Star Trek - NF - 11 - Restoration

by Restoration(lit)

  Shelby laughed at that. Then she said, "Do you think your mother will want to come along to the christening?"

  "Oh, I doubt she'd miss it. By the way... you haven't told me. Who's captaining it?"

  Shelby smiled.

  At first Lefler didn't understand the silent grin, but then she got it. "You? You? But... but you just got the Exeter!"

  "I know. But when the Excalibur came open, well..."

  "You applied for it?"

  "Actually... no. No, I was asked if I was interested. At first I said no, but then, on reflection-the reflection coming about a minute later, you understand-I agreed to it. I had some trepida-tion, I fully admit that. But somehow... I thought that-well-"

  "He would have wanted it that way?"

  She nodded. "Exactly."

  "Who asked you if you were interested?"

  "Actually... you won't believe it... but it was Jellico."

  Letter's jaw dropped. "No!"

  "Yes. I know, I know, it's... kind of hard to believe. Every so often, he'll say or do something that surprises the hell out of me."

  "Me, too," said Lefler wonderingly. "What about the rest of your command crew? Do they mind making the transfer?"

  "Well..." Shelby cleared her throat. "They're... not making the transfer, actually."

  Lefler blinked. "They're not?"

  "No. There have been some... well, some personality con-flicts. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as I'd hoped. I sup-pose, in a number of respects, it wasn't fair to them."

  "Fair to them? In what way?"

  Shelby looked at her levelly. "I was asking them to live up to the standard set by one of the best crews it's ever been my privi-lege to work with. A crew that-frankly-I've come to miss the hell out of. And a crew that I'm hoping I can reassemble to be under me on the Excalibur."

  Letter's lower lip trembled. "I... I think I'm going to cry..."

  "That won't be necessary. A simple 'Yes, Captain' will suffice," said Shelby, taking great pains to ignore that she was getting a touch misty-eyed herself.

  Lefler drew herself up and, tilting her chin proudly, said, "Yes, Captain. It will be an honor to serve under you again." Then she

  laughed and shook her head. "I still can't believe that, for once, Admiral Jellico did something just to be decent."

  "Well... he may have had some mild degree of superstitious self-interest in mind."

  "What?" Lefler had no clue what she was talking about.

  "Well," said Shelby, clearly amused at the prospect, "he also said something about not putting it past Calhoun to find a way to come back from the dead and haunt him if anyone except either him or me was in charge of the new Excalibur"

  "You know what? I wouldn't put it past him either."

  CALHOUN

  it didn't take calhoun long to locate Knit's vessel. Unlike his own shuttle, which had been more or less destroyed in the landing, Knit's ship was giving off energy emissions as its onboard circuitry went about its automated business. Utilizing the tricorder, Calhoun found the ship in short order. He looked at it grimly, not the least bit amused to see the nature of the ship. It was a Federation runabout. There was no telling where Knit had gotten it from, but it was likely that either he'd stolen it, or somehow hijacked it after killing who-ever it was who had previously been in it. Certainly such a vehicle allowed him to travel around with relative impunity. Furthermore, as he studied the ship's controls, he found a variety of holo comm dis-guise programs built in. In essence, if someone chose to make visual contact with the runabout, the runabout would send back a cus-tomized image, depending upon who was doing the hailing. A Vul-can ship would see a Vulcan in command of the runabout; a Rigelian would be talking to a Rigelian, and so on. It was possible for a sus-tained scan and double-check to penetrate the disguise, but for ca-sual encounters, it was more than sufficient to allay suspicions.

  Moke had been silent since his mother's passing. Calhoun had considered Moke and himself lucky that they'd gotten out of the city when they did, and with as much ease. The townspeople,

  after all, did not realize that Moke was about as dangerous as the average small boy was now that his mother was gone. The unusual bond, the link that they had shared that had enabled him to wield his weather powers so forcefully, was gone. If they'd understood that he was no longer a threat, they would have torn him apart, and very likely Calhoun along with him, if he'd tried to defend the boy. Fortunately enough, the people were so terri-fied that they simply stood (or lay) there as Calhoun and Moke left the town, riding on the back of the luukab, which-aston-ishingly-had weathered the storm with such equanimity that one would have thought it no more hazardous than a light shower.

  They had also brought the body of Moke's mother. It was not a pleasant notion, but Calhoun would be damned if he left Rheela's body behind. Who knew what they would do to it? But although he was worried about Moke's reaction to his mother's corpse ac-companying them for the ride, he needn't have been concerned. Moke didn't seem to pay any attention to their "cargo" at all. Cal-houn had a feeling as to why: as far as Moke was concerned, his mother was gone. The brutalized shell that remained behind was no more his mother than an empty boot was the sum and sub-stance of the foot that had once occupied it.

