CHAPTER SEVEN
The trip to Earth was pretty much uneventful. Any apprehension Nechayev had on traveling with a living legend shortly disappeared, as he rarely showed himself. Apollo spent most of the time in his quarters, meditating. On the way back, Apollo had received a strange... feeling was the closest term he could use; yet it was both more and less than that, though he couldn't exactly comprehend how. What he did feel after it left was a deep feeling of loneliness, though he wasn't sure where it came from.
Nothing much had changed on Earth since the last time he had set foot there; the only significant changes he could see was in the different types of transportation. As he and Nechayev walked past Starfleet Headquarters on their way to the Presidio, where the President was currently in office, Apollo saw an elderly man tending to the landscape. Suddenly, the man stopped and looked up at him. He gave Apollo a small smile, nodding knowingly, and returned to his work. Apollo didn't know what to think of that, but kept on walking.
As they entered the Presidio, the first thing that hit Apollo was the fact that they had gotten rid of those drab gray walls, in favor of more earthy tones. The decor was more stylish and pleasing to the eye. They walked through one door that opened for them to find someone sitting behind a desk. He saw the two officers approach his desk and stood. "Ah, Admiral Nechayev, welcome back."
She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you Mr. President. May I present Captain Apollo A. Racer. Captain Racer, this President Jaresh-Inyo."
Apollo dipped his head a little lower than Nechayev had. "A pleasure, Mr. President."
"The pleasure is all mine, Captain. It is a great honor to meet one of the Federation's finest officers," said Jaresh-Inyo.
Apollo felt a tinge of red entering his face. "To be honest, sir, I didn't even think of myself by that during my time; I certainly don't feel that I deserve it now."
"Modesty is not one of your strengths, Captain. I've been through your file, I know what you've accomplished in the past. No, the restrictions you placed on your archive have not surpassed its one hundred-year limit, however since I am President, those files were accessible to me. Using my own judgement, I allowed Admiral Nechayev access to those files as well."
"Then... you know why I..."
The president interrupted. "I know that several decades ago, a Starfleet officer suffered a great tragedy, and now, after all these years, he's come back home. I can do nothing but welcome you back after a long absence."
"I... don't know what to say, Mr. President," Apollo said, clearly surprised. "Were I to have returned to Earth, or a starbase, when it happened, there would almost certainly have been at the very least a board of inquiry, if not court-martial proceedings."
"This may have been true. But you're here now. Besides, shortly before you left DS9, I received a report, which explained your case. Now, I don't wish to sound like I'm dismissing you just as you've arrived, but I need to discuss this information with Admiral Nechayev." Apollo tried to judge Jaresh-Inyo's words by his tone, but his voice remained deep, even, and soothing the entire time.
"Very well, Mr. President. It was an honor meeting you."
"I think I can share in that honor, Captain."
"I'll contact you later when we've finished here, Captain," Nechayev said. Apollo nodded and walked out.
He left the buildings and just began strolling; he half hoped he would see that groundskeeper, but there was no trace of him.
Before long, he found himself wandering outside Starfleet's grounds. He stopped by all of the places he visited during the times he was here. Any shop or restaurant still open had new management, of course, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that some of his haunts were still there.
His walk took him to a park along San Francisco Bay. The water was very calm and serene, and the people he saw along the way all smiled and greeted him. Again, as years before, he marveled that the Golden Gate Bridge was still standing, though a placard he had read somewhere in the park stated that it had been restored long ago. His thoughts started to stray when he felt a familiar presence. "That's the second time you've tried to approach me from behind, Commander. Don't you remember what happened before?" Befre giving her a chance to answer, he added, "I want to apologize for what happened back on the station."
He slowed, and allowed Troi to catch up with him. "It's all right," she replied. "After what you showed me, I suppose I can't really blame you for your actions. Besides, no damage was done." She paused a moment. "I trust you're in better control this time, though. Before, when I tested you mind, there were shields erected, rigid and ill fitting. This time, your control is more subtle, easier on the mind."
He allowed a small smile onto his face. "You can thank the Vulcans for that, Counselor," he said, "it was their training and disciplines that allow me to clean up the clutter in this thick skull of mine." He paused, taking in the scenery, and allowing her to stroll with him. "I take it the report the president mentioned to me was yours."
