continuing. Shock, surprise, even anger. More anger.
His best friend, a Starfleet captain, had seen his own men threaten him and others, and had been shot by them. His own crew!
What the hell was happening? Why was everything collapsing around them?
He had written to Keelah as soon as Morisette had left the ready room. Standing still in front of the terminal on his desk, he had tried finding the words to describe his feelings. He perhaps succeeded; perhaps not. Keelah would have understood, he was sure about that.
Then the reply came, and it was another shock. He had suspected that, but to read the confirmation from Keelah was another blow....
Even Sam could not have been impervious to that feeling everyone was feeling, apparently. Exactly like him.
He had to do something. Keelah was right. He could not let anger to overcome what he was; what they were. What Starfleet is.
Andrej Timoreev walked down the corridor, toward the turbolift in front of him. Without even looking at whoever he was encountering during the walk, he stepped in as soon as the doors opened.
"Bridge."
Alone in the turbolift, he heard the familiar sound of the turbolift moving around the starship.
Loneliness.
"What does it mean? Are you sure about that?"
His voice was feeble, so unnaturally feeble, when he made the question. His interlocutor had noticed that. Anja Leonardsen was looking at him with her deep green eyes, a mix of concern and sadness in her glance: "Sure. I have read the report from captain Keller, even contacted him personally on the Lamia, and he confirmed everything."
He didn't answer. What should he have said, by the way?
"I'm sorry to bring such a news to you, Andrej, but you should have known..."
"Yes, yes...you did the right thing."
"Still, we have no idea how this happened. The Lamia is still searching around, but you know better than me that space can be unpredictable."
"I know..."
He felt like a piece of his own heart had been ripped from his chest.
Valeriya....
Rising from his chair he had closed his eyes, as to better recall her, her face, her blue eyes, the long blonde hairs moved by the winter winds while snowflakes were falling all around them; and her voice....the last words he had ever heard coming from her...
Valeriya....vanished. Like a magic trick performed by an uncaring Universe, the ship she was travelling on with her husband had just vanished while en route toward a Federation colony not far from the Orion border.
Vanished into thin air, as they used to say on Earth.
Andrej Timoreev heard the turbolift stopping, and a moment later the doors opened, showing him the Attar's bridge.
Friendship.
Iria had left the padd on his desk.
He had looked at it, quickly reading everything that there was to read. He had raised his eyes toward the Vulcan woman: "Why?"
"If we have to find and rescue captain Levesley, it is logical to assume that we will need all necessary information about that region of space. And possibly, a plan. So I thought that..."
"Why?" he asked again.
"I know that you are tired of leaving people behind, as you humans use to say. I believe it is in the best interests of Starfleet, the 38th fleet, of captain Levesley....and you, if we manage to bring him back."
A smile had appeared on his face.
Captain Timoreev reached his chair, looking around at his officers, at the bridge, his left hand on the chair's back. For a moment, it was like he could feel the whole ship, all its systems, the crew's energies, all of that simply with a touch. It was a powerful, almost overwhelming, sensation. His eyes met those of Kanae. She was there, standing near the science station at the left. They didn't do anything: not a smile, not a nod. Nothing. They needed nothing.
Love.
The aft lounge was silent, almost devoid of life. He stood there, looking at the trail of stars the Attar was leaving behind.
"They may seem very tiny..."
"Yes."
"My sister used to look at them every night, when we were at home, you know?"
He smiled.
"She loved them, didn't she?"
Kanae had smiled too. A sad smile.
"Yes, she did. And I will always thank her for that."
"For loving the stars?"
She had looked at him, her eyes firmly in his eyes. her voice just a whisper as they got closer and closer: "For teaching me to love them."
Captain Timoreev sat on the chair. He looked at Morisette. The first officer nodded: "Everything's ready. Course is plotted for the last known coordinates of the Camelot, sir."
Timoreev nodded in remand: "Then let's bring them back home."
