“They know who I am now, Captain. My cover, as you humans would say, is blown.”  Thasaz at the conference table with Captain Wren Walton and Lieutenant Charlie Hargraves.  “I’ve been given the choice to remain in Starfleet.”

Walton had been read into the secret sections of the Romulan’s dossier.  She’d been impressed with Thasaz’s double agent actions, among the other details.  “I would have no issues bringing you aboard the Mackenzie, Commander.  Our Chief Science Officer is on leave, and the position needs a steady hand.”

Thasaz had been considering the Mackenzie since Starfleet had given her the power to choose her next step.  She’d filled the role before on the Edinburgh.  She was starting to feel more at home as a Starfleet officer.  I’m not sure how I feel about that, she thought.  She answered, “I need a few days to consider the offer, Captain Walton.”

Wren let her know to take all the time she needed.  As the door closed behind the Romulan, she turned to Charlie, “You’ll be glad to know they’ve decided to reinstate your rank and position as Chief Diplomatic Officer.”

His smile was hesitant initially as if he couldn’t believe it was possible.  As she pushed the wooden box containing the rank pips across the table, he allowed himself to smile broadly.  “Thank you, Wren.”

She shrugged, “It seems the Changelings in Diplomatic really tried to sabotage our relationships with the large and small players.  Thankfully, most of the officers on the ships were able to blunt the damage.  A few were referred to JAG, but those cases have been dismissed.”

Hargreaves slid open the box and went to work attaching his old rank, “I was considering leaving Starfleet when that happened.  It felt like I was living in another universe…like everything was upside down and backward.”  He heard the click of the pips, “And it was – they tried to take everything from us.”

Walton nodded, “Good triumphs over evil every so often.  Your department has been notified of your return to position and rank.  Submit any roster changes or requests by the end of the day.”  He stood at attention and headed out the door.

“We’ve had some sightings and confirmed locations on both.”  Captain Peter Crawford handed over the PADD to Wren, “Patra and Carolyn are working as Captain and XO, based on the reports.  Patra has taken control of an entire unit of Syndicate operations…and he’s been slowly expanding his reach and influence.”  He shifted in the chair, “He’s keeping to himself and the Syndicate for now – growing and feeding the force he’s building.”

Walton perused the report, “He won’t make the same mistakes twice.  Tractoring to the Syndicate was a tactical choice.  They know his history, I’m sure…but they’re one of the few that don’t care about old news.  It’d be either them or the Borg.”

Crawford chuckled, “…and even then, I wonder if the Borg would want him.”  They shared a smile as Peter picked back up, “We’re nearly done with our sensor repair and refit operation.  Next day or so.  You?”

Wren nodded absentmindedly, “Repairs and refurbishing in the next day or so.”  She stared out the windows in her ready room at the insides of Starbase 72, “I think back to all those times I was traveling from ship to ship…and I realized the other day I’d never want to go back to that life.”  She sipped at her cooling coffee, grimacing at the blunt punch of lukewarm flavor.  “Something about the stability of command, I suppose.”

Peter mused, “Maybe you’re finally ready for commitment.”

She scowled at him mockingly, “That’s the Ferengi calling the Grand Nagus cheap.”  She returned her cup to the replicator and sat down with a fresh cup of coffee, “I accept the criticism but deny the implications, Pete.”

There was a long silence between them.  Crawford broke it, “You know…we probably should have dinner tonight.”

She felt her face grow warm, and she chewed on her bottom lip, “You think?”  It wasn’t often that Wren didn’t have a lot to say.

Crawford leaned forward, “Come on, Wren.  We’ve been dancing around this for a little too long.  I like you. I think you like me.  We’re both old enough to get off the dance floor and get a table.”

She was about to raise her eyebrows.  She had anticipated he would say, ‘and get a room.’  She wasn’t sure she would have disagreed with him on a personal level.  On a professional level, she would have thrown him out of her ready room. On a personal level…she wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed.  She replied, “I’m…that would be an acceptable compromise.  And yes, I like you.  More than as just my subordinate.” His mouth twitched, and she wondered what he had fought back from saying.  She sighed, “OK, 8 pm tonight, good?  The Captain’s Mess doesn’t get much use… and it’ll be private.”

Pete stood, standing at attention, “It’s agreed.  I’ll see you at 8 pm.”

Walton fell back in her chair when the door closed behind him.  It was a date.  She was going to have a date.

She tapped her badge, “Commander Park, to my ready room.”