  Calhoun, though, was loath simply to bury her, since he didn't trust the townspeople-once their terror had dissipated, to be re-placed by outrage over what had occurred-not to seek out her grave and defile it. The solution was presented to him when, guided by the tricorder, he located Knit's ship, situated in a se-cluded area not far from town. Upon entering, he discovered as-sorted weaponry, including a standard issue Starfleet phaser. A natural enough item for a runabout to have, although once again he thought bleakly about where Krut had come across it; he'd probably taken it off the body of a Starfleet officer.

  When he emerged from the ship, holding the phaser, he slid Rheela's body off the luukab and placed it on the ground as deli-cately as he could. It was more for the boy's benefit than anything

  else, since obviously Rheela couldn't feel anything anymore. Moke watched the entire thing with calm, almost distant eyes.

  Calhoun took several steps back, and then turned to Moke and said gently, "You can say good-bye if you wish."

  "I already did," he said, looking much older than he had when Calhoun first met him, months ago.

  He nodded, then thumbed the phaser to "disintegrate," and fired once. The beam struck her and, in a haze of light, she discorporated

  Moke looked with wonder at the phaser, and then to Calhoun. He pointed to the weapon and said, "Is she in there now?"

  Calhoun suppressed the urge to laugh. This was, after all, a sad moment, not one that suggested levity, no matter how unintention-ally funny the boy's question had been. "No, Moke... she's not in here. She's..." He paused and then said, "She's with Kolk'r now."

  He mulled this over and said nothing. Calhoun hoped that he would understand, although the truth was that Calhoun was much older than Moke and there were still quite a few things that he himself didn't understand... and quite likely never would. Then, tentatively, and even a little fearfully, Moke asked, "Are you going to use that... to send me to be with Kolk'r and Ma, too?"

  Calhoun couldn't help but think it was the saddest question he had ever heard anyone pose in his entire life. He shook his head. "No, Moke. No, hopefully it's going to be a long, long time before you go visit with, uhm... Kolk'r."

  "So what's going to happen to me?"

  "Well..." Calhoun took a deep breath. "I figured you would come with me. I'll take you home. My home."

  Moke looked skyward. "Is it... up there?" When Calhoun nodded, Moke asked, "Is it scary?"

  "It can be," Calhoun said honestly. "But then again, there's scary things everywhere. And it can be very exciting as well. I think you'll like it."

  For a very, very long time, Moke stared at him... so long that Calhoun started to wonder if something was wrong. And finally, Moke said to him, "Are you my fathe
r?"

  And Calhoun gave the only response that he could:

  "I am now."

  He considered that a moment, and then nodded. "Can I call you 'Dad'?" he asked.

  "If you would like to. Would you like to?" Moke nodded. "All right. That would be fine."

  "Dad... ?"

  "Yes, Moke."

  "Did you love Ma?"

  He smiled sadly. "I could have, given time... and different cir-cumstances. Yes, I could have loved her very much. But I do love someone... who is very much like her. Come. I'll take you to meet her."

  And moments later, the runabout lifted off the surface of Yak-aba, never to return, while the stray atoms of Moke's mother flit-ted about, forever a part of the atmosphere that she had once joyfully manipulated.

  EXCALIBUR

  the official transfer of the captaincy of the Exeter from Shelby to Garbeck went smoothly enough. On the bridge of that ship, Shelby said-as the rest of the crew looked on-"I'm offi-cially turning her over to you, Captain. Good luck to you."

  "Thank you, Captain," replied Garbeck and-in one of the very, very few instances in Starfleet where it was still customary-she saluted. Shelby snapped off a sharp return of the salute, which was fairly impressive, considering how rarely she made one. Then Shelby went down to the transporter room, where Ensign Chris Kennedy waited to beam her over to her new command.

  When she arrived on Excalibur, they were all waiting for her.

  There, in the main reception hall, the entire crew had assem-bled. Burgoyne and Selar were there, and to Shelby's complete astonishment, their infant son, Xyon, was already standing and clutching his mother's pant leg. Burgoyne was looking on proudly. Soleta was also there, looking a bit more-haggard, somehow, although Shelby might have been imagining it. Zak Kebron was there, and Shelby had forgotten how incredibly massive the Brikar was. Nearby was Mark McHenry, engaged in a relaxed chat with Robin Lefler. Again, it might have been Shelby's imagination, but she felt as if Kebron was-every so

  often-casting suspicious glances in McHenry's direction. She had no idea why that would be the case, though. Morgan Lefler was there as well, chatting with Jean-Luc Picard and Admiral Jellico. Picard was just staring at her, in what could only be considered polite frustration, as if he knew her from someplace but couldn't quite figure out where that might be. Also present were Si Cwan and Kalinda. Apparently, Lefler had it pegged exactly right. They had found out, and they had come on their own. She watched as Si Cwan walked straight up to Kebron. The two of them had historically had very little patience with one another, but this time, when Cwan tapped his heart and head in sequence and bowed slightly-a traditional Thallonian greeting of respect-Kebron actually returned the gesture in as polite a manner as he could. It almost gave Shelby hope for the future.

  A future... without Calhoun.

