18 – ‘The Dove’

Star Trek: Cayuga

18 – ‘The Dove’

By Jack Elmlinger

“… and the next thing that I knew, I was lying on my back on the holodeck.” 

Doctor Zimthar Moru looked up from the biobed readings and sighed heavily. Other than Ensign Aerru, Sickbay was empty but he was the fourth officer this week who had returned from the Juneau with some sort of injury. “I know that holodecks are a lot of fun,” the Bolian physician said,” but they’re dangerous as well.” 

“I used the safety protocols,” insisted the Kelpien pilot. 

“Which will stop you from being killed, not injured.” He tapped the biobed monitor off. “Fortunately for you, Doctor Boyce is good with a bone knitter. Roslyn, could you prepare a hypospray of the local anesthetic?” 

“I can feel it itching already,” Aerru whined as he rubbed his left forearm. 

Roslyn pressed a hypospray against the offending arm. “Just be happy that I’m on-duty instead of Taylor,” she said with a ready smile. “Unless you prefer your bedside manner to be Cardassian-style.” 

Chuckling, Aerru took to his feet. “Thanks, Roslyn. Thanks, Doc.” 

Moru waited until the doors had closed behind Aerru before he said,” That’s not funny.” 

Collier shrugged at him. “I thought it was.” She replaced the hypospray and began checking medication doses. 

“I want you to talk to someone about your attitude towards Cardassians,” the Chief Medical Officer said, stepping forward to force her attention on him. “There’s a counselor aboard the Juneau…” 

“Counselor?,” she repeated, aghast at his words. “As if not liking Cardassians is some kind of mental defect. As if it’s not justified after all that they’ve done.” The medic shook her head at him. “I won’t go.” 

Moru considered her answer for a moment. “As you wish.” He walked into his office and as he sat down behind his desk, Collier poked her head through the open door. 

“That’s it?” 

“No, I expect you to see the Juneau’s counselor once a week until further notice. If you miss a session, you’ll be relieved of duty,” the Bolian said simply.

“You can’t relieve me of duty for having different beliefs than yours!,” she yelled back at him. 

Moru looked up at her. “It’s not healthy for you to let your feelings fester like that, Roslyn.” 

Collier threw up her hands at him. “Fine, then relieve me.” She spun around on her heels and stormed out of sight. The hiss of the doors to Sickbay opening was punctuated by the sound of the hypospray tray crashing down to the floor. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Checkmate.” 

Sean Pasko studied the stacked boards and he concluded, three turns ago, that he had been hopelessly outfoxed. For some reason, there was a measure of pride that demanded that he finish the fight. 

“These platforms always throw me off,” he said, tapping the uppermost platform of the three-dimensional chess board. 

Kyla Briannon, Security Chief of the Juneau, harrumphed at his remark. “I think I would’ve had you anyways, Lieutenant,” she said, plucking the remaining pieces from the board. 

“Yeah, well…” The Juneau’s Recreation Hall was larger than the Cayuga’s Mess Hall and its massive bay windows provided a distraction from Briannon’s point. “How long do you think they’ll keep us waiting?” 

Pell Muriko, the Juneau’s Zakdorn helm officer, looked up from his book and at the angular ship hanging out in space. “The Tholians are known somewhat for… brusque diplomacy.” 

“They’ll keep us waiting here long enough to prove that they can,” Briannon said, placing the last of the tri-d chess pieces into a felt-lined box. “That’s how diplomacy is supposed to work. We did the same thing, waiting two years after the war for us to kiss and make up with them.” 

Across the room, the tall oaken doors slid open with a swoosh for Aimee Maguire and Wanu Fenzel, her Atrean counterpart aboard the Juneau. Spotting Pasko, they walked over towards his table. 

“How’s Engineering here?,” he asked her. 

“Big,” she replied with a hint of flushed redness in her cheeks,” and… thrumming.” 

Pasko turned in his chair, addressing her alone. “Did you get Pozach’s message?” 

“Dinner tonight with a ‘special guest’? I’m in as long as it isn’t with Keitsev.” 

He shook his head. “I talked to Lieutenant Ntannu. Keitsev isn’t scheduled to go anywhere tonight but to stay in his nice comfortable cell.” 

A flicker of motion caught Maguire at the corner of her eye. In the corner, Sayvok was having an indistinct conversation with a man in blue departmental colors. As if he noticed her paying attention to him, Leonard Huang turned around. Motion and sound ground to a halt around her as she stared at him. 

‘Acceptable losses’, he had said, referring to the entire Cardassian Union. ‘In my time, the entire Beta and Alpha Quadrants have been overrun by the Borg.’ His uniform had been different — standard black and gray, one pip instead of three — and his eyes were calm but he still made her stomach turn. 

