David's apartment, London
Late afternoon, Monday 14th February 1994
For the second time that afternoon, David came awake with a start. Groaning, he sat up, his head pounding as the mother of all headaches made itself known. His ears were ringing, and it felt like a brass band was parading through his skull. He grimaced. No, that at least was an exaggeration; it was just the noise from the partying in the street. The whole city seemed to have gone mad! And… was that fireworks? It wasn't even dark yet. He glanced at the window just in time to witness a shimmering display of green, red and gold, followed by a bang and the sound of cheers.
His stomach gurgled and he frowned, realising he was hungry. He should get himself something to eat and drink, and do something about the headache. He eyed the remains of last night's takeaway with disfavour. Sitting on the coffee table, surrounded by empty beer cans, the box was open, revealing an enormous pizza, heavily laden with pepperoni, spicy meat, and jalapeños, and smothered with a congealed mass of mozzarella. He'd eaten about half of it… not to mention a large portion of chips… fries, rather; they'd been those awful, thin-cut things that fast food places served, not proper English chips made from real potatoes. They had tasted like fried cardboard, but he'd eaten them anyway.
McCoy would not be impressed. The other doctor had given him strict warnings about his diet. It was embarrassing that he'd let his arteries get into such poor condition and he'd resolved to do better. McCoy was not here, though, and nor was the Enterprise. Nor, for that matter was Sarah. The call of the future had been too much for her to resist. He couldn't really blame her for that; how could he deny her the opportunity to travel in space, to visit other worlds?
Why hadn't he gone with them, he wondered suddenly? There was nothing to keep him here except his stupid pride. So, he'd have had to go back to college for a couple of years… was learning new things really such a scary idea? If he'd thought there was any chance of salvaging his relationship with Sarah, he might have done it, but she'd let her anger at his sister drive a wedge between them. They'd fought over it, not just once or twice but constantly, and eventually, she'd gone one step further, telling him that he too was a collaborator and a traitor to Earth. He would have given up everything for her, followed her anywhere she wanted to go… still would, but she didn't want it… and besides, it was too late. Enterprise was gone now.
The Klingons were gone as well. He'd known they were leaving long before it became public knowledge… before the bells and the shouting and the celebrations in the streets. That had all started a couple of hours ago and it didn't seem to be stopping. He remembered waking up to find himself sprawled on the sofa, cold and hungover. No change there, he thought bitterly, although thanks to putting the heating on, he was at least, no longer cold. He'd heard the bells first, loud and discordant, the wild clanging reverberating through his skull like… his brain was too fuzzy to think of a decent metaphor and he gave up the attempt. Whatever it had been like, it was painful. The sound of shouting had followed, and… was that singing? Whatever it was, he wished they would shut up or go somewhere else.
Irritably, he'd got to his feet and made his unsteady way to the window. The street was full and he could see people congregating in the park across the road. Shouting, singing, dancing… anyone would think England had just won the World Cup!
He caught sight of his downstairs neighbour, talking animatedly with someone David didn't recognise. The old man was a decent sort, if something of a busybody and he decided to ask what all the fuss was about. With some difficulty, fingers fumbling with the catch, David slid the old-fashioned sash window upwards and leaned out. "Mr Barnes… Hey… Mr Barnes…!" He had to shout to be heard, something that, combined with the blast of cold air, did not do either his headache or his mood any good.
"Hey! Doctor David…" The old man waved vigorously at him. "Come on down and join us!"
"What's going on?"
"Haven't you heard? The aliens have gone!" Mr Barnes was almost dancing up and down with excitement and joy. "It's Freedom Day! Come and join the party!"
Not bothering to answer, David pulled the window shut, wincing as it slammed into its casement with an audible thud. "Happy Freedom Day," he muttered. "And Happy Valentines… So much for love and lovers and all that sentimental claptrap!"
He vaguely remembered returning to the comfort of the couch, where he'd sat down and reached for the half-empty bottle of whisky. Single malt. None of that Kentucky bourbon rubbish that McCoy had served him. No, this was the real thing. Twenty-year-old Talisker, smooth, light, and eminently drinkable. The tasting notes that came with the bottle had used words like peat smoke, seaweed, salted butter, sweet fruits… it was all those things, far too good to be gulping down for the sole purpose of getting drunk. He'd done it anyway, and the next thing he knew, he was asleep again.