He paused for a moment, his eyes on the viewscreen showing the stars in front of the ship.
"Engage."
PRELUDE
The sunset sunlight was playing with the ocean's waves, creating a neverending kaleidoscope of variations of yellow, orange, and red, on the water's surface. The wind was lower than usual, and the grass was lazyingly dwindling.
Kanae was looking at all this, sitting on the edge of the cliff. The small beach she knew so well was just a few meters down from her.
She wasn't saying anything. She was not even thinking at that moment. She wanted to leave the wind caressing her face, moving her brown hairs, without opposing resistance. It was her moment, the ritual she performed every time she felt she needed to strengthen her connection with what she had left behind. With home.
Down on the beach, she could see two surf tables. She knew them far too well. In a day like that, when no high wave was on sight, she would have taken her blue-and-red table, bringing it with her in the water, enjoying a quiet, solitary, swimming. Many years before, she would have done that with her sister, her blue-and-green table at her side. Now, on that beach, there was nobody.
Her choice, this time. When stepping into the holodeck, she didn't load her sister's program.
Stopping for a moment in front of the console, something inside herself was telling that, somehow, it was wrong.
"Let her go.... her inner voice was saying. She was tempted to do that.
After all, what choice did she have? She hadn't seen Mikako for a long time...how many years? Was it ten?
"Keep her with you, in your heart..." another voice was saying. Another temptation, so strong that she didn't resist it for so long.
So long....since that message came to her parent's house. She was just stepping into the living room, coming back from another surf session. One look at her parents, and she had understood. The Lysithea had gone, and so had her sister. Vanished. Lost into the deep darkness of space. What a stark contrast with the beautiful colours of their island!
That program, the greatest illusion of her life, how could she ever step out of it?
Kanae raised her eyes from the sea to the blue sky upon it. No cloud was in sight, a rare view: a perfectly blue sky, reflected on a perfectly blue sea. Each one looking at the other, but still forever apart, prisoners of themselves. Sometimes, Kanae wondered whether that was the perfect metaphor for her life. Was she the blue sky, or the blue sea? And was Andrej the other one? Both of them so close, yet so distant at the same time, both still prisoners, in one way or the other, of themselves, of their inability to leave the past behind them once and for all.
She remembered when she was caught by that Valdari AI...it was like an eternity had passed since then. She remembered their conversations, the world gone by that the AI showed her. It was a prisoner of the past as well, after all. In a way, she had hoped that it was still alive, that AI, hidden somewhere inside her mind, her unconscious perhaps....
Kanae shook her head. Those thoughts where nonsensical, she said to herself. She raised from the grass, a last look at the sea.
But like by a ghost evoked by her own thoughts, that same moment, she saw someone. A shadow, passing by. She automatically turned her head toward it.
For a moment, she had expected to see the Valdari avatar standing in front of her, as it had happened in the past. Instead, to her own amazement, she was now facing a young girl, a young human girl with extremely blonde, curly, long hairs, looking straight at her with a pair of penetrating green eyes.
"Who are you?"
Who are you? The words echoed all around her as the whole landscape disappeared, and another voice began repeating: "Red Alert. All hands brace for impact. Red Alert..."
Andrej Timoreev had just finished signing the latest report. Another astrological survey had been done. Another, small piece had been added to the scientific puzzle of that solar system.
Thinking back at all the surveys and analyses which were being undertaken on board his ship, he couldn't avoid feeling a deep sense of pride. His crew was performing excellently, and the Attar was back at the forefront of scientific exploration, as it was to be. Well, except for that issue with their sensors. An odd issue, which was repeating itself again and again. It was not affecting any system, except for sensors, and in no way by impairing them. The pattern was always the same: first, a gravitational anomaly was detected, somewhere nearby; then, it disappeared, leaving no traces. A false positive. The people down in engineering were really scratching their heads about that, and so was the captain, who had decided to lend a hand to solve the issue. But no matter how many diagnostics they would run, nothing had been detected.
