Category: Writing

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.

Since I seem to be having trouble talking about SNW so far removed, he’s something about Discovery, even further removed. A scene I’d like to see in season 5:

 

Reno: Hey prof.

Pelia: Jett Reno? What are you doing here? I thought you died a thousand years ago!

Reno: I did. I came back as a ghost to haunt you over that D you gave me in Intro to Warp Mechanics.

Pelia: You shouldn’t be here. Time travel is illegal. We had a whole war over it! There are rules.

Reno: Yeah, I tend to interpret rules as more like “guidelines”.

Pelia: I remember. That’s why I gave you a “D”.

And here we end, just, by a remarkable coincidence, in time to kick off next week, I assume with the final season of Picard. See you… Out there.

Epilogue 3: Vulcan

The door emitted a little atonal chime in response to Pike’s approach, and he waited pensively. The door opened after an interval long enough to make Pike suspect it was deliberate.

“Stonn,” Pike said, in what he hoped was a neutral tone. It bothered him to be greeted at the door by the man, even if he had made his peace with Stonn’s presence at house S’chnn T’gai.

“Admiral,” Stonn answered. He did not move, did not invite Pike in, nor question his reason for being there. It was an open secret that he was the lover – not that a Vulcan would use the term – of the lady of the house. Pike had taken longer than most to adapt to this reality. But it was logical. She fulfilled the duties demanded by law and tradition. In the decades since Ambassador Sarek and his wife had died to a Romulan-hired assassin at the last Babel conference, she had served as the head of one of Vulcan’s most respected families, and she had cared for her husband when it would have been acceptable to have him quietly institutionalized, even, under Vulcan law, euthanized given his condition. It was too much to ask that she forswear companionship altogether.

“May I speak with her?” Pike asked.

“Very well. Enter.”

As Stonn stepped aside, it occurred to Pike that the Vulcan’s demeanor was even colder than he had grown to expect. Sending her lover to answer the door was dismissive, but of whom? Pike mused grimly that getting what one wanted was not always satisfying.

Stonn guided Pike to the usual sitting room, where T’Pring was waiting for him. Pike bowed. “Greetings, T’Pring,” he said, adopting his most formal tone and trying not to show any emotion, out of respect.

“Chris,” she said. Pike’s long relationship with her let him recognize the familiar and paradoxical mix of warmth and iciness. For T’Pring, their interactions held both value and cost.

Pike sat. Stonn moved to stand beside T’Pring, but she dismissed him with the tiniest nod of her head, and he shrunk away, defeated.

“Has there been any change?” Pike asked.

Her eyebrow twitched. “Chris,” she said, “This is your thirty-seventh visit. In all that time, my husband’s condition has not changed. It is illogical that you persist in hoping for an alternative outcome.”

“Surely, it would be illogical to dismiss as impossible that which is merely highly improbable,” Pike answered.

T’Pring’s eyebrows narrowed slightly. She was not impressed. “The distinction between logic and sophistry can be difficult to discern without extensive training,” she said.

Pike’s composure faltered a bit and he asked the question. “Why did you marry him?”

Her head tilted. The breach of decorum was enough to throw her off guard. Something changed inside T’Pring and she relaxed visibly. Pike and T’Pring had known each other for a significant time even by Vulcan standards, and they were both too tired to continue the ritual.

“It was my duty.”

“Not for love, then,” Pike observed.

“Duty was more important to Spock than love. I choose to honor that. It was the logical thing to do.”

Pike’s eyes flashed briefly toward the archway where Stonn had disappeared. She did not miss it. “It was not my preferred outcome, but the balance of the cost and benefits has been and continues to be favorable. I have honored my commitment to a man I respect, at no serious impediment to the life I have chosen to pursue. May you find your own way as… Pleasant.”

Pike stood, suddenly uncomfortable. “May I see him?”

“Of course.” She rose imperiously, and with a sweep of her hand, guided him to the next room. “Stonn will escort you out when you are finished. Peace, and long life, Chris.”

The response stuck in Pike’s throat. He moved on.