She nodded. "Captain Picard thought that you could use a little assistance. Besides, I have been the only one who has recently had access to your mind." She noticed he slowed a little, and sensed melancholy from Apollo. "That's the second time I sensed that feeling in you. Who was she?"
He looked sharply at Troi, but then realized she meant no ill will toward him. He sighed. "She... was my science officer aboard the Valiant. She was also..." He hesitated. He slowed even more, then stopped when Troi moved in front of him. She silently waited as he took a sharp breath. "She was also my wife."
She could tell that although he only looked slightly upset on the outside, the pain was much deeper within. "I'm sorry. I..."
Suddenly she flinched as yet another layer of shields snapped down in his mind. Now, he may as well not even exist as much as she could sense him. Apollo straightened, and the look in his eyes was hard and cold. "It was a long time ago, Counselor. It's about time I left it there."
As if on cue, Apollo's combadge beeped, and he tapped it. "Racer here."
The voice on the other end belonged to Nechayev. "Captain, we finished our discussion. But we won't need you for another couple of days. Would you like us to arrange quarters for you at billeting?"
Apollo thought for a moment. "I take it my apartment across the bay wouldn't still be available after all these years," he said quietly to Troi.
She slowly shook her head. "I would probably find that unlikely."
He nodded. "Um, that won't be necessary, sir. Am I to assume that I'm under no restriction to remain onplanet?"
There was a moment of silence before he heard a reply. "Well... no. But of course, you'd have to remain close enough where you could report fairly promptly. Where did you have in mind?"
A slight grin appeared on his face. "I... have a place I haven't been to in a while." He did some calculations in his head. "It's about a day's journey, I believe."
More silence on the other end. "Very well, Captain. We'll send someone for you in... four days?"
"Thank you, sir. I'll leave the coordinates with the flight controllers before I leave."
"Nechayev out." The connection ended.
Apollo looked at Troi's perplexed expression. "There is a... a place relatively nearby. I'll be staying there if anyone wishes to speak with me. As I said, I'll leave behind my location before I go. Now, do you have anywhere specific you need to go right now, or would like to walk with me to the spaceport? I'll give you another chance to pick my brain." He offered her his arm.
Troi smiled. "That would be nice." She took his arm. "Just so long as I don't have to get in your head."
He chuckled. "No, I think I can help you out fine by just talking." They carried on a more pleasant conversation on the way back to Headquarters.
~ * ~
On a small peaceful planet in Federation territory, the inhabitants of a city were moving about with urgency. Their local defense coordinator had warned of a number of ships moving into their system. As these ships would not respond to standard Federation hails, It could only be assumed that they had less than friendly intentions. The militia was preparing to defend their planet; their chosen pilots boarded ships that would go out into space to meet these newcomers, while the rest of their force manned the planetary defense systems. A group of doctors from the hospital were taking their injured people into underground structures that would withstand a planetary bombardment.
Almost all of them made it underground. When the last of the groups noticed landing craft approaching the city, they realized two things. One: that the starship that the Federation said they were sending either was either called elsewhere, or the force approaching their world had destroyed it. As Starfleet had faithfully served their people for a hundred years, the leaders suspected the latter was the case. Which led to the second revelation: their defense force was not coming home, for their ships certainly would be no match for the approaching fleet.
It had turned out only partially true. Five ships, three Cardassian, two Jem'Hadar, had approached. The defending ships had managed to take out one of the Cardassian ships before most of them were destroyed. One ship, badly damaged, got through the enemy's barrage, and collided with one of the Jem'Hadar ships, destroying both in the process. And one Cardassian ship sustained serious damage, but still limped toward the planet.
The remaining invaders were still enough to send troops down to the planet. The parents and grandparents among the people relived the stories they told their children, as for the first time in almost a hundred years, their cities were looted and pillaged, their people raped and killed. The healthy ones were herded to a carrier to be brought back to the ships as slaves. As the Cardassians over saw the lines of people being brought through, they were heard to remark at how easy the raid was. The only difficulty experienced was that one of the prisoners, surprisingly, a human female, had given some resistance. She had fought with an unexplained ferocity, but in the end, they subdued her and brought her along. It was thought that this person would survive well in the labor camps.
When there was no one left around. They burned the city to the ground, reboarded their landing crafts, and returned to their ships.