Star Trek: Cayuga - 01 - 'To Infinity and Beyond'

 Star Trek: Cayuga

01 - ‘To Infinity and Beyond’

By Jack D. Elmlinger

Even the most reverent man could grow indifferent to the majesty of space. 

Sean Pasko hopped past his star-filled window while he struggled to pull his boxers on. His discard pajamas tripped him onto the bed and he lay squashed against the sheets before he gingerly rolled onto his back. There was still time before his shift as he relaxed against the mattress. His gaze drifted over the opposite wall, moving across the crucifix and down to the collection of medals that he had framed there. 

He had fought against the Borg and during the Dominion War, he had fought in Operation: Return, the Battle of Cindel, and countless other engagements. His valor and skill had been recognized by Starfleet. She should have had his pick of any assignment in the fleet. Instead, he had been tossed aboard a Saber-class starship like an afterthought. 

The USS Cayuga was a minuscule ship that stood at only eleven decks. She was less than one hundred and fifty meters long and held fewer than a hundred crewmembers. She had only a few weapons to speak of, and her mission was to handle all of the tasks that Starfleet wouldn’t send a real ship to do. 

She was an insult. 

Pasko checked the chronometer near his bedside and decided that it was time to make the short walk to the Bridge. He pulled on the rest of his uniform and jammed his feet into a pair of boots before he left his quarters. Pushing his way through halls, and a turbolift clogged with Gamma Shift officers standing down from duty, he soon stepped out of the turbolift and onto the Bridge. 

The First Officer glanced up from her post at Ops and watched him as he went and relieved Ensign Polcheny at the Helm. At the center of the Bridge, the Chief Engineer stood beside Captain Bradley who was examining her status report with a suspicious eye. 

“In small words, Chief,” the Captain’s thick voice, almost booming, as he returned the PADD to her,” does everything work?” 

Aimee Maguire opened her mouth. She was ready to explain that the matter-to-antimatter ratio of the warp core had been adjusted to with a fraction of a percent. She would love to tell him that all six shield generators were once calibrated again to each other and that all of the hiccups in the environmental and gravity systems that had plagued the ship for the last seven months had been tracked down and smoothed out. The fact that she and her engineering crew had managed to do all of that work without the help of a repair yard of, for that matter, a real engineering team. 

Instead, she simply said,” Yes, sir. All damage sustained at Cindel had been fixed. The ship is back up to specs.” 

“Well done, Lieutenant,” Bradley told her and paused as if he was listening to the ship. “You know, you’re right. The pitch of the warp drive is back where it should be.” He smiled at her, pleased with his connection to the ship. She coughed to cover a snort of ridicule. 

“It took two months to finish repairs on the Venture after Cindel,” Pasko interjected into their conversation. “Galaxy-class ship. I had the helm during the battle. We led a squadron against one of those nasty Jem’Hadar dreadnoughts and took a lot of hits. I managed to avoid most of them. Nailed the target too.” He made one last alteration to his console before he turned around to ask,” Where was the Cayuga during the battle, Captain?” 

Bradley smiled faintly, remembering that day. “We were in a mixed squadron of Miranda class light cruisers and Klingon birds of prey. We ran interference on Jem’hadar attack ships, taking ‘em out before they could get to the bigger ships. One of them managed to ram us but we were lucky that the Klingons were able to cover us until we could retreat.” 

Pasko’s smile matched Bradley’s and nodded appreciatively. “Everybody who walked out of that mission was a hero.” He glanced over towards the Ops console. “Did you participate in the battle, Commander?” 

Jeanne Pozach looked up from her display. “No,” she told him. “I spent the war as a Starfleet liaison to the Federation Council in Paris.” 

“Oh.” 

“Now, Lieutenant,” the captain said, magnanimously,” there’s no dishonor in that. It was a job that needed to be done.” 

Pasko flushed at his words. “Yes, sir. My apologies, Commander.” 

