Flash Fiction: Those Noble Gentlemen

Captain’s Log, Stardate 58462.8. The Cerritos is departing Krulmuth-B, having retrieved Ensigns Mariner and Boimler. While their adventure in the past seems to have had no significant effects on the timeline, I’m not looking forward to the paperwork.

Beckett Mariner started speaking before Captain Freeman could. “Mom,” she asserted, “This was totally on me. Boimler did everything completely by the book. Totally my fault.”

“What? No,” Boimler interrupted. “You were just looking out for your team, you had my-”

Captain Freeman raised a hand to cut them off. “Ensigns!” she said pointedly. “I’ve reviewed your reports, and as far as I’m concerned, you both acquitted yourselves admirably given the circumstances. No captain wants to deal with a temporal violation, but the two of you managed to get yourselves back to your own time without rewriting history.”

“So… History is okay then?” Boimer confirmed.

Freeman nodded. “The only thing we’ve been able to detect are some minor visual discrepancies.” She glanced off into the distance. “Damnedest thing. Every picture you see of Admiral Bob April looks like a completely different person.” She shook it off. “Ensign Mariner, your instincts were to protect your team, and I probably would have made the same call in that situation. Ensign Boimler, in a difficult situation, you put Starfleet’s values ahead of regulations, and that’s not something I’m interested in punishing.

“As far as I’m concerned, this matter is closed.” She sighed deeply. “However, I’m afraid there’s no avoiding the Department of Temporal Investigations. I’m sure they’ll want to perform a full debriefing. You’ll have my complete support.”

Boimler looked to Mariner. “We’re just lucky we met Pike and not-”

“Oh my god, yes,” she said. “They get twitchy if you even say his name. Especially if you bring up the whale thing.”

“Or the tribble thing,” Boimler nodded.

“Or the thing with that Gary Seven guy?”

“Ooh yeah, Class 1 Supervisors are the worst.”

Captain Freeman coughed. “Ensigns? You’re dismissed.”

She followed them out of her ready room and onto the bridge. Before she could take her seat, Shaxs spoke up. “Captain, we’re receiving an incoming diplomatic transmission.”

“Who would be contacting us on diplomatic channels?” Freeman asked. Boimler and Mariner took the positions at conn and ops.

Shaxs’s brow furrowed with concern. “It’s from…” His good eye squinted. “It’s from the Romulan Embassy.”

“There’s a Romulan Embassy now?” Boimler asked.

“I didn’t think the Romulan Embassy was even operational yet,” Freeman said.

“I don’t think we should take it, Captain,” Shaxs warned. “Can’t trust Romulans.”

“You think they’re going to attack us over subspace comms?” Mariner asked, pointedly.

Kayshon seemed to agree with Shaxs. “Bazminti,” he observed, “When he pulled back the veil.”

“Relations with the Romulans have been all over the place the last few years,” Freeman said. “I’m not about to commit a diplomatic snub that could set us back again. On screen.”

With a sigh, Shaxs pressed a button, then paused. “Um. Sir? The communique is addressed to… Ensign Boimler?”

In unison, Mariner, Boimler and Captain Freeman all said, “What?” in the background, Kayshon added, “Karno? In the frog’s den?”

Freeman let out another deep sigh. “Mister Boimler, do you care to take a call?”

Panic flashing across his face, Boimler straightened in his chair and, tentatively, said, ‘Um? On… Screen?” His voice cracked slightly.

The raptor seal of the Romulan Star Empire flashed on the main viewscreen, and then was replaced, not with a Romulan, but with a Vulcan.

Or rather, not with A Vulcan, but with THE Vulcan.

The wisened visage of the Federation Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the Romulan Star Empire appeared on the screen amid a flurry of static.

“Greetings, Mister Boimler,” Spock said. “I apologize for the quality of this transmission. Subspace communications out of Romulus are extremely limited, hence my use of a diplomatic proxy.”

Ambassador Spock had made a personal call via the diplomatic network from the capital city on Romulus to Ensign Bradward Boimler aboard the USS Cerritos. It was a bit much to take in.

“Um. Hi?” Boimler said.

“It is most gratifying to see that you and Ensign Mariner have arrived. I have waited many years to confirm your safe return. I must confess I experienced some disappointment on the occasions I believed I would not survive to witness it.”

“Thank you?” Boimler tried. His voice cracked again.

The captain tried to shoulder some of the load. “Ambassador Spock,” she said, “It is a great honor that you would personally check up on our ensigns after their ordeal.”

Spock’s eyes moved only slightly to indicate the shift in his attention. “Captain Mariner. I have taken some small interest in the careers of your junior officers, although for obvious reasons it was impossible for me to speak of this matter until now. I wish to submit a personal commendation for both of them.”

“Oh wow. Kudos from Spock,” Mariner mouthed to Boimler. Even her usual cynicism was pierced. Boimler looked like he might faint.

“Duly noted,” Freeman said, her own breath catching.

“I have also taken the liberty of submitting a report to the Department of Temporal Investigations, along with sealed testimony from Fleet Captain Pike which he recorded during the incident. You may expect them to close their investigation without further action.”

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

Spock looked to something outside the view of the camera. “Apologies. My duties require me elsewhere.” He raised his hand in Vulcan salute. “Captain Freeman, Ensign Mariner, Ensign Boimler. Live long and prosper.”

For the second time today, Boimler tried and failed to return the salute properly. “Um, live fast and…”

“And Mister Boimler,” Spock added. “Good luck.”

Boimler and Mariner again looked to each other in confusion, but it was nothing compared to the confusion of the entire bridge crew when, just before the transmission cut off, Ambassador Spock’s eyes locked with Boimler’s, and he gave him a broad, toothy smile.