A doubt had become to arise in Timoreev's mind: what if the anomaly was no false positive? What if it was truly a gravitational anomaly, or, better, a series of anomalies? That would have been even more puzzling.
He raised from his chair, swiflty moving toward the replicator.
Time to try something new to stimulate his mind: "Raktajino." he said to the computer. Why did he order that? It had been a long time since he last had had a raktajino...he had never really liked it, but still he didn't really dislike it either. Truth was, that he had done that unconsciously. Because he remembered when he used to drink raktajino, while discussing astronomical problems with Valerya.
Valerya....how the hell did she manage to slip inside his thoughts again? But in truth, she had never really left it, hadn't she? Particularly not after the report from Anja and captain Keller he had received. The report about her disappearance....
The small cup materialized in the replicator, and Timoreev was mechanically moving the hand to take it, when he noticed, reflected on the black, polished surface of the console, a figure at his back. Someone was staring at him.
He turned immediately, finding himself face to face, eye to eye, to a young human girl with curly blonde hairs and two penetrating, almost disturbingly so, green eyes.
"Red Alert. All hands brace for impact. Red Alert..."
When the ship was shaken, it was with an almost mechanical movement that Timoreev looked for a hold. It was less than a second of distraction, the blink of an eye. When he looked back in front of him, the young girl was gone. Vanished.
His first thought was to ask to the computer if there were intruders on board; still, something had just shaken his ship, and it was on red alert. He rushed toward the door and out into the bridge.
In holodeck 2, fallen on the now concrete floor of an empty room, Kanae Sumida was frantically looking around. But nobody was there with her.
"Sound intruder alert. And someone tell me what's happening. What did hit us?"
Timoreev was giving his orders even before being properly on the bridge. His executive officer raised from the captain's chair, leaving it to him, a question mark almost visible on her brown-skinned face: "We don't know sir, but...why the intruder alert?"
Timoreev stopped for a moment, turning his eyes on her:"We may have an intruder, I'm not sure...and what does it mean that we don't know?"
"Intruder alert. All decks, intruder alert."
Morisette had just finished to issue the new alert when she came back to her captain:"Sensors had detected another of those anomalies...we thought it was another false positive, when it actually...turned, and moved toward us. Then, it hit us."
Her tone of voice was betraying her sense of frustration and confusion at giving those very odd explanations to Timoreev.
"Damages?"
"None, sir."
"The anomaly's position?"
"It vanished. Again as before."
Now sitting on his chair, Timoreev took a long breath:"Computer: detect any intruder on board the vessel."
Rapid came the answer:"No intruders are detected on board the ship."
Another deep breath:"Cancel red alert." he then said, plainly.
Morisette was looking at him interrogatively. She didn't even have to formulate the question.
"I 'met' somebody in my ready room" Timoreev said "A young girl to be precise. She didn't say anything, and disappeared immediately after the ship was hit by the anomaly."
"And you are sure it was real..."" Morisette commented, unconsciously lowering her tone of voice.
"I know what you are thinking. And I will check with Dr. Escott. But doesn't it look a bit bizzarre as a coincidence?"
Morisette smirked:"Coincidences..."
But she didn't even continue. As evoked by his being called by the captain, the voice of Dr. Escott emerged from the comm channel:"Sickbay to Capt. Timoreev."
"Timoreev here. Doctor, I hope you are not reporting for injured..."
"Luckily, not. But there's lieutenant Sumida here, and she claimed to have seen....someone. She cannot explain it better, but I thought you may find her tale interesting..."
Timoreev and Morisette were already in the turbolift.
At first, no answer could come from either Timoreev or Sumida. No tests, no analyses, among those carried out by the doctor in sickbay, showed anything anomalous.
But then, an hint came from the sensors, those same sensors they had thought, in the previous days, were just misleading them. Halora, the Chief Engineer, illustrated the new finding in a meeting Timoreev called for the day after those odd events.