“None needed, Lieutenant.” Pozach dropped her gaze back to her console. Some days, she missed Paris more than others. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Walking back into Engineering, Aimee Maguire felt much more at home here than she did on the Bridge. She perched down over the main situation display, the thrum of the warp core soothing her while she listened to a Vulcan engineer read dutifully from his PADD. 

Her concentration wavered as Ensign Connelly walked past her with an equipment kit tucked underneath his arm. He opened an access panel to a Jefferies tube and crawled inside while she watched his retreating posterior appreciatively. Aaron Connelly had been her wartime fling and after the peace treaty, she had decided that he spent too much of his off-duty time on things other than she and she had broken off the affair. 

“... by repositioning the emitters by .004 millimeters, we would create a noticeable increase in shield efficiency,” Ensign Sayvok finished, never realizing that his Human superior’s attention had wandered. 

Maguire blushed slightly at the memories of her time with Connelly and hopped off of the status board. “Sounds good, Sayvok,” she said, agreeing casually with him as if it would have been highly illogical for him to have suggested anything other than the best course of action. 

The warp core surged and yellow light flooded the Engineering bay. The Chief Engineer turned to the status board. The ship had been tearing through space at Warp Nine-point-Three and when she noticed this, her hand flew to her combadge. 

“Engineering to Bridge -- “

“We’ve received a distress signal from the Cardassian colony on Layat Prime,” Pozach answered her before she could ask. 

“What’s distressing them?” 

“Unknown,” Pozach said, grimly,” but we’re about to find out.”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Hours later after arriving at Layat Prime, Jeanne Pozach stalked into her quarters and collapsed onto the couch in her living room area. She lay in the darkness for a moment before she pulled her uniform jacket off and stared sullenly at her own reflection in the window. Blasted landscape, decimated buildings, and charred bodies flashed across her vision as she remembered what she had witnessed on the away team. Tears burned the edges of her eyes before they slid down her face. 

The door chimes rang and Jeanne jumped at the sound. She wiped the tears away from her face before answering with a stutter,” E-enter.” 

The door hatch slid open and Aimee stepped inside, crossing over to the replicator. “Scotch Whiskey, neat,” she told the machine and after the drink appeared, she downed its contents with a wince before turning to face Jeanne. The commander was quickly cataloging the wetness lingering on her face. 

“Jeanne,” she said helplessly, the drink glass reclaimed by the replicator as the chief engineer dropped down onto the couch beside her,” I thought that this war was over.” 

“I know,” was the First Officer’s reply. She brushed away the strand of blond hair that had fallen into Aimee’s face. “We’ll find those responsible and bring them to justice.” This was a quick response but she clung to it. 

“You don’t sound happy about it.” 

“I’m afraid that we’ve been put into a position where the Captain will find violence necessary.” 

“It’s not? No, I don’t want to fight,” Aimee continued quickly. “I want to… quit seeing what I saw down there.” 

She drifted closer and heat flared from beneath Jeanne’s dark skin at her touch. She imagined tasting the whiskey on Aimee’s lips, finding its burn in her mouth, and then she pulled back. “No… not tonight, Aimee,” she managed to tell her. “I need to write up my report for Captain Bradley. And I need to --” 

Aimee leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “I know. It’s okay.” She stood up and walked over to the door. “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Cayuga had been following the warp trail of the raiders from the Layat system when Pozach finally announced,” Captain, I’m detecting four ships on long-range sensors.” 

Bradley leaned forward in his chair. “On screen,” he ordered. “Pozach, tell them to stand down and to prepare to be boarded.” 

Pozach sent the message through her console before shaking her head. “No response, Captain.” 

The Captain sat back. “Fine,” he said, imperiously. “Tactical, lock photon torpedoes. Disable their warp drives.” 

On the forward viewscreen, twin energy flares streaked across space and hammered into the nearest ship. The distinctive blue glow from its warp drive nacelles dimmed and the ship dropped out of warp. Cayuga blew past them in pursuit of the others. 

