Rocking T Ranch, Terra Alpha Colony: November 28, 2372…

The sun sent slivers of light through the dark grey clouds that were now breaking up over West Morris Mountain range; towering over the New Milwaukee valley over 12,000 feet. Below in a bowl of green nestled the small college town of Brookville. The golden lines of Tomichi Creek and the Gunnison River snaked their way from opposite stretches of the valley meeting in the middle and continuing west to the barely discernible glean of J Picard Reservoir.

The sun was starting to set in the late spring and the air felt chilly from the recent rains… and snow as the high peaks had been recapped in a fresh layer of snow. It was here facing the west Rebecca sat her left foot hooked behind the back leg of the tri-legged stool as she dabbed various gradients of oil pigments upon the canvas.

The crunch of gravel drew Rebecca’s attention but, she made no motion to give the intruder any indication that she had heard him. The steps were heavy and uncertain and the breathing was heavy… A male.

“Not used to high altitude are we? In fact I’m sure you’ve never been anywhere that was not paved or padded decking,” Rebecca replied without looking away from the canvas.

“Astute,” the intruder replied.

Still Rebecca did not look away from the painting, “You must be an aide to Admiral Whatley.” There was a moment of silence before the voice spoke again, “They did not tell me you were Betazoid.”

Rebecca sighed setting the palette down and stood up to face the intruder. “No, I am not.” She regarded the heavyset human who was in his early forties. His white cheeks were flushed with exhaustion. The thinning dirty blonde hair matted against his skull. “Anyone from around here would know how to walk this terrain and by the way you stumbled up this hill I’d bet I could count the times you’ve been climbing any kind of mountain on one hand. The labored breathing suggests living at sea level or on board a pressure controlled starship or starbase. And, lastly,” she concluded with a grin, “Admiral Whatley has been asking for over a week to get me to re-join Starfleet.”

He chuckled, his round cheeks turned up in amusement, “Still amazing powers of deduction.”

Rebecca turned to start packing her things. Snapping the lid to her color palette, she slid it into her leather bag that contained a jumble of brushes, paints, and rags. “It’s just logical since your boss’s office has been hounding me for a week, and no one else would have the resources to find me here.”

“Nice painting.”

“It’s horrid,” Rebecca replied waving the compliment away. “Art is just not my calling.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider your chosen profession?”

Rebecca laughed as she slung the now folded stool over her shoulder, “Like what? Starfleet?”

”That’s why I’m here,” he replied with a grin stepping forward with an extended hand, “Commander Jacob Turner.”

Rebecca shook his hand and then gathered up her easel careful not to smear the drying paint. “I’m sorry Commander I’m not interested. Starfleet tried promoting me after Wolf-359 to stay but, I saw too much death that day and I no longer want to see any more. I’ve done my part for King and Country.”

Turner nodded, “I know Commander. Wolf-359 made far too many officers to resign.”

“You know nothing,” Rebecca snapped. “And what part of not interested do you people not understand? Starfleet has taken everything I have loved. First my mother, then my fiancé and family, and now my mentor and many friends including Jennifer Sisko. How much more do I need to give to the Federation? Will you not be satisfied until I lie in a torpedo casing with the flag of the Federation draped over me? Maybe you would prefer my vaporization. No burden of a body, and all you have to send my father is a stock letter saved on some hard drive.”

“I-“

“No,” Rebecca interrupted. “You are not sorry. And, don’t pretend to know what I have gone through. Now go.”

Turner sighed and handed Rebecca a PADD that he had been carrying. Rebecca nearly batted it away from his grip, but accepted after a few tense moments. “Commander Rebecca Talon. That is your recall paperwork. Admiral Whatley wanted me to get you to volunteer, but obviously your mind has been made up. You are to report to the U.S.S. Denver tomorrow as her executive officer. Starfleet needs officers of your caliber.”

“I won’t,” Rebecca replied coldly.

“Then you will never see this beauty,” Turner replied his arms outstretched indicating the land around him. “Failure to report will result in your arrest.” He tapped his combadge. “Commander Turner to Hood one to beam up.”

There was an acknowledgement on the other end, and before the transporter swept him up there was sorrow in his voice, “My brother died at Wolf-359, and my wife was killed on the Odyssey at the hands of the Dominion. I may not have lost as much as you but, I still know how it feels.”

Turner vanished in the a transporter beam leaving Rebecca standing in shock.  Sighing she finished packing up her things, and started down the hill towards her house.

The house was made of logs and river rock.  Someone told her that it was rustic, she wanted to build it with her own hands, and rustic wasn’t the goal.  Walking into the yard her boxer Odysseus barked his greeting and was practically wiggling out of his skin.

Rebecca patted him on the head and a wet pink tongue came out to lick her hand, and she laughed.  “It’s good to see you too Ody.”  She climbed the steps to the front porch and pushed the front door open, and Ody pushed his way inside the house.  “Ody!”

“Hey mama,” one of the twins said without looking up from her tablet.

“Hey,” Rebecca said as she started to stack up her art supplies near the door, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, just watching videos.”

“Where’s your sister?”

“Upstairs I think.”

“Hey,” Milo greeted poking his head around the corner, “Did Commander Thomas find you?”

“Turner, his name is Turner, and yes he found me, and thanks for that.  I was avoiding them.”

“Starfleet? Why?”

“They want me to return to active duty, which they forced my hand.”  She dug around in her bags and handed him the PADD Turner gave her.  “I’ve been recalled.”

Milo didn’t take the PADD and wiped his graying mustache with a thumb and forefinger. “Sorry about that.”

Rebecca sighed, “It’s okay, well, it’s not okay, but you didn’t do anything wrong.  They would have found me eventually.”  She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a peck on the cheek.  “All sins forgiven.”

“Is that more of that Catholic nonsense?”

“Nope, not this time,” she said with a grin.  “Just not mad.”

“Then I reckon I married me one hell of a woman. Oh, I heard from Ethan.”

“Oh?” Rebecca asked as she followed Milo into the kitchen.

“It seems he and Trinity are expecting.”

“Well, that’s something isn’t it?  What’s for dinner?”

“Oh,nothing special.  I got pork chops on the grill and I replicated mashed potatoes and corn on the cob.”

“Good enough for me. It is a week day.”

“Yes, it is.  So, when do you have to report?”

Rebecca slid onto one of the bar stools and sighed, “USS Denver, I got a week. They are getting repairs done at Starbase 86.”

Milo sighed and placed both palms on the counter that separated them.  “Still, I don’t like this, but the Dominion has to be stopped.”

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “I was just hoping it didn’t involve me.  What do you say we all go to Santa Fe.  I should see my dad before I ship out.”

Milo nodded, “Yeah, sounds like an idea. I need to get down there and get his horses shod.  My dad always took care of my mom’s horses. I figured I would be the same for me.  I didn’t figure I’d be caring for my father-in-law’s.”

Rebecca laughed, “Love me, love my dad. Girls! Come and eat!”

-Trip Tucker Maintenance and Regeneration Base, Mojave, CA-

Six years ago..

It was well over thirty-eight degrees and the California desert stretched out in all directions broken by craggy looking Joshua trees and creosote shrubs.  The desert was broken by a series of dirt roads with derelict snall ships and shuttles parked in neat lines.  Vegetation grew up around the landing struts. In some cases Joshua trees even grew into open exhaust ports and around cockpits.

The craft were mostly shuttles,  and many were very old, including several shuttle pods that would have been used by the original warp five ships.  But there were decommissioned runabouts, newer shuttles and even an Intrepid-class dominating the skyline in the distance.

“Where are we going,” Trinity asked as their anti-grav speeder bounced over the rough terrain.

“Not too much further,” Ethan replied as he turned right at a junction where an old mid-23rd century shuttle sat where it had spent neary a hundred and fifty years being cannibalized for spare parts leaving only an empty shell streaked with weathering. The red stripe down the hull had faded to pink, and the black lettering nearly sand blasted away left the ghost of NCC-1701/3.

He continued down that road for another 200 meters before pulling up to a stop in front of a nearly intact Raven-class survey ship with USS Meadowlark NCC-32455 painted in bold black letters on the side of the hull.

Trinity looked up at the ship and frowned. “You turned down a Steamrunner-class for this?”

“Don’t you see,” he pleaded, “this is a civilian ship.  It is definitely not a warship.   Wherever we go it is not going to turn heads. It won’t raise suspension from crime bosses, or whoever we don’t want to attract attention from.”

Trinity sighed. Ethan was right.   They could fly under the radar better with this ship.  And because of its design less crew meaning smaller team making them more flexible,  and it can land on planets and fit into tight spots

“You have a point. But Meadowlark?”

Ethan sat back in his seat and grinned.  “I was thinking about that, it is what’s available here, but not a fan personally.   How about Zebulon Pike?”

Trinity frowned, “What?”

“Not what. Who,” Ethan replied. “He was an explorer of the American West and army officer.   Seems more fitting to our mission profile.  And besides Pike is easier to say.”

Trinity giggled, “Okay fair enough,  but we need to refit this ship.”

“That much is a given. Shields, weapons and what not.  We don’t need the science labs, nor any of the diplomatic suites.  I also think we should have a holodeck. “

“Holodeck? Why?”

“Training and mission briefing,” Ethan replied.   “That alone makes it too valuable not to have.  And since we’ll be crammed into small quarters we’ll need it for morale too.”

Trinity nodded, “I guess we need to get our moms on the paperwork.”

“I already got my mom to sign off on us in regards to the ship itself. I just need yours to get us into McKinley  Station for the refit.”

“I think I can do that.   Especially with your mom already releasing the ship for assignment.  I’m going to insist on heavy weapons and shields,” Trinity stated.

“I would expect nothing less.  And I have an idea to give us another ace up our sleeve. “

“Which is?” Trinity asked suspiciously.

“Well, you know the Narlin Emperor owes mom a favor?”

“Your going to try to weasel yourself one of their cloaks?”

