“Until now.” She had said it with complete certainty. There had been no doubt in her mind.
So Gold had made a wager that his team would win hands down. She had accepted, but only on these terms: The loser had to make dinner for the other—from scratch. A product of the replicator age, Gold didn’t know how to boil water, but he had been sufficiently confident to make the bet anyhow.
After Columbia’s upset victory, Gold had made an attempt to cook a meal, which resulted in the entire dormitory’s being evacuated for what was initially believed to be a chemical explosion. As they stood outside the dorm while Security put out the fire, she had looked at him with her brown eyes and the expression that was somehow half-smile and half-frown, and said, “Next time maybe you’ll listen to me?”
A week later, she cooked him dinner, ruining him for replicated food for the rest of his life. A year later, they were married. Two years later, he went off to his first posting on the Gettysburg, and Rachel became a rabbi and started teaching. Three years later, they moved into this house. And fifty-two years later, he had yet to have cause not to listen to her.
Now he entered the kitchen, which had been remodeled to her exact specifications fifty years ago, and modified regularly ever since. Every type of cooking appliance available—and a few that weren’t—had a place in this kitchen, down to a wood-burning stove, which she rarely used (but oh, when she did!). She stood over a pot of soup, stirring it with one hand, even as she added a few spices to another pot with her other hand.
Rachel Gilman’s hair was still just as curly, though it had as much gray as brown now. Her brown eyes now had crow’s-feet, and her magnificent cheekbones were less pronounced.
She was more beautiful than ever.
As always, she looked at him, gave him that same half-smile, half-frown she’d first given him outside the smoke-filled dorm room, and said, “You’re home.”
As always, he smiled, and said, “I’m home.”
He could tell that she saw the joy he felt at seeing his family, and that she also saw the great sorrow right behind that at what had happened at Galvan VI. Without saying a word, she reassured him that they would talk about it later, for as long as he wanted, but that for now he should just take joy in being with his family.
“You have five minutes to get out of that uniform and into some proper clothes.”
“I forgot to bring my dress uniform.”
She held up the wooden spoon threateningly. “Don’t make me have to kill you, Captain. Go change.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to leave, then turned back. “How’d you get Eden and Bob to come?”
“I asked them.”
Gold blinked. “And?”
“That’s it, David. Sometimes it really is that simple.”
Before he could reply to that, he heard Freser barking, followed by a distinctive whooomp!
Turning to his wife, Gold asked, “Expecting anyone else?”
“Actually, no. You’d better go check.” Rachel didn’t sound too terribly concerned, so Gold didn’t, either. It could have been one of the neighbors, or one of the children, of course.
He went back into the living room, just as Daniel was opening the front door. The rapid-fire pounding of small feet to his right heralded the arrival down the staircase of Anne Meyer and Ike and Jake Hirsch, Danielle and Simone’s children. Now standing by the loveseat with Esther, Khor said, “It seems your guard animal has claimed another victim, Captain.”
Maybe Esther didn’t keep them apart, after all. That was a story for later, however. First, he needed to see who it was Freser had decked.
Gold moved to stand next to Daniel at the doorway. At first, all he could make out was the massive retriever, licking the form of some kind of humanoid lying on its back.
“He’s gotten a lot bigger.”
At the voice, Gold almost stumbled. Daniel steadied him just in case, but he looked just as surprised as Gold was. Then they both ran out, along with Jessica and Esther, Khor right behind them.
“Freser, disengage!” Khor said sharply.
To Gold’s surprise, Freser immediately backed off the figure and ran back toward the privet hedge. Definitely a story for later, Gold thought, since he’d never been able to get Freser to obey commands so readily, unless they involved food.
Thoughts about the Klingon’s ability to bond with his dog retreated as soon as the figure sat upright, leaning against the ground with his elbows. “A lot bigger,” he said.
His face was almost identical to Daniel’s, only with a bigger nose, and his hair was still all brown.
“Joey?”
Gold hadn’t even lain eyes on his third child in ages—since before he took command of the da Vinci, certainly. He hadn’t been able to make Nate and Elaine’s funeral on Betazed, and father and son hadn’t spoken in years.
Daniel quickly walked over and offered his younger brother a hand up. Joey took it, and Daniel pulled him up into a bear hug. “It’s so good to see you again, kiddo.”
Joey coughed, but returned the hug. “You’re as bad as the damn dog, big guy.”
After they broke the embrace, Joey looked at his father. “Hi, Dad. Heard you were home. Thought I’d drop by.”
This time, Gold didn’t bother to wipe away the tears as he hugged his son for the first time in far too long.
Chapter
2
Sonya Gomez sat in the attic of her parents’ house in Vieques, staring at a lump of clay.
The attic had been converted to a studio for her mother, Guadalupe Gomez, when they moved in thirty years ago. Sonya rarely came up here after the accident when she was ten years old that ruined one of her mother’s most important commissions. In fact, that incident had led to rampant speculation as to the efficacy of Sonya’s later chosen career as an engineer.
Now she stared at the clay, wondering if it were some kind of metaphor for the shapeless mess her life had become, or if she were just being too philosophical.
