by Tony Healey
"I don't know," she said. "But I sure do hope so . . ."
*
The funeral service was for all those who lost their lives in the confrontation with Cessqa and the Commander's had been left till the end.
The Chief spoke first, talking of her early experiences with Greene, how they became friends. After making the attendees laugh and cry with her earnest reflections on the Commander, she welcomed King up on stage to speak.
Jessica hadn’t prepared much by way of words. Nerves fluttered like errant moths in her stomach. When she took the podium, however, she discarded the few notes she had and just let the words come.
She thanked everyone for attending, then gave a little insight into what he’d been like as a right-hand man, a colleague and friend for all those years. She gave a little flavour of what Del had been like as a man, separate from his rank and responsibilities. "He was a friend to all. My friend. It will take me a long time to get used to the fact that he is never going to come back," she said, her voice cracking. "But of course I will never forget him. He’ll always be here, with all of us."
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The lid settled down on Del’s casket and sealed tight, the flag of the Union draped across it.
The assembled officers and crew stood to either side of the casket as it lowered into one of the Station’s firing tubes.
Jessica faced the giant viewports and held a formal salute. Everyone followed suit.
The gentle tinkle of "We Three Kings" lent the scene a sombre air. The firing tube closed around the casket. Seconds later it shot from the side of the Station. Through her tears, King tried to watch it travel away from them as long as she could. But it was just a blur, until it achieved sufficient distance. Its contents committed to the stars for all time.
*
Before the service, Jessica had found herself in the chapel, standing over Del's casket. He looked at peace. They'd dressed him in full ceremonial uniform, as outlined in his own personal will. All senior officers were required to have one. Captain Singh's will had been of little help. Jessica figured he'd not liked to consider his own death. Del, on the other hand, had stipulated certain requests for his service. One of those was to go dressed to the nines in full regalia.
The other was the choice of song as he was committed to space.
"I still don't know the significance of that hymn," Gunn later confessed to Jessica as they stood around at the wake. The drinks were flowing, a band played sombre music. All in attendance chatted freely with one another. Jessica considered telling the Chief what Del had told her. But it seemed special, somehow. That he'd opened up like that.
No, this memory is mine, she thought. Mine for keeps.
"I don't know," Jessica lied. She sipped her wine.
The Commander's third wish had been somewhat unorthodox, yet Jessica had been able to clear it with the Admiral.
"You're serious? That's what it says in there?" Grimshaw had asked, eyebrow cocked.
"Yes. He says he is to be shot out into space, as usual, then blown to smithereens. After all, the caskets are little more than empty torpedo casings anyway," she told him. "I think he was scared some alien race might pick him up, centuries later."
"It's completely out of order," the Admiral remarked. He sighed. "But I'll authorise it. Least we can do. The man was a hero."
"Thank you, sir."
*
They watched his casket shrink into the distance.
"And now, as per his request, we not only consign his body to the stars, but to oblivion," she said. At that his casket detonated in a burst of bright light. Everyone gasped, took a step back. As though it had never been there, the explosion faded and was gone in seconds. So too, was he.
*
Now, weeks later, it was still there. Raw. Open. A wound that had barely healed since what happened. Indeed it might not heal at all.
"Thanks," Jessica said to the cook. She took her tray and sat down. There was a plate of eggs and bacon, a cup of coffee loaded with cream and sugar. There were a few crew men and women there but, for the most part, the mess was empty. The reassuring beat of the Defiant's reactor was a welcome constant in the background as she drank some coffee.
"Captain?"
She looked up. "Oh. Chief."
I was just thinking about you, she didn't add.
"Room for one more?"
"Yeah, pick a pew," Jessica said. She watched Chief Gunn sit opposite. She had a coffee and nothing else. "You're not eating?"
"A bit early for me," Gunn said. "I'm surprised to see you eating breakfast so early yourself."
"Well, my body clock's changed. Can't sleep."
The Chief sipped her coffee.
"I have my meeting with Grimshaw tomorrow," Jessica told her, trying to break the silence that had settled between them. "I should find out what's happening to us."
"Not a lot, I don't think," Gunn said.
"Really? What makes you say that?"
"When we headed out to look at the Enigma, Grimshaw didn't care what it took to get the Defiant refitted and replenished," Gunn said. "Spared no expense. But this time around, I've had to scrape together what I could to fix her up as I have. And she's not great, Jess. Far from it."
"Maybe I can have a word with him when I see him tomorrow."
"Hmm. Maybe. I just think there's a reason we've been left in limbo. Like they don't want us taking the Defiant back out."
Jessica shook her head. "They wouldn't ground her, Chief. She's operational. Despite appearances, of course."
Gunn shrugged. "I'm just saying. I think she's got too many miles on the clock for their liking."
Jessica looked down at her breakfast. Suddenly she didn't feel so hungry.
*
As she walked to her quarters, after bidding the Chief farewell, Jessica wondered if Meryl might have a point.
When they'd returned, Grimshaw had offered her lodgings aboard the station.
