Au revoir, Rom-halan, and Amen.
Posted on Mon Dec 6, 2021 @ 9:47pm by Admiral Alan Markus & Lieutenant Nicole Anderson & Lieutenant JG Camille Lévesque PhD
2,535 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
Archangel
Location: USS Victory/USS Saint Pierre
Nicole looked over her assembled staff one last time. She'd put this off a bit, she knew that, but she hated goodbyes, and she was having trouble deciding what she wanted to say. It had reached the point, however, where she couldn't put it off any longer.
"When I first joined this crew," she said, slowly, "I saw a nurse lying on a biobed, relaxed and seemingly not having a care in the world. I thought I was going to have to work extremely hard to get this staff up to not only Starfleet's standards, but my own." She looked around the room again at the familiar faces, including the offending male nurse, and smiled. "It fills me with no small amount of pride to know that all of you have exceeded those expectations. We've come to know each other well, and you've hopefully come to appreciate my...zealous command style." One or two chuckles from the more seasoned staffers floated around, and Nicole pressed on.
"I don't know who will be taking over here after I'm gone," she said, "but I know they will be inheriting one of the finest medical staffs in the fleet, and I know you will make the next CMO as proud as you have made me. Thank you all for your service, and please continue to do your jobs in your usual exemplary manner." She paused and swallowed. "And thank you all for sharing with me the joy of getting to know all of you. I will always be thankful for that privilege."
Her now former staff gave her some polite applause, and a few shared hugs as she wiped her eyes, picked up her little black bag, and left Sickbay for the last time.
There were no speeches in the science lab. No tearful hugs among the scientists. No, instead Camille wanted to do something fun on their last day.
In the holodeck, and after much consultation among the team members on which activities to do, they settled on a series of Escape Rooms. They laughed together as the team of ten scientists — people with masters degrees and doctorates — failed to escape even one of the rooms. But in the end they agreed that losing together was much more fun than winning apart.
A lunch was held, hosted by Wakeman, whom Camille had early on dismissed as a bad officer but after her boyfriend transferred away became much more useful in the department. Stories were shared, and memories were revisited. Camille, pleased to have worked with all of them, expressed her hopes to work with each of them again one day, whether aboard a starship or in academia.
They all collectively agreed to remain in touch for research purposes. Camille was a firm believer in scientific freedom and made certain that each member of her department knew they would get any relevant data she came across. The others agreed to give her leads for her own research topics, including Delta Quadrant biodiversity. She hoped her excursion craft would make it back out this far some day.
Lunch and games finished, the scientists failed to keep their promise of avoiding tearful hugs as they embraced one last time, before the bulk of them returned to work.
Camille, no longer the Chief Science Officer of USS Victory, stopped briefly at a holodeck recreation of a chapel, said a brief prayer for those she was leaving behind, and, back in her quarters, removed her Starfleet uniform one last time.
"All our bags are packed, we're ready to go. I'm standing here right by the door," Nicole sang to herself as she waited for Camille. Their things had been sent ahead to the Castelnaudary and now she just had her little black bag. She was wearing one of her more simpler farm dresses, and her hair was pulled back. She was toying with the idea of cutting it again, when Camille stepped out of their quarters with her last bag.
"Ready?" Nicole said.
“Ready,” Camille replied, giving a confident nod. All she had with her was a single lab bag, containing a PADD, the most portable possible version of a tricorder, and some empty sample containers because who knew when they might come across an interesting specimen. She wore a black short-sleeved shirt and blue jeans. She was ready to go.
Hand-in-hand, they disembarked, stepping onto the station. They threaded their way through the constant stream of officers and civilians moving about. They peeked at a few window displays in the shops, stopped for a coffee and pastry in one of the station's cafes, then, at long last, arrived at the docking port for the Castelnaudary. The massive viewing window that looked out over the bay made them feel small, compared to the vast space outside of the station core, and as they looked out the window, only one thought crossed their minds.
"Where the hell is the ship??" Nicole said, staring in surprise.
“Did it leave without us?” Camille wondered.
