DISCLAIMER: None of these characters belong to me. They belong to Paramount and are used here without permission. Please don't sue, all I can offer you is a broken computer and the pennies in my old peanut butter jar.
Author's Note: Thanks goes to Starbaby, whose Voyager series (The Last to Go, The Road Home, Sundowning, Annika's Fields, and On the Hill) inspired me to write this. Please enjoy!
Time of Your Life
It's something unpredictable,
But in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
--Green Day, "Time of Your Life"
Jonathon Archer sat outside on his balcony over the bay and watched the stars come out. It was the one indulgence to the old days that he allowed himself. When he had returned to Earth, no longer a captain but an Admiral, he had done his best to accept his new life. As new starships rode out to battle Klingons, form new alliances, and expand the boundaries of charted space, he tried to content himself with his desk, a mountain of paperwork, and second-hand knowledge of the galaxy. When asked for the millionth time how he had felt to leave Enterprise, he gave a practiced smile and spoke about his fondness for the Enterprise and her crew. The words always rang hollow in his own ears, but the others just smiled and nodded their understanding. Of course they didn't. No one could understand the emptyness he had felt as his shuttle carried him back to San Francisco. But no, he smiled and kept busy, reading reports and being nagged by his yeomen about his schedule.
And now those days were behind him, and the second-hand knowledge was gone, leaving him to read about the new adventures and exploration in the newspaper. Strangely enough, this did not bother him. Oh, he missed the old days, but in a way he had finally made peace with the loss of the Enterprise. Perhaps it was simply a natural consequence of old age, the quiet acceptance of one's life.
And yet, he was unable to completely turn away from the stars. They were in his blood, and he still felt a yearning to fly among them with every beat of his heart. A few decades ago he had fantasized nearly every day about stealing a shuttlecraft and flying back out there, to revisit familiar worlds and once more feel the pulse of the galaxy in his soul. Now those dreams had faded, and he recalled them with a smile as the natural restlessness of middle-age. The call had quieted, but he knew that it would never be silent. Every night found him out here, tracing Enterprise's adventures through the stars. That one over there was where they had found their first M-class planet. He smiled, remembering how Porthos had streaked across the green field, his crew's eagerness to set foot on solid ground again and see a blue sky, and T'Pol's indignant expression as Trip took their picture. Around that one was Risa, now the most popular shore leave spot in the galaxy. Over there hung the Klingon homeworld. He had been one of the first humans to see it, and even now when hostility between their two races was high, he could not hate them. It had taken a great amount of time, energy, and misunderstandings, but he had finally begun to respect them. Yes, they were violent and illogical, but they were also loyal, honorable, and unfailingly brave. He only hoped that one day there would be peace.
He smiled, imagining how vehemently Malcolm would have disagreed with him. Malcolm had been as brave, honorable, and loyal as the greatest Klingon warrier. Malcolm's death had been as brave as his life, sacrificing himself to save his ship and crew from destruction by Klingons. Jon liked to think that Malcolm would have been proud of such a death. He had died a warrior.
Thinking about Malcolm's death always reminded him of Travis'. The young, eager ensign had flown up the ranks. When most of the crew had returned to Earth, Travis had remained in space, unwilling to leave the only home he had ever known. He had died in a brilliant explosion, his body returned to the empty void from which it had come. Jon had cried for him, and for Malcolm, but now he smiled for both. He knew that Travis was happy, flying among the stars forever.
The crew had long ago scattered to the winds, but he still heard from his senior staff regularly. Hoshi came by to visit him often. Hoshi had been an unwilling member of the crew, dragged kicking and screaming from the safety of Earth. But she had grown to love the stars, and she had cried when Enterprise was decommissioned. She was still teaching at Starfleet Academy, scolding eager young cadets on their pronunciation, but a dark shadow loomed over her life. Every year the universal translators grew better, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she became useless. And yet she moved on, stubbornly clinging to her declensions and conjugations. She had conquered her fear of space, her terror of Klingons, and her dislike of the environmental suits. She was certainly not about to admit defeat to a computer program that she had helped to create. Her eyes were dimmer now, but there was still a sparkle in them. Her mind was still sharp, and her tongue could still make sounds that made his ears hurt. Underneath all of the wrinkles and gray hair, she was still Hoshi.
From Dr. Phlox there were only letters. He had not seen the cheery Denobulian in decades, but he remembered him for his unfailing good temper and fascination with humans. He also remembered him as a constant source of good advice. At first glance, he appeared almost childlike with his excitement for food and human behavior. In time he began to see that the humans were the children, that Phlox had an understanding of other races that Archer was still struggling to develop. It had been Phlox who had forced him to consider the larger picture and refuse to interfere in the Valakians' culture. That decision still haunted him, but he knew that Phlox had been right. Archer still thought of the Menk, and hoped that one day they would find their way among the stars.