"I'll be fine, sir. My quarters were undamaged," she'd told him.
"I insist," Grimshaw had said.
Why? Was it strictly because the Defiant was in such bad shape elsewhere, that he didn't think it fitting to allow her to stay aboard like that?
Or was it that he knew of something else in the pipeline? A development concerning her and her crew that he'd held back for some reason?
Jessica entered her quarters to gather some more of her belongings. She pulled several uniform tunics off the rail, dropped them on the edge of the bed. She didn't need all of them, just a few spare.
Her eyes fell to the tunic she'd worn that day. The one she'd stuffed in the closet and forgotten about.
It still had Commander Greene's bloody handprint down the front.
"Your Father would have been proud."
It was almost too much for her to take. He looked once more at the Chief, his face growing pale and waxy. Jessica let go of his hand, let it fall down her uniform where it left a streaked, red handprint . . .
Jessica picked it up, looked at it more closely. The blood had dried to a brownish stain now. She made to stuff it into the trash chute, but instead found herself hanging it back up. Her mind flashed to him on the floor, his hand in hers. The way it fell down the front of her tunic.
Their conversation earlier. The hymn from his childhood.
Commander Greene looked sideways at the twinkling lights beyond the viewport. He looked almost wistful, longing.
"Da dee da da, da dee dee . . ." he sang softly, barely audible.
Jessica's brows rose in surprise. "Del, I never took you for a singer."
He laughed. "I'm not. It's just something my Mother used to sing to me."
"Really?"
"You don't recognise it?"
She shook her head.
"Da dee da da, da dee dee," he hummed again. "Star of wonder, star of night . . ."
"Oh. What is it? Where's it from?"
"An old hymn or something. I dunno. I've never forgotten it tho
ugh. All these years and I still find myself humming it in the shower," the Commander said. He looked down at the coffee cup in his hands, bashful. "Mother used to sing it all the time, like a comfort. Silly, really."
"No it's not," she said.
She sorted through some more of her clothes, stuffed them into a holdall. Still, she left plenty there, her intention being to return to those quarters in the near future. Jessica sang to herself, softly, barely loud enough to hear as she headed for the door. "Star of wonder, star of night . . ."
3.
I could get used to this, Commander Lisa Chang thought as she gazed at the view beyond the large sheet of glass separating her quarters from outside space.
Since they'd returned, she'd grown accustomed to the rotating panorama of cosmos afforded her as the station turned on its axle. The fact that she had the lights off and stood naked in front of it as she did so made the experience even more spectacular.
"Here," Olivia Rayne whispered. She covered Chang's shoulders with a thin blanket. "You've been there half hour. Maybe it's time to cover up with something."
Chang grinned. "It bugs you that I like being like this, doesn't it?"
Rayne shook her head. "No. But I do wonder how you don't get cold. I mean, you do have it like an ice block in here. The air conditioning is way too high."
She shrugged. "You get used to it."
Olivia had often walked around naked in the quarters they shared together aboard Station 6, mostly at the same time as her. And yes, they had enjoyed some fine evenings watching the view outside, a glass of wine each. Soft music over the speakers. Their two bodies touching . . .
But she didn't care to be that way all the time.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I like clothes. They're warm. Comfortable. You should try them. Besides, it only takes someone with a pair of good binoculars to go looking out their window as they pass the station . . ."
Chang laughed. Even in the semi-dark she could see Rayne wore pyjama bottoms and a vest. "Funny," Lisa said. She sat down on the sofa.
Olivia settled in next to her. "You know it's the middle of the night," she said.
"Yeah."
"And I'm not making something bigger out of this, but you have been doing this every couple of days. Getting up, coming out here and watching the stars. Should I be contacting Doctor Clayton any time soon? Tell him to prepare for some kind of psychosis?"
"No," Chang said. "I just like the quiet. The peace. It's been nice."
"It has," Rayne admitted.
"You mean living together here, on the station," Chang said.
"Why? What did you mean?"
Chang laughed again. "Don't over exert yourself, Olivia."
"Cheeky."
Lisa hugged her tight. Kissed the top of her head. They both watched as a small ship crossed from right to left, lights twinkling.
"All of it's been great," Chang said. "That's what I meant. Really. Being together the way we have. I've loved it."
"But it doesn't change what happened, does it?"
She shook her head. "No. No, it doesn't. That's why I can't sleep, Olivia. It's why I come out here, nothing on, and stare into space. Because it makes the thoughts go away. Makes the memories fade."
Olivia didn't say anything. She had no need to.
What needed to be voiced existed in the realm of the unsaid, in the heavy silence. Olivia cleared her throat. "Just promise me you'll start wearing some clothes, okay?"
"Sure," Chang said and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Olivia could have been sure her lover shivered next to her. As if she'd been feeling the cold all along.
*
Chief Gunn worked till she dropped, till she physically couldn't continue. Then she showered; she ate, then drank something strong enough to get her to sleep.
And after, she dreamed.
