by Kevin Ryan
Those few minutes of waiting seemed like the longest of Fuller’s life. He realized that he had no role in auxiliary control. He wanted to join a security squad to prepare for Klingon boarding parties, but Justman insisted that he remain to advise.
So Fuller waited.
“Admiral Jefferies is transmitting to the Klingons. I’ll put it on screen,” the communications officer said. A moment later, Jefferies’s face appeared.
“Klingon vessels, this is Admiral William M. Jefferies commanding the U.S.S. Constitution. You are in violation of Federation space, which is an act of war. Two Klingon warships that attacked Starfleet vessels have been destroyed. Return to Klingon space immediately or continue at your own peril.”
“No response from the Klingons,” the communications officer said.
“And they are not turning around,” Parker added.
Jefferies’s face disappeared, and the view of the Klingon ships returned. They were getting closer, the viewscreen’s magnification making them look even closer. Fuller realized that the last time he had seen that view of Klingon battle cruisers, they were about to deal a lethal blow to the Endeavour.
“Two minutes until Klingons are in weapons range,” Parker said.
“You have a dedicated audio connection to Admiral Jefferies at your station, Captain,” Heller said.
Fuller was standing next to Justman’s command chair and heard Jefferies’s voice say, “Looks like we’re gonna have to fight. Take position behind us until they fire and then maneuver and fire at will. We’re feeding coordinates to your helm now.”
“Helm, follow coordinates provided by the Constitution. Ready all weapons and prepare for maneuvers,” Justman said.
Fuller watched the scene on the main viewscreen shift as they took position behind the starship. Up close, the vessel was even more impressive. And even though it was unfinished and virtually unarmed, Fuller found comfort in the presence of the ship. It was an example of what the Federation was capable of, what human beings and their partners had accomplished.
Even if they lost the battle today, there would be more ships like the Constitution to ensure that the Federation survived, to see that threats like the Klingons were answered.
Past the great ship, Fuller could see the three Klingon vessels grow on the screen as they approached. “Approaching outer limit of Klingon weapons range,” Parker said.
The two Klingon cruisers on the outside started to break away from the center ship and fan out. It was a classic attack formation. When they had put enough distance between them, the Klingon cruisers suddenly increased their speed and seemed to leap toward the Constitution.
Very quickly, space was full of weapons fire, with the center Klingon ship laying down a spread of torpedoes as the two flanking ships fired disruptors. That many direct hits at that range would have immediately torn through the shields of an Icarus-class vessel.
The Constitution’s shields simply glowed under the assault, radiating out the incredible energies directed at them. If the Klingon maneuver was an initial pass to test the Constitution, they would have something new to think about now.
Before the pass was completed, Justman called out, “Target weapons on starboard vessel. Helm, follow them.”
There was a vibration in the floor as the Yorkshire leaped into action. As soon as the Klingon ships began to break off their attack and turn away, the Yorkshire was following its target.
“Fire torpedoes,” Justman called out and an instant later Fuller saw the torpedoes race toward the ship and make a direct hit on the Klingon ship’s rear shields. Before the explosion faded, Justman called out, “Fire phasers now. And stay with the target, helm.”
They were pursuing the Klingon ship at less than two thousand meters. The phasers hit the ship and the Klingons’ shields flared again.
“We have one Klingon vessel taking position behind us,” the weapons officer announced. “The other ship is engaging the Constitution.”
“Stay with the target,” Justman repeated. “Fire torpedoes.”
Two more torpedoes and two more direct hits. The Klingon shields had to be weakening.
“Klingons have a weapons lock on our rear,” Parker announced. “Incoming torpedoes.”
A moment later the ship was hit. Justman said, “Fire phasers.”
Two blue beams lanced out and made contact with the shields of the ship in front of them. There was a flash, and Fuller was sure the Klingon ship’s shields were about to fail.
“Klingons arming disruptors,” Parker announced.
“Fire torpedoes,” Justman shouted.
Fuller watched the torpedoes fly toward the Klingon ship as the deck shook under his feet.
Warning bells rang around them as the torpedoes hit their mark. The Klingon cruiser’s shields flared briefly as the first torpedo tore through it. It made contact with the battle cruiser’s hull, and there was an immediate explosion, followed by another explosion as the second torpedo hit its mark.
“We’ve lost rear shields,” someone shouted.
“Helm, bring us around and back to the Constitution’s coordinates,” Justman called out.
“Sir, our target is in distress,” Parker said.
“On-screen,” Justman said.
Immediately, the viewscreen showed a side view of the Klingon ship. Large pieces of the rear hull were missing. Fuller couldn’t believe that the ship was that badly damaged and still intact. The thought was cut short by a bright flash as the vessel’s warp core went critical and the ship was vaporized.
A second later, the subspace shockwave hit them. Then the screen shifted and Fuller could see the Constitution in front of them. The two Klingon vessels sped away and regrouped out of weapons range.
“Damage report,” Justman said.
“Rear shields are out. No casualties,” Parker said.
Justman hit a button and said, “Engineering. What can you do for our rear shields?”