“Whu not?  It’s not like the Treaty of Algeron is still in effect with the Romulan Empire being broken and scattered and Starfleet being friendly with the dominant faction.”

“In that regard,  I suggest treading very lightly.”

“I always do.”

“I really do wish you all the luck in the world, Peter.”  Cadet Kacy Tran stood on the shuttle launchpad.

Peter Crawford chuckled, “I know.  We’ve had this conversation over coffee so many times.  You’ll get a posting, I’m sure.  Probably some flagship.”  He gently nudged her shoulder, “We both know you’re the better out of the two of us.” For her part, Tran rolls her eyes.  They’d been broken up a month and it had been hard sharing the same classes, spaces, and friends knowing this day was coming.

“You think you’ll tell your folks you got the Denver?”  She had been trying, unsuccessfully, to find a way to heal the wound that festered between her ex-boyfriend and his family.

The future Chief of Operations officer grimaced, “You know that old saying about don’t open up old wounds?  I know you mean well, Kacy…but it’s going to take a lot of time for them to accept…or even acknowledge me and my new life.”  He sighed, “They didn’t come to any of the family weekends.  Or my early graduation.  I think they’ve made their feelings very clear.”  He shrugged, “I’m not in the business of trying to change people to fit my happiness.  One of these days they’ll come around.  I gotta let it go…and get it off my shoulders.”

Kacy sighed.  She knew better than to push him further.  The issues between the Crawfords were deep and wide.  She felt the same way about her parents sometimes.  They’d forced her and Peter to end the pursuit of marriage.  She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t have the courage nor the strength to stand up to them.  Such was the way.  “I’m sorry.  I wish it was better, that’s all.”

Crawford caught a wave from the launch officer.  “Me and you both.  I gotta shove off.  Send me a message where you’re posted.  We can still be friends across a galaxy or two.”  She gave him a quiet smile and embraced him.

“Good luck, Ensign Crawford.”  They stepped apart and Peter walked away.  He approached the launch officer and handed him a PADD.

“Ensign Peter Crawford, assigned to USS Denver as Chief of Operatons.”  The older man looked over the PADD, tapped a few buttons and then handed it back.

“Making Chief straight outta the academy?  That’s not a bad start, Ensign.”  He pulled up his own PADD and tapped a few more buttons, “Somedays I wish I could get out there and do it all over again, you know?”

Crawford knew.  He’d studied enough of the stories of officers who ended up behind desks and in places they never should have retired to – finding the daily doldrums of office life a bore.  “I’ll try and have some adventure out there for you, sir.”

“Well, just come back to us, Ensign Crawford.  We like to see you return to us every so often.”

Peter gave the man a thoughtful look of thanks, “Aye aye, sir.  Thank you.”  He followed the path to his shuttle and settled in with the other officers and crew readying themselves for the journey to their own assignments, ports, and destinations.  Crawford sat back as the door rumbled shut and the engines shook the shuttle awake.  He was going to the USS Denver.  And he was going to space.

The sun was hot as Ethan stepped over the chute and straddled the roan the swayed within the narrow confines of the chute. Ethan lowered himself into the saddle slipping his boots into the stirrups. The reign was already measured with a stand of the horse’s mane. Settling down in the saddle he locked his thighs into the swells. The rosin creaked as he rubbed his legs against swells once or twice to warm it up and help with the adhesion. He leaned back with his chin in his chest and his left hand holding the rein up. With his right hand he set his black cowboy hat lower on his head. Ready he nodded his head. The whole world exploded.

One second. ~Feet forward. Center your ass,~ Ethan told himself.

Two seconds ~Lift your arm on the reign. You are coming out of the saddle. Okay good bring your feet back to spur the bronc now.~

Three seconds. ~He’s one hell of a bucker!~

Four seconds. ~Okay Ethan concentrate. You almost came out of the saddle.~

Five seconds. ~Okay I got my head back in the game.~

Six seconds. ~Let’s try to steer him away from the fence.~

Seven seconds. ~Close one. That would have tore the hell out of my leg.~

Eight seconds. The buzzer sounded, and Ethan reached down with his right hand to help hold him on the saddle while he started looking for the pickup man. The pickup man rode his sorrel up against Ethan, and he half jumped and was half thrown onto the back of the pickup man’s horse. Ethan slid into the dust of the arena. With a wide grin. He waved his black hat in celebration before running back to the chutes. By the time he climbed over the fence and straddled it the judges had already scored him. A 74 . Ethan shook his head in disappointment. The leader was sitting with an 80, but you can’t win them all.

Trinity was the first with the ‘WHOOs!’ when he came out of the chute and the first person to run to his side.” Soooo damn close!” Trinity said with a laugh. “You should have let me fix the tension on your hand and leg, might have gotten those extra 6 or 7 points.” she said with a playful swat to his arm and kissed him on the lips. Not really giving a care who was watching the big macho cowboy get kissed by the ‘filly’ in tight denim and a tied up flannel shirt. It wasn’t often that she embraced the ‘farm girl’ look, but this was a show after all. ”I’d say Ethan already won even if he didn’t.” one of the other ranchers said with a laugh. ”Someday I really should try that.” Trinity glanced at the bull he just rode. “They ah… do come smaller right?”

“No, they were fine. This one was on me. Hell, most of those points came from the horse,” he admitted. He worked his left arm out, “Just a little rusty. You don’t just jump on a bronc and expect to win the world. It’s been what? Two years since that Douglas rodeo?” He bent down and unbuckled his chaps and tossed them with his gear bag. “You wanna ride bulls? Girl, you have nerves of steel. They will usually start you off as a kid on a sheep, then as you get older you move into steers. Not too many girls willing to do it. There was Maggie Parker back in the 21st century.” He shrugged with a grin, “Naw, I’ll just stick with the broncs. Horses don’t cover you in cow shit, and they won’t run you down or try to step on you either.” He walked over to the back pen where the hostlers had pulled the saddle off of the horse he just rode. He quickly, with expert ease, wrapped up the stirrups and cinches over seat, and tossed it with the rest of his gear. “Well, you wanna watch the team roping or grab something to eat?”

“I could go for something to eat. I oddly have the worst craving for steak after watching that.” Trinity said with a smirk. “I never tried anything like that, although then again, I have held onto a speeding truck going about 75 and fish tailing all over the place.” she pecked his cheek. “Someday you and I have to do something insane together. Like we used to do when we were a little younger. We’re still young and dumb.”

He grinned and pushed his Stetson back, “Like what?”

“I don’t know… something spur of the moment, stupid as hell and yet entirely ‘us’.” Trinity said with a smile as she looked into his eyes. “I mean… I’m hardly a fragile flower, I got bucked off of Stevie Ray that annoying ass quarter horse that everyone said ‘oh he’s a great ridin’ horse’. Big M, that Percheron we got is more calm, even if I look like a monkey riding a border collie when I get on his back.”

“You gotta’ make Stevie Ray buck. Once he gets it out of his system you can ride him all day, but he will buck with you. Once you’ve done that, he’s like riding on a cloud.”

Trinity harrumphed, “You ride him then.  You like it when the buck.”

“Not when I’m not expecting it,” he chuckled. “C’mon let’s get the hell out of here,” he announced as he threw his bronc saddle over his shoulder and picked up his gear bag in his free hand.  “I need a beer.”

Mikaela breathed a sigh of relief when the shuttle door closed and she felt the familiar whirr as the shuttle took off from the planet the Federation President had just visited. It had been a complicated visit, complete with protests and more than a few death threats. She had been on her guard 24/7 during the diplomatic visit, and she was happy that she could finally relax. As the USS Trafalgar came into view, she marveled at the sleekness of the Rhode Island class. She smiled as she saw the ship’s shuttle bay doors open; it meant that soon, they would be heading home.  She remembered reading, as part of her training, the history of Federation Presidential travel, including the development of the Trafalgar and Normandy, the two ships that made up the Presidential Starship fleet.

In 2383, Starfleet was approached by the Office of the Federation President and a request was filed to build two specially designed starships for exclusive use of the Federation President. Up until that point, if the Federation President wanted to travel, they had only two choices: for travel within Sector 001, the special shuttles that were stored in the Palais de la Concorde; for travel beyond that, requisition a Starfleet capital ship (dubbed Starfleet One), like the like the Galaxy-class USS Venture or the Sovereign-class USS Yorktown. Starfleet built two starships, using the template of the Rhode-Island class starship, though the interior was designed with the needs of the President in mind. The conference room was revamped with classified enhancements to allow it to be used for top-secret discussions, office space was added instead of the traditional science laboratories, and the shuttle bay hanger was enlarged to fit two of the Presidential shuttles. Additionally, instead of the traditional Starfleet arrowhead and lines the vessels had blue and white lines with the seal of the United Federation of Planets where the Starfleet arrowhead was normally. The name and registry of the ship was painted exactly as it was on normal Starfleet vessels. The crew compliment was kept to a minimum; a Captain, First Officer, Chief Tactical Officer, and Chief Engineer, with only four or five individuals under each department head. There were medical facilities, though they were staffed by the President’s personal physician and their staff. The Chief of Security was the Lead Presidential Detail Agent, and security was provided for by the Special Agents of the Presidential Detail of the Federation Security Agency. Depending on the mission and destination, the ship travelled with two or three escorts; usually Defiant-class, Diligent-class, Prometheus-class, or Inquiry-class; all capable of bringing lots of firepower to a potentially catastrophic situation. However, the escorts were only there to screen the Rhode Island-class ship; typical protection plans for the President detailed that if engaged, the main ship was to get the heck out of Dodge while the escorts ran interference.