"We weren't in the cafe that long," Nicole said. "And they aren't cloaked. They must have left....with all of our things," she groaned.
"It's my fault," a voice said behind them. "Something came up they had to take care of, so I sent them off."
Nicole turned, pulling Camille a bit closer. "Admiral," she said, evenly. Camille remained silent, and instinctively stood at attention, though relaxed a moment later, after remembering she was no longer an officer.
Alan Markus nodded. "Ladies," he said. "If it helps, I had them transfer your things off the ship, so they aren't halfway across the quadrant. Furthermore, if you'll follow me, I'd like to make up for all that's happened, if I can."
Nicole was skeptical, but glanced at Camille, then nodded.
They followed him back onto the station and down a corridor.
"To be honest, I was going to do this as a wedding present," he said, "but I think it'll serve you better now. I've had Tommy and Meesa working around the clock to get it ready."
"Oh good. The galaxy's largest reverse-ratcheting routing planer, and it's all ours," Nicole whispered in Camille's ear.
“Ooh, maybe it’s that protein synthesizer I’ve been wanting,” Camille joked.
"Something a bit more useful than that," the Admiral said.
"You know, Uncle," Nicole said, "after six millennia, one would think you'd learn not to waffle on, but rather get to the point," Nicole said, pointedly.
"Impatience is the hallmark of the young," Markus said as they entered a room. "And at my age, I enjoy a good surprise." They'd walked into a transporter room and Markus motioned to the transporter operator, who nodded in acknowledgement of some pre-arranged instruction.
"Now," Markus said, stepping up onto the transporter padd. "If you ladies would join me?"
With no better options, and obviously some pleasant surprise ahead, Camille followed right away.
Nicole bowed to the inevitable and stepped onto the transporter padd.
"Energize," Markus said.
The transporter beam took them away, and a moment later, they materialized in the small transporter area of a runabout.
"Welcome to the USS Saint Pierre," Markus said. "Danube-class" runabout. She's a bit old, but she's got quite a bit of life in her. Tommy took her on as a refurbishment project, and...well you know how he is when he gets going on something."
He led them out of the midships area to a small corridor along the side and turned right. He came to a door, entered a code and stepped through to the small bridge. "Standard stations forward," he said. "Conn, Ops, Science, Engineering, Tactical," he said. "However, you can swap them out for the two main stations as needed. Replicator and a small head for convenience, and the latest quantum torpedoes and phaser banks."
"I hope we have little use for those," Nicole said.
"Well I doubt you'll have much cause for battle on Alpha Centauri," Markus said, smiling wryly. "But you never know."
Camille was awestruck. She took in every detail of the new ship. Their new ship. Named for a river in her home city. A river that no longer existed; a testament to the abilities of sentient beings to change their environment, for better or for worse. A name shared by many smaller rivers across her home province.
She remembered a bit about Danube runabouts. Fast. Quite independent. She was being given something a bit bigger at the Institute, but this was perfect for personal excursions. Including rapid transit between Alpha Centauri and Rigel.
“I love it,” she said. “Nicole! Isn’t it amazing?” She took Nicole’s hands in hers. “We can go where we want! We can travel! Oh! Can we stop at Kaminar on our way home?! It’s on the way from the wormhole, and the fredelias are in bloom!”
Nicole couldn't help herself and felt a smile spreading across her face at Camille's enthusiasm. "I think that would be a great spot for a rest stop," she said.
Camille couldn’t help herself. She wrapped the Admiral in a hug. “Merci, amiral.”
Markus returned the hug with warmth and a smile. "You're very welcome, my dear," he said.
As he stood back up, Nicole walked up. She tilted her head back, giving him a stern look, then softened a bit. "Thank you," she said. "Your effort is appreciated." She gave him a kiss on his cheek. "It will be nice to have some guaranteed means of transportation when we're having to travel back and forth between planets," she said. "That will make the time apart a good deal easier."
"Plus, make the trip itself a bit easier," Markus said with a twinkle in his eye. "Come along."
