Wren sat in her ready room on the USS Mackenzie, staring at the console screen. An hour ago, the meeting invite had arrived. She hadn’t taken her eyes off it since. Most of the Excelsior II-class starship stood empty, as most had taken advantage of the mandatory shore leave. It was an unsettling quiet, and keeping to herself in the ready room was her solution to keep the silence out of her mind. Memories of her past adorned the walls. Not a lot of photos of friends, Wren, she told herself. Her friendship with Park over the years had been the one constant. There were friendships here in the squadron. Before her arrival on the Mackenzie on February 2401, there wasn’t much. Thinking about that in the silence threatened to redline the uneasy feelings roiling around in her mind. The door chime saved her, and she answered, “Enter.”
Chief Petty Officer Henry Wyatt stepped through the door, PADD in hand. “I think I’m the only one left besides you. Everybody else got out while the getting was good.” He accepted the offered chair, sitting down with a relieved sigh. “Took me longer than I care to admit inventorying the storehouse and office. Only missing a few uniforms. Everything else is where it belongs.” He tapped the screen, sending her the report. His eyes focused on her next. “You’re not going to stay here the whole time, Captain Walton.”
She let a small smirk slide across her lips. “I was thinking about it. The Commodore might actually try to drag me out of here if I tried it. No, I’ve got some plans some time back home. Haven’t been to see the family in five years.” She didn’t mention the impending counseling appointment that still glared at her from her console screen. “You?”
He seemed to stare at her a little longer than usual, narrowing his eyes to take the measure of her before releasing his attention. “I’ve thought about making a trip back to somewhere in the Federation Center. We all need a break from time to time. Still plenty of places in this galaxy to see.” He paused, tapping his PADD gently against his leg. “You doing okay, Wren?”
She felt the room tighten just slightly around her, and could see by Henry’s reaction she hadn’t hidden it well. “Is there an answer where I don’t have to explain it?”
“Well, I’m not a counselor and haven’t been for a long time, but I notice things. You locking yourself in here, not seeing the crew off for shore leave, and that look on your face when I asked tells me something’s up.” He sat back in the chair, watching her.
She could feel the weight and need for confession swinging through her soul, crashing repeatedly against her nerves like an out of control warp breach. “You’re very perceptive, Henry.” Wren sat up in her chair, leaning over her desk. “Director Courtemanche has summoned me for an appointment.” She reached for her glass of water, taking a long drink. She shakily set it down. “I’ve had to visit Montana’s sickbay every few days.”
He sat up, leaning in. “Anxiety?”
She shrugged. “Anxiety, stress, regret, grief, fear, worry, and whatever other emotional soup goes sour when you question the decisions and outcome of something like V’ger. Give it a name, it’s me.” She rolled her shoulders, trying to shake loose the tightness that had settled there. “The nightmares started three days ago.”
Henry Wyatt kept his eyes locked with hers. “I know something about those. How bad?”
“Bad enough that I’ve been sleeping in here since. Trying to get myself out of this room and into the silent tomb of the Mackenzie has been hard.” She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. “I know it’s not a tomb. I know it’s not any of the things I’ve seen in my nightmares. But Voyager isn’t V’ger. It said it was going to come back. That we were a universe in error.” She blinked away the tears. There had been enough crying in her ready room.
Henry spoke softly with firm comfort. “I read the reports. The chances of the Loom allowing that to happen are low. We don’t know what we don’t know, Wren.” She shook her head, unwilling to speak further. He frowned and shook his head in reply. “You don’t get to do that with me, Wren Walton. I don’t continue to serve in Starfleet for the fun of it. I serve because I need to be here to witness. To observe. To listen. That’s my destiny as an El-Aurian. It’s my responsibility. So, no. You don’t get to shake your head at me.”
She grumbled with an annoyed frown. “You’re worse than Park.”
He smiled, chuckling dryly. “No offense taken. What’s behind the head shake?” His eyes kept up their pressure as he remained locked onto her own.
“Relentless bastard,” she blew out a raspberry-filled sigh. “There was a moment where I stepped forward to join with V’ger. His eyes spoke to me, Henry. Spock wouldn’t let me. I didn’t stop him.”
“You think you could have stopped Spock? That’s a tall order for anyone.”
“I could have. Pushed my feet and threw myself at the thing, slamming my hands on it. Taken control. And maybe kept it away from our universe.” She let out another long sigh. “That’s the other part that’s eating at me. I told Park the first part, but this bit… this regret-drenched confession? You are one lucky bastard, Henry. You dragged it out of me.” Her face was sweaty, her eyes shone red, and her face flushed. “There are no win scenarios, and then there’s whatever the hell this was.” She snagged a towel from her desk drawer and wiped her face clean. “I could have stopped Voyager from coming here. I could have saved us a galaxy load of trouble.” She could feel the heat from her chest dissipate as her words tumbled from her mouth. “Regret is a hell of an emotion, let me tell you.”
Wyatt steepled his fingers in the silence that followed. He wondered if Voyager’s words were true. And how much weight did the Katra of Spock have over it? “We can only speculate, Wren. You did the right thing with what you knew. We all did.”
Wren’s eyes grew misty for a moment, and she wiped the burgeoning tears away. “Then why does it feel so bad? Why is it so heavy? Damn it.” She practiced her breathing as she fought to bring the rising panic under control.
Closing her eyes and counting to ten.
Opening them and making a note of ten things she could see.
The pressure lessened, and the pounding in her head lowered in volume.
Identifying three things she could smell.
The beating in her chest slowed.
Two things she could touch.
The ache in her chest was less sharp and dulled.
And one thing she could taste.
The colors of the world around her dimmed and were not as overwhelming.
She blinked a few times, and Henry Wyatt went from blurry to solid.
He asked, “Better?”
Wren nodded slowly, as if believing it herself for the first time. “Better.”
Wyatt remained seated. “You need to keep your appointment with the Director.”
The tears had retreated, and she felt strength returning. “I know.” She sat up, pulling her hair together and back. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Stay with me for a little? I need to finish some reports.”
“Done.”
She took a long breath and let it out, her sense of self filling back up. “One other thing.” He replied with a nod. “Walk me back to my station quarters after I’m done.”
“I can do that, too.”
“Will you walk me to my appointment tomorrow?”
“Long as I get to flirt with the Director.”
She laughed, and the sight of her smile, and the sparkle returning to her eyes was reward enough for Henry. “I swear, if you start dating her.” Walton turned her attention back to her reports, and Wyatt leaned back in his chair.
“We’ll see. The Wyatt Effect can be unpredictable.”
They both burst out laughing.