A beeping console brought Mikaela back to the present, giving her only a few moments to admire the Trafalgar before her shuttle entered the shuttlebay. The ship finally docked, and the door opened, and she stood by as the President, his Chief of Staff, and the Starfleet aide-de-camp stepped out, followed by the Lead Agent. She nodded to her, and finally, she was able to exit the shuttle.
“Another foreign trip done and behind us, eh Kate?”
“Yup! We’re finally done with that hellish visit to Proscion VII. I knew it was bad, but I did not think it would be that bad.”
“I’m with you on that. Now its only about 55 hours back to Earth, and then we go back to our normal schedule; except for the gala on Saturday.”
“The Starfleet Command Gala? The President is attending this year?”
“Yeah; he got a special invite from the Starfleet CinC herself. The President and First Lady are attending.”
“Oooh, that should be interesting. I’m going to break out the formal wear.”
“You do that. This trip back should be a breeze.”
“That it will. Thanks Kate, for the heads up.”
Mikaela and Katherine, the detail lead, nod at each other then part ways. While Kate goes up with the President and his staff, Mikaela heads back to her quarters. As she walked the corridor, she took deep breaths, admiring the craftsmanship that went into the design of the Trafalgar.

Because this was the Presidential ship, it was crafted with comfort in mind for the crew and the Presidential staff. Starfleet Engineering had outdone themselves, and as such, the long-range exploratory cruisers (Galaxy-class and its variants; and the Odyssey-class) seemed spartan by comparison. The corridors were made with more expensive materials than the usual bulkheads, and the quarters for the ship’s compliment were upgraded and designed for comfort while still maximizing space. Some of the more junior staff shared quarters, as did some of the more junior security personnel, including the members of the Presidential Detail. The Lead Detail Agent and Deputy Lead Detail Agent both shared private quarters when the other was not on duty. There was a press cabin, though the space onboard was limited and usually, only the Concorde Plaza correspondents were invited aboard. The rest of the press corps (if any) travelled on other ships specially designed for transport. As of late, they all had agreed to travel onboard a holoship that was carried by one of the escort starships.

Mikaela walked into her quarters and took off her jacket, with the insignia of the Federation Security Agency as a lapel pin. Letting her hair down, she stretched and sat down at her desk to look at the messages she had missed.
The Trafalgar had a dedicated communications suite manned by two officers (usually Ensigns), who’s job it was to function as the filters for the communications that came and went from the Trafalgar. Though most of the work was done by the computer, there were still communications that needed to be prioritized and secure comm channels opened. The work of the Federation President never ended, even when he left Paris on a diplomatic visit.
Mikaela finished listening to the first message, a letter from her best friend from childhood (he was in Starfleet, posted as a Lieutenant onboard the USS Vanderberg, an Intrepid-class starship). She laughed as the messaged finished; he hadn’t changed one bit. Even his commissioning in Starfleet as a medical officer hadn’t straightened him out. He wasn’t a bad person, he just liked to do things his way. That being said, he still knew how to follow orders, and for the most part, his record was clean. Mikaela scrolled through the next message, a brief invite to the Starfleet Command Gala (which she would be attending personally anyways since she was part of the protection detail), and then closed out the terminal. The familiar logo of the United Federation of Planets filled the screen, and she turned away to the window, watching the stars go by like streaks; the USS Buenos Aires (Prometheus-class) was on the port side, and Mikaela found herself admiring the view.

Some time later, the Trafalgar approached Sector 001, the Sol System. As the ship slowed to impulse, there was a lot of space traffic, though a large swath had been cleared by Sol System Control. The three ship formation passed smoothly through the traffic, using the cleared lane. As the Trafalgar approached Earth, Mikaela sighed with contentment. Seeing Earth from space never got old; in point of fact, it was more meaningful every time they made the approach. She could feel the starship start to descend, and soon, she saw the familiar red hot glow of reentry light up the shields. Back in the old days, before spacefaring became a regular thing, spacecraft had to have heat shields to protect them from the reentry heat. Now, the shields did a fine job of…shielding…the ships as they came in from space. The glow of the city lights as the Trafalgar approached Paris became brighter and brighter, until the Trafalgar was flying over Paris, on approach to the Concorde Plaza.

Mikaela knew what was coming, though she was still not used to what happened next. Once Starfleet One was over Paris, it would approach the Seine River and by the Pont de Grenelle, would gently make a landing on the water and then submerge into the river. The Seine was wide enough to accommodate  the Rhode-Island class starship, and it would wend its way underwater until it got to the Palais de la Concorde, where special hangar doors would open to reveal a giant hanger well under the Federation Presidential Complex. Within the hanger, the four Presidential shuttles were kept, as well as the two starships that were specially designed by Starfleet. There were special glass jetways that connected to special ports; they led directly to turbolifts that went straight to the secure lobby area of the Federation Presidential complex, from which the Federation President, their family, staff, and others could go anywhere they needed to. In this case, Mikaela took the turbolift up to the complex, then headed to the residence to check in with the Federation President and his family, making sure they didn’t need anything, and afterwards, she would sign off, and head home for a few days of well-deserved rest. When she arrived at the residence, the Federation President was settling down with his daughter; they were reading together and catching up. She did not wish to interrupt them, and turned to go, when the President spoke to her.
“Mikaela, did you need anything?”
“No sir, I was just checking in. I know we had a bit of a long trip and I wanted to make sure you did not need anything”
“Thank you Mikaela, I…we appreciate that. I just thought I’d relax with Lisandra for a little bit, before I retire. Thank you for taking care of me during that trip. I know you guys had it rough.”
“It wasn’t too bad, sir. It was a well-planned trip, as always. I’m just glad to be back home.”
“That it was. Lissy, say hi to Mika…” he coaxes.
“Hi Mikaela” Lisandra says shyly with a smile. “Thanks for bringing Daddy back home safe.”
“You’re quite welcome, Lisandra. Enjoy him!”
Mikaela’s response elicits a laugh from the President and his daughter. After a laugh, he smiles.
“Have a good night, Mikaela. We’ll see you in a few days.”
“Thank you sir. Good night.”
Mikaela left the Executive Residence floor, and after stopping by the Presidential Detail Operations Center for a chat with friends, then left the Palais de Concorde Executive Complex and walked to the transport to go to the train station, to take the train to go home.

A Week Later

Mikaela stood in the background of the Starfleet Command Gala, dressed very formally in what she considered “ceremonial dress uniform” for the Federation Security Agency. She wore a white blouse and black jacket and black trousers, similar to the men’s black suits (but well suited for women) and the seal of the Federation President on her lapel. Her phaser was holstered out of view on her hip but hidden by her jacket, and she wore black flats. As she stood watch, her comlink came to life within her earpiece.
“Shahar to all positions. Report in.”
“Kihara to Shahar. Entrance is clear.”
“Martindale to Shahar. Corridors clear. Continuing my sweep.”
“Ichikawa to Shahar. Perimeter is clear, continuing to patrol together with Starfleet Security.”
Mikaela piped up. “Kovalev to Shahar. Lancer and Lace are still mingling with vetted Starfleet Officers. They may take the dance floor soon. No threats apparent. Will do rounds shortly.”
“Hey Kovalev, enjoy the party for us!” Kihara exclaims, causing scattered chuckles from various agents.
“Will do. Kovalev out.”
With that, Mikaela begins to make the rounds, socializing as she did so. Soon, however, she was involved in a conversation, until Admiral Tumukunde came up to her and asked to speak with her. It would be a conversation that changed her career path, and set her on a course to do different things.

Admiral Tumukunde had been mulling over the latest roster that had been submitted to him by Starfleet Intelligence operatives. He knew that the team lead had chosen a capable team but he wasn’t sure if it was truly complete. He had been thinking about this for a few days when he received a report from Starfleet Security, specifically the division that worked closely with the Federation Security Agency. The division lead had travelled onboard the USS Normandy (the other Presidential Starship) and had struck up a conversation with a certain Special Agent Mikaela Kovalev. The team lead was thoroughly impressed with Mikaela’s skills and person and submitted a recommendation that she be ‘poached’ from the FSA and given an assignment in Starfleet. As Tumukunde thought about her, the invite to the annual Starfleet Gala arrived, and he noticed that the Federation President would be in attendance. He smiled to himself, and decided he was going to talk to her about being assigned to the covert ship.

Mikaela saw the Admiral approach her, and she warmly greeted him. It was in her nature to scan anyone who approached for threats, and the Admiral, though he was a high-ranking officer, was no exception.
“Good evening, Admiral.”
“Good evening, Special Agent. You are Miss Kovalev, are you not?”
“Yes, sir. How did you know…” Mikaela asks, a bit incredulously.
“Well, considering I’m one of the people in charge of Starfleet Intelligence. It’s my job to know.” The Admiral returns her surprise with a bit of humor of his own.
“That’s quite fair. What can I do for you, Admiral?”
“Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about some things. More specifically, a thing. Would a change of scenery and assignment be something that you would want?”
Mikaela blinked at him in surprise. “A change in scenery? What do you mean?
“Well, how would you like to work for Starfleet Intelligence and be a part of covert operations?”
Mikaela was intrigued. She had been searching for a way out, but more to the point…she wanted a change. She loved her assignment, but maybe it was time to be in space. “If I accepted, how long would I be out? Would it be a permanent change?”
“Not at all. You’d be assigned to a covert-ops team for a while and you would have the option of returning to your original post within the FSA after six months.”
“It sounds intriguing. I’d like to speak to Kate, my Detail Lead, and maybe think on it. But barring any opposition, I’d be happy to join the team.”
“Excellent. Please, take your time to consider the offer.”
“Will I have to go to Starfleet Academy and become an officer?”
“No. You’ll attend Starfleet Academy for six months to allow you to learn to be an officer in Starfleet, then you’ll be granted the honorary rank of Lieutenant Commander for the duration of your assignment. Once you go back to the FSA, you’ll be a civilian again, technically speaking.”
“Great. I’ll take it into consideration.”
“I look forward to hearing your reply. It was lovely talking with you, Miss Kovalev.” Admiral Tumukunde bows to her slightly. and then walks away. Mikaela looks around, her thoughts racing a mile a minute. She wanted this, but she didn’t want to leave her post. She loved the team she worked with, but in her heart, she felt the call of adventure. It wasn’t the assignment that she expected to have at this point in her life, but she felt something stir within her. She was going to step out into the unknown.

