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The new
Officer moved quietly through the grey corridors of the ship. Following
him as an escort, Lieutenant Paul Jenkins was struck by the unthinking
ease with which the big man moved. He shuddered. It was eerie,
he thought. The sooner they got him off the ship the better.
The Officer himself was well aware of his escort’s discomfort. It
was nothing new to him. Starfleet may be kind and tolerant to many
different people and races, but all too often the people they employed
were not.
As he passed
a porthole set in the wall, he glanced out at the star they were orbiting.
It was little more than a bright speck of light at this distance…but somewhere
out there, the bodies of nearly five thousand people still floated.
A year after the dreadful battle, and still a little under half of the
people killed by the Borg were floating around that small sun. It
would probably be years before they were all
recovered, if they ever were.
He saw
his escort staring out as well, a look of horrified wonder on his face.
“It’s an
ominous name, isn’t it, Lieutenant?”
“I beg
your pardon, sir?” Jenkins was surprised by the words. It was the
first time he’d heard the Officer speak.
“Wolf 359.
Named after one of the most successful predators on Earth. Ominous.”
“Oh…yes,
I suppose so, sir.”
The Officer
shook his head. Whatever he did, this young Lieutenant wouldn’t think
of him as anything more than a killer, a barbarian. He turned away
from the porthole and carried on down the corridor.
Eventually,
they reached the main transporter room of the USS Tiananmen. He looked
at the chief manning the transporter station.
“Are they
ready?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.
The Fairburn is standing by to receive you.”
“Thank
you, Chief.” He turned to Lieutenant Jenkins. “Well, Lieutenant,
looks like you’ve got your wish. You’ve got rid of me.”
“That wasn’t
what I wanted, sir,” he said a little stiffly.
“Of course
it was,” he said, then turned to the transporter pad.
“Lieutenant
Commander Thomas Moore requesting permission to disembark.”
Jenkins finally got the chance to
say the words he’d wanted to say since the day Moore had come aboard.
“Permission
granted, sir.”
Moore acknowledged
with a brief nod, then turned to the transporter chief. “Energise.”
As the
blue haze surrounded him, he could have sworn he saw a large grin erupt
on Jenkins’ face.
As the tingling
sensation of molecular dissolution slowly diminished, and the blue haze
was lifted, Moore slowly made out two men and a woman, standing around
the transporter pad. The men were clearly human, but the woman…she
looked human, but for some reason her Starfleet uniform
had been joined by a hood that covered
her forehead.
Moore stepped
forward off the transporter pad and stood in front of the tall officer
in command red.
“Lieutenant
Commander Thomas Moore, reporting for duty, sir.”
The Officer’s
face cracked into a friendly smile.
“Commander
James Greig. Welcome aboard, Mr. Moore. Allow me to introduce
Lieutenant Matthew Daniels, our Security Chief, and Lieutenant Commander
K’Teira, the ship’s Counsellor.”
Moore turned to the other two.
“Lieutenant
Daniels,” he said, nodding politely to the yellow-clad officer. “Counsellor.
Qa’pla.”
The Klingon
sighed and pulled the hood back, revealing the ridges on her forehead that
proclaimed her species louder than a neon sign.
“Welcome
aboard, Commander Moore. I know it must be a wrench, leaving the
Tiananmen…I’d like you to know that my door is always open, any time you
want to talk about something.”
He nodded
politely.
“Thank
you, Counsellor,” he replied, “but I think I’ve already spent enough time
in the company of psychiatrists to write a book on it.”
“Commander
Moore,” Greig said, stepping in between the two officers before their discussion
turned nasty, “Captain Randall wonders if you’d care to join her in her
ready room?”
Moore considered
it for a few moments.
“No, thank
you, sir. With your permission, I’d rather go to my quarters.”
He didn’t
wait for permission, but headed out the door and turned left.
Commander
Greig just stared at the exit.
“Did he
say what I thought he said?” he asked the others.
“It sounded
like it.” K’Teira replied.
“I’m not
entirely sure that he’s going to fit in,” the Commander mused.
“Well,
he won’t if he carries on like that, sir,” Daniels piped up.
“What do
you mean, Lieutenant?”
“Well,
sir…his quarters are that way,” the cheerful Lieutenant replied, pointing
the other way down the corridor.