. . . The pulsing light of the reactor surged around them as Commander Greene pulled the Chief in close and kissed her hard, firm on the lips. For a split second she resisted, surprised by his spontaneity – then she sagged in his arms, lost in his embrace.
The Chief reached up as they kissed, let her fingers slip through his hair. It was a long moment, heightened by what they'd just achieved, by their deep love and desire for one another. By the beating heart of the Defiant they'd both managed to restore. It throbbed, the air around them vibrating.
And yet they stayed that way for a long time. Eventually she pulled away from him, and he looked at her with big, fierce eyes.
I want you, they said. I love you. I need you . . .
Always that. Little could she have known that Captain King also revisited the same moments, the same memories. They washed up.
Like the ancient green water that churned up from the sea bed in a storm. Sailors in Earth's past had known that it was a bad omen, that it meant the storm was turning into a wild one once it kicked that old green water up from the bottom.
Del's death was more than a bad one, Gunn thought. It was catastrophic for me.
Now she found herself bedding down for the night, knocking back one glass of tequila after another. Not stopping until the warm hands of sleep found a way of closing her eyes. Making her feel heavy and relaxed. Until that washed over her, she would keep on going. Drink drink drink.
. . . she cradled him as his lips moved, formed soundless words.
I love you.
"I will always love you," Gunn said. "Always."
And with that, he was gone. Meryl closed his eyes and sat rocking him back and forth, sobbing. "Don't leave me . . . don't leave me . . ."
The Chief swallowed another shot of tequila, sat back and closed her eyes. In the morning, she would hear good or bad news. Either way, none of it would ever be the same. None of it would ever bring Del back to her. There was no reset button. Life for them all had changed forever.
Del had been the only man who'd ever actively shown an interest in her. Not just as a friend, either, but romantically. And the only one who'd truly got her as a person. Who understood why she had to be the way she was. It was how she worked – not only in her role, but as a person. Without her persona, what was she?
A lonely woman.
The Chief tried to dream of something else. Anything at all that wouldn't return her to that place. To his death.
But it always went the same way. Turned in the same direction, regardless.
That corridor . . . the Commander in her arms.
"Don't leave me . . . don't leave me . . ."
And on and on. When would it stop? When would it ever stop?
*
"Are you going to carry on working on that thing?" Selena asked him.
Dollar wheeled himself out from beneath the Dragonfly, a grin on his face.
"Sorry, darlin'. Got myself carried away."
Dragonfly had seen some action in their battle with Cessqa, but there was always room for improvement. So many aspects of her configuration he could tweak.
"How much longer are you going to be? I want to go to bed at some point," Selena asked, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. "I know you like being down here in the hangar, playing with yourself. But sometimes it'd be nice to see my boyfriend."
Dollar got up, wiped his hands down the front of his overalls. "Hey sweetheart, you know I love ya."
"I'm starting to question it, to be honest," she said in as serious a tone as she could muster.
It didn't last long before she was smirking. Dollar pulled her in close for a kiss. They parted and he stroked her cheek. "I was just coming."
"I bet you were," she chided.
"I was. Scout's honour."
Now it was her turn to kiss him. "So you're a boy scout now, huh?"
"Betchya," Dollar said.
Selena reached around, grabbed his back end and gave it a healthy squeeze. "Let's see if we can't get you a new merit badge for effort. What d'you think?"
She led him off the hangar deck by the hand. He didn't take much conv
incing.
4.
Jessica made her way to Admiral Grimshaw's office, the station alive around her. Crowds of people – human, alien, replicant and robotic in nature – moved this way and that. Going from one end of the station to the other. Tides of bodies leaving ships or going to them.
Jessica navigated the masses and found a seat on a shuttle. She sat down with a sigh of relief and let it carry her through the superstructure toward her meeting with the Admiral. She felt nervous. Perhaps it was what the Chief had told her.
The uncertainty of knowing what was going to happen to her crew, her ship . . . her stomach had tied itself in knots.
She stepped off the shuttle and headed down a long corridor, the Admiral's office at the end. She could see the door. Now she saw someone exit into the hallway.
Jessica stopped walking. She felt her breath catch in her chest. The man smiled as he recognised her. He headed straight toward her, and still she could not move.
"Will?" she asked; even saying the name felt strange.
He stepped in close, opened his arms and embraced her. "Jess!"
He gave her a firm, warm squeeze. She could smell his aftershave. The same as it had been, all that time ago. They parted.
Jessica straightened her uniform. She noticed that Will Ardai did not wear his. Instead he wore nondescript black clothing. Functional trousers, a T-Shirt and a black cap. Beneath all that, his tanned skin, finished off with bright blonde hair and a flashy smile.
That smile.
She'd never forgotten it.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, more than a little thrown to bump into him after so many years.
"I'm on assignment," he said cryptically before changing tact. "Hey, anyway, look at you. Haven't aged a day since I last saw you."
"I could say the same about you. But what's with the getup?"
He looked down at himself. "Yeah, not exactly standard issue is it?"
"No. You could say that," she said with a giggle that came out far more girlish than she'd intended.
