The luxury wouldn't last long. As his mind began to drift into sleep, the doorchime chirped. He rolled his eyes and sat up, running his fingers through his normally short, brown hair. Apparently, it was in need of a cut. Taking one last breath, he spoke at the door. "Come."
The door slid open with a hiss revealing Ensign Tyler Bristol, the Warlord's chief helmsman. He was tall and thin with a slicked back bowlcut of dark brown for hair, the standard 'do' for the hyperbike set. The normally wide-eyed and brazen youth had been strangely silent lately; hardly ever cracking a smile. Stephen kept thinking to himself to call Tyler into the ready room to see what was going on, but his ever-drifting mind kept forgetting. Looking at the brown eyes of the ensign, he was reminded of a sad puppy. "Do you mind if I come in for a sec, commander?" he asked in his high-pitched, cockney accent.
Stephen smiled weakly, still mentally and physically drained. "Sure, come on in, ensign."
Tyler feigned a smile in return and walked into the commander's quarters. It was a bit larger than his own, mostly due to the kitchenette and small dining space just off the main room. Tyler was amazed at the collection of antiques lining the walls, shelves, and tables. He recognized most of the memorabilia as being parts and books on old devices called automobiles. The wall above the couch was dominated by a giant silvery construction called a 'bumper.' Against the wall separating the commanders living area from his sleeping area was a large, multi-colored machine with rounded, glowing tubes rimming the front edges. Tyler took a moment to take in the room, since this was his first time ever visiting the commander in his quarters. It was like walking into a museum. Despite the way he was feeling, he had to smile.
The past couple of days had really eaten at him. Early on, during the battle, Tyler had made a critical mistake... it had almost cost the crew their lives. "You're going to get us killed!" he heard Commander Kirk repeating over and over in his mind. Since he was a boy, all Tyler could do was dream of the heroic feats he would perform once he got into space. He had gone against his mother's wishes and his father's instructions to get where he was. Now, one critical misjudgement almost doomed his crew... and who knew how many others. He looked at the seat opposite the couch Commander Kirk was sitting on. "May I sit down, Sir?" He asked politely.
Stephen smiled at Tyler's adherence to rules and regulations. He rubbed his face to clear the last of the sleepiness from his expression. "Go ahead, Ty," he replied. "And, we're off duty... you can ditch the titles." Kirk considered him thoughtfully as he sat down. "Thirsty? Can I get you anything?"
Tyler sat down uncomfortably. The seat was much more plush then the cushioned acrylic furniture he had. He had the vague sensation of sinking into the chair. It took him several attempts at adjusting himself before he was somewhat comfortable. "No thank you, uh... what do I call you?"
Kirk chuckled. "I'm pretty easy. Stephen, Steve, Kirk, I answer to just about anything. Well, you might want to leave honeybunch alone," He added with a smile. Tyler couldn't help but smile as well. "What's on your mind?"
Tyler took a deep breath. This wouldn't be easy for him. "It's... about my performance during the fight." Instinctively, he started rubbing his hands against his thighs.
The past couple of days had been quite a blurr for Stephen, so the details were still fuzzy. As far as he could remember, Tyler had performed as well as everyone else. Was there something? Possibly... his mind was starting to remember something, but it didn't give him the impression it was a big deal. "I thought you did pretty well."
Tyler scoffed. "Hardly! I almost got us all killed against that battleship." It was a painful admission to make, but in a blurt of frustration at himself, he said it.
That moment was starting to come back to Stephen now. It was a beginner's mistake... nothing major. The scene began replaying in his mind of the giant Dominion battleship coming around the rear of the Warlord. No matter what Tyler did, the ship remained behind them, where the Warlord's weapony was weakest. Stephen found words difficult to come by. "Well... I... I don't know that I'd go that far..."
"Well," Tyler countered, "that's what you said." That statement forced the rest of that memory into Stephen's head. He was right. A look of pained recognition crossed Stephen's face, prompting Tyler to offer forward his hands defensively. "Not that I blame you... you were right. I acted stupidly. I could have gotten us all killed, couldn't I?" The question was more rhetorical than actual. Despite his initial desire to remain calm, he was getting flustered. The desire to transfer somewhere less stressful was greater than ever.
The question threw Stephen off. Apparently, this had to be Tyler's first real setback. He rubbed his face hard enough to make his forehead red. "Well... no... but, well... okay, yes. Technically, yes... I suppose." Oh, how he wished he had the right words. Tyler's face looked completely deflated. Kirk looked up at him. "Look, if you were expecting to get through your entire career and not screw up at least once, you'd be the first... EVER."
Stephen sat back in his couch and looked at the young boy. Suddenly, memories of similar discussions he had with two of his former captains came to mind. He had been on the other side of this discussion many times in his life. He seemed to recall a certain Marine captain giving him a lecture like this, too. Despite the gravity of the discussion, he couldn't help but smile at the memories. Times were so much simpler then. His expression became thoughtful as he looked at the young ensign, who was on the verge of crying. "Tyler, listen to me. You graduated at the top of your class. That doesn't make you an expert in everything. Okay, you let the situation get the better of you and made a bad judgement call. Sometimes, even in the middle of a crisis, you need to take a step back and think things through."
"You didn't have to." Tyler was having a difficult time hearing someone else admit he had screwed up so badly, as if it wasn't bad enough having his own conscience reminding him. "You knew exactly what to do."
"What... you think I was born with that idea?" Kirk admitted with a wink. "I got that bright idea while I was the helmsman on the Victory." Stephen chuckled again. "It didn't work quite so well, then."
"Oh?" Tyler asked.
Kirk raised his eyebrows. "Heck no. Those old Excelsior frames aren't nearly as strong as the Warlord's. The shearing force of having the two engines go opposite directions tore off the starboard impulse engine," he said with a smile.
Tyler laughed. "You're kidding me."
Kirk covered his mouth with his hand as he shook his head. "Oh, no I'm not. I think I did more damage to that old Excelsior class than the other ship." The two laughed for several seconds. "All I'm trying to say is this... we all screw up every now and then. That's why you're not the only one on the bridge. That's why I'm not the only one on the bridge. We're a team. We cover for each other. Besides, other than that, you were spot-on perfect."
Tyler smiled for the first time in three days. "Thanks."
"So... we try to keep our screw-ups to a minimum knowing that if we do, there's someone to help. It's that whole 'team thing.' So, don't sweat it. You made a mistake. You'll make more. We all will. It's part of life. Just... you know... don't make a full-time job out of it."
Tyler's smile grew. He was feeling a little better. After all, that's what a team was for, right? "I'll try not to,"
"Good," Stephen concluded. However, for Stephen, there was one more thing he needed to do. "Tyler... I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I mean, I know we needed to do something quickly, but I could have chosen better words. I'm sorry for that."
"Don't worry about it," Tyler replied nonchalantly. "I needed a swift kick in the bum."