T’Pring’s husband sat motionless, facing the window. “Spock,” Pike said.

The time before he received any response could’ve been hours or days. It was impossible to tell how much he heard or understood. Scans confirmed that his mind was active, but the communication centers of his brain were so badly damaged that even a mind meld couldn’t make contact. Slowly, the chair swiveled toward him.

Pike forced himself not to look away. Spock’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, but they tracked movement sometimes. The lower half of his face was a mass of scar tissue. The Vulcan healers would not perform cosmetic reconstruction without informed consent, which wasn’t possible in Spock’s case.

“We lost Sam,” Pike said. There had been no point in pleasantries with T’Pring, and there was even less with Spock. “And Una’s hurt. I don’t know how bad. Erica too. And there’s others. Another one of my mistakes caught up to me.”

If he was expecting an answer, Pike was disappointed. He went on. “I never got the chance to tell you what happened to me on Borteth. What I saw.” He paused a second.

“Do you remember when I turned down the promotion to Fleet Captain? It was about a year before…” He caught himself. “Before the war. I was supposed to accept it. And six months after that, I was supposed to sacrifice myself to save five cadets in a training accident.”

Pike thought he saw a flicker of a twitch in Spock’s eyebrow, but it was almost certainly wishful thinking. “I thought I could fight fate. I turned down the promotion. Sent some letters. Rearranged some schedules. No one was hurt in the accident. I saved them. I saved more of them than I was supposed to. I thought I won.”

He couldn’t bear it any longer and walked to Spock’s side, looking out the window rather than at his former Number One’s ruined features. “They’re all gone now. The war. Someone told me once that time is the fire in which we…” He trailed off.

“It won’t let me go. Ever since outpost four, I’ve felt like I traded your life for mine. And there’s been others over the years. Sometimes it feels like everyone I get close to. Batel. Sonak. Will. Sam. They don’t always die; some just carry the scars. Nyota. Christine. Una. You.

“This whole world feels wrong, Spock. These last twenty years, the war, all of it. The Federation is doing things that go against everything we stand for. Sam’s nephew, he was working on a weapon. Like nothing… Spock, it’s a planet-killer. I saw what it could do. It… It could be a tool for creation, but never for peace. And if the Federation gets something like that, I don’t know how we live with what it would turn us into.”

He turned back to the door. “I’m sorry I failed you, old friend. I’m sorry I traded your life for mine. This isn’t right. None of this is right. And I’m going to fix it.”

He hesitated a moment, then walked back to the door. He summoned the courage to look Spock in the eye. “The Federation will never allow it. They’ll try to stop me. But I have to end this. I have to change things. I’m going back to Boreth. I don’t care what it takes or what it costs, I’m going to make them give me a chance to change things. To stop the war, to save you, to save everyone. Even if it kills me.”

Pike turned and left. As the door slid shut behind him, the light on Spock’s life support chair blinked in time to an audible alert. BEEP BEEP.

 

Epilogue 2: Vindication

“The council is now in session,” President Roth declared. “If you will all take your seats. Bring them in.”

Una Chin-Riley had changed from her prison uniform into simple civilian clothes. She was escorted by Starfleet security officers, but was unbound. Her eyes were covered by a dark visor. Starfleet Medical couldn’t determine yet whether her Ilyrian enhancements would allow her damaged eyes to heal, and the legal restrictions on genetic augmentation complicated the question of whether she could receive clonal or cybernetic implants. Likewise, the scarring of her face and hands had been triaged, but lengthy surgeries would be needed to restore her appearance and mobility.

Erica Ortegas held her elbow to guide her. Ortegas would be standing trial herself soon, for the loss of the Reliant, but that was largely a formality. She had been offered medical discharge, and was inclined to take it. There was still hope that Starfleet medical could repair the brain damage and restore vision in her bad eye – for now, she wore a metal visor that bypassed the damaged nerves – but the psychological scars would take much longer to heal. At her other side stood Jim Kirk. They’d never met, but Kirk hoped his support would mean something to the council. The others who’d served with Una on Enterprise, thirty years ago now, watched from the gallery. Pike’s absence weighed heavily on Una, but he hadn’t returned to Earth yet. She also wished La’an could be with her, but Kirk’s first officer felt that the last thing to help Una’s chances was a Noonien-Singh in the courtroom.