“You’re right.  I’m not going to believe it.” Captain Wren Walton sat at her ready room desk, the screen filled with the face of her Task Force Commanding Officer, Captain Geronimo Fontana.  He’s just informed her that Cardamon, the Voth advisor, had applied to Starfleet Academy.  She shook her head, “What are your thoughts?”

Fontana chuckled, “His test scores are average, but a surprising amount of critical thinking and comprehension is a common thread in his answers.  We also put him through several scenarios, both holographic and discussion-based.  He was able to adapt and work within each of them with success.  Given where we’re at in the school year, I’m inclined to have him placed on the Mackenzie at the rank of Cadet with an official start date at the Academy in August.  Natalie Harris is there and will be entering her Junior year.  Could be a good fit for him and her.”

Walton raised her eyebrows, “You’re not thinking of sending us back to the Delta Quadrant?”  The Mackenzie had been there once before, and the results had led to the death of her former captain, Ambrose Harris, at the hands of a Devore Imperium officer in the Alpha Quadrant.

He shook his head, “No.  You’ve got a few more days at Bravo to receive your upgrades and refits.  We’re considering a shakedown cruise with the pending new crew transfers.”

Wren scoffed, “I saw those.  You’re replacing some of our seasoned groups with just graduated cadets!”

Geronimo shrugged, “They’ve proven their worth – we’ve got the need for seasoned and veteran officers across the fleet.  Frontier Day was not kind.”

“I know who to blame for all of that.  And it’s not the Changelings or the Borg.”

Fontana folded his hands, “Captain, we’ve had this discussion.  I’m not willing to engage in it again.  Circling the drain is my least favorite activity.”

Walton held her tongue.  Starfleet Command had become complacent and indifferent.  It had allowed two of their most malicious enemies to get keys to the various houses and cause untold chaos and death before a miracle in the shape of the Enterprise D and her old crew saved the day.  “I stand by my opinion.”  She sighed, “Is there anything else, Captain Fontana?”

He frowned.  “No, not at this time.”  Fontana thought of asking further.  Would it be worth the time to talk her through her feelings on the matter?  He decided against it, “Good luck and fair winds, Captain Walton.”  The channel closed abruptly, and Walton scoffed.  There were days she disliked Fontana.

“I was a friend of Captain Harris.” Cardamon before Walton, his clawed hands nervously clasped.  Quartermaster Wyatt had worked to replicate a uniform that fit the Voth, and he had succeeded after nearly four hours of experimentation.  She had asked him about his history.  He continued, “I worked for his mother and sister at their business on Earth and learned many things there.”  He shifted nervously, “I decided it was time to return to the stars.  I wanted to give back to the Starfleet since they’ve given so much to me.”

Walton had read his file over three times and examined the logs and letters of recommendation that had been filed.  “Why the Mackenzie, Cadet Cardamon?”

The Voth frowned as best as he could, “Why not, Captain Walton?”  He thought momentarily before continuing, “It is the only place I’ve known as home since leaving the Delta Quadrant and the Markonian Outpost.  It is the one place where everyone accepted me at first glance…and wanted me to remain.  I am an oddity, at times, in the Alpha Quadrant.”

She wasn’t going to disagree with him.  Yet, she recognized the spirit of his thought process.  He would never return to the Voth who had hunted him down.  He didn’t have anything to return to on the outpost.  He had enjoyed his time at Harris Transport, but she felt that he had been missing something in his answers.

Walton pressed, “Why not Harris Transport?”

He shrugged, “It is not in space.”  He added with a smile that looked like a snarl to most, “I am a Voth who needs his freedom of the stars, Captain Walton.  I need to be able to feel it.  That…you humans call it a hum…beneath my feet.  The…rumble is the word…the rumble of the engines…the beeps and boops of the stations.  It is something I have discovered I cannot live without.”

She considered his words and the application that had been forwarded.  “You’ve read the duty responsibilities of the Yeoman?”  A vigorous nod.  “You accept you will be under my command and responsible for following my directives without question?”

At that last statement, he leaned forward, “I do not mean to contest your statement, Captain…but according to the documents you assigned me to read, I can question…or at least…as you humans say, ‘object’… strenuously if needed.”

Wren smiled quietly, “You did the reading.”  He gave her a look of shock, and she waved it off, “I had to ensure you were willing and able.  Captain Harris knew you well and worked with you.  I need to know you and what you can and will do for Starfleet, Cadet Cardamon.”  He gave a satisfied nod.  “Welcome aboard, Cadet.  Your old quarters will remain yours.  Report for duty tomorrow at 0600 hours, and we’ll get started.”