As for T'Pol, she had returned to Vulcan to marry and start her own family a long time ago. Unlike the others, she remained nearly untouched by the passing years. Someday soon, she would be all that remained of the Enterprise. He hoped that she would remember them fondly. He only wished that he had taught her half as much as she had taught him. In his youth he had been so hostile to Vulcans, completely unwilling to listen to them. She had opened up his mind and forced him to overcome his own prejudice. He would love her forever for that.
The sky was darker now. He should go inside. Trip was coming tomorrow to see him. Ah, Trip. They had begun the mission as friends, practically brothers, and even now they were still friends. Miles lay between them now -- Trip had married and had children and grandchildren. His life was full of stories and laughter and people. And yet Trip remained stubbornly devoted to his captain and best friend. Without him, Jon knew that he would never have made it through the first few years after Enterprise was decommissioned. Trip had also turned his back on the stars, and despite his friend's happiness, Jon knew that he too mourned the loss of that magical time. But Trip had made a life on Earth. His children were Starfleet officers, and now it was his grandchildren who sat and listened as Trip spun wild tales about the Temporal Cold War, Zobral and the trek through the desert, and the strange raiders who had incapacitated the entire ship in search of treasure.
Tomorrow, Jon knew, they would stick to light subjects. They did not speak of Malcolm or Travis' deaths, or Hoshi's struggle against obsolescence. They would talk about the first visit to an M-class planet or the Xyrillians. Jon smiled. Trip had certainly earned himself a place in history -- his name appeared in a footnote of the Starfleet Medical textbook as the only human male to ever become pregnant. He remembered his friend's shock when his children had told him. Yes, he would definitely remind Trip of that. He would enjoy seeing the look on Trip's face. Perhaps it was immature to get so much enjoyment out of his friend's embarrassment, but Jon had learned to take pleasure where one could find it. Moments like that took him back to a simpler time, when they had been young and the galaxy had been new. Oh how he missed those times.
The sky was nearly black now. A cool breeze blew, and he inhaled a salty breath of fresh air. He would go inside in a minute, but he needed just one more look at the stars. They shone just as brightly as they had when he was a boy. So much distance stood between that young, innocent boy and the old man he was now, but the love of the stars remained. They beckoned to him, promising adventures and wonderful sights, but he knew that it was someone else's time now. He remembered the bright, eager cadets he had seen the last time he had gone to visit Hoshi at Starfleet Academy. The stars belonged to them now.
But oh, how he missed them.
Author's Note: Thanks goes to Starbaby, whose Voyager series (The Last to Go, The Road Home, Sundowning, Annika's Fields, and On the Hill) inspired me to write this. Please enjoy!
Time of Your Life
It's something unpredictable,
But in the end it's right.
I hope you had the time of your life.
--Green Day, "Time of Your Life"
Jonathon Archer sat outside on his balcony over the bay and watched the stars come out. It was the one indulgence to the old days that he allowed himself. When he had returned to Earth, no longer a captain but an Admiral, he had done his best to accept his new life. As new starships rode out to battle Klingons, form new alliances, and expand the boundaries of charted space, he tried to content himself with his desk, a mountain of paperwork, and second-hand knowledge of the galaxy. When asked for the millionth time how he had felt to leave Enterprise, he gave a practiced smile and spoke about his fondness for the Enterprise and her crew. The words always rang hollow in his own ears, but the others just smiled and nodded their understanding. Of course they didn't. No one could understand the emptyness he had felt as his shuttle carried him back to San Francisco. But no, he smiled and kept busy, reading reports and being nagged by his yeomen about his schedule.
And now those days were behind him, and the second-hand knowledge was gone, leaving him to read about the new adventures and exploration in the newspaper. Strangely enough, this did not bother him. Oh, he missed the old days, but in a way he had finally made peace with the loss of the Enterprise. Perhaps it was simply a natural consequence of old age, the quiet acceptance of one's life.
And yet, he was unable to completely turn away from the stars. They were in his blood, and he still felt a yearning to fly among them with every beat of his heart. A few decades ago he had fantasized nearly every day about stealing a shuttlecraft and flying back out there, to revisit familiar worlds and once more feel the pulse of the galaxy in his soul. Now those dreams had faded, and he recalled them with a smile as the natural restlessness of middle-age. The call had quieted, but he knew that it would never be silent. Every night found him out here, tracing Enterprise's adventures through the stars. That one over there was where they had found their first M-class planet. He smiled, remembering how Porthos had streaked across the green field, his crew's eagerness to set foot on solid ground again and see a blue sky, and T'Pol's indignant expression as Trip took their picture. Around that one was Risa, now the most popular shore leave spot in the galaxy. Over there hung the Klingon homeworld. He had been one of the first humans to see it, and even now when hostility between their two races was high, he could not hate them. It had taken a great amount of time, energy, and misunderstandings, but he had finally begun to respect them. Yes, they were violent and illogical, but they were also loyal, honorable, and unfailingly brave. He only hoped that one day there would be peace.
