"So, Mantanan babies are born without gender?" Doctor Willbanks was pottering around the main examination room, seemingly doing nothing in particular as she picked up one instrument after another. Sometimes she ran them over the slender officer seated on the examination table, and sometimes rejected them in favour of inspecting others, but Jondalar could see no rhyme or reason behind her tests. Though he wasn’t versed in the medical arts, it seemed to him that her choice of tests were completely random.
However, the intermittent comments from the botanist, watching from her position by the condition monitor, might have rattled the young doctor. Jondalar didn’t have to have the emotions of humiliation and irritation to be able to spot it in others, and to know their affects.
Through it all, Lisa had tried to keep up a gentle but insistent line of questions, all delivered in their forthright style - and usually prompting a snort from the observing woman. Yet to judge by the clandestine nudges and amused glances Quellon directed at him, she was having fun niggling at the easily irritated doctor, but never took it far enough to provoke her into exploding angrily in front of her patient; the intention wasn’t to embarrass, but simply to irk her.
Jondalar wondered why the botanist did this, when it was so apparent the Doctor was just trying to do her job, and eventually decided that there was some history between these two - they were acting far too familiarly with each other to have met only a few days before.
"That’s right." Willbanks was behind him again as he answered, this time checking her readings, and Jondalar had to crane his head around to see her.
"And it’s at about fourteen years old you find out what you’re going to be?"
"Yes, but it varies with the individual, though."
"What I don’t understand," Quellon put in, using the soft tone she affected when she wasn’t baiting the doctor. It cheered Jondalar to hear it, for she had asked quite a few interesting questions when she wasn’t on the attack, and he’d found he actually had a sense of inquiring in common with her. When she wasn’t plaguing Lisa, he could believe she was someone he could like. "…is how your people developed into three distinct sexes when records show that your plantlife was either of the standard two or were self propagating until the time the Sarloks were reported amongst your people. I can’t see how that’s possible!"
"War." Jondalar said simply. "The weaponry and the magnitude of it caused all on Mantana to change." Then he blinked, turning to face the blonde. "You seem to know a bit about us, but how can you have researched us without having heard about the War? It was the turning point of our culture."
"Researched?" Carmen almost choked on the word. "I mean no disrespect, for I’ve always been fascinated by Mantana, but accessing a few old journal articles on canopy farming doesn’t really constitute ‘research’ in my book! I’ve read a lot about the variety of flora on your world - " She laughed. "What kind of botanist would I be if I hadn’t? - But as history has never been one of my interests, I never spent a lot of time rummaging through your library files."
Something stirred within the Mantanan at the mention of canopy farming, and if he’d been merely considering good-looking before, when he smiled, his whole being became magnetic as nothing could squash the responding emotion such open delight caused in others.
"You’re interested in canopy farming?" he asked.
"Yeah - your people have some wonderful techniques for cultivating tree-borne crops I’d give anything to learn." Quellon said slowly, wondering why he was wearing such a large grin. "Why?"
"I can teach you if you’d like - botany is one of my passions." he happily replied. "I have a lot of information on it in my quarters, so I can lend it to you if you’d like!"
"If you weren’t Mantanan, I’d think that was a line!" Quellon chuckled. "By the way, you are a Sarlok, aren’t you? Not male?"
"Not that it’ll make any difference to you," Willbanks said darkly, frowning into the unusual readouts on a PADD, "but he is a Sarlok, and he’s definitely Mantanan, so don’t get your hopes up." She walked over to the other side of the bay before Quellon could reply.
Quellon stuck her tongue out at her, but winked at Jondalar.
"I’m not as desperate as some." she told him in a cheerful undertone. "But I’d really appreciate getting a look at any information you’ve got. I’d kill to know how you manage to stop unwanted cross-pollination up there."
"It’s not all that hard." he informed her. "I also think you’d be really interested in the plant I have at home - I’m one of the only licensed owners of a ramgarc on Mantana…"
"Ramgarc!" Carmen was suitably impressed. "Oh, now there’s something I’d love to see! Is it true they’re sentient?"
"Yes, but there are only three left on the entire planet, so far as we know, so we don’t know whether they have a culture or not. I was really lucky to get it - I just found it…"
"You found it." She scowled. "There are millions of botanists all over the Federation that would give their right arms for a look at a ramgarc, and you tell me you just found it. I don’t know whether to hate you or become your new best friend!"
"Don’t treat me the way you treat the Doctor, and it’ll be fine. One day I could show it to you."