“Aimee?,” Sean asked with concern. 

“We have to get back to the ship,” she hissed at him, grabbing his arm and leading him away from a future that was too horrible for her to bear. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“Do you remember the debates that we had over the Defiant Project?” 

Maguire looked back and forth between Captain Pozach and Councilor Bokam. The Councilor’s appearance at the table had been unsettling enough and his friendly attitude with the captain was just odd. She glanced at Pasko and she saw the same thought in his eyes.

“You might not believe it,” the Kriosian said, turning towards Maguire and Pasko,” but when the proposal for the Defiant Project came through to the Federation Security Council, a young Lieutenant Commander Pozach fought against it, tooth and nail. It was quite impressive.” 

Pozach sat in forced calm, playing with her glass. She felt Maguire’s and Pasko’s eyes on her and explained,” I thought that constructing a fleet of dedicated warships was … contradictory to the goals of Starfleet.” 

“Despite the obvious threat of an impending Borg invasion!,” the Councilor cried with delight. “I’ll tell you, Jeanne, that I never shared your pacifistic beliefs but I’ve always respected the strength of your convictions. Always.” He pushed his plate forward. “I remember when you were assigned as Amos Bradley’s First Officer. You hadn’t served aboard a starship in ten years, and you were so… anxious.” 

“I was…” Pozach caught herself. “I didn’t want to be placed into a combat position.” 

“How would you like to come back?” 

Pozach’s eyebrows shot up and she leaned back into her chair. “What?” 

“Come back to the Federation Council and take up your position as a liaison from Starfleet again,” Bokam said, leaning over the table. “Since the beginning of the war, the moderating force on the Council had dwindled down to nothing. Admiral Tattok would never have allowed Admiral Falconer to kill so many Cardassians after the Buckingham incident if the Council hadn’t expressed condemnation.” 

“It didn’t?,” Sean blurted out. 

“I did very little in my years in Paris but argue against you. The Defiant Project. Reinstating the draft. Project Damocles. Sanctions against governments that kept out of the war. At least on the draft, I defeated your proposal.” She spread her hands out as if she was encompassing the entirety of space. “My time out here hasn’t changed me that much, Councilor. I still stand against many of your policies.” 

“Good!,” replied the Kriosian. “I don’t agree with your beliefs but that doesn’t make them unnecessary or wrong. We need opinions like yours because they contradict mine.” 

Pasko watched the exchange warily. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” 

“I’m sorry, Councilor, but Captain Pozach is already spoken for,” Maguire said, planting her hands on the table and rising up from her chair. “I appreciate a contrary opinion as much as the next person but the Captain is an irreplaceable part of the Cayuga’s crew. The ship simply couldn’t operate properly without her.” 

Bokam’s eyebrows rose in amusement. 

“Aimee,” Pozach said softly before he could respond,” sit down.” 

Maguire sat back down in her chair. 

“It’s quite an offer, Councilor,” she continued, obviously weighing in each word. “I’ll take it under advisement.” 

He smiled at her. “That’s all that I ask.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“She can’t be seriously considering it,” Sean said around his toothbrush, spitting angrily into the bathroom sink. 

Alice sat perched on the edge of the bed, tugging at the hem of her nightshirt, fighting to keep a dopey grin off of her face. Her gaze darted around the room, returning, every so often, to the pink floral-patterned bag resting on the bathroom counter. She had placed it there with great pride, just an hour ago. It was the first time that she had ever brought an overnight bag to anyone’s quarters. 

“Maybe the Captain likes working in politics. My parents tried to get me to play the clarinet and I was pretty good at it but I didn’t like it. I picked up on chemical photography instead. I haven’t done it in a while, though, because silver nitrate is restricted aboard starships. It causes toxic shock in Benzites.” 

Sean finished in the bathroom, came out and pulled off his shirt. “I understand what you mean,” Alice heard over the fluttering of her heart. “I think I’m just worried about losing Jeanne.” He crossed over to the bred and pulled back the sheets. “Let’s go to bed.” 

The fluttering of Alice’s heart became a jackhammer. “Okay,” she whispered. 

Lovingly, he held the sheets open for her, tucking them gently underneath her chin as she settled in. She closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers. He pulled away and after a moment, wondering what would happen next, she opened her eyes. 

Sean lay next to her, asleep. 

For a moment, she wondered if this was all a part of the game. If she was supposed to do something now… A brief snore disillusioned her of that idea. 

“Good night?” 

Sean mumbled back at her, happily. 

