Chapter 10 - Home Is Where Your Heart Is
Four Months Later...
The brisk autumn wind brought a chill to the air as it blew through the tall, overgrown grass that was slowly turning brown. In an open meadow, a modest wooden cabin sat alone. Gone was the wreckage that once sat near it, the only sign it was once there were the depressions in the soil from where it came to violent rest. The windows were no longer covered in the blue curtains that Rarity had made, its interior stripped of all personal belongings when he left. All that was left that said he was here was the small cabin in the meadow.
James had turned over the deed to the land to me and asked that if anypony needed a place to stay, to make use of it. So far, I had every intention to make good on my promise, but as of yet, no pony had needed shelter. Another gust of cold wind blew through the meadow, sending a chill down my spine, causing my wings to shiver. I unfurled them and gave them a good stretch before tucking them back close to my barrel for warmth as something soft brushed against my foreleg.
"Oh, hello Angel. What are you doing here? It's a little cold to be out, you should be back at home next to the fire." I told him softly.
The small white rabbit looked up at me, thumped his foot and pointed at the cabin.
"No, James doesn't live there anymore," I answered.
Tilting his head to the side and crossing his forelegs across his chest, Angel stared back up at me.
"I don't know when he's coming back," I told him solemnly.
He got back down on all fours and layed down in the grass, staring at the cabin.
"I miss him too," I said, a small tear forming at the corner of my eye. Another breeze blew, this one colder than the last, carrying with it a few scattered leaves from the Everfree. I felt Angel climb up my leg, across my back and tunneling his way through my pink mane, gathering up as much hair as he could for warmth. "Yeah, it is pretty cold, isn't it. Why don't we go home, OK?" I told the creature now shivering atop my head.
Taking one last look at the cabin before flying off, I spoke softly to myself.
"Happy Birthday, James."
USS Rio Branco - En route between Earth and Vulcan
I stepped off the transporter pad, duffle bag slung across my shoulder. Unlike the starship I had just been transported from, the age of the vessel was readily apparent. The panels covering the bulkheads were dull and showed telltale signs of age and the computer panels displayed dated interfaces. What have I gotten myself into?
"Hello, Ensign! Welcome to the Rio Branco, I'm Commander Gianna Cruz, ships Executive Officer." She greeted in a thick Puerto Rican accent, then paused as she observed me taking in my surroundings, the silence in the room made the enlisted transporter technician appear nervous. The Commander was an elderly woman, easily in her late fifties with hair that had long since turned gray. Seems the ship isn't the only thing that's old.
"Nice ship," I said, mustering the best smile I could fabricate.
"You don't have to play nice with me, Mr. Scott, the Rio Branco is an old lady, like her XO. She sure ain't an Akira or Luna like you've flew before, but this old Oberth will fool ya. Walk with me, Ensign." She ordered. "Other ships call her a rust bucket, but she's our rust bucket. Starfleet assigned us to her and said get the job done, and that's what we do." The commander continued, her voice taking on a serious edge.
She let out a sigh when she noticed my unenthused face and stopped to face me, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it, Ensign. I know this is a shit assignment. We get the rejects, troublemakers, loaners and what not that no one else wants. I read your record, Scott, you're an exemplary officer and an insane pilot. But Starfleet, in their infinite wisdom, shat on you for doing the right thing." The elderly officer told me, her affable if somewhat salty personality already starting to endear herself. "Just keep you head down, do your job, and come evaluation season, some other vessel might want to take you away from us, maybe with a replacement half pip on that collar of yours."
"Thank you, Commander. That's what I intend to do." I told her with an appreciative nod.
"None of that, Gia's fine," She said with a smile. "Least when the Captain's not around, and never on the bridge."
"Will do, Gia," I replied, emphasizing her name.
"Outstanding," She exclaimed. "Anyways, this here is your quarters." She explained, pointing her thumb over her shoulder at the door behind her. "Stow your gear and report to the bridge in forty minutes for the start of gamma shift." She ordered then headed down the corridor and disappeared into the turbolift.
Dropping my duffle on my bunk, I took stock of my quarters. As far as rooms went, this wasn't bad. It sure wasn't the shared quarters T'Pomei and I had on Galatea, or Senior Officer stateroom I had on the Juno Beach. Compared to those two, this was a closet. All I had was a small desk and chair, a living area complete with a two-chair dining table and a couch off to the side, and a chest-high divider blocking the view of the queen-size bed and the door leading to the head.
