Strange New Worlds VIII

by Dean Wesley Smith

  “The one in the middle of the next block.”

  He stopped and stared at me. “There’s no coffeehouse in that block.”

  “But there is. I just left there before I ran into you.”

  Chakotay shook his head. “I lived in this neighborhood in my Academy days, and there’s never been a coffeehouse on this street.”

  Now I was getting annoyed. “Then you’ve been away too long, because there is now.”

  “Show me.”

  I took his arm and pulled him down the street in the opposite direction, determined to prove I was right. How typical for the two of us. Together barely five minutes, and we were already arguing about something. Funny, but somehow it felt good.

  Just before we crossed the street onto the next block, Chakotay suddenly stopped, staring into the distance.

  “Kathryn, you’re not talking about that old café that used to be in the block nearest the Memorial, are you?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “I seem to remember some of my Academy professors talking about a café where they used to go,” Chakotay said. “They liked it because the owner spoiled them with free coffee, a mother-hen sort named Gaby.”

  “That’s her,” I said emphatically. “I just spent the past hour talking to her. She helped me more in that hour than all of Starfleet’s counseling service put together.”

  Chakotay looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “That can’t be.”

  Angry, I put my hands on my hips and stepped closer to him. “Why?”

  “Because, Kathryn, Gaby has been dead for more than twenty years.”

  Shocked, I gaped at him, then slowly began to shake my head. No, I did not believe him. Without a word, I turned and ran across the street into the next block.

  Unlike the previous block, this street was almost completely dark, the few dim streetlamps that still worked barely illuminating the vacant and dilapidated buildings along the block. Strange, but I hadn’t noticed that the area was this run-down when I was here before. I was beginning to think that I’d lost my way when a sign in one of the windows caught my attention. If I hadn’t noticed it, I would have run right past.

  Both Chakotay and I were correct: There was a café here, rather had been at one time. I stared in disbelief at the neglected storefront, the windows glazed over and cracked with age, the green and red sign long extinguished. But how could that be? Only a short time had passed since I’d been sitting there drinking coffee and talking to Gaby. Only a short time ago, the lights were on, the paint fresh, the storefront neat and orderly.

  I stepped up and peered through the glass. The small table still sat in the front window. And on the tabletop sat two bright red mugs covered in dust. A strange feeling began to creep over me, and I shivered.

  Footsteps approached from behind, then a familiar presence stopped beside me.

  “Kathryn?”

  “I’m not crazy, Chakotay,” I insisted, my voice a hoarse whisper. “I did talk to her. I sat right there at that table and told her things I’ve never dared to tell anyone. Look. The mugs are still there.”

  I knew I was babbling, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. There had to be a rational explanation for what had happened. There just had to be.

  Chakotay placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I don’t doubt that something extraordinary happened to you here. Spirit knows, we’ve seen our share of strange things. But sometimes those things can’t be explained empirically.” He moved to face me. “Sometimes you have to take things on faith alone. Her presence in your life was a special gift just waiting for you to accept it. Something that precious should never be questioned.”

  I looked into his eyes, then turned back to the window, staring at those two mugs on the table, the pragmatic scientist inside warring with the spiritual. Then I thought of Gaby’s words: When the sign comes, you will know.

  But was this it? I only knew that right now I was too numb with shock at what had happened tonight. Too many emotions, too many questions churned just below the surface of my control. I wanted, needed to let it go, but I couldn’t.

  “Are you all right?” Chakotay asked quietly.

  I jumped and turned around, forgetting that he was there.

  “I really could use that company about now,” I told him.

  Without another word, he offered me his hand, then led the way down the street. I don’t know where we went or how long we walked. I only remember hanging on to his hand the whole time, woodenly putting one foot before the other. I couldn’t shake from my mind the image of those two dusty red mugs sitting on a table in an abandoned café. If it weren’t for the warmth of his hand, my only link to reality, I might have lost what little control I had left right then and there.

  Then we passed into a well-lighted neighborhood, and the scene around me became comfortably familiar. This area of the city was well known to anyone who had attended Starfleet Academy, the street lined with apartment houses, small businesses, and cozy restaurants that were popular cadet hangouts. Chakotay led me halfway down the street, then cut through an alleyway between buildings.

  We emerged onto the next street over in front of the coffeehouse he’d mentioned. This one sported a red and green sign, too, but unlike Gaby’s, this café was bustling with activity, showing no sign of closing any time soon. The crowd inside spilled out onto the street and filled the bistro tables lining the storefront.

