A/N: This is an ongoing project, that welcomes new players to join. Contact Scott Vanhorne at cpvanhorne at yahoo dot com

"2319" USS BONAVENTURE "Suffer The Child" - Prelude Pt.1

By Scott Vanhorne

One Year Ago... Summer of 2301 AD

Starfleet Headquarters, Main Executive Compound, Top Garden Level

The day was so full of sun and warm air, that Jas VanHorne thanked all of his lucky stars (and there had been many) that today on the veranda of the Starfleet Headquarters top level viewing garden, he could take a moment to breathe in the ocean air…admire the delicate silhouette of the woman he'd grown to love in all her simplicity…and marvel at how amazingly at ease she was with a child…this alien, feral and amazing child. A stowaway, and stuck with them aboard his ship….and finally with the capacity to breathe free and easily…

The doctors had never quite seen a Klingon up close before. The requests to have Azette examined were rebuffed by VanHorne at first, that is until she scraped her knee on the gangplank coming home, and as Rachel wiped away lavender blood that wouldn't seem to coagulate, did they acquiesce and finally agree that perhaps one of Starfleet's most revered physicians…the only one to be tasked with treating the wounds of their longest adversary, finally be given a chance to see if the child's health could be successfully nurtured.

"She's a strong youngin', that's for sure. She could probably beat up a mule in a fair fight." The old southern Doc had told them, in a private check-up facility in the Presidio. Though the slender, aging physician added, "She'll probably adapt to Earth weather and gravity climate just fun. And I've given you both a list of fruits and vegetables that will likely make her sick, so watch out for those. She can eat whatever the hell meat she wants, and always err on the side of fiber if she ever gets constipated."

Rachel furiously take note of all the Docs recommendations, making a point to let Jas know that Azette was very much her responsibility too. Jas's eyes opened wide when the old physician prescribed the following beverage for her….

"Prune juice?" he asked, oddly.

"It helps the digestive system, and it has an enzyme in it very close to what Klingons run on. Good for the blood. Ask her to try it." He suggested, snapping close his old leather tricorder case, and putting the thumb scanner away.

"If you insist…" Jas had relented. Oddly enough, after giving her some to try the next day, Azette seemed to love the drink, baffling her new parents.

As VanHorne prepared himself finally to give over the codes to his beloved Bonaventure, he scanned through the list of requisitions he had made, and finding them completely contrary to what he had requested, he left the side of his young family, and returned to the office of Starfleet's new Vulcan Commander in Chief.

Walking through the door with a feeling of everything he'd worked toward being ripped from him, he tried to regulate his breathing, as his sudden entrance had caught the eye of the topmost Admiral in the Fleet, and Vorek tilted a head to one side to acknowledge his subordinate's presence.

"Sir, I…." VanHorne began.

"Rear Admiral VanHorne," Said Vorek, without the least bit of emotion. Though typical of Vulcans, Jas had found him, somehow….more personable.

"I went through my recommendations for the Taurus Expedition. Sir…they can't go out there like this. Three capital ships, a small merchant contingent. That's just not going to be up to speed for their needs." VanHorne thumbed through the list of ships; the Bonaventure, Repulse, Sentinel, their crew compliment, supplies, lists of every sort.

"I remember giving my first command away to some younger men who'd never had capital ship duty before. Yes, I thought they needed training wheels too. But I assure you….they will be fine. If they remember their training."

VanHorne could feel his pulse rising, "Sir, they are competent men. I wouldn't have suggested them to run such an operation, but …. You've cut in half the ship assignments, the support tenders, the staff, the acquisition list, the ….everything! They'll be ….undermanned. According to what I'm reading they'll not have use of the—"

"Admiral," Vorek said unhappily; "I appreciate your lofty appraisal of what you think the Taurus Expedition needs, but there are limits. We cannot have what we want on a whim."

VanHorne could feel his control slipping away, the Vulcan he'd admired suddenly becoming….indifferent to his wishes, "This isn't a whim. I've budgeted for every eventuality, and the task fleet will simply not be able to get the job done if you slash their resources like this."

Vorek shrugged, allowing his assistant to adjust his newly tailored dress uniform. Something about Vorek's face seemed….lopsided, somehow… "If that's your opinion of these men's capacity…."