He took them back through the door and into the narrow corridor. "Tommy decided to redo the modular design, since the shuttle wasn't going to be changed again, theoretically." He stopped in front of a set of doors just past the transporter room. "So, we combined the lab modules and made you two a playroom."
He stepped inside as the doors opened to a small, but functional combination lab and medbay. There were several scaled down instruments and computer screens covered two walls. On the right was a compact medical lab, a single surgical bed and a large biosigns display.
"Latest toys from S.C.E.," Markus said, proudly. "You can do almost anything in here you could do on the Castel or Saint George.
Nicole's eyes were wide. Her personal lab contents that were deemed dangerous had been transported separately and were en route back to the Admiral's home base. Here though, she could continue some of her work in the comfort of her own space. "This is..." she looked at Camille who looked like she was about to launch into a chair and start scanning everything just for the fun of it.
“This is cool!” Camille said, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Well, before you start getting too deep into things," Markus said, "there's one more compartment we need to see."
He stepped back out and took a few more steps towards the last door. In a normal runabout, the rear compartment would be a large lounge, capable of housing a conference/dining table and various couches, chairs and computer stations for the runabout's occupants to avail themselves. Nicole stepped in and saw a couch and armchairs as she expected, but she paused as the rest of the room hit her.
The style of the room looked like a rustic, old-world home. The walls were paneled with a rich wood, the furniture looked overstuffed, handmade and extremely comfortable. Nothing in the room had the sleek, artificial look of 24th century furniture or design. There was even a fireplace with a fire crackling in the hearth in front of the couch and a large viewscreen above it. It looked like a living room in a house, with a small kitchen and dining alcove to the side, all designed like Earth, but the colors of the wood and some of the furniture style was distinctly Rigellian.
"The furniture is real, but the decor is holographic, so if you want to change anything, you can," Markus said. "And in the other half..." he gestured to a door on the other side. A king-sized bed took most of the space, along with some basic bedroom furniture. Nicole could see doors on the other side leading to the head and a closet.
He hadn't given them a ship; he'd given them a portable home.
Nicole's eyes were wet. She turned and looked back at him, smiling. "Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome, sweetheart," he said, coming up and kissing her forehead.
She hugged him tight and stepped back, wiping her eyes. She looked at Camille and grinned. "We'll have to figure out a way to determine who gets to pilot it first."
“You can pilot it first,” said Camille, returning the grin. “I have a lab to play in.”
"Well," Markus said, "I'll let you two get settled in." He nodded to both of them.
"Alan," Nicole said suddenly, as the Admiral was about to leave through the doorway. He paused and turned, waiting.
Nicole didn't know how to convey what she wanted to say, but he seemed to understand. She smiled and nodded and he did the same, then left.
Nicole put her black bag down on a set of drawers at the back of their living room and looked around, then at Camille. "I was going to say 'let's go home,'" she said, slowly, "but given the circumstances, I suppose I should just say, 'let's get underway.'"
Camille set her own bag down next to Nicole’s and draped her arms around the doctor’s neck. “DQ-8, back to the Alpha Quadrant, stop over for two days at Kaminar, and get to Alpha Centauri. How long do you think that will take?”
Nicole looked up briefly as she did the calculations. "Well, presuming we keep the engines on maximum and follow standard space lanes, we should--"
Before Nicole could answer fully, Camille put a finger gently on Nicole’s lips. “Non. The correct answer is ‘long enough to break in every compartment on our little ship.’ She moved her finger and kissed Nicole with passion.
Nicole kissed her back, her eyes flaring red as she felt her blood rush. If they were lucky, they wouldn't break half the ship while breaking it in.
“We’ll launch, set a course, and put the ship on autopilot for an hour or three,” Camille said. “Now, as you said, let’s get underway.”
Nicole smiled, stepped back, and gave Camille a sharp salute. "Aye, captain!" she said.
A few minutes later, anyone who happened to be standing at one of the observation ports in the outer ring of Sector 9 on DQ8, they'd see a lone runabout leaving the docks and banking around into the local space lanes.
It shot off into warp and was gone in a flash, heading for home.
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