Holding back the years
Thinking of the fear I've had so long
When somebody hears
Listen to the fear that's gone
Strangled by the wishes of pater
Hoping for the arms of mater
Get to me the sooner or later
– Simply Red (Holding Back the Years)
=/\=
There were Communications chimes all over the Human Unit – everyone had an urgent message on his or her PADD. Bryce Unger had one, too.
And, on Kronos, so did Darragh Stratton Yarin.
"Turn off those damned chimes," Carmen commanded, her migraine beginning to really hit.
"It's from Boris," Kevin said.
"Where the devil is he?" Carmen asked, annoyed.
Levi just pointed out the window, where there were two bodies floating in empty space. Marisol's head was at a crazy angle. Her neck had obviously been snapped. Boris's hands were still on her throat and he stared at them with vacant, dead eyes.
Nearby, a team of two people in pressure suits were attempting to corral the corpses.
The remaining members of the Human Unit all just stared. Crystal began to cry. Sheilagh put an arm around her.
Carmen finally spoke softly. "Is anyone, uh, capable of reading the letter right now?"
After a pause, Deirdre finally said, "I'll do it." Rick was sitting near her. He put his hand on her shoulder as she started to read.
"My name is Boris Fyodorovich Yarin. I am forty-six years of age, and of sound mind. This letter will be farewell, confession, warning and will all in one.
First, to my wife, Darragh Stratton Yarin, I leave everything I own, with no exceptions, to do with as she wishes. It is all I can offer, for apologies are worthless. I have acted completely without honor. I owe you many things, and cannot repay that debt. All I can hope is for you to live your life without any thought of me – no sorrow, no mourning, no regret, no compassion and not even memory. If I could erase our time together, and spare you, I would.
All that I ask is one thing, for the divorce papers that you had served on me today are correct in all details save one, and that is the most vital one. The co-respondent you named, my superior, Admiral Carmen Calavicci," they all turned to look at Carmen, who blanched, "is in error. Carmen is completely innocent. Please have her name removed from all of the documents.
Instead the co-respondent should be my coworker, Doctor Marisol Castillo. The affair was very real and went on from 3103 through the beginning of this year. I am certain that any sordid details she told you save the one which replaced her name with Admiral Calavicci's, were accurate. I take full responsibility for the affair, both its onset and its continuation over the years. I am a married man and I should know better, and as a part-Klingon, I should have acted with far more honor.
This brings me to the confession portion of this communiqué. By the time you read this, Doctor Marisol Castillo and I will be dead, by my own hands. I again take full responsibility and, for the sake of Doctor Castillo's family, I wish for them to know that I will not blame provocation or any extenuating or mitigating circumstances. I do not ask for their forgiveness or their understanding. I only hope they can know peace.
I imagine Doctor Yimiva of the Calafan Unit will perform the autopsies. As we are all aware, the use of Stem Cell Growth Accelerator in order to save all of our lives makes both murder and suicide rather difficult although not impossible. To that end, I am planning to strangle Doctor Castillo and then the lack of air will kill me. I strangle her less for my own personal satisfaction than to spare her the worst of the slower means of space vacuum-assisted asphyxiation.
As a warning, I ask that an investigation be conducted into Marisol's comings and goings for her entire employment at the Commission, and a thorough search be made, with proper legal backing, of her home on Cardassia, her bunk at the Commission and the time ship known as the Audrey II. I suspect that she has had some involvement with the Perfectionists. I am hoping I am wrong but I urge vigilance and caution.
To Bryce Unger, my hope is that you retain Admiral Carmen Calavicci, even during what is sure to be a scandal that may very well eclipse the one involving her predecessor. The Admiral is an exemplary leader and officer and deserves to retain her position. She is, as I said, utterly innocent. I hope that she can stay, for she is one of the main bulwarks we have against the Perfectionist movement. I feel she will fulfill a similar role when it comes to our new threat, the Varg-i-yeh.
And, finally, to my coworkers, I wish you well in your travels, whether they are temporal or merely spatial in nature. It is to my eternal regret that I let a cheap and sordid affair keep me from knowing you better. But even with my limited knowledge, I know that," Deirdre choked up, "you are the smartest and the finest group of people I have ever worked with.
Onward, but not to Stovokor, for that place is reserved for the honorable.
There is no God but Allah, and Mohammed is his prophet.
Boris Fyodorovich Yarin, MD"
There was a Communications chime in Carmen's ear. It was Bryce Unger, "I take it you saw what happened outside the Conference room window, and you read the note."
"Yes, Bryce," everyone in the room waited on tenterhooks, scanning Carmen's face for any clues as to Bryce's mood.
"I think he's right, that there's more to it than an affair gone wrong," he said, "I'd like for you to, one at a time – and confidentially, mind you – begin to investigate any connections that Castillo may have had to the Perfectionists. I'm sure the authorities can get warrants, but start by talking to your people."
"I, I see," Carmen said, "We know we have changes, including a rather specific date in the mirror."
"You're down a traveler," he said, "We both know you're no doctor, but you'll most likely have to fill in and go yourself."
"I can put Kevin in charge while I'm out."
"Good, do that. And I want anyone staying in to finish up decoding the Manifesto file. Let's put the Perfectionists to bed, hopefully before the Varg-i-yeh come knocking at our door. And another thing," he said.
"Yes?"
"I have no reason to doubt Yarin. You'll retain your post."
"That's a relief. Thank you, Bryce. Calavicci out." She looked over at all of them staring at her, "It looks like I'm staying."
There was a knock at the door – funny, not a door chime. HD hit the controls and the door slid open, and they saw a sight that could not possibly be so – a living, breathing Boris Yarin, MD.
=/\=
"How long do you think it'll take?" Lili asked. It was still May twentieth of 2192, and she and Malcolm were standing in Joss's garden, looking at the new headstone they'd just purchased.
"I'll trace your writing," he said, aiming a hand phaser at the smooth grey slab. He slowly began to cut and trace out letters, and then numbers, and then mirror image numbers, as she looked on approvingly.
R-I-C …
=/\=
Holding back the years
Chance for me to escape from all I've known
Holding back the tears
'Cause nothing here has grown
I've wasted all my tears
Wasted all those years
And nothing had the chance to be good
Nothing ever could yeah
– Simply Red (Holding Back the Years)