Sure enough,
a few moments later, Moore appeared again, striding purposefully down the
corridor in the opposite direction.
Captain
Randall sat behind her desk reading through a ‘report’. It was, in
fact, the personnel file of Lieutenant Commander Thomas More. It
made for very interesting reading. A former Bajoran freedom fighter
– or terrorist, depending upon who one listened to – and son of a
Starfleet Officer, a succession
of various posts – almost all in security or tactical, she noted – and
then, around ten years before, he’d dropped out of circulation. ‘Special
Duties’ it said on his
record. That, she was well
aware, was either mental rehabilitation or Starfleet Intelligence.
She had a sneaking suspicion that she could discount option A.
She
looked up at the warble of the door.
“Come,”
she called. She cleared the screen and sat back, waiting for her
first sight of Commander Moore.
She
was disappointed. The door slid quietly open to reveal Commander
James Greig, her first officer. She raised an eyebrow.
“Problem,
Commander?”
“Not
as such, Captain…”
“Where
is Commander Moore?”
“Um…he’s
in his quarters.”
She
sighed.
“You
didn’t forget to pass on the invitation, did you, James?”
“No,
Captain…he just said he didn’t want to come and see you.”
Captain
Randall wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly.
“He
said what?” she asked.
“I
passed your invitation over and he said he just wanted to go to his quarters.”
“I
see…” She didn’t, but it was just the sort of thing you said under these
circumstances.
Calm.
Peace. Remember the good times. Remember the calm. Remember
the…
…Cardassians. Remember watching your father die. Remember the
glee on Dukat’s face as he tortured Sala to death…as he murdered your family……
Moore’s
eyes snapped open. In front of him, the stars floated in space, as
they had for time immemorial. He sighed. Everyone else made
meditation seem so easy…was he the only one who had nightmares when he
meditated?
He
was so preoccupied that he missed the first two warbles of the door.
The third one sounded decidedly impatient. He straightened himself
up and turned to face the door.
“Come
in,” he called.
The
door whispered open to reveal the rather impatient-looking Captain Susan
Randall. He hopped to his feet and straightened up.
“Captain.
It’s good to see you. Won’t you come in?”
“Thank
you, Commander.”
The
Captain stepped into the room and looked around. She raised an eyebrow.
“I
see you’re already making yourself at home,” she said. All the furniture
that had decorated the room was standing in a pile at one end of the room
– including, she noted, the mattress from the bed. The only furniture
in the room was a small portable Bajoran altar.
Moore
shrugged.
“I
haven’t had a chance to replicate anything new yet.”
“So
I see.” Her voice took on a more commanding tone. “Commander, is
it your habit to disobey instructions?”
“Of
course not, ma’am,” was the indignant reply. “What instruction are you
suggestion I’ve broken?”
“I
asked you to come to my ready room when you came aboard. You chose
to ignore that. I’d like to know why.”
“With
all due respect, ma’am,” he replied disrespectfully, “That instruction
was phrased as a question – I was asked if I wanted to come and see you
in your ready room. And, to be frank, then answer was no, I did not
want to. I’d spent the previous night in a holodeck because my quarters
had been cleared out, and I’ve seen Captains in ready rooms before.”
The
Captain watched him deliver his diatribe, then stood and looked him in
the eye.
“I
don’t like your tone, Commander,” she said coldly.
“Then
I apologise for my voice, ma’am.”
“I
took command of this ship with the understanding that she is not a military
vessel. Now I know that you work for Starfleet Intelligence, and
I know your history. And you’d better remember that this is my ship,
and I run her my way. No blowing things up, is that understood?”
Moore
smiled then. It wasn’t a friendly gesture, just the gesture of someone
seeing something familiar.
“Captain,
do you want to know how many times I’ve heard Captains say almost exactly
those words? You don’t want me here, well that’s fine. Nobody
wants me on their ship. But you can sleep easy, Captain, I have no
intentions of taking over your ship.”
“As
long as we understand each other.”
He
nodded. “Aye, ma’am, I think we do.”
A
smile. “Then welcome aboard, Commander.” She extended her hand,
and he grasped it firmly in return.
“For
what it’s worth, ma’am…it’s good to be here.”
fin
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