Commander Ethan Talon sat alone in a quiet corner of the crew lounge named Freyja’s Rest. He nursed his beer, staring down at the barely touched pint glass, watching the bubbles rise to the surface of the amber liquid and pop. Outside, streaks from the warp effect morphed into single points of light, and the hum and vibration in the deck plates fell silent. Sighing, Ethan stared out into the black for a long moment, not moving. In an act of resignation, he finished the beer in three enormous gulps. He dug into his pocket and tossed a couple of slips of latinum onto the table for the server. He had no idea if that was customary on the Valhalla, but he would never miss it, and it just seemed rude not to acknowledge her hard work.

Side-stepping and ducking through several relaxing members of the crew, he was quickly out into the corridor. In contrast to the busy lounge, the silent corridor was deafening. Turning right, he headed down the hall. At the end, he stepped into the parting doors of a waiting turbolift, “Deck six.”

The lift beeped in response and started moving toward its destination. Slowing to a stop, the doors opened, and Ethan stepped out, heading for the second door on the right that would take him to sickbay.

Doctor T’Lar was sitting behind her desk in her office just off the entrance to sickbay. The large windows, which she could frost at her discretion for privacy, offered her an unobstructed view of the whole sickbay. Setting down her PADD containing the medical chart of Crewman James Harrison, she looked out to see Commander Talon enter the medical ward.

She slipped out of her chair, and the Vulcan woman exited the office. With a placid expression, she looked the commander over, “You do not appear to be unwell, Commander. What can I do for you?”

“I am fine,” Ethan said. “I just wanted to take a moment to check on the arrangements for Lieutenant Donovan.”

“Your officer that was killed by the Changeling? Of course. Right this way, Commander.” T’Lar led Ethan across the sickbay to a door leading to the morgue. Rows of stasis chambers lined either side of the walls of the macabre room. Due to recent events, more than he would have liked had occupants within.

Halfway down on the left-hand side on the bottom, T’Lar pressed a button, and with an obedient beep, the door clunked open, and the bed within extended with a whir of servos. Kat’s body was still covered in the flag he had draped over her. In a knee-jerk reaction, he looked away. The woman that had become a friend and had been so alive was now being stored in the morgue like odds and ends tossed into the kitchen junk drawer. The images of how he found her lying on the Jem’Hadar fighter where the Changeling had discarded her like yesterday’s garbage still fresh in his mind.

Seeing his reaction, the doctor spoke, “Are you okay, Commander?”

Ethan pushed air through his lips. “No, but I will be. Thank you, Doctor.”

The Vulcan woman had dealt with human emotions all her career, but she never did understand them. How could someone not be okay, they would be? She wondered to herself. With a raised eyebrow, she spoke, “When you are done, Commander, all you have to do is press this button. I’ll leave you alone with her. I do believe that is a human custom?”

Ethan nodded in acknowledgment, “I don’t know if it’s a custom or not, but thank you. Have you finalized her arrangements to be transported back to Earth?”

“Not yet, Commander, but rest assured I will take care of it.”

“Thank you again, Doctor. Her parents were quite upset. I would like to at least give them a chance to bury their daughter.”

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at that, “I will not question their beliefs or yours, Commander, but I do find that a very illogical statement.”

“We humans are a sentimental lot, and certainly very illogical.”

“Indeed.” Without further formality, T’Lar turned and walked out of the morgue, the hissing of the closing doors marking her passage.

Ethan stared down at her lifeless form covered in the flag of her birth. “Well, between the two of us, I figured it would have been me lying there.” He rubbed his jaw with his right hand. The two-day stubble made a rasping sound against the calluses on his hand. “You were a good officer and an even better friend. I’m certainly going to miss you. The Outpost won’t be the same without you. I told your parents you died without pain. I don’t know if that’s true or not. Somehow I doubt it, but I wish it was true.”

He paused, and he broke down. The raw emotion overtook him, and he cried. He leaned against the nearby bulkhead and wept into his forearm until it was slick with tears, saliva, and snot. When all his tears were done, he took a deep breath. “Time to cowboy up,” he said to himself. Wiping his face, he just stood there as if standing guard over his friend until the com chirped.

“McKenzie to Commander Talon.”

Ethan cleared his throat before tapping his combadge, “Go ahead, Captain.”

“We’re in orbit of Sheo III. Please report to transporter room three.”

“On my way. Talon out.”

He paused for a second before pressing the button to close the morgue. As it slid shut, he spoke, “Goodbye. See you in the next life.”