Ethan didn’t frequent the Starfleet Field office often, and he went to his own tiny office even less.  Under normal circumstances he was either on the Zebulon Pike which he conducted meeting in his quarters or he was completely away from Starfleet here on Terra Alpha.  Another reason he avoided the field office at 223 Hampton Street in the heart of  downtown Capital City was that he felt compelled to wear a uniform.  Something he despised.

He tugged at the black collar as he stepped through the door, clean shaven, pressed uniform and spit polished boots. The receptionist, a petty officer, looked up from her terminal and gave Ethan a second look surprised to see him. “Good afternoon commander.”

Ethan approached the desk, “Is my 13:00 here yet?”

She glanced down at her terminal going through those that had signed in, “No sir.”

He nodded, “Direct her to my office when she arrives please.”  And she’s late too. Not a good sign, he thought to himself.

“Yes, sir. Do I need to coordinate with the spaceport authorities to prepare the Pike for launch?”

Ethan considered the question for a minute and then shook his head, “No rumors of a mission just yet.  Bucking for the promotion to Chief are we?”

“No sir!  Of course not!”

Ethan chucked despite his sour mood, “Relax Petty Officer.  I am probably the one officer you can do that with. At any rate,” he tipped an imaginary hat in her direction.  “Good day ma’am,” he said in an exaggerated Texas drawl which made her smile.

He crossed the lobby and entered the nearby elevator and pressed the second floor which only took a few seconds.  A few steps down the hall he used his thumbprint and retinal scan at the door and entered his office. The office lacked any kind of personalization with a simple desk and chair with a pair of chairs facing on the other side.  In a corner was a fake plant and a small food and beverage replicator.  The whole office had the smell of a room that has long gone unused.

Approaching the replicator he pressed a button to bring it out of stand-by mode, “Coffee, black.”

The replicator obediently hummed, and a stainless steel cup with the logo of Starfleet Intelligence emblazoned on the front appeared out of the glow of energy.  Grasping the cup he dropped into his chair, propped his boots on the desk and waited.

Mikaela fussed over her uniform in the cramped quarters of the USS Irvine, a California-class ship that was ferrying her to the clandestine headquarters of Starfleet Intelligence, not in San Francisco, but in Terra Alpha. She had gotten used to the comforts and space of the Normandy and Trafalgar, and so the spartan quarters on the Irvine was not something she was acclimated to. Mikaela had been advised by the bridge that the Irvine was about 15 minutes out, though because the Irvine was low-priority, it would take them a while to dock to transfer personnel. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and tied it back, then fretted with her uniform as she looked at herself in the mirror. She glanced at the display, saw that it was 1255, and cursed. She was going to be late.

Once the Irvine had docked, Mikaela took her go-bag and walked briskly to the transfer point, where she boarded a shuttle to the surface of Terra Alpha, the Capital City, and then walked to Starfleet Field Headquarters. She looked around, a habit before entering any building, then walked inside. After checking her bag at reception, she took the lift up to the second floor. Here, masquerading as standard Starfleet offices, non-descript and out of the way, was the home of Starfleet Intelligence. After signing in and showing her credentials, she was admitted, and walked to one of the many offices and knocked. A Petty Officer opened the door and smiled. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander. He’s expecting you.” “Thank you, Petty Officer. Right through here?” Mikaela points at the office door. “Yes, ma’am.” Mikaela walks through the door and sees the Commander, feet on desk, waiting for her.

“You made it,” Ethan said dryly. Standing because he was taught that it was the proper thing to do and offered her a seat. “Have a seat.”

Mikaela nods. “Thank you. I apologize for being late, the Irvine was delayed in spacedock a bit. I’m Speci…I mean, Lt. Commander Mikaela Kovalev.” She cringed inside, as she struggled to keep about 6 years of habit out.

“I know who you are,” Ethan said flatly. “What I don’t know is what you are doing on my team. I choose officers I work with.  I have to trust you have my back and interests.  We operate in the grey and we only have each other. And they made you a a Lieutenant Commander?  I already have an XO and it ain’t you.”

“Well, in that case, you should know that I’m not here to replace your XO, nor am I here to command. I was seconded to this by Starfleet Intelligence, and I didn’t think it was a good idea to countermand them. That being said, I’m used to working in a team where you have trust each other with your lives and I’m not asking you to trust me just at the start. I’m asking you for an opportunity to prove myself, and to earn your trust.” Mikaela was confident of herself.

Ethan sat up in his chair and looked her dead in the eye, “Opportunities I have… for people who aren’t planted spies for Starfleet Intelligence.   What’s your real reason for being here? You don’t just jump ship protecting the President to go into covert ops, and you certainly don’t need the rank of Lieutenant Commander.  Which is an insult to every officer in the fleet by the way.  Most have spent over a decade of service to Starfleet to earn that rank and some brain dead Admiral who wants someone to tattle tell on me just hands it out like candy.” He was starting to get fired up and was quickly loosing his cool.  Something that was very unlike him.

Mikaela remained quiet, then started looking out the window, scowling. She had never felt so indignant as she did in the moment. Not once had anyone questioned her talents and abilities and now that he had, she felt insulted. Mikaela didn’t respond right away, taking a few moments to center herself before she lashed out at him. She reminded herself that she had earned her position on the Presidential detail and that she had earned her rank, when all the equivalences were done. However, it would be useless to argue the point. Coldly, she began to speak.

“My real reason for being here is to defend the United Federation of Planets and the Federation Charter from all enemies foreign and domestic. Same as you, Starfleet. We took an oath to defend the Federation and that’s what I’m going to do. You don’t have to like me, but we’re working together. So you can drop the act and be a professional officer, like the ones I’m used to working with, or we can continue going back and forth, insulting each other to no avail.” Her voice was resolute and determined, making it clear she was not giving ground.

“I can respect that,” Ethan grumbled.  “Sounds like a recruitment poster,  but everyone says that. It’s probably even true to some degree or another.  Do you know why I pick my team?  Of course you don’t.  You don’t know me.  I pick my team, because I know who they are.  I know their motivations, and capabilities.  You are an unknown quantity in an already hostile and stressful environment.   Guarding the President is stressful I get that, but like anyone you don’t know what you are made of until you are in a fight for your very life. They say there are no atheists in foxhole. To that end it’s the ones that freeze up or do something reckless in heat of battle is was gets them and others killed.”

He sighed and stood up, “I’m stuck with you. At least for now, so I guess a ‘welcome to the team’ is in order.  We start training tomorrow.  I guess we’ll find out if you even have the right instincts.” He picked up a PADD entered information into it and handed it to her, “Here’s your access code to the Pike.  She’s docked in the Starfleet Terminal gate A4 at the Capital City Intergalactic Spaceport.  That code will get you by security and onto the jet way. We don’t have fancy crew quarters on the ship.  Just double bunk quarters barely bigger than a closet,  but right now we have a light crew so you do get your own. When we are in between missions your time is yours. You can either take up residence here on Terra Alpha or you can find someplace else that suits you, but be prepared to report to the ship within 48 hours. ‘Ethan nodded to her, “Dismissed.”

Ethan felt a little underdressed in his Starfleet dress uniform.   Beyond that part, he was excruciatingly uncomfortable and absently tugged at the collar. Trinity opted not to wear a uniform opting for a sleek black dress and a pair of matching pumps that made her nearly as tall as his six-foot three inches. 

Their escorts ridiculously wore full plate armor. The curved plates were polished to a mirror shine. Surcoats of crimson red and the arms of the Narlin Empire embroidered in gold thread covered their breastplates. Capes hung from their pauldrons cascading down their backs the blood-red contrasting with their snow-white hair. The Narlins wore their hair to the waist pulled into a fighting plait bound with intricate brass rings. 

All six of the Royal Guards were at or near seven feet tall and carried a shield in their left hand and a ten-foot pike in their right. A sword swung from their belts on the right hip, and incongruously a phaser was holstered on their right hip and set up for a cross-body draw. A conical Norman style helm, topped with some ostentatious red feather, completed the look. 

The heavy wooden doors to the throne room were parted by sharp dressed guards in formal black military uniforms.  A projectile rifle was slung over their shoulders and a phaser pistol on sat on their right hips.  

The dark grey stone walls of the throne room were exposed and discolored by a millennia of time.  In some places moss grew along the walls.  The ceiling was supported by intricately carved beams, once a rich yellow, now a dark brown.  The carvings resembled grape vines climbing up the wall and across the wooden planks of the roof.  On both sides to the throne room were hearths and a fire blazing merrily away, but providing little warmth in this stone cold room and casting an orange glow upon the granite floor.

At the end of the room was a low dais with a throne in the center. It too was carved to symbolize nature with the arms and back representing trees, birds and flowers.  The throne was  flanked by similar,  yet smaller seats for the consort and heir apparent. Both were unoccupied.  

The emperor stood when they entered.   He was a tall man, and powerfully built.   The bulging muscles could still be seen through the loose fabric of his robes belted at the waist with an ornate long sword hanging from it. His skin was a dark blue with an almost purple hue. His wore his silvery white hair was worn loose and his long sweeping pointed ears jutted out and past the back of his head.  The hair itself cascaded down his shoulders and back beyond  his belt.  He wore a silver circlet shaped like a stag’s antlers that came to a point just above the bridge of his nose and disappearing into the hairline. 

“Your Majesty,” the guard captain started, “May I present to you Commander Ethan Talon of Terra Alpha and is wife the Lady Trinity.”

Magus Stormtalon was fairly young as far as emperors go approaching his tenth decade. His movements were deliberate and sure as he rose from the throne and stepped down from the dias to approach the human and his wife.  “Talon?  I know that name.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ethan began.  “My mother made first contact with your people fifteen years ago.”

“The short female with hair the color of fire,” Magus said describing Rebecca Talon. 