“Una Chin-Riley,” the President said, “You stand accused of unlawful escape from court-ordered confinement on Salius 6. Of aiding and abetting an act of piracy in the theft of the Starship Reliant. Of conspiracy to commit theft of classified Federation research materials. Of aiding and abetting in the willful destruction of Starfleet property, specifically the USS Reliant. And finally, of providing tactical intelligence and assistance in an attack on a Starfleet vessel, the USS Enterprise, resulting in loss of life. How do you plead?”

Una held her chin high, as best she could. “Not guilty, Mister President.”

“So entered,” President Roth said. “Logs from USS Enterprise having established a preponderance of evidence for physical duress or coercion and in light of the medical reports of Doctors M’Benga, McCoy and Chapel, the charges against you are summarily dismissed.”

Una closed her eyes and let her shoulders relax slightly. The president continued. “The council recognizes your efforts, and your sacrifice, in defense of the USS Enterprise. The ship and its crew owe their lives to you. Even as the incident with Khan reminds us of the dangers posed by genetic engineering, and the reasons for the Federation’s restrictions on the practice, your actions show us that there are other possibilities, and that other cultures might find a different balance. And the ideals that our Federation stands for means that we must balance the safety of the many with the rights of the few. You exemplify the highest ideals of Starfleet, in spite of the treatment you have received under our laws. And for that reason, the previous judgment against you, for the falsification of official records to gain admission to Starfleet Academy in contravention of the Shengzen Convention, is vacated.”

A murmur went up through the assembly. Many were still reluctant, particularly so soon after news of Khan’s escape had broken, but the audience clearly approved; it would have been politically impossible to return her to prison after saving the Enterprise. “Furthermore-” he had to raise his voice over the crowd, “Furthermore! It is the judgment of this court that section seventeen of the Starfleet charter takes precedence over the prohibitions of Federation Eugenics Code 3.” The murmur in the court was louder this time, even though only about half of the gallery understood the technical language. The President explained: “In recognition of your record of distinguished service in Starfleet, your previous judgment having been vacated, you are granted full citizenship in the United Federation of Planets.”

The crowd was more torn. Una herself had expected no more than repatriation to Ilyria. Instead, she was not only free, but free to remain in the Federation. But the President still wasn’t finished. “And additionally, in light of the severity of the penalties already levied against you, your commission in Starfleet is restored. Una Chin-Riley, we can not give back the years of your life that our collective bigotry took from you, but we can grant you the rank of Captain, and, pending medical clearance, return you to active duty status.”

If there were any sounds of protest from the audience, Una didn’t hear it over the prolonged cheers from her friends and supporters. The applause drowned out some of the president’s closing remarks as well, which at this point were a formality. It was by no means a sure thing; there was a devil hiding in the details of “pending medical clearance”. Starfleet could massage the parameters of medical clearance to keep her out of active duty, and with her disabilities, it might even be the right choice.

But she had been vindicated. Even if she never set foot on a starship again, her record would show that she had done her duty and served with honor. That it wasn’t a crime to simply be who and what she was. She leaned toward Kirk and whispered the last question that weighed on her. “Where’s Chris?”

A note on the timeline: I take no stand on the relative ordering of these epilogues, beyond the self-evident fact that Epilogue 1 antecedes Epilogue 2. It makes far more logical sense for Epilogue 3 to come first, but we must allow these little storytelling aberrations.

Epilogue 1: Vengeance

Uhura adjusted her earpiece. “Approach control, this is Enterprise. Ready for docking maneuvers.”

The voice of the spacedock controller came back over the intercom, “Copy. Enterprise is cleared to dock.”

“Lock on,” Kirk said.

Sulu touched his controls. “Systems locked.”

Kirk nodded to Uhura. “Spacedock, you have control.”