He considered eating another slice of pizza, but his stomach roiled and nausea quickly replaced the hunger. Discarding that idea, he reached for the bottle again. All too quickly it was empty, and he dropped it on the floor. His head hurt. His heart hurt as well, but that was an emotional pain and he could do nothing about it. The headache, he decided, was another matter. Forcing himself to his feet, he crossed the room with unsteady footsteps, aiming for the desk where he'd dumped his medical bag. Opening it, he rummaged through its contents, pulling out various packets and medicines and discarding them carelessly. Epi-pen. Nope… bandages and saline… no, definitely not. Tramadol. Hmm, not the paracetamol he'd been looking for but still… what use was paracetamol anyway? He'd already taken a load of those and his head still hurt.
With great care, he removed several of the pills from the little foil bubbles, shoved them in his mouth and looked round for something to drink. There was another bottle of whisky in the cabinet, a ten-year-old Glenfiddich, and he opened it, taking a long swig directly from the bottle before making his way back to the sofa, taking the bottle with him. Not as good as the first one, he thought, but it would do.
He was dangerously close to overdosing; he knew that, but somehow, he just didn't care. He was completely alone. The Klingons had gone, taking his only family with them. Enterprise had gone, and with it, the love of his life. Sarah was gone. Chrissie and the children were gone. He had no close friends… and whose fault was that, he asked himself irritably? He'd been too busy with work to make time for such mundane things as friendship. He didn't even have a pet – no dog or cat, not even a hamster to love… Alone, he thought again; nobody would miss him or even notice. He reached again for the bottle, but against his will, his hand flopped down, and he slipped back into sleep… or was it unconsciousness?
It was the banging that brought him awake for the third time. Stupid fireworks, he thought blearily, trying to persuade his eyes to focus. Bang, bang, bang… was it ever going to stop? There it went again… bang, bang, bang. Oh! That was the door. Nope, he decided, closing his eyes again, there was nobody left that he wanted to talk to. Bang! Bang! Bang! It was louder this time; whoever it was out there, they weren't giving up.
"G'way!" The words were little more than a slurred whisper and he tried again. "Go way…"
"David! Open up!" It was a woman's voice. It sounded like Sarah, but it couldn't be, because she hated him, and she'd gone away and left him... "Come on… open the door!"
With some effort, David got to his feet, and with unsteady steps, approached the door. It took more effort to turn the key and remove the chain, but he eventually succeeded, stepping back to allow the door to swing open.
A blurred figure stood in front of him. He blinked several times, trying to focus. It couldn't be, he told himself, not quite understanding. It wasn't possible. But there she was, standing right in front of him. "Sarah?" Quietly, he collapsed.
Klingon Transport Ship
Monday 14th February 1994
Having become accustomed to the wide, open spaces of Earth and the brightness of the light there, the corridors of the transport ship seemed dark and claustrophobic to Kay'vin as he made his way towards the cargo bay. He was not the only one who thought so; more than one officer had been heard complaining about the tiny, cramped quarters with their hard, uncomfortable bunks – and those quarters were palatial compared to the two square metres assigned to each bekk.
In truth, there wasn't much for him to do. There was an overabundance of both officers and soldiers onboard, and for the duration, he was little more than a passenger. Still, rather than mope over Marla, who was too busy in engineering to spend time with him, he preferred to keep himself busy and more importantly, keep the lower ranks busy. Koreth was in agreement on that and had suggested that he take a company of bekks down to the cargo bays and make sure everything was stacked securely for the voyage. Bored, idle soldiers meant trouble; if work did not exist for them, then the wise officer made work.
He was not far from engineering, actually. He could make a short detour through the armoury and into the area where he knew Marla was working. Yes, why not? If anyone queried it, he could easily come up with an excuse. Decision made, he turned left at the next junction and went through a set of double doors. It was a restricted area, and all sorts of warning signs adorned the doors, but he was an officer, and the duty guards did not challenge him. Almost immediately, the corridor opened out into a weapons storage area, lined with rows of lockers, some of which were open and empty. Gathered around a table located in a large alcove, a group of soldiers were busily stripping down disruptor rifles and cleaning them, gossiping as they did so.