"So, as you may know already, we have worked the whole day and night in order to understand more about what happened yesterday."the Bolian woman said:"We decided to begin first with the lateral sensors, then, to move on with the omniwave, but before that, we had to shut down..."
Morisette cleared her voice in the most rumorous way possible. A convened sign that she had to skip that part and that she had to go straight to the point, something she always had find difficult to do.
Halora stopped for a second, as to better accept that fact she wouldn't be able to show all the amazing work they had done. Then, she moved on:"At the end, we found something. A trace. When the anomaly hit us, it dissipated, leaving behind some 'remnants'. But they were not detectable by our sensors, apparently. We are talking about quantum particles of the most subtle species. However, they got 'caught' so to speak, into our warp core."
"And so you were able to isolate them?" Timoreev asked.
"Precisely. It was a sort of 'footprint' for us."
"But you were not able to identify the particles, weren't you?" Morisette intervened.
Halora shook her head:"Nothing similar has been recorded before. I'm no expert, but the team from Science that analysed them commented that they were something akin to a mix of graviton and chroniton particles."
Timoreev quirked an eyebrow, but Sumida, who, in the absence of Cmdr. Iria, was acting Chief Science Officer, immediately rushed to put a patch:"Analyses are still underway. I'm sure that soon we will have a more...detailed definition."
The captain decided to accept that explanation, and decided to move on:"But, if I understood correctly, you said to have found something in our sensors..."
"Not in our sensors, but thanks to them." Halora nodded vigorously. She moved toward the viewscreen of the conference room, quickly showing up a map of the region of space they were travelling in. After a few seconds, a sinuous red line appeared, moving from the Attar toward an unspecified area of space.
"The trail left by the anomaly." Halora explained, not hiding a sense of pride at the discovery:"This is the path the anomaly took to reach us. We have run simulations for the other times we detected the anomaly, and the path is consistent."
"So we have a point of origin!" Morisette exclaimed.
"We have more than that."
"What do you mean?"
Halora tapped on the console, and now a small yellow point appeared on the other side of the line:"We detected something with our long-range sensors, once we reconfigured them. It is a Starfleet signal."
An unnatural silence fell on the room, and after a few seconds, Timoreev ordered:"Clarify."
"It's the U.S.S. Lysithea."
Sumida was on the point of screaming. But she succeeded in restraining herself:"That's...impossible."
Halora nodded again:"We checked the records. The Lysithea went lost with all hands in the Volanis Cluster, almost fifteen years ago."
Timoreev raised from his chair, moving toward the viewscreen, as to look better at that line and that impossible signal.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Not even Sumida. She was simply speechless, her emotions going rampant inside her heart.
"With what we are dealing with?" Timoreev murmured, more to himself than the others. Then, he turned:"Sarah" he said to Morisette:"Plot a course to the signal. And send a message to the fleet." he sighed:"I think we may need reinforcements on this."
EPILOGUE OF ACROSS A SLEEPING CITY
And set upon a golden bough to sing
To the lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
Valeriya was reciting in her mind these verses while slowly walking on the rocky surface of that arid world. They always came to her mind when she was going to explore a new site. It was an automatic, unconscious process, that had sticked with her since her childhood, when she had first come into contact with the poems of William Butler Yeats, her favourite one. Something, in those words, and particularly the last verse, had captured her imagination, her fascination. They seemd to contain eternity itself, in just a short line: ...past, or passing, or to come.
"Doc, over there." the calm, firm, authoritative voice of T'Val Van Hoort called her back to reality. The half-Vulcan was indicating with his long harm an indefinite point on the horizon illuminated by the sunset's light. Valeriya narrowed her blue eyes to better see, and then she understood: a thin, tall pillar was emerging from the plain.
"That is the pinnacle of the pillar, as I told you, doc." Van Hoort explained: "I will show you the entrance."