“The first target’s warp drive is disabled,” Pozach reported. “The other three ships are dropping out of warp. They’re coming back around with weapons hot.” 

“Helm, take us to impulse power and prepare to engage.” 

Pasko twisted the Cayuga towards the approaching ships. They pulled into a loose formation and opened fire, splashing phaser energy across the Starfleet vessel’s forward shields. 

“Return fire!,” ordered Bradley.

Cayuga’s phasers lashed back out at them, disrupting the enemy’s shields before they pulled out of range. Pasko rolled the ship after them but the raiders expertly stayed clear of their weapons arcs. 

“Captain, they’re out-maneuvering me,” the lieutenant said. “I can’t line up a sho-” 

The ship shook hard. “Their attacks are draining our dorsal shields, Captain,” Pozach reported. “Holding at seventy-seven percent efficiency.” 

The Bridge rocked again and Bradley grabbed the armrests of his chair for support. “Mister Pasko, get us a shot and take them out!” 

A panel across the Bridge’s back wall exploded, showering sparks across the deck. “Damnit,” the pilot snarled,” stay… still!” The phasers struck one of the ships but it quickly swung out of the line of fire. 

“Captain!,” Pozach yelled,” ventral and aft shields are failing! We’re taking damage!” 

Bradley grimaced down at his panel. “We’re not going to win this. Pasko, set a course and get u--” 

The Bridge flared white with explosive energy as a tremendous explosion sent everyone down to the floor from their posts. Pozach pulled herself back up into her seat and stared at her board in horror. Pasko wiped the blood off of his forehead and tried to look at his instruments without crossing his eyes.

“Engineer to Bridge!,” Maguire’s voice blared over the intercom. “We’ve got hull breaches all across Deck One! There are micro-fractures in the port nacelle and there are power fluctuations tripping breakers throughout the plasma relay system,” she cried out, indignantly. “I just fixed this!” 

Pozach squinted through the smoke filling the Bridge. “Captain!,” she coughed. “Captain?! What are your orders?!

Then she saw it. 

Captain Bradley had been thrown clear of his chair before the girders that were supposed to line the ceiling had crushed it. Unfortunately, he had been thrown headfirst into the support for the helm console. Pozach realized that the artificial gravity was off-kilter by the way that his blood was pooling up, farther down the deck.

“Pasko, the captain’s dead! Get us out of here! Now!” 

Pasko grunted his acknowledgment, punching buttons on his display. “Course… zero-eight-one, mark seven. Warp Three.” 

Groans rose from deep inside of the ship’s hull and on the viewscreen, the stars blurred briefly before the screen itself gave out.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Situation Room adjacent to the bridge had been destroyed so the meeting was held in the Mess Hall. Moru, the Bolian chief medical officer, Hobbes, the chief science officer, and Lieutenant Pasko sat expectantly around one of the small tables. Pozach stood at the head of the table, toying with a piece of fruit that had rolled itself from the centerpiece. 

“Lieutenant Maguire would be joining us but the repairs take precedence,” she explained to him, consciously keeping her back straight as she sat down. “Funeral services will be held at twenty hundred hours. I’ve assumed command and Commander Moru will be taking over as First Officer.

“Our long-range communications have been disabled. We can’t call for help with repairing either the Cayuga or apprehending these raiders. They can’t be allowed to escape and I’m afraid that if we turn in for repairs, we’ll lose their trail. So I’ve decided to follow them.” The men around the table shifted uncomfortably but the commander only asked,” Anything to report?” 

“Yes, sir,” said Pasko. “After the battle, I sifted through the video that we recorded and I think that I might have a plausible identity and motive for the attackers.” This information gained Pozach’s attention and he took a moment to bask in it. “The vessels were Peregrine class courier vessels. They were phased out of public service in the Federation, about fifteen years ago. Since then, a number of them have been obtained and outfitted as attack ships for the Maquis.” 

Pozach sighed. “That would explain why they destroyed a Cardassian colony.” 