I sunk down into the couch and let out a drawn out sigh as I tried to rub the stress out of my eyes. As late as the early 2370s, a posting on an Oberth-Class starship was a plumb assignment. Back then, this class of ship would most likely be tasked with scientific, archeological, and anthropological research or routine diplomatic missions, a great place for scientists to continue their work, or those on the command track looking to cut their teeth and work their way up the ranks.
But the aging class gave way to its replacement, the Nova-Class, and the venerable Oberth was put 'out to pasture' so to speak, most being decommissioned, the rest being repurposed for basic transport and courier duties. Which was a damn shame; despite its size and small crew compliment, this class of ship was a work-horse. With 13 decks and a maximum crew complement of eighty, it was a fast ship to build, simple to maintain, and easy to crew. Especially since this class can effectively be run largely through automation with a skeleton crew of five. It's no wonder that this class has seen service for over a hundred and ten years.
But now, aging vessels like the Rio Branco have become simply the go to ships for the milk runs, and dirty jobs that fit the very description of 'crap rolls down hill', crewed by the undesirable, of whom I seem to be a part of. Fuck my life.
Getting up I looked myself in the mirror and straightened my uniform. Checking that my appearance was well kept and that nothing was out of place, I left my quarters and got on the turbolift to the bridge, which consisted of a five-second ride up two decks. Stepping out onto the bridge, I approached the center chair.
"Ensign James Scott, reporting for duty," I stated smartly while standing at attention, addressing the Saurian Captain.
"Very good to see that you're on time, Ensign," The purple skinned officer said in a dull monotone, contrasting sharply with his affable XO. "I'm Captian Maltuvis. You'll be relieving your direct superior, Lieutenant Lydia Johnson." He ordered, gesturing to the officer seated at the Conn who was already standing up to greet me.
"It's good to meet you, Ensign." She said. Lydia was a head shorter than me. Her bright, fiery red hair contrasted sharply with her pale white skin and abundance of freckles. Her cerulean blue eyes completed her cherubic face, which was unmistakably very young, and her demeanour was oh so very green, the half pip on her collar denoting the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade was most likely less than a week old.
"Likewise, ma'am." I responded, nodding at my supervisor that was probably ten years my junior. "I'm ready to relieve you."
"You seem very by the book, Ensign," She said with a smile. "I stand relieved." She then walked off the bridge with a youthful bounce to her step.
Taking the helm, I quickly acclimated myself with the antiquated interface, taking note of our position, current heading and previously logged destination.
"Helm, resume our course for Vulcan, warp factor six." The Captain droned.
"Aye, course laid in for Vulcan, warp speed at your command," I said professionally, garnering a few stares from the other officers on the bridge.
"Proceed," The Saurian said flatly, devoid of any emotion. Not even T'Pomei had displayed that amount of emotionlessness. Had I not been on the bridge, I would have rolled my eyes and buried my face in my palms. Using a single finger, I dramatically hit the large flashing indicator button on the helm marked 'engage' and let out a long exhale to hide my dissatisfaction.
A warm hand placed itself on my shoulder as Gia leaned down to talk in my ear.
"In case no one has said it today," She started. "Happy birthday, Ensign." She said with a smile and a wink, and I smiled back.
I guess some parts of this assignment won't be all that bad.
"This your sweetheart?" Gia asked, holding the photo I kept of T'Pomei I kept on my desk.
I had been on the Rio Branco for two weeks now, and I'd like to think I was settling in. Lydia, my supervisor in the Flight Operations department, was a decent officer and good pilot in her own right, but I knew I could fly circles around her. She had potential, and this assignment wasn't helping her realize it. She needed to be somewhere else to test her mettle, not on this ship where careers go to die. The Captain, well, he's 'indifferent' in every sense of the word. Maltuvis was not your typical Saurian. I really had no idea why he was the way he was. Gia, on the other hand, we had become quick friends. Smart, great sense of humor, and a razor-sharp wit tempered with sarcasm. But like any good XO, she knows when to crack the whip. She gave respect when it was due and commanded it in return, and I was all too happy to oblige.
"She... she was my fiancé. We met just before we graduated from the Academy." I answered flatly.
"Was... oh," Gia said quietly, setting the photo frame back to its place of reverence.
"Ah, it's ok, Gia. You didn't know." I responded.