“I can give you twenty percent if we borrow the power from port and starboard shields, but I’ll need a few minutes to reconfigure the system.”
“Do it,” Justman said.
Just then one of the Klingon ships moved forward and two disruptor bolts flared toward the Constitution. At that distance they were far from full strength when they hit the starship’s shields, which flared briefly. The Klingons were just testing them.
“What’s your condition?” Admiral Jefferies’s voice came through the intercom.
“Minimal rear shields,” Justman said.
“Nice work. They still have more firepower, but we’re almost evenly matched now,” Jefferies said.
“What now, Admiral?” Justman asked.
“I have a maneuver in mind, but it will require you to engage the Klingon ships and bring at least one of them back here. For this to work, the Constitution will have to remain in a fixed position.”
“We have rear shields at twenty,” Parker announced.
“We’re ready to go,” Justman said.
“Your helm has the return course now,” Jefferies said. “Begin at your discretion, and good luck.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Justman said. “Weapons at full power. Helm, prepare an intercept course, then swing us around on my mark.” He waited a few seconds, then said, “Full thrusters now!”
The Yorkshire shot forward.
“Target the port ship and prepare torpedoes…wait…now, fire!” Justman said.
One torpedo and then another raced for the ship, at least one of them making a direct hit.
“Phasers, now!” Justman said. The beam lanced out at the Klingon vessel, which banked hard to evade the fire. The phasers scored a partial hit, and Justman called out, “Helm, bring us around and put us on a course back to the Constitution.”
“Klingons are pursuing. The lead ship is targeting our rear deflectors,” Parker called out. “They’re firing torpedoes.”
The words were barely out when the ship was hit. People were shouting dam
age reports, but Fuller heard Jefferies’s voice boom out through the intercom. “Come to a full stop and drop shields now!”
“Do it!” Justman said and the bridge crew immediately complied.
On the viewscreen, one of the Klingon ships was already breaking off, but the other was making an attack run. “They’re targeting us,” Parker said.
Fuller realized the ship’s shields were down but even as that thought rose up, Parker announced, “Constitution has extended her shields around us.”
That was an impressive feat; it would have been impossible for any other ship. And then Fuller got another surprise when he saw the Klingon ship suddenly thrown to one side even as it bore down on them. Some unseen force simply tossed it to one side and it spiraled out of control, away from both Starfleet ships.
“That was the Constitution’s navigational deflector,” Parker said as the ship tumbled out of sight. “The other vessel is holding outside of weapons range.”
There was silence on the bridge for a moment, and then damage reports began coming in. Rear shields were down for good and port shields were badly damaged. There was some hull damage in the rear of the ship and some minor injuries. And the warp engines would need repair.
“Where is that second Klingon ship?” Justman asked.
“It’s rejoining the lead ship now,” Fuller could see the two ships in the distance. It was hard to tell if the ship they had hit with the navigational deflectors was damaged at this distance.
“They have no shields, and I’m showing no power to their disruptors,” Parker said.
“They’re hurt,” Jefferies’s voice said through the intercom. “And they’ve asked for a temporary cease-fire.” Another surprise to add to Fuller’s list for the day. “Captain Justman, I’d like to meet with you on board the Constitution to discuss our options.”
“Yes, sir. I would also like to bring one of the survivors of the Endeavour,” Justman said with a look at Fuller.
Five minutes later, Fuller found himself walking the impossibly large corridors of the Constitution as an officer led them to the briefing room. There he met the admiral and his bridge crew and briefed them on what he’d seen on the Endeavour.
Jefferies listened carefully and said, “We can end this all right now. The Klingons have asked for a permanent cease-fire.”
“Will we win if we finish the fight?” Justman asked.
“Yes, I think we will. The simulations and my instincts tell me we will. Both Klingon vessels have weapons, but the Constitution can maintain its shields indefinitely.”
“But we’d need to leave the protection of your shields to maneuver and use our weapons,” Fuller said.
“Yes.” Jefferies nodded. “None of our simulations have the Yorkshire surviving.”
Fuller’s mind ran through options. They could staff the Yorkshire with a skeleton crew, necessary personnel only. He would volunteer, and he suspected that most of the Endeavour’s survivors would as well.
“I’m inclined to end this with no more bloodshed,” Jefferies said, “but I want your thoughts. You’ve been in this fight longer than we have. The question is: Can the Klingons be trusted? Will we be able to keep this peace?”
Justman was silent for a moment, then said, “I think enough people have died today.”
Then Jefferies’s eyes were on him and he said, “Mister Fuller?” Clearly, his opinion was important to the admiral—Fuller had a feeling he wanted a unanimous decision.
In his heart, Fuller felt the day’s fury still living inside him. He wanted payback for Andrews, Caruso, Captain Shannon, and all the others. He knew it was beneath him, as an officer and a man, but the call for revenge was strong. And yet he was tired of the loss, the grief, the death. And they could end it now. No more dying. No more wasted lives. No more letters home to shattered families.
“I honestly don’t think the Klingons can be trusted, but I say give them their truce and send them packing,” he said in the end.