From the opposite end of the table, Brandon Hobbes said, very quietly,” My understanding was that once the Cardassian Union had joined the Dominion, the Maquis had been destroyed.” 

“Starfleet Intelligence reports have indicated that they were practically annihilated,” Moru agreed with him. “Where were these ones hiding?” 

Pasko shrugged his shoulders at this question. “I don’t know. We do know of Maquis cells that survived and they might have been able to hide some ships.” He made a fist before he checked himself and thumped it carefully on the table. “I… watched how they flew. In the recordings, they’re good but I don’t think that they’ve had any formal training. They’ve learned from experience, Commander… uh, Captain, but I think that I can beat them next time.” 

Pozach nodded at him. “We can’t charge off without notifying the other ships in this sector. Any ideas about how we can get word to them without our subspace communications array?” 

“A shuttlecraft,” Pasko said, coming up with an immediate answer. “The bay was damaged but we’ve still got two Type-Tens that can be prepared for launch in half an hour.” 

“And who’s going to fly it?,” Moru asked him. “You can’t.” 

“I will,” Hobbes said. 

Pozach paused as if she was going to object to the plan before she nodded decisively. “All right. Pasko, help Hobbes prepare the shuttle. He’s going to leave as soon as possible.” She looked across the table at him. Find the Ranger, or any of the ships assigned to this sector, and have them zero in on our position. Doctor Moru, get Sickbay ready for combat. Dismissed.” 

Hobbes and Moru filed out of the room but Pasko kept Pozach pinned to her seat with a sharp look. After she heard the Mess Hall doors open and close, she asked him,” Something else to add, Sean?” 

The lieutenant stood up to pace in front of the Mess Hall’s large windows. “What are you planning on doing when we catch them, Commander? Captain, sorry.” 

“I don’t know,” she confessed to him. “I’ve read about Maquis tactics and they’ve never destroyed a Starfleet ship before. Not even one that was pursuing them. They crippled the Defiant and the Malinche when they were pressed but they have never killed Starfleet officers on this scale before.” She rose from her seat and walked over to the windows to stare out at them. “It’s like they’re angrier… more violent.” 

“Their comrades are dead. I would be angry too. I am angry. But what are you going to do about it? They aren’t going to surrender since they’ve already killed twenty-six of our people, including the Captain. I don’t think they’re going to mind murdering another seventy. This isn’t the war where you had some desk job behind the lines. We’re going to have to fight here and now. Are you ready to do that?” 

“Dismissed, Mister Pasko,” Pozach said, slowly, staring at him until he turned and walked away.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Engineering had been demolished. 

Pozach stepped over a piece of burnt piping and jumped as electricity sparked from it. Someone swore a Celtic curse and the power cut out. 

Chief Engineer Maguire peeked over the status table and signed. “Jeanne, hi.” She stood up and gestured grandly at the wrecked engine room. “I guess you’re here for my damage report. You couldn’t call, of course,” - she gave an ironic laugh --,” because the intercoms are out.” 

“How bad is it?” 

Maguire opened up one of the access conduits lining the wall, eyeing its innards warily. Her voice came back to the acting captain a little muffled. “The last time that this ship was hurt this bad, I was made Chief Engineer by default. We’ve got hull breaches across multiple decks. Atmospheric force fields are holding but it’s going to take time to make those sections habitable again. Thanks to the damage to the port nacelle, warp efficiency is down to seventy-two percent and that won’t last long over a long haul. Ventral and aft shield generators are damaged but I’ve got Ensign Connelly working on them. All weapons are functional.” 

She sighed and added,” Oh, and my quarters got blown to Hell.” 

Pozach heard the edge in her voice and silently cursed her next question for Aimee. “Can the Cayuga intercept the raiders?” 

Maguire pulled back from the conduit and stared at her. “Jeanne, tell me that you’re kidding.” 

“We can’t call for help, Aimee. And by the time that we return with backup, we’ll have lost their warp signatures, and won’t be able to track them. We’re launching a shuttle to locate one of our ships while the Cayuga goes to capture the raiders.” 