She laughed uproariously, causing the Doctor to glance over to them in annoyance from where she was compiling her results.
"Best friend it is, then!" Carmen declared, sticking out a hand. As Jondalar took it, still smiling, she continued in the peculiar rhythm of the recently laughing, "But we don’t have to do that for now - the canopy farming will be enough for me. I’ve heard that Majestic City is really the place to go; so many advances are made there, but I’ve never had the opportunity to get there."
"I come from Sarbok on Krimell, but we’re no slouches ourselves." he said with a note of pride.
Doctor Willbanks, feeling distinctly left out but resolutely determined not to show it as the conversation continued, finished her data collection and so wandered back to the exam table.
"All right, I’ve finished now." she lightly told them. "You can get dressed again now."
Affably he slipped his arms back into his uniform’s sleeves and covered over his green spotted chest, even as the doctor continued,
"I find those spots fascinating, and I noticed that the collar of your uniform’s been modified. That’s to let the light touch the chlorophyll, right?"
"Yes. The details are in my records."
Willbanks lightly hit her head.
"That’s right - he wilts!" she laughed. "How can I forget that?"
"No; I just get tired easily." he gently corrected her. She frowned.
"Whatever." She consulted her PADD again. "Are there any other requirements you haven’t told us about - a particular kind of light for example?"
"No…" Considering the question, he scratched at his blonde hair. "White light’s fine. The only other thing is in my record, and the Counsellor told me that’s been taken care of."
"And it has." Tapping the PADD, she smiled thinly. "Just one more thing - when do you think the Calling will become too hard to ignore?"
"About a month or so." he replied, puzzled. "That’s when I’ve requested my shoreleave, anyway. Why?"
"Nothing much - just that your Torelin levels are higher than the texts say they should be."
"May I see?" he asked, holding out a slender hand, which she put the PADD into. He studied the readouts for a moment, then smiled. "The texts you’ve read haven’t taken into account geographical difference, Lisa. Krimell Sarloks are different from Majestic ones. We can go a little longer in the Calling than Majestics, but when it comes to other drives…" He smiled mysteriously, and allowed the statement to go unfinished.
"Right." Lisa said uncertainly, looking from his dreamy smile to Carmen’s barely suppressed smirk. Taking the PADD from his hands, she continued, "Well, that’s it then. Thanks for your time!"
"No worries." Swinging his legs down from the table, he added, "It was to my advantage at any rate, and it got me away from the boring drills on the bridge for a while." Then he turned to the other scientist once more. "I’ll get that information you wanted to you as soon as I can." he promised her. "and just let me know if you want those lessons."
"Terrific! Hey…?" Carmen cried as she thought of something. "Are you going to be at the reception tonight?"
"I was planning to be." Jondalar shrugged.
"And you, Juliana?"
Willbanks glowered as though her matter/antimatter injectors had just fused in the ‘open’ position.
"Why?"
"Well," Carmen replied airily in the face of such icy rage. "I wasn’t planning to, but if you are, I thought I might drop by and plague you some more. And if Jondalar’s there, so much the better!"
Innocence was never a trait that a botanist required - Eve proved that with the Apple - but Carmen managed to simulate a fair physical approximation of it.
This time, Willbanks actually snarled.
"You try anything, and you die, horribly!" she threatened, brandishing the PADD like a dangerous weapon. "I’ve had enough of you, and just remember that I’m a doctor - I can draw out pain indefinitely if I need to!"
Then she spun and stalked out into the lab.
"Oops! I might have pushed it just a little hard that time." Carmen noted, ambling over towards Willbanks’ exitway. "Don’t ever call her ‘Juliana’ unless you want fireworks - old habits die hard I guess. I’d better go see if I can calm her down, or else my next physical is going to be pure agony… Come to the arboretum any time - deck ten. You might be pleasantly surprised, particularly in Forest level
"See you later!"
She disappeared, an leaving an echo of "Hey - didn’t you want to compare notes?" in her wake.
Jondalar, his head spinning, was left to make his own way out of Sickbay.
K’Teira strode into the transporter room, stretching out her arms in an attempt to smooth some of the kinks her dress uniform was bunching into. She had fully intended to follow the Captain’s half jocular directive, but so far she had been called upon every time her mind had turned towards changing. Not that she minded, as the action was better than the enforced solitude her last position had often warranted, but…
Thankfully the motion went unnoticed by Chief Raisstha - Andorian by birth and by nature and so had an acid tongue - who sat upon the far side of the huge curve that lay between them. Instead of the cubicle-like constructions in other transporter rooms, Transporter Room One was special with its large circular pad that encompassed almost the entire chamber. Its overhead buffers provided the atmospherically diffused lighting for the area. Most other pad designs were purely functional in layout, but this place stood apart as a temple to the great God Technology, it was so stunningly different.