Ethan chuckled,  “Mom is actually fairly tall for a woman, and her hair has pretty much turned white.”

“Aww yes,” the Emperor said thoughtfully.  “You humans live half as long as we do.”

“It is our failing,” Ethan joked.

Magus laughed politely.  Diverting his attention to Trinity he bowed graciously, “The Lady Trinity.  I am honored to make your acquaintance.”

Trinity could feel her cheeks getting warm as she received such pomp from the leader of an entire society.   “The honor is all mine your majesty.”

“Come!” Magus said leading them  to a table located in the center of the hall and room for the seating of twenty or more. “I have taken the liberty of instructing our chef to prepare a human delicacy of hot dogs and hamburgers.  He could not figure out the root beer so I trust that our spring wine will do in its stead. It is of a very good vintage,” Magus assured them.

“I’m sure it is,” Ethan replied amused at what they thought was a delicacy. 

“We have a tradition from where I am from,” Trinity said with a smile.  “We grill hamburgers and hotdogs on an open flame in the hottest months of the year, especially on Independence Day.”

“Independence Day?” Magus asked confusion in his voice.

“A vestigial holiday on Earth,” Ethan replied. “There was a nation state that had gained independence from another nation station.  Of course the nation states don’t exist as such, but out of tradition many still celebrate the holiday as an excuse to party, and many don’t even know why they do. It’s just an excuse to get together and drink copious amounts of alcohol.”

Magus chuckled amused by the description. Many things done on Talaria were done in a similar fashion, and he understood all too well. “We have Unification Day.  We celebrated the surrender of the final independent kingdom nearly two millennium ago. It marks the day my ancestor, Youlan the Great, became emperor of all of Talaria. This castle,” He gestured around him, “Was once part of the Kingdom of Tamerale.  It was built over two-thousand years ago by King Tramane Stormrage. When Youlan killed him at the Battle of Ev’tel he moved his seat of power from Kormel to here.”

They spent the next two hours talking of history and eating a meal that would never been served at an official function on Earth. Secretly Ethan thought that was a missed opportunity. Sometimes official functions had too much flare and it detracted from what was important.  The spring wine was very good and after only two glasses he had a pretty good buzz.

Wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin Magus sat back, “So tell me, Ethan, Commander of Starfleet. What is your reason for coming to Talaria. What can I offer you that Starfleet cannot already do for itself?”

Ethan nodded. He knew sooner or later the reason for his visit would have to been made clear.  “I am forming a Covert Operations team under Starfleet Intelligence.  I am asking if we could negotiate the use of one your cloaking devices.”

Magus crossed his arms looking his guests up and down.  For a moment Ethan feared he had offended the Narlin, but a smiled cracked at the corner of his mouth. “You have come to us for the one technology that you do not have access to?”

“That’s the long and short of it,” Ethan responded.

“What of the Klingons or Romulans? Could you not use one of theirs?”

“We could,” Ethan replied.  “I know a few Ferengi merchants that can get me one if I wanted to, but your cloaks operated differently, and I think that might make it a little harder for it to be defeated.  In short, our enemies won’t be expecting it.”

“That is a fair argument,” Magus replied. “I will provide you with a cloak, but with conditions.”

“I cannot trade certain technologies, but I can provide a food replicator under the condition that you agree to official diplomatic relations with the Federation.”

Magus waved his hand dismissively, “That is an agreement for another day.  I tell you what I will do.  I will loan you a cloak in exchange that you loan the replicator to us.  We have many hungry people.  A single replicator won’t feed a world, but it will make that task easier.”

“I can agree to that,” Ethan replied.

“One last thing,” Magus said. “I wish for a liaison on your crew; someone who can maintain the cloak, and ensure our ways are kept.”

Ethan and Trinity exchanged looks.  That wasn’t a request that they were expecting. In silent agreement Ethan stated, “No one joins my crew without my consent.  I will meet with your liaison, and if they meet with my approval you have a deal. If not, I will still loan the replicator but you can keep your cloak.”

Viscountcy of Verona, Hylon Territories-

The Uchelcastel Estate was located on the far Western coast of the Western continent.   Rolling green hills sprawled to the edge of a massive ocean, the waves breaking on the white sands of a beach.  Fields of a green leafy plant with pink berries made up row after row all the way to a massive stone manor house with barns, and various other buildings constructed of the same native stone.

While old, Uchelcastel Manor wasn’t nearly as ancient as Magus’ castle in Ev’tel.  Uchelcastel was built during a time of peace and its lack of military fortification and consideration was obvious sitting in a little hollow surrounded on three sides by hills with only a view of the western sea.

Ethan sat in the backseat with Trinity and one of Magus’ aides of some sort of car, powered by some unknown technology.  The wheeled vehicle bounced over the rough patches in the gravel road.  “It’s beautiful.   It reminds me of Napa Valley in California,” Trinity commented of the countryside. 

Ethan grunted, “I prefer the mountains.”

“This is Hylon country,” the aide said.  “This is where most of our spring wine comes from.”

“What is a Hylon?” Trinity asked.

“Hylons are an offshoot of Narlins,” the aide explained.   “Smaller and more Human like, but skilled fighters.  Without Hylon bows there would have been no unified Talaria.  They are also skilled in the distillation of spirits including Hylon Whiskey and Spring Wine. Uchelcastel does spring wine. I believe some of it was served to you during your meal with the Emperor.  He takes a portion of the manor’s production as part of annual rents.”

“We had a similar system on Earth know as Feudalism,” Ethan remarked.  

He aide thought for a moment, “Aw yes. You are correct.   We were most intrigued that you moved away from that system.  Of course we do not have bond servants or any form of slaves.  Everyone on Talaria is free and is paid for their labors.  Are not rents any different from property taxes that were accessed up until a few hundred years ago on your planet?”

Ethan raised an eyebrow in thought, “I never really thought of that, but you might be right.  We don’t use money now so taxes aren’t really a thing in our society anymore.  There are some exceptions like the Ferengi and a few odd colony worlds.”

“You don’t use money? How does your society get the incentive to innovate and grow?”

“We live in a post scarcity society where all our needs are met.  We grow because we wish to better ourselves.   Though,  I agree that it encourages sloth is some people but overall I think we are better off.  I live on Terra Alpha.  Years ago our colony founders blended a capitalist and post capitalist economy by providing basics, but nothing else.  If you wanted more you have to work for it, and pay for it. Terra Alpha is thriving, but I don’t know if that is or isn’t the answer.  That’s probably best left up to the philosophers and economists.”

The aide smiled, “And they will certainly never agree.”

Ethan grinned, “Never.”

Their car pulled up to the front of the manor house, and a very young Narlin child opened the door.  He bowed to the visiting dignitaries.   “Welcome to Uchelcastel Manor.  Lady Audren is expecting you. This way my lords,” he said as he lead them up the stone steps.  The doors automatically parted and swung outward to lead them into the foyer. A grand staircase of white marble directly in front of them ascended upward to a second story.   

The boy, for that was who he was.  Had he been human he could not have seen more than twelve summers. He led them into an adjacent sunroom off of the foyer. There were massive windows facing west where the green vineyard faded into the white-yellow of the sand of the beach and the blue of the ocean beyond stretching into the horizon could be seen.  The room itself was exquisitely furnished with couches lining the far wall.  The floors were carpeted in fine rugs of red and gold.

After they were seated a Hylon wheeled a cart into the room with steaming teas and various baked goods which included a biscuit like bread wrapped in leaves.  Ethan and Trinity thanked the Hylon servant and helped themselves to the refreshments.  It wasn’t long before a slender woman dressed in loose fitting  white robes made of a soft material.

“Lady Audren,” Ethan greeted standing as she entered.

“Sit, please.  I have little use for these silly formalities.  Especially here. What brings you to Uchelcastel Manor?”

Ethan glanced at Trinity and she handed Audren a piece of rolled up paper with the Imperial seal.  Emperor Stormtalon seems to think you would be able to help us.”

Audren flicked the wax seal free of the letter and unrolled it to read the introduction written in the Emperor’s own hand. After a moment she set the letter down and leveled her gaze upon Ethan.  “I spent some time amongst your people. It is probably why I was chosen for this assignment.” She held up the letter for emphasis, “Do you know what this means?”

He shook his head, knowing what the letter likely contained, but not the consequences of said letter, and that was what he was certain was what was causing such angst for their host. “I cannot say for sure Lady Audren.”

“After the war I swore I would never wear a uniform again.  I walked away from the military.  I walked away from Talaria for a time. For a time I even spent some time in the Federation. Served on several Starfleet ships as a civilian learning what your people are about.”

“Well, that explains why Stormtalon chose you,” Ethan added.

“That and the ship I served on was your mother’s.  It was the Erebus that took me from my home.”

Ethan grinned, “So how about now? Will you answer the call? You know as well as anyone about the famine that plagues your people.  This could be an important step in forming an official alliance with your people, and possibly even entry into the Federation.”

Audren considered the man that sat before her, and after a moment of silence she nodded her head, “I will be your military liaison for you.”

“Welcome to the Zebulon Pike then,” Ethan said with a grin and extended a hand for t hem to shake on.

Lieutenant Dougal MacDonald crossed the crowded concourse approaching Mikaela.  He was wearing a kilt and sproran with his Starfleet uniform jacket under a plaid of MacDonald tartan.  He was clean shaven with a blaze of red hair close cropped. “Ye must be the wee lassie the Commander told me about aye?” He said to her in his Highland lilt.

Mikaela looked up from her PADD at the Lieutenant that had just spoken to her. She smiled, and took a moment to look over his uniform. She was surprised that someone could wear a kilt in Starfleet, but didn’t think too much on it. “Yes sir, I’m Lieutenant Commander Mikaela Kovalev, but you can call me Mika. We’re not big on formalities, or so I’m learning.” She takes a pause. “So, with whom do I have the pleasure?”