On the viewscreen, the doors of the massive space station slowly parted. “Affirmative, Enterprise. Enjoy the ride. Welcome home.”

Under automatic control, the damaged ship maneuvered slowly into the space station. Within the enormous dome, drones, shuttles and repair craft buzzed around, servicing the various ships. Enterprise herself would require transfer to orbital drydock given the amount of damage that would need repair, but first there would be a transfer of the Enterprise’s trainee crew, of the survivors of Regula I and the Reliant, and there would likely be some kind of reckoning over the fates of Khan, of Genesis, and of all the others. An admiral and two captains were dead, not to mention dozens of cadets and scientists.

The doors closed behind the Enterprise and the ship maneuvered toward its assigned berthing point. They passed just close enough to the control tower that Kirk could make out the mass of onlookers, crowded at the viewports to see the legendary USS Enterprise limping home after the historic confrontation with one history’s greatest villains, back from the dead after hundreds of years. The ship turned, and another ship filled the viewscreen.

“Would you look at that,” Uhura breathed. The ship was more than twice the size of Enterprise, and while its general design was similar, the large ship had an undenyable hostile look to it, Enterprise’s curves replaced with harsh angles, and its soft gray tones replaced with matte black that gave the dreadnought the air of a scar, a jagged blackness cutting through the lights of spacedock around it.

“My friends,” Kirk said, grimly, “The great experiment. Vengeance.” He looked to Carol, who had joined them on the bridge for the last leg of their journey. “Admiral Marcus’s legacy. Ready for trial runs.” Carol looked uncomfortable.

Erica Ortegas had taken the navigator’s position. Despite her injuries, she’d wanted to be present for Enterprise’s return to Earth. Saavik had already departed, along with David Marcus, picked up en route by a science vessel bound for the Genesis planet. “They say she’s got twin type-eleven phaser cannons, and she can fire them at full warp,” she said with obvious awe.

Sulu rolled his eyes. “They say if my husband had wheels, he’d be a wagon.”

Enterprise, stand by for final docking procedures,” the controller said.

Uhura touched her earpiece again. “Captain? I’m receiving a message-” she looked surprise. “It’s from the Federation Council. We’ve… We’re being ordered to prepare Commander Chin-Riley for immediate transfer to Federation Legal Services…. To stand trial.”

A pall fell over the bridge. It was broken by Xon. “If I were human,” he said, cautiously, “I believe my response would be, ‘Go to hell.'”

Everyone stopped and turned to the Vulcan. “If I were human,” he clarified.

 

Previously on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

“Bones says she’ll pull through,” Kirk said as he took the seat opposite Pike in the Admiral’s cabin. “That Ilyrian immune system. But it’s too soon to say how fully she’ll recover.”

“How are you holding up?” Pike asked.

“I… Take comfort in my duty. There were a lot of things Sam and I didn’t talk about. I guess I always thought there would be time later. You know, until I heard you do it, I didn’t even know he liked to be called Sam? I thought I was the only one who did it.”

With a little bit of difficulty, Pike smiled. “Did he ever tell you about the time we encountered an ancient Earth probe that had been uplifted with alien technology?”

Kirk’s brow furrowed. “This is the V’ger incident?”

Surprise flashed briefly on Pike’s face. “Actually, no, this was before that. I bring it up because the reason we got out of that was that he had a similar name to the probe’s original designer. We were able to trick it into thinking Sam was its creator.”

Kirk managed a little laugh, but it was short-lived. Pike looked to his display pad. Communications with Starfleet had been reestablished and the first news updates had just come in. “Romulan raid in sector 30. The USS Cornwall was destroyed. First officer was Maat Al-Salah.”

Kirk shook his head. “Someone you know?”

“His father was Hansen Al-Salah. Outpost Four?”

The memory was more distant for Jim, but it came back. “Oh,” he said. “I didn’t know you kept in touch.”

“I didn’t really,” Pike said. “I think it was too hard for Maat. But I followed his career. This war,” he said, wryly.