She reached into her pocket and pulled out the ring.
The only light in the attic came from the setting sun through the small window, but it reflected off the diamond, briefly blinding Sonya.
Damn you, Kieran.
Why did he have to propose? Why did he have to die right after he proposed? Why did Starfleet have to test their damn super-weapon on a planet with a life-form on it?
Sonya had gone to the memorial service Starfleet held for the entire crew of the Orion and the twenty-three who died on the da Vinci at Galvan VI. Aside from Ensign Tony Shabalala, who was still on bedrest after suffering severe burns, the survivors of the da Vinci were all there. But Sonya didn’t speak to any of them. She just sat stoically through all the speeches and ceremonies. In fact, she hadn’t said a single word to any of her crewmates since Dr. Lense officially pronounced Kieran Duffy dead in the shuttle bay.
Least of all Gold.
Her thoughts already dark, they grew darker as she thought of David Gold, a man she had once admired, callously sending Kieran into the atmosphere of Galvan VI knowing full well it was a one-way trip, and then not even doing her—the first officer of the ship, never mind the fact that she and Kieran were lovers—the courtesy of telling her until it was far too late.
The service, held on the grounds of Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco on a depressingly sunny day, had been a decent Starfleet ceremony. Admiral Ross delivered a eulogy that managed to be poignant despite its necessarily generic nature, given that he had to memorialize over two hundred people. In a touch Sonya would no doubt someday come to appreciate more than she was capable of doing right now, Captain Scott—in his dress uniform and kilt—played “Amazing Grace” on the bagpipes after the eulogy.
Throughout the service, all Sonya could think of was Kieran proposing, and her own indecision.
A squeaking sound followed by the slam of wood on wood heralded the opening of the trapdoor from the second floor of the house, light from the hallway streaming int
o the workshop in a V shape. A moment later, Sonya’s older sister Belinda popped up into the attic like an old jack-in-the-box.
“Here you are. We were getting ready to send out a search party. Dinner’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her voice sounded hollow to her own ears, but she found she didn’t care enough to try to modify her tone.
Belinda climbed the rest of the way up the attic ladder and stood before her younger sister. Though they both shared the same hazel eyes, jet-black hair, and sharply defined cheekbones that, as their mother had put it, was the hallmark of the Gomez women, they were aside from that a study in contrasts. Sonya was short and lithe, where Belinda was tall and stocky. Sonya kept her hair long, where Belinda’s remained close-cropped. Sonya’s face was angular, Belinda’s round. Plus, Belinda always wore bright primary colors—usually several at once—where Sonya tended toward more muted earth tones in her civilian garb. At present, Belinda wore a bright blue-and-white linen jacket over a red silk tank top and matching red linen pants. For her part, Sonya was dressed in a simple brown one-piece outfit, mostly because she couldn’t be bothered to put any thought into what she was wearing—or, indeed, into much of anything else.
“You’re already too skinny, mija. If you don’t get downstairs and eat something, you’re gonna waste away to nothing.”
Normally this was the part where Sonya would point out that she had only turned out so skinny because Belinda kept stealing her food when they were growing up, but she didn’t have the energy to engage in the usual family banter.
“Just start without me, okay? I need to be alone.”
“Ess, you’ve been alone for a week now,” Belinda said. They’d been calling each other “Ess” and “Bee” since Sonya was a toddler and couldn’t pronounce her sister’s full name, so settled for the first letter. “Mami and papi might be willing to let you sit and sulk as long as you want, but I’m sick of it. I want my sister back, not this mopey—”
“I’m not in the mood, okay?”
Putting her hands on her hips, Belinda said, “No, it isn’t. This ain’t you, Ess. You don’t mope. I know you and this guy were close—”
“He proposed.”
Belinda’s entire face seemed to freeze. “What?”
Sonya pulled the ring back out. “He wanted to marry me. He proposed right before we went to Galvan VI. Then—then everything went to hell, and—”
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything,” she muttered.
“What?”
“I never gave him an answer, Bee. And then he had to go on that damn suicide run, and I never told him and I never got to say that I loved him and I couldn’t say good-bye and—”
The words tumbled out of her mouth so fast she couldn’t keep up, and then, finally, she broke down. All the tears she had held in check since the da Vinci left the Galvan system burst forth.
She wasn’t sure when her sister pulled her into the hug, but she welcomed the embrace, sobs convulsing her as she took solace in her older sibling’s arms, her tears staining the blue-and-white jacket.
“I’m sorry,” Sonya finally said, leaning back so she could see Belinda’s face, but not quite breaking the embrace.
“You kidding?” Belinda grinned. “I’m ecstatic! This is the most emotion you’ve shown since you got here. I was starting to think you were replaced with an android or something. Doesn’t that happen to you Starfleet guys all the time, getting replaced with android duplicates?”
“Changelings more often these days,” Sonya said with a small smile, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“Androids, changelings, sentient moss, whatever. I can never keep that stuff straight.”
“That’s why you didn’t last as a news reader.” Among Belinda’s many abortive attempts at a career was a stint as an onscreen anchor for the North American regional feed of the Federation News Service.