Dougal bowed, “Lieutenant Dougal MacDonald of the Clan MacDonald at your service ma’am.  I’m the closest thing the Pike has for a tactical officer though, in truth I’m more or less the team’s muscle.   When ye need something shot, blown up, or broken ye come to me lass.”

She starts laughing, and returns his bow with a curtsy of her own. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m going to keep that in mind. You remind me of one of of my friends on the Presidential detail. He was the leader of the tactical group; and boy did he love it. I’m the team pilot and navigator. And miscellaneous agent…” She trails off with a smile and laugh. “This is a different team. Starfleet and yet…not Starfleet. How did you join this team? Or rather, how did Ethan recruit you?”

“The Commander? Och aye.  He dinnea recruit me exactly.  He recruited his sister to serve as our wee medic.   The lass recruited me when she left the Europa.”

Mikaela smiles sadly as she listens to Dougal. ‘Everyone here was chosen by Ethan, except me. I’m the exception, and yet…it feels like everyone is friendlier than he is. Interesting how that works out.’ “That’s pretty interesting. You were serving on the Europa…do you miss your old assignment?”

“Nay lass,” Dougal said wirh a chuckle.  “Not even a wee bit. I dinnae think I am made for normal Starfleet service. Aimee drug me to the Europa from the Hippocrates. That lass, was even worse. A bloody hospital ship.  I was bored out of me mind, and stuck with daily Starfleet regs.  No, the Pike is more my style. I suppose I’ve got a wee bit of cowboy in me too.”

Mikaela laughed, easily drawn in by Dougal’s storytelling skills and personality. “Covert operations is certainly much more relaxed than the usual Starfleet assignments. It’s also a bit more exciting. More hand to hand combat.” She smiled at the last part. 

“Lead the way through, Dougal…otherwise we’re going to get absolutely lost.” She smiles and laughs. “I still don’t know what the Raven looks like. Knowing me, we’re probably going to end up on a ship going God knows where.” 

He led them down the terminal past crowded travelers and busy shops catering to passengers before they boarded their transports.  The terminal split. To the right the civilian passengers moved to and from their respective gates.  To the left it was nearly empty with just a handful of Starfleet personnel moving about.

The Starfleet Security Officers checked their credentials before allowing them past the gate area where Dougal led Mikaela to Gate A2.  “Home sweet home,” he said laughing at his own joke as he entered his access code to gain access to the jet bridge that led to the Zebulon Pike.

Mikaela saw down the jet bridge to the hatch on the ship. It was partially made of glass, so she could see the Zebulon Pike, a Raven-class starship. It was small, to be sure, but it looked majestic somehow. Of course, she was dwarfed by the much larger Galaxy-class, Nebula-class, and others that were in also in dry dock. But there was something about her, it reminded Mikaela of an ancient musical she loved dearly; Hamilton: “…[she’s] young scrappy and hungry….” The Zebulon Pike was relatively new, and from what she had read, it was small, but packed a hell of a punch. She was light, fast, and her crew seemed eager for fulfilling missions. It fit well. 

As she was lost in her own thoughts, the doors opened with a loud clack and whoosh, startling her out of her thoughts and bringing her back to the present moment. “She’s a beauty, alright…” is all she managed to say. 

Dougal laughed,  “I dinnae ken I’ve ever heard anyone describe her as such lass. The hull is nearly fifty years-old,  but she was completely overhauled and refit when Commander Talon drug her out of mothball facility about five years ago.”

He lead her down the jetway and into the ship proper.   Consulting a PADD he continued down the narrow corridor of deck two and then took a set of stairs down to deck three.  He paused at a door he entered commands and the doors parted to reveal a cramped compartment with a set of bunk beds along one wall and a simple desk, stool, and computer terminal along another.  “The crew is small enough yo dinnea have to share your quarters,  but it’s not terribly roomy.”

Dougal chuckled,  “Aye well, welcome to the Pike lass.  Take yer time and have a a wee look around.   I’ll be in the armory I ye need anything.” With that the big Scotsman turned and left the newcomer alone.

Órlaith sat alone in one of the many bars located in downtown San Francisco. Nursing a margarita she watched the live band play ancient country songs.  She wasn’t familiar with George Jones, George Strait, and Garth Brooks, but who ever those people were she was enjoying the covers of their songs.

“Can I get you anything else?” A waitress asked Órlaith breaking her from her thoughts.

“Uh…  sure.  How about some cheesy breadsticks with marinara sauce?”

“Right away,” she said with a smile and she disappeared into the crowd.

Marcus David Ming appeared from the crowd and dimness of the bar heading toward his former protégé.  He looked around as he approached and asked as he got close, “What drew you to THIS place my dear friend?”

Órlaith looked up surprised,  “Ming!” She jumped up and hugged him, “Have a seat. Why?  I like live music, and do you see any other Starfleet?”

The former commander of the Knights chuckled and returned the hug before he took the offered seat, “Thanks.  Not quite my musical speed normally but it’ll do I suppose.  And no….I’ve not “picked up” any other Starfleet here as of yet.  Have you ordered?”

“Food?  Just some cheesy sticks.” She held up her margarita to illustrate the other option. “As for the music they had a Metallica cover band in here a few nights ago, and they usually have contemporary music the other nights.  Contemporary really isn’t my thing.”

He looked at the menu for a moment and looked up.  The server did a double take when her eyes met his.  Violet eyes were very rare in humans especially those whom appeared to be of Asian decent.

Ming hid his amusement at the gesture.  She did inquire about his order recovering faster than most might.

Offering a cordial smile he said, “The cheeseburger, medium well, hold the lettuce, extra pickles.  I’d really like to get the fried calamari in the place of the fries.  Marinara to dip them in would be outstanding. A pint of Andorian ale to wash it down if possible.”

“Of course.  I’ll be back with your drink and both of your food in just a few minutes,” the server said smiling at the two patrons before once again vanishing into the crowd.

The former mentor looked at the woman who’d once been his student and said with sincerity, “It is very good to see you again.  It has been way too long.”

“Always,” she said, ”We’re a long way from the Denver that’s for sure.”

An emotion he could only classify as bittersweet touched Ming’s heart at the mention of the USS Denver.  While it was not his first ship it was the home of his first command.  Commanding four other fighters during the war he’d managed to have surprisingly few losses among his fighter pilots.  He’d taken them personally but he’d been hailed as one of the best fighter commanders during the war for tactical excellence and his low losses.

He’d also managed to mentor the woman across from him when she was a young lady before she embarked on a very impressive career.  She impressed him much earlier than most.  Just how much he’d never told anyone.  He’d always been quite grateful for her friendship since.

“Very true.  How’re you holding up these days,” Marcus asked before pausing and adding, “Well I hope.”

She shrugged,  “I have the easy life.  I didn’t see myself being put to pasture so early, but we’re at relative peace… not that threats don’t exist. So, I train these kids like we’re going to war. Like you trained me.” Sighing she took a long sip of her margarita before continuing,  “I just wish I was out there in the black.  How about you?”

Marcus nodded with a bit of a smile, “I know what you mean.  I’ve been a bit of two minds about it myself.  Not that I didn’t get enough excitement during the war myself but part of me does miss being out there…Flying by the seat of my pants, as the old saying goes, at the edges of the known galaxy.”

He paused before continuing, “Then again teaching small craft doctrine at the Academy and assisting with new doctrine development at Command has a certain satisfaction to it too I must admit.  It’s rather fun when the students….and even a few seasoned officers…whisper about thinking me a psychic.” Marcus’ violet eyes met Órlaith’s for a moment before his face broke into a mischievously amused grin.

He added playfully, “Crazy right?”

The waitress arrived with the plates and fresh drinks, “There you two go.  Is there anything else I can get you?”

Órlaith shook her head,  “I’m good.”

“I’m set as well.  Thank you though,” Marcus said with a bit of a smile.

She smiled, “I’ll check on you two in a bit.”  Turning she disappeared into the crowd as the band struck up a version of Willie Nelson’s “Always on My Mind”.

Tearing off a cheesy stick she dunked it into marinara and bit into it and smiled happily. “These are good. So, where do a couple of old fighter pilots go from here?”

Marcus dipped a calamari ring into his maranara sauce and ate thoughtfully for a moment.  His eyes met his former student’s once he was done and he said, “I don’t suppose flying of into the galactic sunset would be much of an option…..”

“That’s not off the table,” Órlaith said with a grin. “I think the kids would like it if I quit and found us a home somewhere not here. Mindy likes it here, but the other two don’t care for San Francisco much. That has been the added benefit of being stationed here on Earth. I missed having the kids with me on the Crazy Horse.”

Marcus smiled as his former mentee talked about her kids.  His family life was short lived as he had stayed in fighter command for longer than Órlaith had which had not pleased the woman who’d become his wife and, later, ex-wife. Another pilot, Sh’iv, had gotten him into Andorian Ale which was what he was drinking now. In his own mind he could admit how much he missed the Andorian woman.  She was a Shen which was one of the two feminine genders of the Andorians he reminded himself.  She had a family on Andor now and he was happy for her too althogh he knew how much he had missed her though.  He dismissed the might’ve beens as he looked into the liquid in the glass.

“I’ve given it some thought to be honest.  T’kown, who is a member of the Vulcan Security Directorate now, and I have continued talking over the years.  He confided something to me in private that I guess I will be doing with you assuming that you agree,”  Ming said with a slight smile as his eyes once again met hers.

“I know how to keep a secret,” Órlaith replied.  “I will listen to what you have to say, but no promise I will do anything beyond that.”

Ming continued after her agreement, “I was informed that there was an intriguing vessel in impound.  It was used as a raider some decades ago.  Captain Jean-Luc Picard infiltrated the crew, much on accident, and the ship ended up in orbit of Vulcan.  The crew was either killed by a rogue crewmember or else arrested and the ship was impounded. Rather than being destroyed it was lost in bureaucracy which happens, albeit rarely, even with the Vulcans.”