"How'd she die?" The Commander asked, carefully, sitting down on the opposite end of my couch.
"She was killed in the attack on Utopia Planitia," I answered. "We were due to be getting married two months later."
"I'm sorry to hear that." She said gently. "How'd you two meet?"
I thought on her question for a moment, mulling over if I even wanted to have this conversation. Then I decided what the hell and got up to grab something from the small temperature controlled cabinet I kept near my quarters replicator.
"You know what, if I'm going to tell you that, I need a drink, and since we're both off duty tomorrow, I gotta ask: What's your opinion on hard apple cider?" I said with a sly grin holding a large labelless bottle of golden liquid that was a farewell gift from Apple Jack.
"Why do I get the feeling that I should be wary about what I'm getting myself into?"
"What's wrong, can't hold your booze?"
"Ho-hoo... Pour me a glass, Ensign, that's an order." She said, tapping her knuckles on my glass coffee table.
"This here is Sweet Apple Acres Black Reserve, Granny Smith's special recipe. Carefully aged ten years in bottles sealed with corks made from the wood of trees near the Castle of the Two Sisters in the Everfree Forest." I explained dramatically, carefully pouring the beverage, chilled to fifteen degrees celsius.
"Sounds ominous, but I call bullshit, cider that old would be vinegar by now," Gia said, taking her glass and giving it a tentative sniff.
"Granny Smith has been making hard cider longer than you've been orderin' Ensigns around. What was Captain Kirk like, by the way." I retorted, making a jab at her age, getting Gia to start laughing with a snort. "But seriously, the Apples have been doing this for generations, they're famous for it." I explained further, and then I watched as she took a sip of the beverage. All I could do was smile as I saw the painful wince on her face. Then she took a longer drink of the beverage.
"Smooth," Gia said with a raspy voice, offering her glass for a refill. "How'd they keep the flavor while getting the alcohol content so high?"
"The Commander knows her stuff," I stated, taking a drink from my glass, savoring the sweet taste followed by its sharp burn.
"Brother owns a brewery outside of Camuy in Puerto Rico."
"I asked Granny that and here's what she told me," I started, clearing my throat. "This old mare does not kiss and tell," I said, doing my best impression of her.
"Mare?"
"Mare, as in a female horse. The largest population on Equus are similar to horses on Earth. I thought you read my file."
"It didn't say anything about who lived on that planet you made an 'improvised landing' on."
Grabbing a PADD off the coffee table, I pulled up a photo from Apple Bloom's cute-ceañera of her opening a new chemistry set which was a present from Twilight, since the photo had Granny Smith in it and handed it to Gia.
"The green one with the white hair is Granny Smith."
"Huh..." Gia grunted then took another drink. "Now, back on subject mister. You. Pretty Vulcan. How."
"I was her evaluator for her basic pilot's certification. Before she got assigned to me, I made a comment to my dormmate about her being cute, her Vulcan ears overheard and... well, she wasn't offended and I asked her out to drinks with my friends." I told her. "I thought that would be the end of it, but it was she who asked me out on a second date, to a screening of a 1960's film, Night of the Living Dead!
Apparently when she first got to Earth to join the Academy, she got the idea of watching old horror and comedy movies to better understand how humans deal with living lives devoid of logic." I lied.
I wasn't going to tell Gia that in our most intimate moments; when she was free to let down her emotional guard along with her facade of logic, T'Pomei admitted that she loved comedies and thought horror films were fun, having enjoyed them since she was a child when she would sneak off to watch them with her childhood friends on the various Starfleet ships her parents were assigned to. Remembering the sound of her joy-filled, tender voice she had during those moments brought a smile to my face. God, I miss her laugh.
"Your Vulcan fiancé was a movie buff?" Gia asked skeptically, taking the cider bottle and refilling her glass.
"Why's that so hard to believe? I've seen weirder things."
"Oh, really? Like whut." Gia retorted, her speech slightly slurred.
"A race of colorful talking horses who have abilities that can only be logically described as magic."
"Bullshit."
"The one in the photo I showed you, the one with the white coat and purple hair," I said, struggling to reach for the PADD in my tipsy state to point at the photo. "Rarity, tha one. I watched 'er throw a twelve ton granite statue twenty feet with 'er mind! I saw it through the scope of my rifle. Swear ta god." I said, raising my hands in the air then I downed the rest of my glass.