Alice rolled over and fretted.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Situated on Deck Eleven, Cargo Bay Two was about as close to the ‘bottom’ of the ship as it was possible to be aboard the Cayuga. Filled with scientific instruments, spare parts that couldn’t be replicated, and extra armaments, the bay carried with it, an air of secrecy. 

Aimee Maguire heard the gentle swoosh of the Cargo Bay doors opening and then closing. Footsteps worked their way through the maze of supplies. A moment later, Lieutenant Ntannu and Ensign Novack stepped into view. 

“It’s late, Lieutenant,” the Ktarian security chief said, his long dreadlocks hanging loose around his shoulders. 

“Late is relative,” she replied, motioning to a stack of quantum torpedoes. “Take a seat, guys.” 

“Lieutenant,” Novack complained,” I’ve got better things to do than play and cloak-and-dagger games.” 

“Seven months ago, we picked up our returning cadets. We also got a few new officers assigned to the ship to make up for our losses against the Maquis. Maybe none of you have noticed that one of them is an Ensign assigned to the Science Section named Leonard Huang?” 

Ntannu’s dark skin paled at her question. “Huang…?” 

Maguire nodded. “The present-day version of the man who brought the Borg down upon our heads.”

“Who else knows?,” Novack asked her. “Commander zh’Tali’s dead and Fuller was assimilated…” 

“… and the Department of Temporal Investigations classified all of our reports of the event,” the chief engineer said, finishing the ensign’s sentence for him. “The three of us are the only people on this ship who understand his significance.” 

“So what do you want us to do about it?” 

“‘Do’, Ntannu?” Maguire laughed at him. “I have no idea. I just know that having him aboard freaks the crap out of me.” 

“What if we were to tell him about the away mission?,” Novack asked her slowly. “Warned him? Maybe give him the knowledge that could help him to avoid the timeline that his future self came from.” 

Ntannu shook his head. “And tell him what? That sometime in the future, he’ll be so desperate to destroy his timeline that he’s willing to commit billions of murders?” 

“In his future, he hasn;t already come back in time,” the Chief Engineer interjected between both security officers. “So when he did, he created a whole new timeline, then and there.” 

“But is it different enough? What’s to say that the Borg won’t still come for us?” 

That question had been stalking Aimee for week so she did what she had done, every other time that it had come close. She avoided it. “Let’s focus on the now. Huang. What can we do about him?” 

“Nothing,” Ntannu decided for all three of them. “Huang — this Huang — has no relation to the man that we’ve met now and nobody is going to do anything about that.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Counselor Wilso shifted in his seat, trying to think of an opening to begin the counseling session. This wasn’t his first time in being in a session like this one. Especially since the end of the war, which didn’t make matters any easier. “You seem irritated to be here,” the robust man said, his eyes on her. 

Roslyn Collier sat across from him with her arms crossed over her chest. Her gaze shifted from the wall with a seascape painting upon it to him. “As a matter of fact, I am.” 

“Well, maybe you could tell me why? All I know is that you’re from the Cayuga and that your appointment was made at the request of your Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Zimthar Moru.” 

Roslyn considered this and finally said,” It’s the Cardassians.” 

“The Cardassians?” 

Anger flared up in her eyes. “Doctor Moru finds my ‘attitude’ towards them unbecoming. He thinks that I’m being a racist.” 

“What do you think?” 

“I think that I’ve proven that I can work with them. I was on Iannar and Norgo. I helped out a lot of Cardassians during the terraforming and sek crises.” 

“It sounds like you’ve done a lot of good work.” 

“You’re damned right I have.” She pushed herself up to her feet. “I’m a damned good nurse and an excellent medic! I’m on my way to becoming a damned good doctor. I’ve followed his every order without question. How dare he call me a racist?” 

“I’ve never spoken with Doctor Moru myself,” Wilson told her. “Can you take a guess?” 

Roslyn began pacing across the room, prowling like an animal. “Sure, I don’t like Cardassians. I doubt that many people do these days. That’s what happens when you start galactic wars.” 

“That’s true.” 

“We lost a lot of good people during that last push to Cardassia Prime. Fifty people died on the Cayuga when we got rammed. A lot of my friends died,” — she took a deep breath — ,” but then, we beat them. We defeated the Cardassians and pushed the Dominion back to the Gamma Quadrant.” She stopped pacing but she still stared at the wall. “And then… And then our new assignment is to deliver releif supplies to the poor, deleaguered Cardies.” 

Wilson leaned forward in his seat. “That made you angry.” 