"…the boss's tera'ngan woman and her kids in the shuttlebay…"
Intent on his final destination, Kay'vin had not intended to eavesdrop on the soldiers' conversation, but they were speaking loudly and with no thought of being overheard. That was stupid of them; gossiping about any officer, let alone one as senior as Krang, was never a good idea and if someone like Koreth had heard them, then they'd be in serious trouble.
"…bold as brass, she was," the bekk was saying. "Anyone would think she's some great line-lady… 'You there…' she says, 'help me move these boxes.' Who does she think she is, giving me orders like that?"
"Well, she's the Boss's mate, isn't she," his companion said reasonably.
"Still only a tera'ngan," a third soldier interjected. "I tried one a while back… there's a lot of them like our men, you know… recognise a real man when they see one, but still, they're weak… no stamina…"
"True," the original speaker admitted. "But what they can do with…" He stopped, reconsidering what he'd been about to say, then started again. "Let's just say they have a lot of imagination. I guess that's why the Boss keeps her around…"
Kay'vin stiffened as he realised what the soldiers were talking about. Chrissie was supposed to be safely onboard the Enterprise, not here on the troop transport. He came to a halt. "I didn't just hear you disrespecting the security captain and his mate, did I?" he asked with biting sarcasm.
The soldiers looked up from their task, identical looks of shocked horror on their faces as they took in the officer standing there. Despite his anger at the topic of the men's conversation, Kay'vin might have laughed had their expressions not turned almost immediately to relief. He could see what they were thinking, could almost hear the words… It was only Kay'vin…. reliable, easy-going, a pushover. Normally it didn't bother him. Generally speaking, he got on well with the troops, and they obeyed his orders and treated him with respect. This felt different. In his fascination with the Terrans and their culture, he'd allowed himself to become too much like them, to be influenced by their way of doing things. The soldiers were attempting to take advantage and he didn't like it at all.
A low growl escaped him, increasing in volume and intensity until it had become a full-throated roar. "Why are you not standing to attention when an officer speaks to you?"
The unexpected display of anger catching them by surprise, the bekks scrambled to their feet, dropping their equipment. They were not quite quick enough for his satisfaction. Had the table not been bolted to the deck, it might have ended up thrown halfway across the room. Instead, Kay'vin settled for grabbing the nearest bekk by the throat. "You gossip like an old woman buying vegetables at market. Have you not learned better than to show such disrespect for your betters?
The soldier struggled to free himself and speak in his own defence, but the infuriated lieutenant tightened his grip. "I did not give you permission to speak! I will not tolerate your disrespect and if I ever find out you've said so much as a word about the security captain and his mate, I will shove you out the nearest airlock."
His warning delivered, Kay'vin shoved the soldier away from him. The man staggered backwards and came to a halt half on top of the table, sending its contents flying in every direction.
"The same goes for the rest of you," Kay'vin coldly warned the shocked soldiers. "Now get that mess cleaned up!" He gave the order, uncaring that the mess in question had been of his own making. "Is that any way to treat your weapons? When you're done, report to Waste Reclamation for the rest of the voyage."
The errant soldiers dealt with to his satisfaction, he turned his mind to the next and most important item on his 'to do' list. It was nothing he wanted these bekks to witness and so, he turned and made his way back the way he had come, not halting until he was well away from listening ears. Removing his communicator from his belt, he activated it. "Kay'vin to Krang."
"NuqneH?" Evidently displeased at the interruption of whatever he had been doing, the security captain's voice sounded sharp and irritated. "What do you want, lieutenant? I am busy!"
He was about to become even less pleased, Kay'vin thought gloomily, mentally preparing himself for the imminent explosion. "Sir, we have a problem…"
A big thank you to the usual suspects - JDC0, Solasnagreine and RobertBruceScott. Without your comments and encouragement, writing this story would be a lot harder. Thank you also to my lovely Beta, Linny. Without Linny, I think I would have given up on this a long time ago.