  Chakotay started to lead me across the street when suddenly I heard the sound of familiar voices. I froze in place, then shrank back into the shadows of the alleyway just as a tall, redheaded man holding an infant stepped out of the café and spoke to an Asian man and a woman with long, dark curls holding hands outside.

  “Hey! Where is Chakotay? I thought he said it was only going to take him a few minutes to get the captain. We can’t start the party without her.”

  “I don’t know, Tom, but stop worrying. He’ll bring her. Now, don’t you think it’s a little too cold for Miral to be outside?”

  Tom snorted. “What are you, my wife or Nanny Kim?”

  “That’s Lieutenant Kim, to you.”

  Another familiar voice, belonging to a half-Klingon woman, shouted from just inside the door. “Well, I am your wife, and I’m telling you to get that baby back in here. Now!”

  “Aye, aye, Commander!”

  As I stood there staring at the coffeehouse full of my crew, I felt my patience unravel. I whirled around to face my first officer, whom I thought I could trust. How could he do this to me?

  “Chakotay, what is this?” I snapped.

  “Just a little impromptu get-together to celebrate coming home,” he replied matter-of-factly. “We wanted it to be Voyager alumni only, no dignitaries, no brass.”

  I took one menacing step toward him. “You set me up. That wasn’t just a chance encounter at the Memorial, was it?”

  “Actually, I was on my way to your apartment. Our meeting at the Memorial was a lucky coincidence.” He raised his eyebrows in a question. “You aren’t really mad, are you?”

  At that moment, I wasn’t sure myself. Standing there looking at the festivities going on in that café, knowing what was expected of me, I felt my anger suddenly change to fear.

  “I don’t know if I can go in there, Chakotay.”

  “Why not? It’s just us. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Hasn’t it?” I countered. “Don’t you understand? They gave up seven years of their lives because of me. And now that they’re home, they’re finding out what losing those seven years has cost them. They couldn’t possibly want to be around me now.”

  Chakotay looked nonplussed. “Why would you think such a thing, Kathryn? Not one person in there blames you for what happened. You should know them better than that. The past is the past, and they’re ready to move on. If you were to ask each of them what they would like their next assignment to be, all of them would say Voyager.”

  I pressed my back against the wall of the alleyway, shakin
g my head. “I don’t see how any of that could be true.”

  “After all we went through together, why is it so hard to believe? You’re our captain, the head of our family. And this family reunion wouldn’t be complete without you.”

  With those simple words, Chakotay gave me what I’d been searching for these past weeks. All of the pent-up anger and pain, the past disappointments and sadness, the desperate loneliness I’d endured suddenly rolled down my cheeks like raindrops against a window. I turned and buried my face in my hands. Then a pair of strong arms gathered me in and held me for the longest time. And I didn’t resist, not this time. When I finally felt composed enough to pull away, I found him holding out an old-fashioned pocket handkerchief.

  “Better?” Chakotay asked.

  “Much better,” I nodded, burying my nose in the handkerchief.

  “Good. You had me worried for a moment.”

  “Why?”

  “Because this is only the second time I’ve ever seen you cry,” he said.

  I gave him an indignant look. “I can, you know. It’s just not something I have the luxury to do in public.”

  “Well, don’t worry about me telling anyone,” he said. “Your tough-as-nails reputation is safe with me.”

  “Good,” I replied. “Because I don’t want to make it an order.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, then both of us burst out laughing. At that moment, I realized just how much I’d missed my friend.

  “You know, Chakotay, I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you for being there for me all of those years.”

  He shrugged. “No thanks are necessary. It’s just part of my job.”

  I cocked my head to one side. “That’s above and beyond the call of duty for a first officer, don’t you think?”

  “Oh, I’m not talking about my job as first officer,” he replied. “I’m talking about my job as your friend.”

  I had to fight back another wave of emotion. I stared at my first officer, this man with whom I had shared my deepest thoughts for seven long years, my confidant on any subject. And I knew in my heart that he wouldn’t steer me wrong. Things really were going to be all right.

  Chakotay was watching me closely. “Are you ready to go in now?”

  I smiled and shook my head. “You go ahead. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” When he looked at me skeptically, I added, “I promise.”

  He nodded, then walked across the street into the café. I watched the crew greet him and heard him promise that I was on my way. And it was true, for so many things.

  I looked up between the walls of the alley just as a soft shaft of moonlight suddenly broke through the cloud cover.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered to the moonbeam. “Thank you for sending Gaby to me.”