The antennaed priestess who tended that altar here looked up as K’Teira reached the edge of the pad, and the Chief hissed a greeting to her Counsellor.
"They’re ready for transport. It looks as though your aide has finally arrived! About time!"
Now the Andorian cast a piercing look at the Klingon’s uniform, the raised antennae speaking volumes.
"All things take their own time." she answered, adjusting her tunic. "OK, beam them up."
The buffers whined as Raisstha’s fingers danced across her panel. Then she was suddenly hidden behind the column of shimmering blue light.
A slight smile crossed the observing Counsellor’s face as she saw four figures appear - wavery at first, but they quickly solidified into four humanoidal shapes, then finally refined into four Betazoids - two adult females, one dressed in the teal of Sciences, and two children.
K’Teira had been looking forward to this moment, and not just because she was being snowed under by her work load, no mater what the Andorian might think. She had requested an assistant knowing that there may be difficulties at certain times, and Starfleet hadn’t been able to deny her, particularly because there were precedents - it just wasn’t done much. Most ships weren’t large enough to accommodate two Counsellors aboard, after all. However the Captain had worked her way around it, ensuring the chosen one was flexible enough to work in other areas as well as with K’Teira - and on seeing Berenár’s personal file, K’Teira had agreed that she was a fine choice.
Yet K’Teira knew none of these people would have the advantage the Captain had on her arrival. As far as the world outside the Fairburn was aware, at least for now - knowing that there were those in the Klingon upper echelons who would not approve of such a role for one of their citizens had caused prudence on the part of Starfleet - the Counsellor aboard the Fairburn was a human named Kay Teral, a woman who had been brought up close to Klingon space and so was considered a little more ‘wild’ than the norm for a counsellor. She had already had a few negative initial reactions to her presence - while nothing serious, that was why she had taken to wearing the hood. Yet it was a source of interest and, yes, amusement, to see how her own assistant was going to react to seeing this huge Klingon standing before them radiating thoughts of welcome and of being her new boss…
The four looked around at their new surroundings with interest, with the older child immediately wandering over to Raisstha’s panels for a look. However the littlest one, a girl barely a toddler, blinked wide black eyes at the counsellor and started to open her mouth in the precursor to a scream. K’Teira was used to this by now, and so stepped back quietly, clasping her hands and getting out of the child’s danger zone. The child’s mouth closed, but her eyes remained warily fixed on the large stranger.
K’Teira sighed softly.
"Luna; Maurice; Shula; Lieutenant Mogaddí… Welcome to the Fairburn." she said warmly. "I’m Counsellor K’Teira…" There it was - the jolt of realization passed through the uniformed one, and K’Teira didn’t need to be a telepath to see the confusion and seeking of confirmation in the look she shot the second woman. "…I know you were told to expect someone else,." she continued understandingly. "but I’ll explain that all to you soon. For now, I’m here to help you get settled into your new quarters and show you where you’ll be working - and playing."
"Counsellor…?" The older one - Luna Shan, who was to be one of the teachers in the junior school - stepped forward and held out a hand. "Please forgive our discomfiture…" She shot a look at the other, who had come to attention on the pad. "But you understand we were expecting a human woman, don’t you?"
"Of course I do." she replied. "I didn’t agree with the level of secrecy my presence is being given, as it’s been giving me a few problems with new arrivals not knowing I am here, or thinking I’m supposed to be human. But one can’t go against orders."
"Counsellor." The young one seemed to have got over her initial shock, and now stepped forward. "Lieutenant Berenár Moggadí reporting for duty."
"At ease, Lieutenant." she replied kindly. Well, at least she shows quick coping skills, K’Teira noted. with an inner smile. "There’s no need for you to come on duty yet. In fact, I’d prefer you to take the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings, get to know a bit about the ship before having to face working as well. Get your family settled before anything else."
"Thank-you sir." The woman smiled, looking K’Teira in the eyes. "That is kind of you."
"Practical, too." she countered, seeing the quick intellect of this one working behind those dark pools, taking in as much about she, K’Teira, as the Counsellor was her new assistant. In an aside, she said softly, "I think your daughter needs a replacement undergarment. Its capacity is just on reaching maximum."