“There are times,” Jim admitted, “When I can understand why the Federation would be looking at a project like Genesis.” At Pike’s horrified expression, he quickly added, “I’m not disappointed we failed to recover it.”

Pike looked out the window. It was raining in the simulation of Helena-Lewis and Clark National Forest. “How soon do they need you back on the Reno?”

“It will be a while. Even without the damage they took when Reliant exploded, it turns out the new engine design couldn’t handle the stress of sustained warp. They’ll need to retrofit the whole propulsion system.”

Pike was about to say something when the door to the captain’s stateroom beeped. “Come,” he said. David Marcus entered and stood awkwardly near where Pike and Kirk were solemnly contemplating untouched drinks. Kirk turned the antique copy of To Kill a Mockingbird over in his hands. He reached into his pocket and retrieved his glasses, then saw one lens had cracked at some point. He discarded them on the table.

Pike spoke first. “Doctor Marcus,” he said, “Captain Kirk just told me about your grandfather. I’m sorry.”

David gave Kirk a guilty look. “We’ve all lost family today,” he said.

“Doctor,” Pike said, cautiously, “Starfleet Command considers Genesis a top-priority project. Can you confirm that all your work was destroyed with the prototype? No backups, nothing left behind on Regula?”

Before David could answer, Pike continued. “Given what you know now, what you’ve seen of the potential for destruction if the Genesis device were… abused. Starfleet would prefer to see your research recovered, but they would… begrudgingly… accept your assurance that no one else, no one with… less noble goals… would be able to recover it. I’m sure your grandfather gave you some sense of how dangerous that would be.”

David thought for a second. “No backups, sir. We’d have to start over from scratch. It… It could take years. Or longer.”

Pike nodded. “Understood.”

He stood. “Jim,” he said, “I need you to handle recovery at Regula and Ceti Alpha Five.”

“Admiral?”

“There’s some urgent business I need to attend to. I’ll meet you back on Earth.”

Once Pike left, David turned to Kirk. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Kirk offered him his still-untouched drink. David declined. “I’m sorry about your friend,” Kirk said.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” David said. “I was wrong about you, and I’m sorry.”

Kirk smiled painfully. “Is that what you wanted to say?”

“I thought… If you had a few minutes, maybe you could tell me a little bit about him. About my uncle.”

---

“Acting first officer’s log. Stardate 8141.6. Starship Enterprise departing for Ceti Alpha Five to pick up the crew of USS Reliant. All is well, and yet, I can’t help wondering about the family I leave behind. Sam once told me that a long time ago, he worked for someone who liked to say that there are always possibilities. And if Genesis is indeed life from death, I must return to this place again.”

The shuttlecraft Copernicus cleared the damaged shuttle bay and jumped to warp. “The admiral’s shuttle is clear, sir. Engine room is reporting main power nominal.”

“Thank you, Commander Uhura,” Kirk said, taking the captain’s chair.

“You know, if they end up decommissioning the Reno, we should ask about transferring over here,” McCoy said. “The chair suits you.”

Kirk forced a smile. “There’s something about this ship,” he said.

“It wouldn’t be the Enterprise without a Kirk on the bridge,” La’an said.

“He’s not really dead,” McCoy said, comfortingly, “Not as long as you remember him.”

Kirk looked out into the vastness beyond the viewscreen. “You never really know a man,” he said, “Until you stand in his shoes and walk around in them.”

McCoy gave him a questioning look. “Something Sam was trying to tell me. On my birthday.”

“You okay, Jim?” McCoy asked. “How do you feel?”

He took a deep breath. “Young. I feel young.” He pointed a crooked finger to the viewscreen. “Mister Sulu-” he paused a moment, considering his words. “Hit it.”

---

This concludes the story proper. But come back again next time for the over-long epilogue, which exists largely because at this time, I do not think I am likely to write a sequel.

At this time…

Previously on A Mind Occasionally Voyaging…

Jim got to main engineering ahead of Pike, in time to hold him back from rushing the safety door. “You’ll flood the whole compartment!” warned the chief.

“Una?” he asked.