"Now, that, that I wuld love ta see." Gia said, wearing a shit-eating green. We both just laughed and sat in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth of our drunken state and the comradery of sharing a drink with a friend. Breaking the silence, Gia turned to me. "James, stop me if I'm go'n outta line 'ere, but what th' hell are you doing here?"
"What?"
"In Starfleet! I mean, it's obvious yer not happy, and as assignments go, this one takes the prize. Me, I'm just here to watch Malty's back, I owe'm, tha' scaly bastard saved my hide a few too many times than I'd like to admit. But you! You should be an Exec by now! Not take'n orders from someone green'r than grass!"
"I dunno Gia, I do not know. Before that whole mess years back I was think'n 'bout resigning, hell, look where staying in got the other me! I just don't know anymore." I said, expecting an answer. I looked over at Gia, and she was passed out. I got up, willing the room to stop spinning, and grabbed a blanket from my bottom drawer and covered my snoring superior officer.
I stumbled over to my own bed, and looked back at Gia. Just what the hell am I doing? I asked myself.
Then I collapsed onto my bed, sleep quickly taking over.
"Mmmm... soft..." I moaned before the blackness took me.
***
To say I was uncomfortable, well, that would be understating it. By a country mile. The pounding throb assaulting my head felt like taiko drums reverberating inside my skull. I won't be touching the hooch for a while.
It was early in the morning, and the ship's galley seemed to be the quietest place to be to eat, my quarters currently being occupied by one snoring Starfleet Commander. How I managed to sleep through that ruckus I don't know. The communal dining hall on board was quiet, with only a few people mulling about in the early hours before the start of Alpha shift. Soon this place would be full of officers getting their morning meal before heading off to their assigned duties.
Ignoring my surroundings, I shoved another spoonful of oatmeal from the bowl I was hunched over into my mouth. I savored the near textureless slop of replicator fare, thankful that no chewing was required because I didn't think I could take the pain that would come from having to use the muscles in my jaw. I take another spoonful in an attempt to ignore the new sound assaulting my ears. I focused on my meal until a shadow fell over the table, making me look up.
"-ott, you ok?" A female voice asked me in a normal tone, but far too loud for my condition. I put a single finger to my lips and made a shushing noise before grabbing my half full glass of orange juice and proceeded to chug the contents.
"Sorry, hangover." I responded in a hushed tone. Having never seen her out of uniform or with her hair down, it took me a bit to recognize Lydia, who now resided in the chair across from me.
"So that's what you and the commander were doing..." She responded in a more reasonable volume this time.
"Word of advice, Lieutenant: Best leave inquiries about the off-duty activities of your superiors alone..." I told her. "But if you must know, the Commander and I shared a few drinks. Particularly strong drinks." After taking another spoonful and swallowing, I look up at the Ginger on the other side of the table. "Is there something I can help you with, Lieutenant?"
"You've been in Starfleet a while right?" Lydia asked, dipping a piece of her breakfast sausage into the liquid yolk of her sunny side up eggs then popping it into her mouth.
"Thirteen years this June, why?"
"And you're a flight instructor to?"
"I have to recertify, but yeah... where is this going?" I asked, looking to the woman in front of me nervously moving the contents of her plate around with her fork, avoiding eye contact. "Lieuten-- Lydia, what's up?" I inquired with concern.
"My evaluation is coming up in a few days and I'm worried about it."
"Seriously? You're a good pilot, you'll do fine."
"No, I don't do well when I know I'm being evaluated. It's silly, I know, but I almost flunked out of the academy." She told me in earnest. "Can you help me out?" She pleaded, genuinely worried. "I could lose my promotion if I don't do well, I didn't do that well on my eval before I got promoted..." she trailed off.
I mulled over what she asked in my mind. Do I help her? If she does poorly, I could be next in line to take her place. Could I live with being that callous though? Ruining her career to further my own? I thought. I let the notion sit on my mind for a few more seconds before I remembered what Gia had asked me last night. Do I even want to continue my career? Despite the seriousness of it, the decision was surprisingly easy.
"Meet me in Holodeck One at thirteen hundred hours. Don't be late."
"Thank you!" She said with excitement but caused me to wince in pain at the sudden increase in volume. "Sorry..." she apologized. "So, what was it that you drank that caused Gia to stumble out of your quarters this morning?"
I almost spit my oatmeal all over the table.
