MISSIONTO DALETH IV
by Soledad
For disclaimer, rating, etc., see the Foreword.
The Epilogue takes place nearly two years after the actual story, also late in the year 2271. Chronologically, it ties in immediately after the first story of the "Lost Years" series, the one titled "The Joy Machine". Danielle DuMolin is a character from that story. Dr. Lawton (here only mentioned) is the former Yeoman Tina Lawton from the first season TOS-episode "The Enemy Within".
EPILOGUE
Elba II was quite different from the unfriendly, life-threatening world it had been during the visit of Captain Kirk's Enterprise, two years earlier. Although the atmosphere of the small planet – one of the same size as Mars Solis – was still poisonous, and so life was only possible under sealed domes, terraforming had already begun. The first signs of life had already stirred in the small oceans, and Donald Cory, governor of the colony and leader of the rehab facility that was now openly acknowledged as a psychiatric hospital was working with youthful energy on the next steps of this enormous task.
Lieutenant Burt had met Governor Cory several times and found him a very likeable man. The round-faced, middle-aged Asian seemed genuinely concerned about his patients. At the moment, they had an unusually big crowd, aside from the usual Starfleet Intelligence and Security officers who needed rehab treatment after some dangerous, covert mission – which happened more often than people would think. Additionally those patients, there were dozens of former addicts from Thimsel, who still needed some rehab therapy.
One of them, a gentle-faced blond woman, came up to Burt and smiled at him hesitantly.
"Hello… I'm Danielle DuMolin, one of the voluntary helpers here," she had a nice French accent, rolling her "r"s rather pleasantly. "Can I help you?"
"Lieutenant Gregory Burt," the Centaurian nodded. "I'm looking for Commander Jonathan Drake. We were told that he'd be released today."
"Just a moment," Ms DuMolin walked over to the computer terminal and looked up the name. "Ah oui, that's correct. Can you wait here in the foyer for a minute? I'll call him. Dr. Lawton, his doctor is already working on his release papers."
Burt nodded again and prepared himself for a lengthy wait. In his experience, hospitals were sluggish when it came to paperwork. To his surprise, however, some ten minutes later he could already see Jon running down the steps lightly, with his usual grace, in a fresh and crisp new uniform, wearing the rank strips of a full commander. He had his hair again, barely longer than usually, but surprisingly, also a neatly trimmed, full beard, and his eyes, now back to their natural coffee brown colour, were blessedly clear again.
"Greg!" he grinned happily and greeted his friend with a spontaneous hug. Burt stiffened for a moment, the gesture waking memories he didn't necessarily want to relive right now. But he overcame his momentary resistance for Jon's sake, who seemed genuinely happy to see him.
"You look good, Jon," was all he said, returning the hug briefly. It was the understatement of the year. With the beard that gave his boyish face a dashing manliness, Jon looked positively gorgeous.
"I feel good," Jon assured him. "Those were long years, despite the ungodly amount of work Dad heaped upon my head. Sometimes I thought I'd go crazy, so bad were the withdrawal symptoms, but in the end, it was worth the torture. I'm clean."
"Clean of kireshet… but what about the other thing?" Burt asked seriously. Jon's smile faded a little.
"You mean whether I am still a crazed sex junkie or not?" he asked back, with a good portion of self-irony. Burt nodded, and Jon shrugged. "Seems that I'm not. The urge is gone… though I still do find the ladies most enticing."
"That's comforting to hear," Burt replied dryly, and Jon regretted the joke at once.
"Oh God, Greg, I'm sorry! It was really tasteless of me… after all that you've done for me!"
Burt raised a finger to interrupt his self-accusations.
"I did what had to be done, Jon," he said. "What each of us would have done. I was just the best qualified person for the job, that's all."
"No, that's not all, and we both know it," Jon said grimly. "That's why we have to talk."
"About what?" Burt shrugged. Jon rolled his eyes.
"Well, what about us? About what comes now? About he future? Whatever."
"It's all taken care of," Burt replied calmly.
Jon raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Really? Says who?"
Burt nodded. "Really, Jon. I've requested a transfer to the Romulan Neutral Zone. It's been granted. I'll leave in two days."
Jon looked stricken. "A transfer? Why?"
"You have to ask?" Burt laughed mirthlessly. Jon sighed.
"Nah. It's because of me, isn't it?"
"Of course," Burt said. "It's better so, Jon, believe me. I'm an independent agent anyway, and since your whole unit knows what happened… it'd be awkward for everyone."