Marcus took another drink then said with his voice and smile becoming a little wistful as he went on, “It’s classified as a BC-011 which is still fairly well armed and shielded even by the standards of today.  It also has a modest cargo bay with analysis equipment.  I’ve thought more than once it would be nice to either retire or at least go on an extended sabbatical to captain it as a merchantmen.  It’d be well protected and a home away from home….If I could find a trusted group to crew it of course.”

She considered that for a moment, “An interesting thought, but I have the kids to take care.  I can’t go galivanting off on something like that.”

“I suppose I should’ve thought more into that.  It’s always been a bit of a direction I’d thought I’d want to move into.  Fighters / small craft seemed a best use from my talents as a midshipman.  Doctrine and education seemed the next best step.  I’ve always regretted not getting into starship command especially for something like an Akira class which heavily relied on small craft / fighters or another Nebula Class like the Denver which had multi-role options which could play into that realm.  If I could go back and do it over I might play things a bit differently especially since I enjoyed the exporation aspects of being in the dark.  I’ve occasionally wondered if it’s been too late to be honest,” Ming said with the first real bit of regret he’d shown outwardly about his decisions….Especially toward the woman sitting across from him.

“Everything that has happened made us who we are today. I wouldn’t change an thing.”

Ming nodded and mulled that over for a moment before saying, “True. I admittedly enjoyed teaching and training new pilots.  I got that bug from a certain someone who I shan’t mention.”

Marcus winked at Órlaith and gave her a knowing smile.   He realized that he was more at ease with this woman than virtually anyone else he knew.  That was a rare thing and he knew it.

“Well, I got to be honest,  I train these kids the same away you drilled me.  We may not be at war, but one day we might be. Besides it’s a dangerous galaxy,  both natural and non-natural threats are out there.  They may not fly a fighter into battle, but they will know how to handle a shuttle or a starship when the chips are down.  And that is a win in my book.”

Captain Marcus Ming’s violet eyes all but sparkled with pride and amusement.  He said, “Well….I have always done my best to make sure to hedge my bets in the field.  I try to pass that on to those I have taught.   And you know my policy…..What is the old saying from the late 20th / early 21st century?  Ah…To go hard or go home.  Nice to know those work for those that I’ve taught in whatever form works best for them.”

Órlaith raised her Margarita,  “I can toast to that.”

Ming raised his Andorian Ale and touched his glass to hers before taking a pull that nearly emptied what was left in the glass.  He stared at the table for a moment before looking back at her, “I cannot express how glad I am that I played at least a small part in your success.  When we first met I sensed that you could go far.   You’ve met every expectation I had and then exceeded them by leaps and bounds.   I hope this comes across in the fashion I intend but I must say that I am quite proud of you, Órlaith.”

“Thank you,” she said blushing a bit. Checking the chronometer she sighed, “Well, I probably should be getting home. Cory is dropping the kids off in an hour.  Mindy is twelve and can take care of herself,  but Liz and Xander are certainly too young to be by themselves.”

Marcus was a bit disappointed that he could not stay and talk longer with Captain Murphy.  It’d been too long of a gap since they last spoke but they finally managed to correct that.  He hoped that it’d not be very long until their next meeting now that they were both posted to the Academy.

Toward that end he gave her a smile and showed genuine warmth as he said, “I totally understand.  Now that we are both at the Academy I sincerely hope that we’ll get to talk more soon.  We’ve still got a lot of catching up to do I think.  Maybe at some point I might get a chance to meet the kids.”

“Of course,” Órlaith said with a smile. “Hey, you remember when the flight was getting used to your tactics and you had Sh’iv pretend to be you? What are you doing tomorrow?”

Ming thought for a second and smiled lightly,  “Worked like a charm as I recall.  They were expecting more subtly from her and more aggression from me.  Running into the reverse scenerio certainly threw everyone off guard.  McPhearson was the first to figure it out but it took a few simulated kills before they caught on.”

He tiled his head couriously and added, “I have three classes from 0800 to 1300 hours.   I actually gave the students off for the afternoon suggesting independant study.  I’ve a feeling that many to most will be focusing on non-academic studies but they’ve been working exceptionally hard and doing quite well.  It gives me time to work on the labs for the next few weeks too I figured.  Why do you ask?”

“I have a couple of students that are getting a little cocky, and could use getting knocked down a peg or two. Meet in my office tomorrow about… say 14:00?  I’ll do the briefing and you fly my ship as me.  My callsign now is Hindenburg, thanks to the other instructors at the Academy,” she said rolling her eyes.

Ming smiled a bit and repleated, “Hindenberg?  Now that sounds unwarranted and a bit dubious.”

His mind was working as he spoke then added after a second or two, “Maybe we could say that we’re both up there but not that we switched identies for the training excersize?”

She smirked a little embarrassed,  “They said I had a similar career trajectory after the Crazy Horse.  As far as both being up there?” She shrugged,  “Sure.”  She checked her chronometer again, “Now I do have to go.”  She kissed him on the cheek, “See you tomorrow. Those kids won’t know what hit them.”

“Sounds like a plan.  I will be looking forward to it and I guess I will see you in your office tomrorow afternoon,” Ming said with a casual tone that leaked a bit of eagerness.

With that Órlaith tossed several slips of latinum on the table and dissappeared into the crowd and out the door.

Cadet Rebecca Sandoval returned to the cockpit waddling with her hand on her stomach. She and Cadet Michael Sanders had been on an extended training mission with Nova Squadron. The exercises around the Alpha Centauri system had been challenging, but rewarding. Now complete they were in open space returning home.

Semester finals were coming up and Rebecca tiredly dropped her PADD on the console. Her most recent notes on “Advanced Warp Theory” staring back at her in a taunting fashion. Dropping into the co-pilot’s seat she let out a heavy sigh. Slipping her her boots off she propped her feet on the console. It was a futile attempt at getting comfortable. At this point in the pregnancy comfort was a relative term.

“How are you feeling?” Michael asked.

“Been better,” Rebecca admitted. “I am not enjoying this space sickness, and I’m not ready for this semester’s finals. How about you?”

Michael grunted. He seemed distracted. “As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

There was a long pause as Michael organized his thoughts. “Uh… oh it’s nothing.”

Rebecca frowned looking at him. “Michael Edward Sanders something is bothering you and I want to know about it.”

Michael sighed, “Not bothering me. Just something on my mind.”

“Which is?” Rebecca said with a frown.

He turned to her, “Well, this isn’t exactly how I saw this going down.. but the baby is going to be here before we know it.”

Rebecca nodded and picked up her PADD, “And not a moment too soon. I hate this.”

“Becca.. we are starting a family whether we like it or not. Will you marry me?”

“You’re right, this isn’t how I saw getting a proposal either,” she said with a grin. Pushing up to her feet she half tripped and half fell into his lap. Holding his face in both hands, “Michael Sanders, yes, I will marry you!” She kissed him and the two were in each other’s embrace enjoying the other person.

Suddenly the computer blared a warning. Separating from each other the two cadets settled back into their positions. “Sensors are picking up a Level-8 ion storm on an intercept course,” Rebecca announced reading the sensor data.

“I see it!” Michael said his fingers dancing over the control panel. “It’s on top of us.”

“How did we not see it until now?” Rebecca demanded.

“I don’t know,” Michael replied. He worked the controls of the shuttle as turbulence started to overtake them. The storm violently buffeted then setting off alarms all over the shuttle.

“Taking power from weapons and emergency reserves,” Rebecca announced. “I’ll try to reinforce shields and structural integrity.”

Michael glanced over at her, “Will that be enough?”

Rebecca shook her head. “It’s a class-8 storm. If we were in a starship maybe we’d have a chance.”

“We could try to land on Alpha Centauri,” Michael suggested.

“How long?”

“Not long enough,” Michael said as he fought the controls of the shuttle adjusting the heading.

An EPS conduit exploded. “Main power off-line.” The hull started to creak and groan as it pushed to its limits. A console in the back of the cockpit exploded showering them in sparks and debris. The lights flickered out bathing the two cadets in darkness. Rebecca’s fingers moved over the flickering controls. She was desperate to get something… anything working.

“I’ve lost impulse engines,” Michael shouted over the rumble. “We’re entering the atmosphere.”

“Well, at least we know we won’t suffocate,” Rebecca gave him a grim look. Returning her attention to the display she fought with the computer to keep it on one piece.

“Yeah, but burning up on reentry is still on the table.”

“Shields are online!” Rebecca exclaimed triumphantly. “You should have limited thrusters as well.”

Michael tapped out commands into his flight screen. “It won’t be a smooth landing, but I should be able to slow the descent.”

The whole windscreen glowed with the angry red and orange flames of re-entry. The roar was deafening, as the cabin began to heat up. Sweat dripped down the faces of the two cadets.

“Air’s getting stale,” Michael stated as he wiped his forehead.

“Yeah, I took life support offline to keep us alive,” Rebecca replied. Working the controls she tried to get every watt of power she could out of the damaged systems.

The damaged shuttle broke through the clouds. A sonic boom cracked the still afternoon air as it trailed thick black smoke behind it. The hull was blackened and charred from reentry but more or less still in one piece. Without full attitude control, the ground was coming fast.

“Thrusters aren’t responding,” Michael shouted over the noise.

Rebecca’s fingers danced over her console, “I think I can coax some more power out of the impulse engines. Now! Fire them now!”

Michael hit the full reverse on the engines but it was already too late as the shuttle slammed into the ground.

Rebecca woke up coughing. She was half lying on the console and the cabin was filling with toxic smoke. She coughed again as the smoke burned her lungs, “Michael?”

Pushing herself upright in her seat she let out a scream in pain. Her right arm was bent at an unnatural position above the wrist. She must have used it to brace herself against the console moments before the crash. She hadn’t flown head-first into the windshield, so a busted arm was a bargain.

“Michael?” She repeated and he still did not answer. He was lying over the console. Michael’s shoulders had become wedged between the console and transparent aluminum windshield. He stared back at her with lifeless eyes, his neck broken from the violence of the crash.