"Helm, get us a firing solution on that Galor!" I ordered from the center chair of what was a very convincing replica of the Rio Branco's bridge. The lights were dimmed and awash with pulsing red lights from the status alerts. The current simulation had the ship engaged in combat in a reenactment of 'Operation Return' from the Dominion War where Starfleet and Klingon forces successfully took back Deep Space Nine and prevented Dominion reinforcements from coming through the Bajoran Wormhole. "Tactical, lock on torpedos and fire when you have a shot."
"Captain! Jem'Hadar fighter on an intercept course... They're going to ram us!" The holographic officer reported from the Operations station.
"Helm, take evasive!"
"On it!" Lydia said, her hands dancing across her console, just as I felt the sensation of vertigo as the inertial dampeners struggled to keep the ships occupants where they were instead of smeared on the bulkhead as Lydia pulled the ship into a high-speed emergency dive. I had to give her points for effort, it was a good move, and on a different class of ship it would have been the right call. But not this time.
"Computer, freeze program," I ordered right at the moment of impact. Now frozen in time, the bridge was in the middle of exploding around us. Consoles were erupting with sparks and plumes of flame. Two officers were thrown from their stations at such a velocity that would certainly kill them. I walked up to the helm where I found Lydia staring at the forward viewscreen, her arms crossed over her chest in frustration.
"What happened?" She asked, unable to check the readouts on the helm, which had gone dark, its surface beginning to crack and distend, frozen at the very moment before it would have exploded from a power surge.
"When you took the ship into a dive, the Jem'Hadar vessel clipped the tail end of the secondary hull," I told her, getting a surprised look from her. "Computer, take us out into space so we can look at the Rio Branco," I ordered.
The bridge faded from view as we found ourselves standing in the midst of a pitched battle, hundreds of starships doing their best to destroy themselves. Directly in front of us was the Rio Branco, now in its death throes from the collision with the enemy ship.
"That was a good maneuver and would be a good call on any other class of ship the Branco's size, like a Steamrunner or Saber, but you need to take into consideration the Oberth's unique dimensions when you're piloting her. The secondary hull juts out quite a ways." I explained. "Computer, rewind to the point where Ops reported the enemy vessels collision, then resume, instead rotate the Rio Branco thirty-five degrees on its z-axis to starboard while pulling forty-five degree bank to starboard."
Both of us watched as the battle rewound itself, paused, then resume, this time the ship turned hard instead of diving, causing the Jem'Hadar vessel to narrowly miss with only its shields grazing that of the Rio Branco.
"Computer, end program," I ordered, causing the whole simulation we had been in for several hours to fade away. I took a few steps away from Lydia and rubbed the bridge of my nose, trying to put what I wanted to say in the most tactful way that I could. "Lieutenant." I began. "This is my professional opinion: You're going to bomb your evaluation if you intend to keep your current position of head of flight ops." I told Lydia flatly. I watched as the look of defeat crept onto her face. God damn it, she looks like I kicked her puppy. "But it'll look favorably on you if you ask for a transfer to another vessel where you wouldn't hold the same posting. You'll get to keep your rank.
"You have the raw skill but what you lack is experience," I told her.
"So, what do I do?"
"Exactly what I told you, ask for a transfer. Explain that you do not think that you have the requisite experience to continue as head of flight operations. I'll talk to Gia about it, discreetly." I answered, getting a slight smile in return. "Listen, I'm owed a few favors, and I don't mind calling them in to help you. I'll see what I can do to grease some wheels in your favor."
Lydia agreed with me, and we parted ways after leaving the holodeck. I headed back to my quarters and took a seat at my desks computer terminal.
"Computer, open a subspace communique to Captain Sigrengar on the Galatea," I ordered, then watched the screen turn on displaying the insignia of the United Federation of Planets for several minutes before I was greeted with the toothy smile of a female Gallamite. Captain Sigrengar is a friendly, talkative woman who never hesitated to defuse someone's unease with her transparent skull with humor. She had me in stitches when I first met her, having been left awkwardly staring at her brain when I reported for duty on the Galatea.
"James! Is that really you?" She asked.
"It's a long story, Captain, and I'll tell you in a bit, but this isn't a social call," I told her. "I got a favor to ask, word has it that you're galavanting around the Romulan border for the Starfleet Diplomatic Corps."
"Yeah, I'm playing chauffeur to those suits in the Dip Corps." She answered with annoyance. "I miss being in the Beta Quadrant. How can I help?"