Those words had a revitalizing effect on Valeriya: she was feeling tired after four hours of walking (she had asked for a shuttle or a vehicle to be lended to her, but apparently nothing was available that day in the small colony; she had been really disappointed when she heard that...). Now, she was going to reach her goal. Finally, after those three years of researches, she could have seen with her own eyes, the youngest Federation researcher to achieve such a huge discovery....
The pillar was just in front of them as they marched steadily toward it. Van Hoort was leading the way. Valeriya could not stop having her eyes fixed on that object, her mind already wandering for answers to her many questions.
"So, this is the entrance of the city?"
"Of what is left, yes."
She had asked that question already ten times and more to Van Hoort, and the answer has always been the same.
Van Hoort's patience was truly a gift from heaven.
"Ah, you cannot imagine, T'Val! I'm already picturing the face that my father will have when I will show him all the evidences we'll collect. The Gandharans existed! Ah! What a satisfaction for a student, don't you think? Dasvedania, baba!" the emotion in her voice was unmistakable.
"Yes, Doc, I can imagine actually." came Van Hoort's response "You told me many times already."
Valeriya smirked: "I suppose I should apologize with you, T'Val, for all the ti...."
She could not finish the phrase. Instead, she launched a cry. Part of the soil was crumbling just under her feet, and she was being dragged down. It was a moment, and she found herself lying on what looked like a stone floor.
"Doc! Doc! Are you ok?"
A small hole stood where Gurshieva had fallen, and she could see Van Hoort's silhouette on the background of sunlight.
"Yes, yes, I'm fine!"
She looked around, switching on her plasma torch: "T'Val, this is amazing!" she cried.
It was like she had by chance stepped into her personal representation of heaven: all around her there where painted and carved walls, with thousands of symbols and pictures. Outstanding examples of art of the Gandharan civilization. The room she had fallen in was pretty large, and she could also see a number of what looked like console. What was that place?
She made a few steps forward, and now her eyes saw a sort of huge portal, standing isolated from the rest. Immediately, she took her tricord and began scanning. Oh, that was to be her lucky day, for sure.
She was stepping closer and closer to the portal, as her tricorder kept running. Then, all of a sudden, something happened. A surge of energy, and the portal lightened up.
Valeriya never really understood what happened that moment, and why. But she remembered well what she saw: the feelings, the memories that suddenly flowed in her mind, and then....the girl. She saw her standing there, between her and the portal, looking at her with her deep blue eyes. How could she not recognize those eyes? So similar to hers...so similar....
Fifteen years later, that memory was still sticking with her, stronger than ever, while she was looking at the cold titanium ceiling of the Attar sickbay.
She was alone, the first time in a day. This awareness had a relaxing effect on her, though she knew that actually a forcefield had been erected just a few meters from her bed, and that security was checking the entrance. However, it didn't matter to her: at least she was alone and she could, for a moment, focus on herself, on what had happened, on what she did, on what she was not able to do.
She was a step away from saving her, just a step away! If only she could have grabbed that phaser, then....
The doors opened, and someone stepped in. She turned her face toward the intruder.
Timoreev was looking at her. They didn't say anything to each other for some time. Then, finally, the captain moved toward her bed. Slowly.
"Computer: lower force field."
A beep of confirmation, and then the particles dispersed, leaving Timoreev free to approach the bed.
"Didn't they tell you, Andrej? I'm dangerous. You should not come closer to me."
She was trying at being sarcastic, as usual, Timoreev thought. But was that a pitiful attempt! Her voice was trembling, her face still showing the traces of many tears.
"I know. You attacked my ship. And captain Nimitz." his voice was firm, cold, almost inhuman.
"Your ship....you should hear yourself. You are so proud of it, aren't you?"
How should have he answered to that, Timoreev asked to himself. She was trying to provoke a reaction, as usual.
"I'm proud of the people who serve on board this ship. My people."