"How can you…?" A frown, and Berenár’s brow beetled as she unconsciously scanned her daughter. Then the expression relaxed as she realised.
"Smell." Luna confirmed, swinging the girl up off the floor and into her arms.
"Klingons are renowned for it." K’Teira continued, amusement dancing beneath the neutral tones. Her ambiguous statement was deliberate - and it did not go unheeded. Berenár’s eyes began to sparkle.
"I’m glad you’ve done something about it, then!" she joked, K’Teira’s unshielded amusement having been read by the telepaths and recognized for what it was. "So was that the only uniform you had left? Or am I important enough in your eyes to require dress uniform?"
The smile was still warm, but still K’Teira could see that phenomenal mind working behind the pleasant exterior. Berenár Mogaddí was a genius - and one of the youngest ever to be accepted into the Academy - also, recent circumstances had caused the Admiral’s daughter to mature faster than the average aristocratic Betazoid. She had now recovered fully from her shock and had moved into making her own evaluations of her new commanding officer, and was going to bring that great mind to bear. K’Teira was glad of this; it meant her ploy was working faster than she’d anticipated and the officer was already comfortable enough to try to make empirical assessments of the Klingon’s suitability. Too severe a response and she would be judged harshly; too lenient, and she would be a borderline fool. To tell the truth… ah, now it was the telling, not the fact, wasn’t it?
Her next actions would make or break this team, but she felt she might be up to the task…
Slowly, with care, she let some of her well trained mental defenses down, making sure that neither telepath would notice that they had been there in the first place. Then she allowed a natural seeming burst of thought to wave out towards them; her real thoughts, but an edited version, her real goals still hidden behind her defenses.
Her eyes sparkled with real mirth.
"I have to say no on both counts;" she laughed. "I’m still in this from the arrival of the Captain. It doesn’t lessen my gratitude that you’ve arrived, though."
Not all Betazoids could read controlled Klingons - something to do with all the bone the thoughts have to get through, she’d once heard. However, strong emotion, primal emotions, and base thoughts - they were easily read. And both women had read her thoughts of gratitude and jocular relief she’d allowed herself to feel - she could see it on their faces.
Sometimes she was very glad she’d lived so long amongst the Cardassians. You never quite knew when one of their lessons would come in handy…
"Now - as the contents of that garment are getting to the point where you others might be able to detect it, I think we’d best get to your quarters, OK?"
"She reeks." said Maurice. These were the first words out of the boy’s mouth, as he’d been too busy inspecting the Andorian’s work to say anything to the others.
K’Teira winked at him as his parents laughed.
"Never a truer word…" she agreed as they all gathered around to follow her from the room.
On the Bridge, Lieutenant Daniels was making quiet sputtering noises to himself.
"Aargh!" he gurgled into the comm. link. "What do you clowns think you’re doing over there, McKinley? Look, I told you I just wanna test the anterior phaser arrays, and you buggers won’t disengage the forward grapple? Come on - it’ll just be off-line for ten minutes at most, guaranteed!"
"Look, Daniels," The man’s face on his screen was a thin, pensive one - the face of a habitual worrier. The voice, however, was strong and forceful, which went a long way towards proving that looks weren’t all there was to command. "You know that if we disengage it’s going to take the airlock off-line as well, and there are too many people coming in and out of that corridor at this time of day. You’ll cause havoc here, and I can’t have that."
"Havoc. For ten minutes, havoc." He snorted derisively. "You can redirect, I’ll even post my own people there to redirect them. Which is a much better option than the Fairburn blowing to pieces the first time we try the phasers in battle and find that they weren’t tested properly before leaving here."
"Right." It was the other’s turn to snort. "I’m sure only you are able to do this right, too. Look, I know you’re just trying to do your job, but I’m trying to do mine as well. Can’t you hold off on this for another four hours?"
"Come off it, Declan, you know we’ve got our Captain’s reception tonight! There’ll be no one available to do it then! Besides…" An evil glint lit the security chief’s eye. "And the only other thing I haven’t done is given my people a real time drill through an actual station…"
"You wouldn’t!"
"Try me!" he smiled. "Look, we’ll finish this with the least amount of fuss, and…"
Something cold was standing beside him. He could feel it chilling the air along his right side, making the hairs rise and his skin to pucker. He knew it wasn’t a physical cold, either, and turned just before the rigid form of Elek said,
"No. We will test the array tomorrow morning before the majority of civilian personnel have begun their day, thus removing the cause of your problem. Is this satisfactory, Lieutenant?"