"You wouldn't be looking for a good flight officer would you?" I asked.
"You looking to get back here, Jimmy?"
"No, not asking for me, this is for someone else. That and I think any transfer request I make wouldn't be approved." I told her, my voice becoming serious. "I got busted down to Ensign a couple months ago and my current assignment is somewhat of punishment of sorts."
"I was wondering how you wound up on the Rio Branco. Maltuvis still in command?" I nodded. "So, who's this pilot you speak so highly of?"
"Her name's Lydia Johnson, Lieutenant Junior Grade, she's currently head of flight ops. This ship is no place for a young pilot like her, it'll kill her career before it's even begun." I explained. "She's good, but she needs experience which she's not getting here," I told her, explaining the whole situation. My old Captain listened intently. When I finished, she explained that my old friend Ernie Bowman, who had been my department head on the Galatea, was retiring next month and that a spot would be open, provided the right recommendations were included with the transfer request.
Our conversation turned to how I was still alive and kicking, my experiences on Equus, and how I got demoted. I also told her what I intended to do right after this call ended.
"Yeah, Admiral Matthews is an asshole." She said, spitting his name out like an epithet. "He's always been a hard-nosed, by-the-book judge and equally harsh with his sentencing. You're lucky you got off with what you did, he would have sent you to prison and slept soundly that night.
"Alright, have Ms. Johnson send me that transfer request when she can. James, it's good see you again. Take care of yourself."
"I will Captain."
"Good luck. Oh, one more thing, tell Gia I said hi," Sigrengar said with a wink then cutting the channel. I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh, using my hands to rub the stress off my face. Now for the hard part.
"Computer, compose the following letter then transfer it to PADD..." I ordered, grabbing one of the PADDs off my desk and read off its serial number. "Six-Four-Delta."
Attention: Captain Maltuvis, Commander Cruz - USS Rio Branco, Starfleet Command
This letter is to inform you and serve as my official notice of intent to resign my commission as an officer in Starfleet, effective immediately as of stardate 68952.
Ensign James Matthew Scott
Flight Operations Officer
USS Rio Branco
As soon as I affixed my thumbprint to the document, a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders and a smile graced my face. Of course now I had to go give it to the Captain, but that could wait. Taking the PADD in hand, I left my quarters and headed to go talk to Gia.
"You sure about this?" Gia said, holding the letter in her hand.
"Yeah. I think we both know my career is done."
Explaining Lydia's situation was the easy part, and she agreed wholeheartedly, promising to speak with the Captain about it. But this gave Gia pause.
"Alright. Well... Despite the short time, it's been a pleasure, Ensign." Gia said, shaking my hand.
"Likewise, Commander," I said with a smile.
"Let's go tell Malty, shall we?"
Vulcan - One Week Later
I stood under the burning gaze of Vulcan's three suns, the breeze coming off the Varoth Sea did nothing to alleviate the heat. Before me was a six-foot tall, eighty-foot long wall of obsidian colored stone. Behind it was five more just like it. On them, evenly spaced in both Vulcan and Federation Standard, were the names of every Vulcan Starfleet officer that had died in the line of duty.
I could see other Vulcan's reading names off another part of the wall, quietly mourning in their own way. Having been told that the silence of the memorial in the city of Kwil'inor was serene, I hadn't expected it to be unnerving as well. It was so quiet that you could hear the waves crashing on the coast.
It took me several minutes to find it, but there it was written in small text. I had to kneel down to read it, placing my hand on the shockingly cold stone.
T'Pomei, Daughter of Tes and Voris, Betrothed of James Scott
Lieutenant Commander
Utopia Planitia, Stardate 59264
With no body to bury, no grave to visit, all I had was a name etched on a wall. She didn't deserve this, I thought, clenching my fist as rage welled up inside me, wishing I could focus that rage onto the bastard that murdered her.
"It would seem that the universe has shown us once again its capacity for infinite possibilities." A Vulcan woman said quietly, referencing the Vulcan philosophy of 'Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations'. "It is... good to see you again, James."
I had sent her a message after I resigned, letting her know what had happened and that I was coming to see the new memorial.
"Hello, Tes. It's good to see you too." I told T'Pomei's mother, managing a smile. If age wasn't a factor, Tes would be a mirror image of her daughter. The smile didn't last though.
"You seem troubled," She observed.