“I think you’re insane.” 

Jeanne shrugged her shoulders. “I know.” 

Maguire looked uncomfortable and looked down at her feet. “Duly noted.” 

“I need to know if you think we can pull this off.” 

Maguire glanced around her engine room, her gaze lingering on the unlit warp core. “All right, yeah. I can get our tactical systems back up to spec but if we go into combat outnumbered and outgunned like that again,” - she kicked the scorched piping -,” we’re going to get killed.” 

Pozach nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Chief.” 

“Jeanne…” Aimee’s voice was quiet. “Like I said, my quarters -- “

“Of course,” Jeanne interrupted her. She brushed the back of Aimee’s hand with her fingertips and added in an undertone. “Of course, you’re welcome.” Her hand returned to her side and her demeanor hardened. “Mister Pasko is anticipating between ten and fourteen hours before we catch up with the raiders. I want all combat systems on-like by then.” 

“Yes, sir,” Maguire said, her back straightening unconsciously. “I promise we’ll be ready for them this time.” 

Pozach turned and left, leaving the chief engineer to do her work. Standing amidst the blasted remains of her section, Aimie couldn’t help but remember Jeanne’s fingers against her hand and smile a little.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A planet that had two moons circling around it dominated the Bridge viewscreen. Four dotted lines indicated the raiders’ course. Three of them had fallen into a patrolling orbit around the planet and the moons. The fourth ship had landed on the innermost satellite. 

Pozach walked to the center of the Bridge. The Captain’s chair had been replaced. Slowly and with some uncertainty, she sat down in it. “Take us in, Mister Pasko.” 

Pasko dropped the Cayuga in over the planet, putting the ship close to the atmosphere so that the magnetic interference from the north pole would jam the Maquis’ sensors. “You know,” he said, nerves shaking his voice almost imperceptibly,” if this was the Venture, this wouldn’t be a problem. We would sail in. tell them that they were under arrest, and they would give up, just like that.” 

From his seat at the Ops position, Doctor Moru said,” You’re not on the Venture anymore, Pasko. You’re on the Cayuga now. So deal with it.” 

The planet rotated silently below for a few moments before the lieutenant said,” There… there’s the first one.” The viewscreen shifted to show a single Maquis raider in orbit. 

“Lieutenant,” Pozach said,” deal with them quickly.” 

To the raider, it might have been seen that the Cayuga appeared suddenly out of nowhere. It tried to break orbit but Pasko pinned the smaller craft with a variety of phasers and torpedoes until plasma plumes vented from its aft section. 

“The target’s communications are down,” the Bolian doctor reported. “Sublight and warp engines have been disabled. Their power output is minimal.” He checked his board and added,” I’d estimate two minutes before the next raider’s orbit brings it into range with the ship.” 

“Excellent,” Pozach said. “Bridge to transporter room, lock onto all lifeforms aboard that raider and beam them directly to the Brig. Mister Pasko, as soon as our guests are aboard, take us back to the pole.” 

They waited a few tense moments before Moru said,” Second raider sighted. They’ve spotted the wreckage and they’re altering their course to head for the moon.” 

“Pasko, bring them down.” 

The Irishman grinned and the Cayuga leapt eagerly at sublight speeds after the Maquis ship. He fired but his phaser shots were absorbed by shields. 

“They got a message to the other raider.” 

Pasko grunted. Come on, baby, he thought to himself. Phaser blasts probed the raider’s shields again, but this time, sparks flew from the hull plating. The glow of their impulse engines disappeared and the ship tumbled towards the moon.

“Too bad,” the pilot said, smirking,” they won't be around to get a response.” 

“The last raider is zeroing in on us,” Moru reported. “They’ve locked weapons -- !” 

The Bridge rolled and buckled under the assault. Pozach wrapped her legs around her chair’s support and looked warily at the girders bracing the ceiling. “What’s the status of the second ship?!,” she yelled as another explosion shook the Cayuga. 