Jefferies nodded again. “A truce, then.”
And then Fuller realized that it really was over. This fight was finished. Fuller found relief washing over him. The adrenaline that had kept him going for hours now dissipated and he found that he was tired. He was also sore in a number of places.
He returned to the Yorkshire with Justman as Jefferies negotiated the terms of the truce and then called Starfleet to confirm orders and have diplomats begin formal talks with the Klingon Empire. The Klingon ships were gone within hours.
When the Klingons were out of sensor range, Fuller left auxiliary control and headed to sickbay, where some of the survivors of the Endeavour were recovering. In the back of his mind he had been harboring a thin hope that Justman had been mistaken and that some of the last group to be thrown into space had been picked up by the Yorkshire and that Andrews had been among them.
Of course, Andrews was gone. Still, it was good to see more survivors from his crew, all of whom would recover. The doctor had taken one look at him and insisted that he lie down on one of the examination beds for a few minutes. Fuller agreed, and didn’t wake up for nearly twelve hours.
After his rest, he helped to recover the fallen from the Endeavour, including those who had died in the unforgiving void of space. All personnel were accounted for. And all of them would be going home. Andrews would be going home.
Jefferies had offered the survivors of the Endeavour quarters on the Constitution and a quick ride home. About half had agreed. Fuller stayed behind on the Yorkshire to help with repairs. He wasn’t ready to go—didn’t feel that he deserved it yet.
The Yorkshire towed the saucer section of the Endeavour back to Earth. The journey was slow, but there was plenty to do and Fuller was glad to be occupied. The trip took six months. During that time, he had tried a number of times to compose a message to send to Alison. In the end, he had to satisfy himself with, “Dear Alison: I have had a lot of time to think and I would like to meet with you when I return to Earth. There is a lot I would like to say, but I would rather say it in person. There is one thing I would like to ask you now, so you can have time to think about it. I lost a good friend on this mission. You may remember him from training, Samuel Andrews. If our baby is a boy, I would like to name him after Andrews. I would like to name him Sam.”
In the weeks and months of the journey, Fuller took every duty and every assignment that he could. Even so, there was too much time to think. And even when he managed to completely fill his days, the nights were too long. But as the ship traveled closer to Earth, he felt something like hope rise inside him. He had a plan. When he got home, he knew what he would do. To his surprise, he found that he actually looked forward to doing it. Six months ago, it would have been unthinkable. Now it was the only thing he wanted.
As the Endeavour approached Earth, he arranged to meet Alison at a restaurant. On his first day, he visited home, and then there was the Starfleet Command reception and ceremony for the survivors of what was already being called the Battle of Donatu V. There were speeches in which flag rank officers called him and the others heroes. Fuller sat through the ceremony with gritted teeth, keeping to himself what he wanted to scream out loud: They had left the real heroes behind. The best of them had all died, some of them in the engine room of a dying ship, some of them at the point of a Klingon blade, and some of them tumbling out into the cold void of space.
Fuller accepted the medals and commendations with a tight smile, biding his time. The next day, he met with his reassignment officer, a nice lieutenant commander named McCourt. “Mister Fuller, it’s a real honor to meet you,” McCourt had said when Fuller walked into his office at Command. “I’ve read all the reports—your personal accomplishments were nothing short of incredible.”
“Thank you, sir,” Fuller said. It was easier than explaining everything he was thinking and feeling, easier than explaining what had really happened.
“A lot of people in Command have noticed you. I can tell you right now that nothing i
s impossible. The starship program is the future. The Constitution will have its official launch soon, and then there will be eleven more like her. I can tell you right now that if you want service on one of those starships, you can have it.”
Fuller knew what that meant. Initially, there would be only a few hundred positions available on the starships. Even when the program was mature, there would be only a few thousand officers in all of Starfleet serving on them. And now he was being offered a position on the first active-duty ship.
“Thank you, sir. I know what that means and I appreciate it, but I have another request,” he said.
“If it’s in my power to grant it, I will,” McCourt said.
“I would like to resign my commission immediately.”
McCourt did not even try to conceal his surprise. “Mister Fuller, I don’t know what to say…I know things were tough out there, but there’s counseling available. There are people you can talk to, people who have been through similar experiences. You have a bright future in Starfleet. Please don’t make a hasty decision.”
Fuller told McCourt that he was going to be a father, that his decision was more about having a family than about getting away from space. Most of what he had said was even true.
McCourt understood. “If there is anything you need, contact me. Starfleet does not forget its debts.” McCourt shook Fuller’s hand as he left the office, a civilian again.
Fuller did not take the time to change out of his uniform. It felt like a lie to wear it now, but no less a lie than it had in the last six months. He went straight to the restaurant to meet Alison. He sat at a table outside and waited for her, watching the sidewalk.
He saw her approach, wearing a dress he had never seen before. Of course, because most of her old clothes wouldn’t fit her now. Even at a distance of a dozen meters, he could see how much she had changed now that she was almost seven months pregnant. Her stomach was showing and she was rounder everywhere. As she came closer, he could see that her blond hair was longer and she really seemed to be glowing.
