I took a deep breath.

Then I keyed in my override code.

The room inside was silent and dark. I passed my hand over the sensor and the lights came on, illuminating its total emptiness. Malcolm wasn't here.

He never would be, ever again.

This was the worst part. Surely, this had to be the worst part. Seeing the neatly-made bunk and tidy shelves, the PADDs stacked beside the computer screen, the lithograph of HMS Victory that was the room's only ornament; the notice board without a single letter or a photograph on it, and the cabinet door neatly closed, hiding the spare uniforms and civilian clothes that I knew were hanging in regimented order behind it. Even the toiletries in the bathroom were arranged in height order on the shelf, neat as a row of little soldiers, and the towel the room's owner had used that morning was folded on top of the laundry bag rather than just chucked into it anyhow like mine always were.

I moved forward. My feet felt like they were made of lead. I wanted to feel some kind of connection to my lost buddy, but there was nothing here. Malcolm always had been way too good at hiding everything that was personal, like he had no connection to anyone or anything; like he didn't come from a family like everyone else but had been produced in some goddamn weapons factory for the express use of Starfleet.

I knew that wasn't true. As long and slow and tough as the process had been, I'd discovered the human being beneath that stiff outer shell, a man I'd been proud to call a friend. There might still be a lot I didn't know about him, and now I never would, but I knew I'd lost another piece of my world.

"For nothing." I didn't know I'd spoken aloud till the words echoed in the silent room. "You died for nothing, Malcolm. We didn't get a goddamn thing out of that mine. We just left you buried in it."

I sat down on the bunk and buried my face in my hands. Hot, desolate tears spilled between my fingers. First Lizzie and now Malcolm. How many others was I going to lose before we were through?

The chime startled me. For a couple of seconds I thought about refusing to answer, but whoever it was sure wasn't calling to speak to Malcolm. "Come." Defiantly, I scrubbed a hand across my eyes but made no more effort than that to hide what I'd been doing. Crying over the death of a pal wasn't something I was ashamed of.

I wasn't sure who I'd expected it to be, but I definitely hadn't expected to see Travis.

"Commander, I … I'm sorry for intruding," he mumbled, obviously mortified at having interrupted private grieving.

"'S okay. Guess you wouldn't have come lookin' for me if it wasn't important. Spill the beans, Travis."

However, it seemed he was finding it difficult to make a start on whatever he'd come to say. He came into the cabin and closed the door behind him, and stood there looking around a mite desperately, as though he was hoping to find inspiration from the lithograph of HMS Victory or the spine of one of the books on military history and tactics that were lined up precisely on the shelf above the bunk. Maybe he'd never been inside Malcolm's quarters before, and couldn't believe how Spartan they were.

"I guess it's hit all of us pretty hard," I said bleakly, at last, suspecting that Travis had found out where I was and just come to keep me company; it was the sort of kindness I'd expect from him, knowing him as well as I did from all the years we'd served aboard Enterprise together.

That morning, I'd been on the Bridge when the captain had finally given the order to break orbit, leaving the planetoid to continue its lonely path through the darkness of space. The command was the final admission that if there ever had been any hope, there wasn't any more, and there was an instant's complete silence before Travis acknowledged the order and obeyed it. Recalling that moment, I went on softly, "It'll take a while before … before I won't look across to Tactical when I come up on the Bridge and expect to see him…"

"I guess," admitted Travis. But he still seemed kind of uneasy, and I looked at him more closely.

"You came after me for something, right? So what was it?"

Travis hesitated, stared at the floor for a moment, and then seemed to finally make his mind up. "Sir, I … I think you should to talk to Hoshi."

I squinted at him. "Hoshi?"

"Yes, sir." He was clearly unhappy, and it wouldn't do any good to question him any further; and he definitely wouldn't have spoken if he hadn't thought it was necessary.

"You think I … No, cancel that. Thanks for tellin' me, Travis."

He nodded and left the room.

I sat on for a little longer. Presently, not knowing quite why I did it, I ran my fingers lightly over the buttons of Malcolm's alarm clock. The alarm was still switched on, and the movement of my index finger switching it off felt somehow overwhelmingly final.

Malcolm was gone.

And the ship had to go on without him.

It was as simple as that.

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