  God, she hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

  "You're not."

  She turned and saw Kat Mueller standing there, hands draped behind her back. Mueller, former head of the Excalibur's night-side, was a statuesque German woman with a gravely humorous attitude and a fencing scar that somehow, comfortingly, reminded Shelby of Mac.

  "I'm not what?" inquired Shelby.

  "Not malting a mistake."

  Shelby blinked in surprise. "How the hell did you know I was thinking that?"

  "That's my job as first officer of the Excalibur. To know what you're thinking, and then tell you when you're wrong."

  "How about when I'm right?"

  "If you need me to tell you that, you've no business being cap-tain."

  Shelby grinned. "You know what, Kat? I think making you my first officer is one of the best decisions I've ever made."

  "You see? You don't need me to tell you you're right about that."

  Picard approached Shelby then and said softly, "I don't mean to intrude on a captain's privilege, Captain Shelby... but we might want to consider moving to the bridge to begin the actual ceremony."

  "An excellent idea, Captain."

  "And, if I may say so... I still believe you're making a mis-take," Picard informed her. "If anyone is to speak on behalf of Cal-houn and dedicate this ship to him and his spirt, it should be you."

  "Perhaps. But you've got the better speaking voice."

  Picard smiled. "How can I argue with that?"

  On the way up to the bridge, walking the halls, Shelby saw familiar face after familiar face. Each person smiled and greeted her with a respectful, pleasant, "Captain." She sighed inwardly and couldn't get away from thinking, If only Mac had lived to see this.

  Shelby was the first to step out of the turbolift. She looked around the bridge in wonder. Even though she had never set foot on it before, somehow-amazingly-she felt as if she'd come home. The others stepped out behind her, or came in a subsequent lift. Even though she had been speaking to all of them downstairs, she still greeted them by name. Finally, when they were all as-sembled, she said, "Well... here we are again." This drew a po-lite laugh, and then she continued, "It's good to see you all. Very good. The last time we were together, we were in a bar, where I was busy telling you that doing what we're about to do was an ex-tremely bad idea... because we couldn't possibly re-create the atmosphere and sense of family that Mackenzie Calhoun created for this vessel. Since then, well... it's been a busy few months for me. And for Lieutenant Lefler, as I'm sure you've all heard by now." There were nods from all around. "And I'm sure the rest of you have likewise had very busy, interesting, and even exciting experiences in the intervening months."

  The other members of the command crew looked around at one another.

  "Nope. Been pretty quiet," said Burgoyne.

  "Nothing extraordinary," affirmed Doctor Selar.

  Soleta, her face a mask, said, "It was... actually quite dull."

  "I don't even remember what I did," said McHenry.

  "I slept," Kebron said.

  Slowly, she looked around at them, and then said, "Well... I'm sure that you could all remember if you put your minds to it. But right now, I think we'd... like to work on remembering some-thing-or should I say, someone-else. Captain Picard?"

  "Well... Captain Shelby," Picard smiled affably, straightening his jacket as he stepped to the center of the bridge. He placed his hands on the back of the command chair. "I thought you were doing fine, to be honest, but if you really want me to speak, well... who am I to refuse a fellow captain's request?" He cleared his throat.

  "I suppose Captain Shelby asked me to speak... to handle the dedication... because I 'discovered' Mackenzie Calhoun, as it were. I would like to tell you that I knew he was destined for greatness in Starfleet the first time I saw him, but that would be far from the truth. What I saw was a young, raw, untrained talent. What I sensed... what I hoped... was that he would go places, given the opportunities. And he did.

  "But the thing that was most remarkable about Mac... as we liked to call him... was not simply that he was given opportuni-ties, but he also took them. And not just took them, either. He practically grabbed them between his teeth and held onto them, savoring every opportunity as if it was his last.

  'There are so many positive things to say about Mac. To speak of his bravery... his innovation... his leadership... his grace under pressure... his ability to make us think, to question, and even... dare I say it... to get under our skin from time to time."

  "Hear, hear," said Shelby, and there was gentle laughter, but she felt her eyes misting up, and she quickly wiped it away.

  "There was so much that he wanted to accomplish, and it is nothing short of tragic that his life was cut short the way it was. But the manner in which he died... was the manner in which he lived. Sacrificing himself, saving his crew, putting consideration

  for everyone else ahead of himself. And attaining superhuman achievement in doing so. In five minutes... five minutes... he managed to get the entire crew into escape pods. It's phenomenal, almost supernatural."

  Shelby noticed, out of the corner of her eye, Mc
Henry shifting his feet, looking slightly uncomfortable. She wondered if he needed new boots.

  "The point is... where Mackenzie Calhoun was concerned, nothing was impossible. And it is that spirit of daring... of deter-mination... of a willingness to defy all odds to get the job done... that we dedicate this ship, this fine crew... and this command."

  There was a round of applause from everyone there as Picard, standing behind the command chair, swiveled it around to face Shelby, so that she could take her seat.