There was no time to mourn. The cockpit was filling with smoke and breathing was getting harder. She pushed herself to her feet and she screamed. Her stomach was on fire and her left ankle was either broken or badly sprained.

With tears running down her cheeks she ignored the pain and pushed to the back of the shuttle. After several failed attempts she activated the emergency hatch. She crawled through the hatch and fell a little over a meter to the ground below. The last thing she saw was the underside of the shuttle as the darkness enveloped her.

She woke again, this time she was in a room with bright lights. Someone was talking, “The placenta has detached. We’re losing the baby.”

“We’re losing the mother too,” another voice said. “She’s got massive internal bleeding. We’re on five liters of transfused blood, and I still can’t find the hemorrhage!”

The darkness closed around her vision and once again she fell into the darkness. She was dying, and Rebecca was at peace with that.

Rebecca’s eyes opened and she was in a quiet room. It was dark, and to her, right was a window overlooking a city she didn’t recognize. The sun or suns had fallen below the horizon long ago bathing the area in darkness. A single moon hung silvery white over the tops of the buildings.

For a moment she lay there unmoving with the steady beeping of the heart monitor being the only sound. She was alive. As her hand fell to her stomach the bulge was no longer there, and she screamed out in anguish.

A nurse rushed into the room her eyes wide in concern, “Ms. Sandoval?”

“My baby! Where’s my baby?” Rebecca demanded in desperation.

“Shhh,” the nurse said trying to calm her. “Tonight is not the time to worry about that right now okay?” She hovered over Rebecca taking her vitals. “You’ve been through hell, now heal.”

“I don’t care about me!” Rebecca snarled. “Where’s my baby? Where’s my daughter?”

The nurse hesitated. Taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry… by the time you got here it was too late. Your daughter… she was too young. She wasn’t ready to be born, and with a detached…”

Rebecca burst into sobs. She had already known the answer, but to have it confirmed was almost as bad as not knowing. Feeling sorry for her the nurse administered a mild sedative, “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a new day.”

Outside…

As soon as Nick got word of the shuttle accident he made his way to the hospital she was being treated. Granted, he was in the middle of his own Cadet mission, but Becca Sandoval was one of his best friends. She had been one of the few who’d stood by his side after his own mission had gone wrong. She and Michael and Nick and Julie Lei had been two of several couples at the Academy. There was a pool going around amongst the cadets betting on who would propose first.

Nick took verbal tongue lashings from both his Lieutenant in charge and girlfriend. They were right he was abandoning his duties, and he didn’t give a damn. He changed out of his Cadet’s uniform before walking into the hospital two days later. He had sensed Becca would rather see her friend than the uniform.

“I’m here to see Rebecca Sandoval. I’m her brother.” Nick lied, but he knew nurses usually only admitted family. The pair had been often confused for siblings. With strawberry blonde hair Rebecca even looked like Nick’s little sister Natalia.

”Can I get your name?” the nurse asked to which Nick handed over an ID card to the somewhat skeptical nurse.

”Nick Sandoval. Now… which room is she in?” Nick said with a worried look only a brother would have.”3083. Down the hall four doors past the reading room.” she replied as she handed his card back.

“Mr. Sandoval… I’m sorry but… she’s been in quite a state of shock, But she should be awake for lunch.”

As Nick walked down the corridor of the hospital, he thought back to his childhood. He had spent countless hours and days in more hospitals and clinics than he could count. There was even an eleven month deployment aboard the USS Hope, his mother’s hospital ship. Why he didn’t go into medicine? Nick already knew the answer. Engineering was where his passion lay, but Julie was making the case for Intelligence. That said, he figured, they needed engineers too. After all, his favorite character in the old James Bond movies besides Bond himself was Q.

Of course, Becca hated hospitals and sickbays. That’s how they became such good friends, he was her personal medic. Knocking on her door he poked his head inside. ”Hey Becca… it’s me. Are you decent? Not that I haven’t seen it before…” Nick said with a slight chuckle.

Rebecca turned her head with eyes swollen and red from crying. “Nick,” she replied in an airy hoarse tone. She fought the urge to cry, failed, and burst into a round of sobs, but there were no tears.

Nick walked over and embraced her in a warm bear hug and held her as she sobbed. “We’ll get through Becca. You know I’m always in your corner.” he looked down and touched her hand. “And I’m sorry about Mike… hell of a guy. When you get out of here, we’re having a proper memorial. Two of you were there for me.”

She swallowed, “I lost the baby. What do I do now?”

“We grieve and then… we live,” Nick said and looked into her eyes. “I can’t even fathom what you’re going through right now, but you an’ me… we’re family.” he glanced at the door. “And as far as anyone’s concerned I’m your brother. That’s what I told the nurses. Some of Julie’s little spy tricks combined with living on a hospital ship most of my life has come in handy.” he walked over and looked at her chart. “When you’re ready… I’ll take you wherever you want. Academy can kiss my hairy white butt. We’re legacies, what’s the worst they can do? Graduate us as Ensigns on a lower deck?”

She pushed herself up ignoring the sharp pains that washed over her body. Somehow she felt like she deserved every bit of the physical pain. As a sort of penance for her arrogance. Not that that would bring her baby or Michael back. ”I don’t care about the Academy or Starfleet anymore, but you do. I’ll not be responsible for your fall from grace too.”

She stared through the window and out across the city. Never before had she ever felt like such a failure. Until now everything had come easy. High School had been a breeze. She made friends with ease. Even graduating at sixteen had been no real challenge. When earning her Bachelor’s degree from the Colorado School of Mines she didn’t even study for her finals. Every thing always seemed to fall into her lap.

The doctorates from the Academy were her first real challenge in life. Not that they were nothing she couldn’t handle. But, here she was in a hospital having failed her main job as a mother: keep the child alive.

Fighting back tears she gave Nick a weak smile. “Tomorrow is a school day. I bet you have a mountain of homework from Professor Getz.”

“I don’t care about that right now. Besides, we get bereavement leave. Michael was a close friend too,” Nick said holding her hand. “Right now my main concern is you. When I was… struggling after my disaster mission, you and Mike were there for me. I’m doing the same thing for you. You just woke up after a hell of a bad thing. Lost your man and your baby… that is not going to heal overnight or ever. Do you remember my disaster mission and what you said to me? ‘You can’t sit in a room by yourself and be stuck in your head.’ I’m not goin’ to push you… but I’m not going to let you slide either. Alright? Like I said, what’s the worst they can do if we miss time? Delay our graduation. We are graduating. Might take longer but, it’s going to happen. You’ve got way too much of your life ahead of you.”

She clutched him ignoring the soreness in her broken arm. Nick was a lifeline to her. The one bit of sanity in a world that was increasingly making less sense. After a very long silence, she spoke , “Where am I?”

“Podunk. Or at least it may as well be. I never even heard of this place, but you crashed not far from here. This was the closest Federation hospital.” Nick replied. “Police ship picked up the crash and had you taken here. You were one of about seven other ships that got hit in that storm, but one of the few that actually had a survivor. I saw the wreckage. An Oberth class got shredded. No big loss on that ship, but the crew was lost with all hands.” Nick let out a heavy sigh. “In my structural engineering classes next semester, with Commodore Drexler, I have some ideas on that matter… “

“An Oberth should have survived that,” Rebecca said thankful for the distraction. “I guess they aren’t the most glamorous postings. Starfleet is going to be scraping the bottom of the barrel for engineers on those ships. They would have to take whoever they can get. Still, if I can hold a shuttle together, you’d think someone could keep a damn starship in one piece. No matter how incompetent they are.”

“Well, a shuttle is a smaller target for a storm. Like they taught us in Professor Sternbach’s ‘what to do when everything goes wrong’ class. Just beef up shields, SI, any thing you can do to maintain internal structural integrity. Then get out of the storm, even if it means crashing.” Nick replied and smiled and added, “Lot more things that can go boom on an Oberth versus a shuttle. There IS something to be said for narrower profiles and tighter configurations.”

“He proposed,” she said suddenly, “Michael he just blurted… no, that’s not true. I dragged it put of him. You men always have to be difficult don’t you?”

“Sometimes.” Nick chuckled. “Or we think you’ll say no but you we’re carrying his kid, he’d have had to face that sooner or later.” he rubbed his neck. “Julie’s dad told me if I got his daughter pregnant before graduation, he’d cut off my nads. I kind of believe him. He doesn’t like me. Mike and your dad seemed to get along alright.”

“My dad gets along with everyone… at least publicly. It doesn’t mean hea liked everyone I dated. To be honest he most likely didn’t like any of them. He also knew I needed to make my own mistakes. Otherwise it would push us together, and I wouldn’t realize until it’s too late.”

Nick chuckled, “Yeah, sounds like your dad alright. Sounds like you too if we’re being honest.”

Rebecca shrugged, “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. If you think my dad and I are pragmatic you should have met my grandma. She was in Starfleet well past her century mark. Grandma was just as likely to give you a ‘get over it’ as she was to use a dermal regenerator. I guess when you make it to her age you have heard all the stories and all the excuses and you don’t have time for either.”

Nick chuckled at that, “I never met your grandma. I wish I had.”

“She raised me after my mom had died. Dad was an amazing dad, but he didn’t have maternal bone in his body. Hell, I’m not sure he even wanted kids.”

The door to the room cracked open and a nurse walked in. “Mr. Sandoval, it’s time for your sister to get some rest. You can come and visit tomorrow.”

Nick hesitated and then separated himself from Rebecca. For her part she felt naked and pulled the covers over herself. Nick looked back, “Sleep well. Tomorrow will be a better day. It has to be. You’ve hit rock bottom, now it’s time to rise to the surface.”

“Thanks Nick,” she said. Her voice was soft and filled with barely contained emotion. What had bee forgotten only moments ago came flooding back.

Nick nodded, turned, and walked out the door. For a brief moment light flooded in from the outside hallway as the door opened and closed. Rebecca was now alone.