Gurshieva didn't reply. She was tired of skirmishing, of that attitude of her of always attacking in order not to be attacked first. She didn't have any energy left for that.
Timoreev made some few steps more toward her. Now, he was able to look into her eyes. Those eyes....they hadn't change, even after all those years. Many years had passed since the last time he had been able to look at them so closely....
"I want the truth, Valeriya." the captain attacked, cold, firm. Hiding his own feelings.
"You know the truth."
"I know what happened. I want to know why it happened. Why did you attack Capt. Nimitz? Why did you attack this vessel? What madness took you?"
"I had to save her!"
"Save her? At what cost?"
"She was innocent! She did deserve to live!"
"And you were ready to sacrifice four hundreds innocent people for that?"
Timoreev had not noticed he had cried so loudly. All the rage, all the disappointment, all the frustration and desperation he had cumulated inside himself for all those years, whenever he thought about Valeriya, all those feelings now had finally found their expression in a single, terrible, burst. A security guard appeared from the entrance.
"Captain? Everything's alright?"
Timoreev nodded. The guard disappeared. It was a much needed moment of respite. Valeriya stood petrified on her bed: never, before that moment, she could have imagined that such a rage was hiding in the heart of the person she once knew so well. It was like a shock, a revelation for her. Finally, she could open her eyes, and begin to understand.
"Why did you do that? You tell me. Now." Timoreev had no intention to give up.
"Andrej....I...." her voice was feeble. Ah, what a difference from the once proud woman he knew! What happened that broke her spirit so hard?
When Gurshieva finally told everything she had experienced, everything she knew about what had happened, Timoreev felt a strong headache for a moment.
"My....our....daugther?" he asked.
"Yes, Andrej. She was....would have been..."
Timoreev took a deep breath. All that mess, the resurrection of the Gandharan civilization and its disappearance once again in the myst of time, the trapping of the Lysithea, the Visitors...all of that...and Gurshieva, who found herself involved for a coincidence. Her fate had dictated that she was destined to uncover the portal, to unwillingly reactivate that machinery, and to begin the series of events which now had brought them there, in that room, in that precise moment. But what a price she had paid! Blinded by a vision, the fleeting dream of what their life could have been if only things would have gone differently, so many years before. Now he understood everything. He understood, because he knew what she passed through. He remembered when he had the same vision, while trapped with the Ananke by that unknown being. He remembered the joy he felt that moment, and the desperation that came to him when Sumida brought him back to reality. When he had entered sickbay, Timoreev felt like he was ready to do everything in his power in order to know the truth, and to ensure Gurshieva would not harm anyone, anymore. But now he saw her for what she was: a once-proud woman, broken down by the awareness that her decision never to compromise, always to think Truth was at her side, had destroyed the best chance she had for really having what she wanted the most, love.
"What will happen of me, Andrej?" she asked. Now that finally she had spoken out, she felt a bit relieved. She had shared something of her burden.
Timoreev sat beside her, and looked at her: "A court will decide. In the most likely scenario, you'll be sentenced to prison, for a while..." There was no rage anymore in his voice. He was not cold.
Valeriya turned toward him: "I see....It is right." she nodded: "And what will happen...of us?"
Timoreev felt a thrill over his back hearing that question. Valeriya was there, asking him whether that dream could still come true, despite everything, or whether it was lost forever. How could he answer that? For so many years he had dreamed of a chance like that, a chance at finally building something with the woman he loved. But so many things had changed. Time changed all the cards on the table, and now the true question he had to ask himself was: did he still love her? And his thoughts went to Sumida, to the very person that helped him finding himself whenever he got lost; the person with whom he had been finally abe to share his inner life, his true self and spirit, the spirit of a Starfleet officer, of an explorer, of a wanderer. The same spirit Valeriya once refused to accept.
