The funeral was a quiet simple affair; a half dozen relatives of the late Rear-Admiral George Jason Devron. Other than himself there was only one Starfleet representative present.  A man who Jason knew by site, if not the name and rank he now carried.  The last time he’d seen this man was right before his new life as Jason Devron had begun.  Now a Captain going by the name of Robert Fitzpatrick, he sported a Riker-esque beard greying slightly around the jaw line.

The captain didn’t say much during the service as the admiral’s body was cremated; he’s ashes would be laid with those of his late wife who’d passed away some 15 years previous.  He did however offer his sympathies and condolences to each of the family members, making sure he reached Jason last.  He acknowledged the presence of doctor Andrianakis who’d gone with the young lieutenant.  Jason hadn’t asked her to come, but she’d made the journey over to England from Greece, and he was grateful to have Phoebe there.  Jason made it clear to the captain that it was safe to talk freely in front of her.

“How are you holding up?” The question was genuine and sincere.

“Like someone put my heart through a blender, Sir.” Jason sighed looking down at his own hand. “They think he died of a heart-attack whilst fishing in Canada.  Instead of being murdered by these two hands!”

“George was a great boss, mentor and above all friend.” Fitzpatrick replied. “And he knew the risks we can all face the moment any of use put these uniforms on.”  He gave the sleeve of his red dress uniform jacket a brief tug.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Jason looked into the other man’s eye. “Don’t you think knowing it’s my fault isn’t bad enough?”

“Do you know how many thousands of people are feeling the same way as you? Turned into unthinking drones by the Borg.”  The captain jabbed Jason in the shoulder with his finger. “How many lives we lost that day?”

“No.” was all he could murmur.

“Well neither do we!” Fitzpatrick barked back, attracting the disapproving glances of those still nearby. “We still haven’t finished counting them yet.”

Jason felt the reshoring hand of Phoebe grip his.  He was supposed to be the one looking out for her, and yet the young Greek women had proved to be more his rock, especially during these past few days.  He’d told her everything a couple of nights ago.  The whole made crazy mixed up story of his life.  He’d just let it all out and she’d listened calmly if not a little moved by it all.

“This wasn’t just a simple Changeling, Borg collaboration.”  The captain continued more coolly.

“What do you mean?” It was Andrianakis who spoke this time.

“I can’t go into details regarding an ongoing investigation.” Replied the officer. “But we’d been following several leads here on Earth, before all hell let loose!”

“Is there anything I can do to help you Captain?” Devron asked. “Just say the word, Sir.”

“For now just concentrate on getting yourself back on your feet.” Fitzpatrick gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “For now just let me do the investigating.”

“Who have you got working with you, Mister Fitzpatrick.” Phoebe enquired.

“Right now, just me ma’am.” The captain turned his head looking across to where the Rear-Admirals ashes would be placed. “I’ll be liaising with other intelligence and security sections, along with any national agencies where needed. But at the moment I’m a department of one.”  He pulled himself back out of his thoughts, and bid both Jason and Phoebe good day.

As the captain walked away, Phoebe gently tugged at Jason’s hand. “Come on let’s get out of here.  We’ve had too much death to deal with.”

**********

High in orbit; currently somewhere above Central Africa, the USS Chapel hung in space.  All seemed quiet and peaceful aboard the hospital ship, a far cry from the events of eight days ago.  One man stood alone in the vessels large Engineering section.  The warp core hummed away, the blue glow of energy dulled and only occasionally rippling with a hint of the immense power held within as it waited on standby mode; ready to burst into life the moment it was needed.  Lights winked across various control panels and status reports scrolled up line by line on monitors. In the background a soft flute melody played over the ships speakers dotted about the room.

It should have been a hive of activity, the beating heart of the ship; but that had been before the madness.  Whether they’d been on duty at the time or not; every member of Engineering had gathered together, to witness the ‘Frontier Day’ celebrations as one big happy family.  A few had known each other from previous assignments, for others this had been their very first posting fresh out of training.  Now all of the 22 officers and crew; spread across three shifts where dead.

As the Borg seized control of the younger crew members across the ship; a fight had broken out.  In the mayhem someone had made the decision to vent deadly levels of radiation into the main control room.  Dooming both those under the Borg’s influence and those desperately trying to defend themselves.

The Borg had sent in four more crew members that day in an effort to clear the radiation and gain full control.  All had met the same grizzly fate.

Ensign Dinari Lyambo had been allowed to enter Engineering in a protective suit, whilst outside their influence. By the time the Jaxartes’ Chief Engineer had brought the situation under control the crisis had come to an abrupt end.  Now as Acting Chief Engineer of the USS Chapel, Dinari kept a lonely vigil.

He heard a polite cough and turned to face his brother who’d just entered through the open doorway from the corridor beyond.  He too had been thrust into a roll he’d not expected to find himself in.  As Acting Captain, Commander Charlie Lyambo was one of only a handful of officers who’d survived the carnage.

“How’s everything?”  The Commander asked his younger brother.

“System wise, everything seems to be working within expected parameters. Considering this ships still virtually fresh out of Space Dock and didn’t get a shakedown cruise first.” Dinari replied. “Though someone needs to check out coil 17 on the port nacelle.”

“What about you, my brother.” Charlie asked.

“Coping I guess.” The voice lacked conviction though.  “Though I didn’t know any off them, I can still see their bodies lying here around me.” He gestured, pointing at various parts of the floor where a body had lain when he’d first been beamed into the room.

“Their ghosts will live with us all for many years.” Charlie added solemnly.  “I wish we could have come together under much better circumstances.”

“Does our father know we’re on the same ship, let alone actually talking with each other?” The Chief asked.

“Not bloody likely!” Laughed the elder brother in reply. “We’ll come to that later and face the old fossil as a family. But not just yet”

Dinari smiled, but only briefly.  He’d learned a lot over the past few days from his brother.  Understood their father more, and probably hated him more for it.  He could well imagine the fireworks that would erupt when they finally came face to face.  Angry Orion pirates, relentless Jem’hadar and unstoppable Borg he could handle.  But his father was on a whole other level!