VanHorne held up a palm; "It's not. Savion's the best engineer I've ever worked with. K'rilish is the stuff strong commanders are made of. O'Dag's proven himself in ship command and emergencies dozens of times."

"Then I would trust them."

"Not like this. They don't know the layout of the territory. They'd have no idea how to adapt to the region. I've been there. It's been 20 years, but—"

"Then you lead the expedition. Because Starfleet simply cannot afford to give you more capital ships nor can we allot more merchant support.:"

"My family…we…"

"You have a choice. Lead this expedition yourself, if you feel your experience will balance out what you consider them to need. But you'll have the three capital ships, the current merchant contingent, and that is all I'm prepared to authorize at this time."

With that, the former Captain of the Bonaventure turned on his heal, and with the weight of the universe once again upon his shoulders, began to calculate bad scenarios to determine the least painful one . . .

Apartment 8701, Haight Ashbury Vista Terrace...

The small apartment felt impossible smaller, as VanHorne placed both his hands on Rachel's shoulders,

"Rachel, I'm leading the Taurus Expedition."

Rachel shook her head, barely adjusted from being pulled from her yoga class; "That's O'Dag's mission. Why are you getting involved?"

VanHorne straightened, "I have to. They're being sent out without proper ships and support."

Rachel folded her arms disapprovingly; "And you think your presence, micro managing them will make a difference?"

VanHorne, with a stiff upper lip, nodded, "Yes. Yes, I do."

Azette could be heard playing with the wooden sailing ships that Jas had purchased for her, and she splashed around happily in the large bath just a few rooms down. Rachel walked forward to tend to her, as dotting and as nurturing as anyone VanHorne had ever seen. The lesson plans, the meals, the field trip outings, the constant activities, sports, dance, lessons in other languages….he could see her trying to make sense of Jas' new directive, though she never broke her stride with the child;

"Who do you think you are, Jas? Captain Cook?"

VanHorne followed her into the hallway, and past the painting on the wall of one of his heroes, which he poked a thumb at, "No. I'm more like Captain Bligh. They may not have liked Bligh when they put him out on a longboat, but he sure as hell got them 3,200 nautical miles back to friendly harbour with two weeks of rations and on the verge of capsizing."

Rachel urged Azette out of the bath, and covered the youngster with a huge, fluffy towel, and began to dry the wild mop of sandy blonde curly hair that surrounded her brow ridge; "Yes, your hero, as you're so fond of telling me. He wasn't exactly portrayed very sympathetically."

VanHorne rushed to make sure they had additional towels from the closet (since the sonic shower had been traded in for a conventional one, according to a recommendation from Rachel's mother); "I may not be either. But the truth about both of us is that we're doing the best we can do without a lot of resources, and damn what anybody thinks. My experience bears out that I'm their best chance for survival."

Rachel's voice became soft as she started to brush Azette's hair; "And you'll be taking us with you?"

Jas watched Azette's big eyes look up at him, as if she was finally realizing that her new parents were discussing her fate.

Jas thought of the dangers in front of his old crew and the hundreds in their charge…the families, the lives….and those lives simply numerically outweighed the two in front of him. He knew they would be fine without him here on Earth, but…. There was a chance that the men who had been with him on so many journeys would not. They needed him. He took a deep breath before saying; "Negative. You'll stay on Earth until I return."

Rachel began to tear, though Azette didn't appear to understand the reaction, "Jas…we need you. Azette needs a father. I need you. The climate here for children….Klingon children….Jas, they hate people like her. I don't even like taking her out with me."

"You'll be fine on the Academy and Presidio grounds. This is San Francisco, after all."

"Jas, no….your…..you've got to let go. Let them do this. The Bonaventure's not your ship anymore."

VanHorne turned away from them, and jammed a fist into the wall; "Those men will die in space without me. I'm going."

Rachel could feel helplessness and rage creep into her, as those words echoed in the hallway; "Azette….you don't even care about her. You only care about yourself, your constant adventure. They don't want you there. They can handle this fine, we need you here. Why are you doing this to us?"

VanHorne approached the exit, to put distance between him and the women he was hurting…

"Because it has to be done."