McCoy shook his head. “I’m a doctor, not a fortune teller. That much radiation, I just don’t know. If she were human, she’d be dead five times over already.”

Pike leaned on the transparent partition. “Una!” he called out again.

She stirred, her head turning broadly toward the sound of his voice. She clumsily pulled herself to her feet, pressing her whole forearm to the console rather than grabbing it with her fingers. She wobbled, then collected herself. She tugged at her prison uniform, straightening it as best she could, though again, she used her arms rather than her fingers. Una stumbled toward the transparent wall, and as she approached, Pike could see her eyes were unfocused. He had to force himself not to look away from the burns that marred her face.

She misjudged the distance slightly and walked into the barrier that separated them. Her cheek left a wet mark where it touched the wall. She put a hand up to steady herself. It too streaked the surface. Her fingers splayed limply: she had no fine motor control left, and her skin was raw and weeping. She rested her forehead against the wall and tried to turn her eyes to where she imagined Pike’s would be. He moved to meet her vacant gaze.

“Ship?” she asked, in a raspy voice. “Out of danger?”

“Yes,” Pike said. He placed his hand to match hers.

“And La’an?”

“Recovering,” Pike said.

Una nodded. Or perhaps just wobbled. She let herself slide down the wall into a crouch. Pike followed her movements.

“All right then,” she said. “Took you long enough to come get me.”

“I’m sorry. I should have tried harder.”

“You had your mission.”

“You should’ve been my mission,” Pike said.

“Chris…” Una said, “I’m scared.”

“I’m here, Number One,” he said.

“It’s time.”

Pike looked over his shoulder. “Vent the chamber,” he said. “The second he can get a lock, have Chief Kyle beam her directly to sickbay. Tell M’Benga to prep for radiation and decompression sickness.”

Both McCoy and the chief engineer started to protest, but Jim Kirk reacted without hesitation, putting in the call to the transporter room even as he disabled the safety interlock that protested at the command to purge the irradiated atmosphere while the engine core was occupied.

Una managed to get back on her feet. Her hair flew wildly around her, blown by the rush of air as the room depressurized. Her exposed skin began to glow bright red. “I’ll be damned,” McCoy muttered. “Ilyrian healing trance. Never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Bones, will it work?” Kirk asked.

“I’m just an old country doctor,” he said. “This? This is more like magic. I don’t know.”

“I’ve got a lock,” came the voice of the transporter chief. “Energizing.” The red glow began to fade, replaced by the blue one of transport.

Kirk helped Pike back to his feet. “My God, Jim,” he said, “So many people. Reliant. Regula. Sallius. Erica. Una. Sam. What have I done?”

Kirk thought for a second. “What you always do,” he finally said. “What you had to do. You faced the no-win scenario and saved as many people as you could.”

Pike turned away. “Not enough,” he said. “Never enough.”

---

Admiral Pike stood at the end of the loading railway as the mechanical arm lowered the mark 6 torpedo casing onto the track. To his right, Sulu lifted the Federation flag from the casket and stepped away. McCoy put a hand on Jim Kirk’s shoulder. To Pike’s left, Christine Chapel held Uhura’s hand supportively. Even Saavik struggled with her composure.

“We are assembled here today,” Pike started, “To pay respects to our honored dead. When you are a Starfleet Captain, you believe in service. In sacrifice. In compassion. And in love. We stand here today because of the sacrifice of so many people. They did not believe the sacrifice a vain or empty one, and we will not dishonor them by questioning it.”

He stepped aside and allowed Kirk to move forward. “George Samuel Kirk Junior never sought his own command. He was a scientist. I know he would be honored to be laid to rest on a strange, new world, one his sacrifice helped to create and nourish. Of my brother, I can say only this: few among us have been called to give so much, or to face so much pain. And if anything awaits us in that undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, I hope you find peace, Sam.” He placed his hand on the casket. “Give my love to Aurelan and the boys.”

Sulu called the honor guard to attention. A dirge played on bagpipes as the casing moved slowly down the rails into the torpedo launcher, where Enterprise fired it in a pale red arc to the Genesis planet below.