She wasn’t addressing the spluttering Daniels, but the McKinley officer, who straightened slightly.
"Perfectly, Lieutenant Commander. Thank-you for your understanding."
"What?!" Daniels demanded, facing down the Vulcan and stroking off the connection to McKinley in a single move. "Aw, come on, Elek!" he whined. "I have other things to do tomorrow, you know that! My people need to be briefed on details - I was going to…"
"You will address me as Commander, Lieutenant." she said coldly, her cool lips thinner than ever. "And you may think yourself lucky I didn’t make you do it tonight after the reception. That is the least populated time of the day and therefore the most logical to perform a diagnostic of this type, however I considered that your team would need the rest."
"My tea…?" He fumed at the injustice of it, and at the humiliation in having his decision so easily overridden. "Elek, I’ve just finished the rest of the sweeps - isn’t it logical that I finish the final one and keep all my data in the one spot?"
A strange quasi-expression crossed her face, a fleeting ghost that altered her appearance for a second and drifted away again. It looked like someone discovering what it was stuck to the bottom of their shoe.
"Logic." she sniffed. "When it is plainly evident that the main thing on your mind is your rendezvous tonight with your female friend…"
"What!??! What’s that got to do with it?!?" he cried, for in all truth, that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Sure, he wanted this job to be over and done with, but to be accused… "That’s not true!"
She raised an eyebrow.
"Isn’t it?" she quizzed. "Evidence would seem to suggest otherwise."
"No! What the hell do you think I am, anyway?"
She paused to reconsider.
"Going by your record…" She must have seen the sudden danger in his eyes, for again she paused. "We can discuss that at another time. However, my decision stands."
"You had no right." he said softly. "And the Captain will hear of this, I promise."
She blinked slowly, thoughtfully.
"I’m sure she will." came her eventual reply. "Carry on."
And she marched back down the steps to the center chairs, where she took the First Officer’s post with the minimum of movement.
Through the haze of embarrassment and rage, Daniels became aware of eyes watching him - the sea green eyes of Viana Jancris, who stood beside him now, all traces of her former chiding self gone.
"Come on." she now said, beckoning him towards a turbo lift. "We have stuff to arrange."
Grinding his teeth, he followed, but not before hailing another security guard in to take his place at Tactical.
Calm… Peace… Logic…
Calm is life. Life is logic. there is no other way. Logic is all.
Calm… Peace… Logic…
Calm…
Calm…
Calm…!
K’Teira tugged unconsciously at her hood and shifted her feet beneath the low table. She’d finally been able to get back to her quarters long enough to change tunics, and was now in the process of doing all those things she’d had to put on temporary hold, but she’d just substituted one garmental annoyance for another. On top of this hairstyle, the hood sat lopsided, and she’d already found that she had to keep pushing the cloth out of her eyes. She almost wanted to shave her head.
This minor distraction didn’t keep her from her duty, however.
"…and so she quietened down after you appeared. How did she seem emotionally to you?"
She took mental notes as the big engineer shifted uncomfortably and studied the main situation monitor through the panes of plasglass as he collected his thoughts.
"Shocked. more than anything. She didn’t want me to hear it - that’s for sure. But not as though she was resentful of me for nearly hearing it…" he added quickly, lest she suspect so. "But like she had been caught doing something naughty and had really trying to be good but had let her attention slip."
K’Teira frowned. While eloquent, Rell’s descriptions sometimes left something to be desired.
"So you’d put it down as an emotional venting?" she queried softly.
Rell sadly shook his great head.
"Nothing that simple, I’m afraid. Something’s going on inside that skull of hers, but I don’t know what to do. It was definitely a grudge of some kind, but I don’t know what’s triggered it. Last Captain was a Tellarite, and she had no problems with him, according to her record."
"Will you give me access to it?" she asked. "It could be useful…"
The respite from hails ended as her communicator chirped. She sighed and reached up to tab it.
"You got it!" Rell said hurriedly, waving his large hands as he got up from his seat to allow her some privacy. She nodded thankfully and tapped the badge.
"K’Teira." she said.
"Counsellor." There was no missing Elek’s clipped tones. "The Portsmouth has signaled its approach and its imminent transportation of Commander Grieg. He will be in Transporter Room One in ten minutes."
She didn’t exactly need to say "be there", though that was obviously her intent. K’Teira remained impassive.