He smiled, imagining how vehemently Malcolm would have disagreed with him. Malcolm had been as brave, honorable, and loyal as the greatest Klingon warrier. Malcolm's death had been as brave as his life, sacrificing himself to save his ship and crew from destruction by Klingons. Jon liked to think that Malcolm would have been proud of such a death. He had died a warrior.
Thinking about Malcolm's death always reminded him of Travis'. The young, eager ensign had flown up the ranks. When most of the crew had returned to Earth, Travis had remained in space, unwilling to leave the only home he had ever known. He had died in a brilliant explosion, his body returned to the empty void from which it had come. Jon had cried for him, and for Malcolm, but now he smiled for both. He knew that Travis was happy, flying among the stars forever.
The crew had long ago scattered to the winds, but he still heard from his senior staff regularly. Hoshi came by to visit him often. Hoshi had been an unwilling member of the crew, dragged kicking and screaming from the safety of Earth. But she had grown to love the stars, and she had cried when Enterprise was decommissioned. She was still teaching at Starfleet Academy, scolding eager young cadets on their pronunciation, but a dark shadow loomed over her life. Every year the universal translators grew better, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before she became useless. And yet she moved on, stubbornly clinging to her declensions and conjugations. She had conquered her fear of space, her terror of Klingons, and her dislike of the environmental suits. She was certainly not about to admit defeat to a computer program that she had helped to create. Her eyes were dimmer now, but there was still a sparkle in them. Her mind was still sharp, and her tongue could still make sounds that made his ears hurt. Underneath all of the wrinkles and gray hair, she was still Hoshi.
From Dr. Phlox there were only letters. He had not seen the cheery Denobulian in decades, but he remembered him for his unfailing good temper and fascination with humans. He also remembered him as a constant source of good advice. At first glance, he appeared almost childlike with his excitement for food and human behavior. In time he began to see that the humans were the children, that Phlox had an understanding of other races that Archer was still struggling to develop. It had been Phlox who had forced him to consider the larger picture and refuse to interfere in the Valakians' culture. That decision still haunted him, but he knew that Phlox had been right. Archer still thought of the Menk, and hoped that one day they would find their way among the stars.
As for T'Pol, she had returned to Vulcan to marry and start her own family a long time ago. Unlike the others, she remained nearly untouched by the passing years. Someday soon, she would be all that remained of the Enterprise. He hoped that she would remember them fondly. He only wished that he had taught her half as much as she had taught him. In his youth he had been so hostile to Vulcans, completely unwilling to listen to them. She had opened up his mind and forced him to overcome his own prejudice. He would love her forever for that.
The sky was darker now. He should go inside. Trip was coming tomorrow to see him. Ah, Trip. They had begun the mission as friends, practically brothers, and even now they were still friends. Miles lay between them now -- Trip had married and had children and grandchildren. His life was full of stories and laughter and people. And yet Trip remained stubbornly devoted to his captain and best friend. Without him, Jon knew that he would never have made it through the first few years after Enterprise was decommissioned. Trip had also turned his back on the stars, and despite his friend's happiness, Jon knew that he too mourned the loss of that magical time. But Trip had made a life on Earth. His children were Starfleet officers, and now it was his grandchildren who sat and listened as Trip spun wild tales about the Temporal Cold War, Zobral and the trek through the desert, and the strange raiders who had incapacitated the entire ship in search of treasure.
Tomorrow, Jon knew, they would stick to light subjects. They did not speak of Malcolm or Travis' deaths, or Hoshi's struggle against obsolescence. They would talk about the first visit to an M-class planet or the Xyrillians. Jon smiled. Trip had certainly earned himself a place in history -- his name appeared in a footnote of the Starfleet Medical textbook as the only human male to ever become pregnant. He remembered his friend's shock when his children had told him. Yes, he would definitely remind Trip of that. He would enjoy seeing the look on Trip's face. Perhaps it was immature to get so much enjoyment out of his friend's embarrassment, but Jon had learned to take pleasure where one could find it. Moments like that took him back to a simpler time, when they had been young and the galaxy had been new. Oh how he missed those times.
The sky was nearly black now. A cool breeze blew, and he inhaled a salty breath of fresh air. He would go inside in a minute, but he needed just one more look at the stars. They shone just as brightly as they had when he was a boy. So much distance stood between that young, innocent boy and the old man he was now, but the love of the stars remained. They beckoned to him, promising adventures and wonderful sights, but he knew that it was someone else's time now. He remembered the bright, eager cadets he had seen the last time he had gone to visit Hoshi at Starfleet Academy. The stars belonged to them now.
But oh, how he missed them.