"That's true," Jon admitted, "but I hoped we could find a way to deal with it. We are a family, after all."
"You and the others are a family," Burt corrected quietly. "I just work with your people time and again."
"But you are my friend," Jon said, a little dispirited. "I'd hate to lose you."
"You won't lose me as a friend," Burt promised. "We just won't work together for a while. I've been on missions while you were here, too, after all. And I'm still here, am I not?"
"For a while?" Jon repeated. "So you'd consider working with us again, right?"
Burt shrugged and smiled again. "Whenever a case demands. That has always been our priority, hasn't it? Otherwise we wouldn't be in this mess to begin with."
"True again," Jon sighed. "I still wish you wouldn't go. We worked well together."
"I know," Burt said. "And if I wouldn't… if I weren't…"
"If you weren't in love with me," Jon supplied. "Don't be afraid to say it, Greg."
"If I weren't in love with you," Burt nodded again. "It would still be awkward… but we might be able to deal with what happened. But not so. Not now, that you know about it. Not for a while."
"We… we could try to…" Jon trailed off, uncertainly, and Burt shook his head at once.
"Oh, no, Jon. It won't work. You've never been interested, and this is not the right time for experiments. You've barely recovered from your addiction… and you don't owe me anything. Especially not something you don't really want. No, I think separation would be the best for both of us – and for the entire unit."
"Perhaps," Jon admitted reluctantly. After a while, he looked at his friend again and smiled. "The Romulan Neutral Zone, eh?"
"It matches my profile," Burt said with a shrug. "I speak several Romulan dialects, have good contacts in the Empire… I'll be a most useful agent there."
"Just be careful," Jon warned.
"You, too," Burt gave him a brief hug, not one between two lovers but that of two fellow soldiers. "We'll see us again. But I have to go now. Blessings, my friend."
"Blessings," Jon repeated the traditional Centaurian greeting, but Burt was already out of the door.
"I thought your friend came to take you home," Danielle DuMolin said with a frown. She had just come back from Director Cory's office and was surprised to find Jon alone. Jon shook his head.
"Nah, he just came to say his farewells. He's going on a long mission, and it seems we won't be seeing much of each other any time, soon."
"That's sad," Danielle said softly. "He must be a very good friend of yours, travelling all the way, just to say good-bye personally, instead of a subspace message."
"We served together for a long time," Jon answered evasively. "He saved my life more than once."
"I see," Danielle paused. She was a very perceptive woman, and Jon knew she sensed that there was more. But to his surprise she didn't push the issue as many other people would have done. "How are you going to get out of here then?" was all she asked.
Jon looked at the main entrance and smiled, seeing the tall, elegantly greying, dark-skinned man, wearing the black dress uniform of Starfleet Intelligence, entering the foyer.
"I think my escort has just arrived," he said.
Danielle eyed the newcomer curiously, recognizing the golden rank insignia of a Starfleet Commodore.
"Is that your father?" she asked, noticing the resemblance, slight as it might be.
"In his spare time," Jon grinned wryly. "Usually, though, he is my boss."
But Commodore Didier Drake Reed seemed to be in one of his rare paternal moods today. He crossed the foyer with a few long strides, spotting his firstborn among all those civilians, and patted Jon on the shoulder with genuine affection.
"It's good to see you, son. How are you doing?"
Jon shrugged. "I'm fine, Dad. Will be even better, once I left this place. No offence to the docs, they were great, but you know how much I hate hospitals."
His father nodded, seizing him with narrowed eyes. "I like the beard," he decided. "By the way, was it Greg Burt I've just seen leaving for the shuttle port?"
"He came to say good-bye," Jon said. "I'm sorry to see him go, but under the circumstances, it's probably the best."
"You are right," his father agreed. "We discussed the issue with him, the Admiral and I, and came to the same conclusion. So. Do you have your release papers already?"
"Dr. Lawson is preparing them right now. It won't take but a few minutes."
"I hope so, because we have to catch the Astral Queen, and she's leaving orbit within the hour."
"The Astral Queen?" Jon looked at his father in surprise. "I thought you'd come with a courier yacht."
The commodore shrugged. "I'm not officially here. I just came to take my son home. Besides, Captain Daily is always great fun to travel with... he and that Andorian XO of his. Are you packed, son?"
"Since yesterday."
"Well, then let's get your papers and go home, shall we?"
The End -