At that very moment, Timoreev understood. He could not get rid of the time that had passed; he could not delete that like an error, or correct it like an engine malfunction. That was the very thing that broke Valeriya: the illusion that time could be reversed.
He knew the answer to the question. He knew the truth, now.
On another vessel, Kanae Sumida couldn't hide her tears when she said hello to her sister.
Mikako was not prepared for that. She looked at the young woman, standing in front of her at the doorstep of her quarters, the Starfleet uniform, the pins indicating her rank of lieutenant.
She smiled: "I see you followed my lead, Kanae."
They hugged, and stood like that for minutes, like a way to silently share all their lives until that moment, all that Mikako had missed of her sister's life.
"I think you are the older one, now" Mikako chuckled: "You are lucky, Kanae. Not all sisters have such a privilege."
"Be happy, you still outrank me." Kanae smiled in remand.
"Dad? Mom?"
Kanae kept smiling: "They are fine. But they still don't know what happened."
"Huge surprise, eh?"
"Uh-uh."
Suddenly, Mikako's face became sad, her tone of voice full of a sense of melancholy: "I....I am sorry, little sis."
"For what?"
"It was all my fault. My ship, the crew, myself...were all trapped for years because of me, of my request to the Visitor."
"You couldn't know..."
"It's a poor excuse."
"But you were trying to save a life."
"Like that dr. Gurshieva was doing?"
Kanae didn't reply immediately. Hearing her name again had an odd effect on her. For a moment, she thought about what she knew, of Valeriya and Andrej....
She shook her head: "You did what a Starfleet officer should do. You tried to protect a life. And I am so proud of you, Mikako."
A smile appeared again on the older Sumida's face.
"...and also..." Kanae resumed speaking, a huge smile on her face as well "What do you think about a surfing session?"
Upon reaching Deep Space 13, the Lysithea received orders to reach Earth for a hearing at Starfleet Command and for celebrating the return of all its people. So it was only natural that also Gurshieva was to be transferred on that ship before departure. Timoreev had visited her many times, before reaching the starbase. Now, he was looking from one of the lounges, while Valeriya was being transported on board the Lysithea along a pressurized corridor, escorted by a security detachment.
What did he feel at that moment? He couldn't say. A mix of sadness, melancholy, a sense of inner freedom. His greates obsession had finally been defeated. No more, looking outside the windows of his room, he would have seen the falling snowflakes. He was free.
"How do you feel?"
Kanae's voice took him by surprise. He turned, looking at the young woman: "I thought you were busy saying goodbye to your sister."
"I did it. But we will see each other at my next leave, on Earth."
"You look quite confidend about it."
"I lost her once. It will not happen twice."
Timoreev smiled at her show of confidence. Without even noticing, they had each taken the others' hand.
"In the meanwhile, we should go back to the ship, and resume course..."
But he didn't finish the phrase, because he was already kissing her.
...Of what is past, or passing, or to come.
Gurshieva was repeating that line again and again, while taking deep breaths, lying on the grass. She knew she had just two minutes before the end of the break. She was becoming used at life at the New Zealand Penal Settlement. Those rhytms, having a specific routine, were helping her disciplining her mind, in a moment when she desperately needed it.
With the tail of her eye, she noticed two figures approaching her. She raised from her comfortable position to face the new intruders. They were a male and a female, and more specifically an Andorian and a Vulcan. No uniforms, no marks.
"Dr. Gurshieva?" the Vulcan female asked.
"Yes. And you are..?"
"My name is Shavii, special attaché of ambassador Baston-Liegi, and this is Commander Thav."
Gurshieva focused her eyes on the Andorian: "What does Starfleet want from me, now?"
"We have a proposal for you, something that, we believe, may fit your personal expertise and experience." the Vulcan continued.
"Starfleet needs my expertise?"
Gurshieva quirked an eyebrow.
"I am from the Department of Temporal Investigations." the Andorian finally intervened.
Gurshieva smiled. She could smell the challenge: "I am listening."