Moru looked at her, his blue face smudged with black soot. “The raider’s engines have been disabled, though they managed to control their descent. They’ll land safely, if roughly, on the moon.” 

“Good,” she muttered. “Sean, the last ship! Disable it!” 

On the viewscreen, the Maquis raider pulled up and over the Cayuga. 

“Not this time,” Pasko snarled, forcing the Cayuga into a dive, showing the surprised Maquis the ship’s armed face rather than its undefended rear. Torpedoes exploded first against the raider’s diminished shields and then against its exposed hull, blasting one of its wings off before the ship spiraled out of view. 

Pasko whooped at his triumph. Pozach asked,” Status of the enemy ship?” 

“Crippled,” came Moru’s answer. “The transporter room is ready to take the crew aboard. Engineering reports minimal strain to the shield generators.” 

Pozach’s shoulders lifted at the news. “Beam the prisoners aboard. Then set a course for Federation space. Doctor Moru, you have the Bridge.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The Cayuga was a small ship and so was its Sickbay. While most of the Maquis had been detained in the ship’s equally small Brig, several of them were too injured not to receive medical care. Pozach walked between the bed, searching for the man that the Maquis in the Brig had identified as being their leader. Against the far wall, she found him, the faint blue of a force field shimmering as he struggled. 

“Mister ch’Eenar?” 

The Andorian chen focused on her three pips. “These conditions are intolerable. I demand to speak with the Captain.” 

“I’m afraid that your first attack made that impossible. Though I’m sure that you’ll find the accommodations of the Jaros II stockades to be more pleasant.” She looked over his chart. The Andorian had a concussion, four shattered ribs, a broken femur, and several displaced vertebrae. “Were you on the ship that went down on the moon?” 

“It was one hell of a ride,” ch’Eenar agreed with her before he exploded with questions. “Just what do you think you were doing, Commander? How many classmates, friends, or family did you lose to the Cardassians during the war? How can you defend them now?” 

“The Cardassians that you killed were colonists, not soldiers. That population had no say in the actions of their government. They were innocent.” 

“They were Cardassians. There are no innocent ones.” He drew a breath to continue but Pozach turned her back on him and let ch’Eenar speak to her back as she walked out of Sickbay. 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

An impromptu celebration had begun in the Mess Hall. The tables were littered with snacks, synthehol, and semi-conscious officers. A crowd had gathered around Sean Pasko and even the drunks were paying a bleary sort of attention to his account of the battle.

“... I realized that they weren’t outflying me. It was just that. With the three of them, I couldn't keep track of all of them at once. After I broke them up, they didn’t stand a chance.” He took a swig of synthehol and grinned at the helm officer from Gamma Shift who was watching him with stars in her eyes. “I wish I could’ve seen the looks on their faces when this itty-bitty starship came roaring out of the magnetic field, heading straight for them.

“Actually, I should be honest,” he said, grandly. “I didn’t think up that stunt with the pole interference. I saw the Dominion do it during the war. The Venture was on patrol near the Kalandra sector with the Valley Forge and just as we were passing by this Type-L planet, half a dozen Jem’hadar ships popped up out of the interference. Scared the hell out of him but…”

His voice faded as he noticed the helm officer’s gaze again. 

“But… what was your name?” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Engineering was empty except for the hum of the warp drive, Ensign Sayvok, and Chief Engineer Maguire. 

“Our performance in the second engagement was a significant improvement over that in the first,” the Vulcan said,” when one considers the amount of damage that the ship sustained.” 

Maguire glanced up from the readout on the status table that she had been studying. “We got beaten badly enough the first time. The Cayuga is going to need a month or two at a Starbase to get those breaches patched up.” She straightened up and played with the strands of blond hair that had come loose from her bun. “Yeah, I guess we did alright.” 

“You are an excellent engineer, Lieutenant,” Sayvok said, simply. “You must have trained carefully at the Academy.” 