"Understood." she replied quickly. "I will be there to meet him. K’Teira out."
Rell was grinning as she stood.
"No rest for the wicked, hmmm?" he grinned.
If she could have willed his communicator to chirrup, she would have, just to prove a point. Instead she smiled gently, purring,
"Haven’t you got that wrong?"
She turned and walked out of the room, her grey cloak swishing provocatively along the floor as she moved.
He laughed deeply, just because he could. She’s dangerous, he thought, but in such an entertaining way!
The line of officers along the corridor was unexpected. The former Lieutenant Commander James Grieg kept his eyes down with modest pleasure, though this didn’t really keep him from missing the vision of so many familiar faces: George Hylands, still with that non-regulation ear adornment he’d "borrowed" from one of his myriad of friends. Jennifer Roth, the usual half sneer replaced by sadness. Adrian Roczender with that sappy smile still plastered from ear to ear across his tanned face. Maczendri, the scales on her face burnished to a silvery sheen just for this occasion. And there Daltaan; and there Rebecca Nichols. Beren’Te, Xavier StJohn… So many valued friends he was leaving today. Gods of Light and Dark combined, he was going to miss them!
This respectful send-off had sent him to the brink of tears, he was so very moved by it. Many times he was forced to turn away from a well-wisher on the pretext of tugging his bag back up his shoulder to avoid an unseemly display. He had been aboard the Portsmouth for nine long, happy, trying years. It was really hard to say goodbye.
Turning in to the transporter room, he found the senior officers awaiting him. Immediately the Executive Officer, Muhammad El Houli, stepped forward to clasp Grieg’s hand, slapping him on the shoulder as he did so. The once beefy man now seemed a little wasted after his long illness, but it was fantastic to see the officer back again.
"It will be hard to see you go." the man declared in his booming voice. "I don’t know what I’ll do if I get sick again, for I won’t have you to rely upon."
"I’m sure Aslen will do just as well as me." Grieg said kindly, though the thought of his flighty friend serving as temporary First after one of her failed romances kept on intruding into his mind. He also heard a muffled snort from behind him. "…After a time." he added lamely.
"Do well on the Fairburn, Commander." Ssria, the En’Driss Security Chief said almost in benediction. "Do the Portsmouth proud."
"I will, Ssria. Look after my plants."
"I can try." the En’Driss intoned, looking doubtfully down at his hands. "But my thumbs are orange, not green."
"Close enough!" Grieg chuckled.
The others in the group moved in to pay their respects to their departing member save for one important exception - the solemn, classic form which was Captain Stihlman stood apart, witnessing the scene until all had fallen in once more, awaiting his final address.
He stepped forward, hands behind his back in the typical pose Grieg knew so well. Captain Ezekeil Stihlman had brought him to where he was today, and for all that he was a rather stubborn, stern kind of man, he knew how to make cadets into Captains, and Grieg would be forever grateful to him for that.
"The Fairburn is getting a fine officer in you, James." the Captain told him with pride almost bursting from his puffed-out chest. "You will be sorely missed here."
Then he brought his hands around. Within their confines was a holodiode, larger than the usual portrait size, and appearing more like a large dinner plate than a miniature representation of… what could it be?
"This will remind you of your time here with us." Stihlman pressed it into Grieg’s all but numbed hands. "And as my final order to you, my friend, don’t play it until you are aboard that ship over there."
"Yes sir." He couldn’t help the crackling of his voice; his usual reserve was being swept away by the emotional realities of it. Maybe he should have accepted their offer of a party and got all this out of the way before now, but he’d been so determined not to have them make a fuss over him, he hadn’t thought about any of this, and now it was all so wrong…
Tucking the device under his left arm, he slowly, painfully reached out to shake his Captain’s hand, then stepped up on to the transporter pad.
"You’ve all taught me well, and I’m going to miss all of you." he told them, wanting to say so much more, but he couldn’t find the right words. Then, shaking himself, he raised his head and asked,
"Permission to disembark, sir?"
"Permission granted, Commander." Somehow those soft words were the hardest of all to bear. "Go with God."
An impulse washed over him as he stood there above them, surveying them all; he felt he hadn’t acknowledged them properly.
So he snapped to attention, raising his right hand to his brow in the ancient gesture known as a ‘salute’. Then he ordered stiffly,
"Energize, Mister Ortez."
No one on the Portsmouth saw the rogue tear that marred that militaristic perfection as he was swallowed by the column of shimmering blue light.