“Of course, it did!,” she yelled, whirling towards him. “They’re bullies, and savages. They’ve been picking fights for decades with the rest of the Galaxy, but after we finally put them in their place, they’re suddenly sweet and cuddly like Setlik II and the wholesale oppression and slaughter of colonists in the Demilitarized Zone were just misunderstandings. No, I’m not a racist. I just know the Cardassians for what they are.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Sprawled across the couch in his quarters, Tom Riker dropped the PADD that he had been reading. It fell down, text-up, on top of a pile of clothes. The glowing screen illuminated the clumps of dust and dirt that had already gathered underneath his new coffee table. He had enjoyed redecorating zh’Tali’s quarters when he had become First Officer. 

A knock on the door drew his attention. He stumbled to his feet, walked over and punched the door release. He was mildly surprised to see Brandon Hobbes before him. 

“You actually knocked on the door,” Riker said, covering his surprise. “We’ve got door chimes and you knock?” 

Hobbes stepped past him. He glanced around disdainfully at the rubbish pilled on a chair before he shoved it onto the floor. “How long has it been since we’ve had a chat, Thomas?” 

“Well, gosh,” Riker smirked wandering over to the replicator and typing in a command for Albebaran whiskey,” I guess that would be your wedding. Not that we could really talk with your wife following you around like a puppy. You know, I always found her,” — his hands formed cups in front of his chest — ,”lacking. “What was her name, anyways?” 

Hobbes’ lips thinned and he said quietly,” Astrid. I never would have met her without you… With Will, I guess. It was your idea to join Starfleet. The Klingons knew that it was the last place we could go to since she was one of the evacuees from Tenneal IV. She stayed aboard the Sarajevo as a civilian specialist and I don’t expect you to understand why but … I fell in love with her. She was offered a position at the Vulcan Science Academy and took it. Then the Bajoran wormhole was discovered.

“The Sarajevo was one of the ships in the first wave of exploration. We heard rumors about the Dominion and their enforcers from the races that we encountered. By all accounts, we were well outside of their borders. I was on the Bridge at the science station when we spotted them. My… my first thought was,’ These are the soldiers of the Dominion that everyone is so afraid of? Their ships are purple!’ Then they fired through our shields like they weren’t even there. 

“We abandoned our ship. They destroyed some of the escape pods and captured others. A few of them, they just ignored, while mine crashed into an empty rock of a world. Sending out a distress signal is standard procedure, but with the Jem’hadar in orbit, I didn;t think that it was a good idea. I kept my tricorder scanning passively for any sign of the other pods. And… I waited.

“By the end of the first year, I knew that Starfleet wasn’t coming for me. That was when I started getting philosophical. We did a lot of bad things, Thomas, and I remember all of them. I started to think that maybe… maybe it was some kind of karma. Like I was being punished.

“I was marooned on that rock for four years. In that time, the Dominion had entered the Alpha Quadrant and went to war. They didn’t lose because they chose to surrender. I was picked up by a Dominion warship and they knew… they knew… that I had been there the entire time. They dropped me off at Deep Space Nine as the last of the Dominion forces left the quadrant. Starfleet Command offered early retirement and when I turned that down, they offered me extended medical leave. I turned that down too. It would have meant going back home and I knew that I would have to tell Astrid about our past and what we did.

“We did a lot of bad. I think… I think that joining Starfleet, even for the wrong reasons… it was fate. So that now we can do some good.” 

Riker sat down on the couch with his elbows on her knees. His mouth worked while he ran a hand through his hair. “Are you telling me that you’ve found religion?,” he asked him incredulously. 

“Not specifically.” 

“Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” Thomas said, scratching his chin. “You think that after all that we’ve done, we can just ‘do good’ and … the Klingons will stop hunting us? That Krevyk will call off his blood vengeance? I’ve also noticed that you’re skirting around our ‘bad things’.” 

He looked at Brandon with a harsh look on his face. “Let’s by more specific for a minute here. How many people did you sell into slavery? And how many did you take freebies from before the deal was done? You’re going to tell Astris about that?” Hobbes stared down at his feet. “I’m sure that all of those people will feel better knowing that you’re sorry.” 

“We were wrong.” 

“We lived like kings!,” Riker yelled at him, leaning into his face. “And if I could, I’d go back!” Scowling, he turned away from him. “I’d realized that you’ve gone soft, Brandon, but I didn’t realize that you’ve gone pathetic.” 

Hobbes was blinking too much now at the revelations betwen them. He felt that he must have been delusional to come to Riker and he know that now. The possibility of redemption that had keep him alive for those four empty years was meaningless to the other man. A person had to feel contrition in order to be redeemed and Thomas Riker had no concept of regret. 

Like he had always done, he bowed his head in silent submission, rose to his feet, and walked out the door of the First Officer’s quarters. 

The End…