Cardamon shifted out of his chair and stood at attention, “Thank you, Captain Walton.”  He left as she dismissed him.  Wren sat back in her chair, wondering just what kind of officer Cardamon would be in the future.

The world had gone bright and then dark.  He could hear screams and shouts as he felt his body slam into the ground, gasping for breath that would never come.  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since the Devoth officer had raised his weapon at him and fired.  Ambrose Harris picked himself off the floor, a dull ache stretching from his head to his toes.  He blinked, unsure of where he was.  A bright white cascaded around him, and the sound of silence echoed in his ears.  Where was he?  There was a heavy sense of something at the edge of his consciousness that he couldn’t identify, which frustrated him.  He wasn’t given to forgetting things or being able to figure stuff out.

“Hey, son.”

He turned to find his father, Jard Harris.  Ambrose took several steps back, “You’re…dead.  You died ten years ago.  What the hell is happening?”  He spun around, feeling like he was going to throw up.  He somehow knew the truth, even if he didn’t want to say it.

“I did.  You died, too.  That’s why you’re here.”  He gestured around, “Welcome to the other side.”

Ambrose paced around in a small circle, his mind spinning at the realization that his life was over. His present and future had been extinguished by a fanatic—a ruthless fantastic.  “Why is it so easy to accept that?”  Coming to a halt, he turned on his father.  “Why does it feel…like this?”

Jard shrugged, “You said I’ve been gone ten years.  Doesn’t feel that like to me.  It feels like it was just yesterday that I got here.”  He put his hands in the pockets of his overalls, “I work on the old farm.  Keep up the fields and tend the cows.  You want to see it?”

Ambrose wanted to feel disbelief at the situation but couldn’t muster up the emotional energy to get upset.  There was something calming about this place and the reality of what was ahead of him here.  “I guess I should.”

They walked on, and Jard mused, “I do miss your mother.  She was such a part of my life.  There’s not much from my old life I remember…or think about much here…but she’s always on my mind.”

“She misses you too, Dad.  That first year was hard.”  Ambrose blinked back tears, even as the emotions felt as if they were fading away the moment they registered in his chest.  He was starting to understand some of the rules of this place.  Feelings weren’t long-lasting – they were brief…and flickering.

The white world began to take on color as they faded into a muddy path and the distant sight of a farmhouse in a sprawling ranch.  Jard mused as the world became solid the more they walked, “I know.  I watched for a while…you all helped her…she fought hard to come back from the brink.”  He shrugged again, “I don’t look in on her much these days – ten years has given her the freedom she deserves.”

Ambrose stopped, “You…can see us?”

His father frowned, “Yes.  You, your sister, your mother…I’ve watched bits and pieces of your lives since I left.  You’ve made me very proud – both of you.”  He walked further, pushing open a gate, “Come on in.”

The house was massive, and the rooms were decorated as he remembered them.  There was much of what he remembered from the old house, but there were still new additions.  He pointed them out to his father, “What’s…all this stuff?”

Jard chuckled, “Living in this place has afforded me new…I guess you’d call them memories from the places I’ve visited or traveled.  Here you can go anywhere in the universe…see it all for the first or the third time…and every time, there’s something new I didn’t see before.”  He puttered into the kitchen and returned with two cups of coffee, “We’ve got damned good coffee in the afterlife.”  Jard sat down and motioned for his son to do the same.  “You’re not going anywhere, son.”

Ambrose pursed his lips.  His dad was right, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it despite being comfortable with everything around him.  It was chaos and calm in his heart – nothing made sense while it all made sense.  “I don’t suppose anyone ever…leaves here?”

“That’s above most of our pay grades, son.  Eventually, they’ll have you set your own homestead somewhere…you can still visit.  I’ve made a few friends.  We do dinner once in a while…time’s a harder thing here.  No clocks or watches.  Just…easy living on your patch of the afterlife.”

Ambrose leaned back in the chair, “It is comfortable…and it feels great.”  He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

“You took your damn time.”

“Look, it took us a long time to work our way inside.”

“How much trouble?”

“We coded everything – used up every favor we had built…they’ll be waking up in the morning to a real mess.  It won’t take ‘em long to figure out what happened.  They’re gonna be pissed off.”

“They gonna be able to trace it back here?”

“We switched ships four times – scuttled each one into little bits.  It’ll take some work to figure out what we’ve done.  I say we’ve got three to five days, tops.”

“Make sure the scouts stay behind to watch for followers.  Let’s get him down below.”

“Aye, Pandora.”