"She deserved better than this. All I got was a memorial service and now a name on a wall. And now all I can think about is strangling the life out of the bastard that did this."
"Anger is an understandable emotion in this circumstance. Even though we both have had time to grieve for T'Pomei, being here does 'open old wounds' as you humans say. I would be lying if I said I too had not had thoughts like yours." She told me. "As a security officer in Starfleet, I was once tasked with protecting my fellow officers. To have my daughter taken from us in the manner she was, despite logic telling me that there was nothing I could have done, my training left me wanting to have done more."
"I know, but it's hard for me not to think about. It's just that there was so much that we had planned. She wanted to give you grandchildren." I explained, my lip quivering. "Then she died and all that was taken away." I continued, tears running down my face. "Oh, Tes, I miss her. I want her back."
The last thing I expected was the woman, who until now I had known to be one of the most stoic Vulcans I had ever met, to pull me into a tight hug.
"I know, my son. Know that you are not alone in this." She spoke softly. Gently pulling away from her, I looked into her eyes.
"Son?"
"Yes. You were the one my Daughter chose to spend her life with. Your progeny would have been our grandchildren. It is only logical that Voris and I consider you family."
"You have no idea how much that means to me," I told her.
"My husband mentioned the significance that would have for you. You are welcome. Now, Voris and I have made ready a room for you to stay with us during your time on Vulcan. He has also prepared this evening's meal and invites you to join us."
"I'd love too... Mom." I answered with a smile, which got a raised eyebrow and a nod of approval in return.
"I have learned that your sister has given birth to a new child. Would you tell me about him?" She asked. Wearing a big smile, I started telling Tes about my nephew.
Trill - The Following Week...
I stood on the stoop of my sisters house, having just rang the door bell. I could hear a child crying in the house. Suddenly the front door's electronic lock released and the door opened slightly.
"James, I know it's you, I'm a little busy, come on in!" My sister yelled from somewhere within.
"Uncle Jim!" Mellisa yelled as she ran down the stairs and jumped into my arms.
"Hey there, munchkin," I greeted, squeezing her tightly. "I missed you so much."
"Is it true you left Starfleet?"
"It is. Don't have to take orders anymore, that means I get to do whatever I want, and that includes visiting my favorite niece!"
"I'm your only niece!"
"Are you?" I asked in jest, poking her nose with my index finger before setting her down.
"Well, as I live and breath. James Scott, back from the dead. It's good to see you."
"Timor! You ugly son-of-a-bi--" I started to say, before noticing Mellisa still standing in the room. "Gun. Been too long."
"Nice save. How long are you staying?"
"How long can you stand me?"
"That a trick question?" The stalky Trill asked before grabbing me in a hug. "You need work?" He asked.
Timor had been asking me to work for him for years, but until now I had always had a reason to decline. So I didn't dismiss the idea out of hand.
"I actually came for the Scott Free," I told him, asking him about my parent's freighter which was left to me in their will. I left it in the care of Timor's company when it was bequeathed to me, but now I had use for it.
"Yeah," Timor said, scratching the back of his head. "About that. The Scott Free is in mothballs at the moment, she needs a new navigational deflector and her warp core is long past due for a refit."
"What the hell did you do to it?" I asked, a little shocked.
"James, that ship's pushing almost forty, takes a lot of maintenance to keep her going."
"Well, what would I have to do to get you to get her going again?"
"I've got a cargo run to Bolarus and back. It's a three-week round trip, you command it for me and I'll have the Scott Free ready for you when you get back."
"Done and done," I said, shaking his hand.
It was a long time coming. Being back here was giving me chills. The good kind.
The Scott Free was functioning perfectly. Timor had done a bang up job getting her and the trip here had been uneventful. He even had his engineers rig the ship for a great deal of automation.
But he hadn't added the best deflector dish available outside of Starfleet, normally equipped on civilian research vessels. I had sold the freighter's detachable cargo modules after running several cargo runs on my own to pay for it, but it was all for this moment. After contacting Lenara Kahn to ask about how I would need to reproduce the method to return to the subspace fold where Equus was located, she helped me program the deflector to automatically create the 'wormhole' I needed.
"Computer, execute program Kahn-Zero-One," I ordered. On the viewscreen, I watched as a golden stream of directed energy target a specific point in space, followed a pulse of white energy impacting it, causing a swirling vortex to open. With a smile, I engaged the vessel's engines and traveled through the hole in reality.