Drawing herself up in mock haughtiness, Belinda said, “I didn’t last as a news reader because I got tired of the office politics at the FNS.”
“That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, right, Bee?”
“Damn right, Ess.” She grinned again. “Damn, mija, it’s good to hear you talk like yourself again. I missed you.” She got up, pulling on Sonya’s arm. “Come on.”
Sonya resisted the tug. “I don’t really feel like dinner.” She hadn’t been able to stomach much food since Galvan VI.
“The hell with dinner, you and I are going to walk to Punta Mulas.” Before Sonya could object, Belinda added, “And I’m not taking no for an answer. If you won’t go, I’ll send mami and papi up here and they’ll eat in front of you.”
“I—I can’t. Not to Punta Mulas. Let’s go to the beach, instead.”
Belinda winced. “No, not the beach, Ess. There’s always tourists there, and they all want my autograph.”
Snorting, Sonya said, “What, there aren’t tourists at the lighthouse?”
“Not as many, and they’re too busy gaping at the lighthouse.”
“The beach, or I take my chances with mami and papi.”
Sighing overdramatically, Belinda said, “Fine, the beach, then, as long as I get you out of this damn attic!”
* * *
The sand felt warm between Sonya’s toes as she and Belinda walked in companionable silence along Sun Bay Beach, each holding their shoes while they walked on the sand. Like the house, the beach was on the southern end of the island. Located just to the east of the main island of Puerto Rico, Vieques boasted several magnificent beaches, but Sun Bay was considered the finest, with its beautiful, crystal-clear water and tilted palm trees, providing just enough shade to keep the Caribbean sun from being too intolerable.
I always meant to take Kieran here, but we never got around to it. The only vacation they’d been able to take since they got back together again on the da Vinci was that all-too-brief leave on Betazed between the Enigma Ship encounter and the construction of Whiteflower—the latter of which was cut off in order to answer the Orion’s distress call at Galvan VI. On Betazed, they had had a lovely picnic in a grassy park. Sonya didn’t think she could stand going to the similar park around the Punta Mulas lighthouse just at the moment. At least the beach didn’t have any specific connotations that might remind her of Kieran.
Belinda finally broke the silence. “This was the same guy you dated on the Enterprise, right?”
Sonya nodded. “It was going really well, too. I felt so—so good around him. It’s weird, when we dated on the Enterprise, it was always—nice, but nothing spectacular. After I went over to the Oberth, we didn’t see each other for years. I hardly ever thought about him—though when I did, I really missed him. Then I was assigned to the da Vinci, and there he was. Same goofy smile, same good heart. But now I was his CO. I thought it was going to be hard, but then we went on our first mission together to Maeglin, dealing with the Androssi for the first time.”
“The Androssi?”
“Long story. Suffice it to say, we got out of it, barely. But Kieran and I worked perfectly together. It was like we were back on Geordi’s team on the Enterprise again. And then, after Sarindar…” She trailed off. Sonya hadn’t told the family about Sarindar.
Sure enough, Belinda asked, “What happened on Sarindar?”
“A lot.” She shook her head. “It’s funny, I’ve faced death almost every day since I joined Starfleet. Each posting I served at had an element of risk—on the Sentinel, we were on the front lines of the war half the time—but it wasn’t until Sarindar that I actually felt like I was going to die. It was after that that Kieran and I started getting serious again. It was wonderful—and the work was better, too.” Sonya stopped walking right in front of one of the angled palm trees, bent from years of being blown by tropical winds. “We made a good team, on and off duty. And then…” She leaned back against the tree, the breeze blowing through her curly black hair.
“He proposed.”
Nodding, So
nya repeated, “He proposed. And you know what’s driving me craziest, Bee? I don’t know what my answer was going to be.”
That caused Belinda’s hazel eyes to go wide, and her jaw to fall open, her mouth in an O. “You didn’t know? You couldn’t make a decision?”
“No, I couldn’t. What’s the big deal?” Sonya asked, confused by her sister’s shock.
“Ess, this is you we’re talking about.”
“I know that.”
Belinda shook her head. “Remember when you were six and you wanted a cat, and papi said that you could only have one if you helped him convert the attic to mami’s studio? Every day, after school, you helped papi out, doing everything you could, because you wanted that damn cat.”
Sonya smiled at the memory of Blanco, the gorgeous white Persian they’d gotten when Sonya turned seven. Blanco wound up staying with Belinda after Sonya went to the Academy, finally dying at the ripe old age of twenty-three a few years ago.
“Remember when you were ten and you said, ‘I’m gonna join Starfleet and be an engineer’?”
“Vaguely.” She wasn’t sure that it was when she was ten, but she knew that she’d had the urge to join Starfleet since she was a little girl.
“You spent the next eight years living, eating, breathing, and sleeping Starfleet’s entrance exams. You did everything you could to guarantee, not only that you’d get in, but that you’d be at the top of your class. So when you announced in your third year that you were going to be posted to the Enterprise just like your friend Lian was, we all knew that was where you were gonna wind up.” Belinda frowned. “What is it?”
Breakdowns Page 2