“I learned a lot of things at the Academy, Happy,” Maguire said as she began to fix her hair. The Vulcan officer raised an eyebrow at her nickname for him but he didn’t interrupt her. “I didn’t start off in Engineering, you see. I trained in Science, specifically Astrophysics. I was going to explore space and find new phenomena. I was pretty good at it too.” 

“Why did you transfer to Engineering?” 

With her hair arranged back in her bun, she looked up with a crooked smile. “I met this guy. He was… he was a great guy. He convinced me to change my major. I actually lived with him for most of my junior year.” Her eyes unfocused, she added,” I was going to marry him.” 

“You allowed your emotional attachment to separate you from your intended profession.” As Vulcans went, he looked very surprised. “How… illogical.” 

“You should talk, Happy,” she jabbed back at him. 

Sayvok conceded the point and turned away. 

The main doors to Engineering slid open and Pozach walked in. She saw Maguire and smiled at her. “Lieutenant,” she said as she approached her,” we’ve just received word from Hobbes. He found the Starsong and they’re on route to pick us up. We’ll be back at a Starbase in no time.” The engineer grinned at her and even Sayvok seemed to be pleased by the news. 

“And,” Jeanne said, more quietly,” I was hoping that you’d join me for dinner tonight.” 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Aimee said. “Hey, Happy! Finish covering the shift for me, eh? I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Why do you call him Happy?,” the Commander asked her, once they were in the corridor. 

Aimee gestured vaguely. “Oh, that’s just the first part. His full nickname is Happy the Gay Vulcan.” 

Jeanne frowned at this. “He doesn’t seem any more cheerful than your usual type of Vulcan.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Through one of the many windows that dotted the hull of the Starsong, and despite the best efforts of the atmospheric force fields, Pozach could still see puffs of frozen gas leaking from the Cayuga’s hull as she was maneuvered alongside Starbase Five-Seventy-Three. 

“Admiral sh’Diaar tells me that the Cayuga is the first ship on the repair list,” Weynik offered from behind her. Pozach turned away from the window and smiled down at the Captain. She thought about the distance between them as being absurd since the captain’s ready room on an Excelsior-class starship had to be the same size as her quarters aboard the Cayuga. 

“We’ll be back on patrol soon enough, Captain. My only concern is that we’re extremely short-handed with twenty-six people dead. With me assuming the position of the commanding officer, I need a First Officer who can cover the Ops position.” 

Weynik nodded, the Roylan’s eyestalks moving with every motion of his head as he approached a painting on his wall. He reached out as if to touch it, but he stopped himself. 

“I’ve relayed your personnel requests to Starfleet Command. Most of your new crew should reach here before the Cayuga is ready to push off. However, securing you a new First Officer could take some time. I’m afraid that you’ll have to do without one for a while.” He turned around to face her and said, with the painting framing behind him. “I’m more worried about you, Captain.” 

“May I ask why, sir?” 

“Starfleet officers with criminal pasts worry me, Pozach,” he replied, evenly. “Especially when they command starships.” 

“No charges were filed,” she reminded him, biting off every word.

“True,” Weynik grunted and silence stretched between them as they waited for the other one to speak. Finally, the Roylan captain continued,” After your repairs are completed, you’ll assist the Starsong, and the Ticonderoga with ferrying supplies to Cardassian worlds. I’ll expect weekly reports.” Pozach nodded at him, still not quite trusting herself to speak in his presence. “Dismissed, Captain.” 

Pozach left Weynik’s ready room and stalked across a bridge that was large enough to play soccer on before she reached the turbolift. Once inside, she directed it to the transporter room and sagged against the wall. After the lift released her on the appropriate deck, she walked down the corridor until she found a window facing the Cayuga. 

She could see repair crews from both the Starbase and the ship hovering around the mangled hull like moths drawn to the flame of work that had to be done. In one of those spacesuits, she knew, was Aimee. Aimee, who hadn’t requested any living quarters on Starbase Five-Seventy-Three. 

Jeanne Pozach thought of her and the ship, smiling. 

The End…