After a few moments of the viewscreen only showing a miasma of orange strings of energy, it all suddenly snapped away, revealing the blackness of space again, and in the center was a yellow main-sequence star, a blue-green orb and its silver moon.
"Time to head home," I said as I brought the ship on course for landing.
The Everfree forest had always been a dangerous place, but that made it the best place to hide. I knew that I was one of the most wanted unicorns in Equestria, so staying here in the forest that most sane ponies was the best course of action.
Approaching a small pond of water to take a drink, a small object, partially covered in dirt on the other side caught my eye.
It was a small wooden box, but something was off. I touched it with my hoof only to be shocked with crackling magic. But this was not ordinary magic. No unicorn made this and it wasn't the same as that purple alicorn could do. No, this was Zebracian Shamanistic curse.
Taking the wooden box in my turquoise magic, I easily dispelled the curse and opened the container. Intense crimson light filled my vision, and in the center of the box was a silver amulet depicting a unicorn with wings surrounding a glowing red jewel.
"This can't be... No..." I said to myself, picking the unassuming piece of jewelry in my hoof. It felt powerful. I felt powerful. If this was what I thought it was, I could take my revenge. That bitch Fluttershy and her meddlesome friends would pay.
A deafening roar above me drew my attention away from the object in my hoof. Donning the amulet, I ran through the woods in the direction the sound traveled, all the way to the edge of the forest that opened up into a verdant meadow.
A large metal structure descended from the sky, and from the direction of Ponyville, several ponies were gathering near a small cabin where the metal... thing, landed.
One of the ponies caught my eye. A yellow pegasus with flowing pink hair, and I felt rage well up inside. She ran towards where an opening appeared on the large structure. A bipedal creature descended, and was quickly embraced by Fluttershy. Was she kissing it? Could taking revenge be that easy? Could taking something away from her be the best way to make her pay for exposing my plan?
The amulet glowed, and with an evil smile and glowing red eyes, Starlight Glimmer plotted.
James Scott will Return
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How to secure a voice activated lock? Use a term that is so taboo, that to most people would make physically ill thinking about it?
Now that is a nasty set up at the end. Only 4 months to see if its canon?
Now let see what happens to James Scott in a new story.
Due I detect a sequel approaching of so engage at maximum warp
Ugh, the season finale cliffhanger.
6001167
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Don't worry, you won't have to wait long, once I get done designing the cover for the story I'll get writing.
6001643 That's good. Growing up with Next Gen and then later with DS9 & Voyager, the season finale cliffhanger was the bane of my existence.
6001652
As Trek Cliffhangers go, the only one that was the worst was the season 3 finale of TNG, Best of Both Worlds.
Patrick Stewart, while driving down an LA Freeway in his convertible was yelled at by a passing family saying "YOU RUINED OUR WHOLE SUMMER!"
Closely followed by Voyager season 2 finale, Basics Pt 1, where Voyager is captured and the crew marooned by the Kazon.
I was just thinking of that!! That moment when Riker orders to fire on Locutus. Then you have to wait 3 months to find out IT DIDN'T WORK!?!
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I was 12 and a huge nerd. So... yes, he did ruin my summer.
6020519 Thanks for the critique, I'm always open to it.
It's actually not atypical for a pilot to have an open personality. All the ones I've met (I come from a military family and spent several years on an Air-force base) they're generally outgoing, and confident in their abilities (lets face it, their job is dangerous and requires them to be like that, because often others lives depend on it).
For the mechanical errors, I write mostly for myself first because I enjoy it (as all writers should), if others like it too all the better (and the 20+ followers since I published this story, 40+ upvotes and this story being in 115 bookshelves seems to indicate that). I didn't write it to win any awards.
As for the how he handled a first contact situation, that is as intended and is due to his inexperience which leads to a plot point near the end.
For the dialogue being happy, the last story I wrote was pretty dark and I needed to perk things up a bit. Don't expect that to last though. My take on two of MLP and ST antagonists is quite dark, I made someone cry with chapter six, and chapter nine doesn't pull any punches. Also, as soon as the Sequel gets through the approval queue, the first chapter is going to thoroughly eviscerate some people's emotional states.
Holy carp, Starfleet officers are real pansies if they think that's a "closet". Nuc boat captains get a bunk and a desk crammed into something the rough size of a large refrigerator. The ratings have to hot-bunk.