  Then I turned and crossed the street.

  Egg Drop Soup

  Robert Burke Richardson

  Phlox strode the bright, antiseptic-smelling hospital halls exchanging greetings with the other professionals he passed. Humans, he found, preferred a tilt of the head to the shrill squawking customary on Denobula. Though still relatively unfamiliar with alien cultures, the people of Earth had proven themselves both friendly and accommodating. In just a short time they had adapted to Phlox’s presence and accepted him as a valued colleague.

  A group of children gathered near the entrance to the cafeteria, and Phlox decided to spare a few minutes to study the small humans. One little girl with tangled blond hair and spots on her face—freckles, Phlox recalled—turned toward him, a replica of a bear clutched to her chest. Phlox smiled his widest grin, stretching his mouth farther than any human could.

  “Monster!” the little girl shrieked, mouth opening nearly as wide as Phlox’s had. Screaming and waving their arms as if warding off a predator, the children scattered in every direction.

  Perhaps we have a little ways to go with regards to acceptance after all, Phlox thought as he watched the children’s flustered caretakers rush after their charges.

  “What are you?”

  Phlox looked down and saw that one of the children had remained. It was very small, but he guessed by the intelligent eyes that it was older than it appeared. The child had no hair, and Phlox could not tell what gender it was.

  “I’m Denobulan,” said Phlox, taken with the child’s frank stare. She was female, he realized, bald because of some kind of radiation therapy. Cancer was rare on Earth and radiation treatment even rarer, but Phlox surmised that this was the case here.

  “Don’t you want to run from me?” he asked. “The other children seem to want to.”

  The girl rubbed a thin hand over her bald head. “Sometimes they run from me, too.”

  Phlox nodded, thinking that flaws filled the universe and that wishing it weren’t so was pointless. Acceptance brought peace.

  He was surprised to see the sentiment reflected in the young girl’s face.

  “Hailey,” called one of the caretakers, flashing Phlox an annoyed look. She and her coworker had assembled the other children and waved the little girl over.

  “Bye,” said Hailey. She turned and ran back to the group.

  Not wanting to be the cause of further disturbances, Phlox decided to dine instead in the basement cafeteria. It had no windows and the décor was quite dreadful, but he supposed it would have to do.

  * * *

  “I can leave the hospital if a doctor comes with me.”

  Phlox recognized the soft, almost gravelly voice. “Is that an invitation?” he asked, not looking up from his protoscope.

  “I guess.”

  Phlox turned and raised an eyebrow at Hailey. She wore a blue hospital gown that made her eyes seem even bigger. Delicate features and a crinkly nose made her look like she was always about to laugh. “When did you want to go?”

  “We can’t go for a few hours,” she said. “I’m kind of sick.”

  “I know,” said Phlox. “I’ve taken the liberty of learning a great deal about you.”

  “Anything you can do?”

  Phlox took a moment to steady his voice. “I’m afraid not. There are many techniques human doctors are still unfamiliar with, but your illness has advanced too far for any of them to work.”

  “I see,” said Hailey. “Can you meet me in my room in two hours?”

  “Will do,” said Phlox, watching her face to see if he had used the expression correctly.

  Hailey smiled and disappeared down the hall. Phlox turned back to his protoscope. The cells of the synthetic tissue he’d been examining were almost completely necrotic. Such is life, he thought, discarding the sample. Such is death. Still, he felt uncharacteristically troubled.

  * * *

  Human food had proven something of a mixed bag, ranging from tolerable to terrible, but the smells of Madame Chang’s delighted Phlox’s senses. “Is this the place?” he asked, unable to control his exuberance.

  Hailey smiled but tightened her grip on his hand as if she feared he would bound away like a wet dog. The constant drizzle had lowered the temperature considerably, and tendrils of breath trailed from her reddened nose. “Do you want it to be?” she teased.

  Phlox nodded vigorously, both because of the exquisite smells and because of his desire to get Hailey out of the cold. He pulled on the steam-obscured glass door, and olfactory goodness rolled into the street on a wave of welcoming warmth. They moved inside and traversed a very slender corridor. Dim lighting and dark, wood-textured walls soothed Phlox’s eyes. He entered the first normally lit room and looked around at the hooks and garments.

  Hailey did not enter. “That’s the coat room,” she said after a moment, and Phlox strode back into the corridor.

  “Very nice,” he said, taking her hand again. The strongest smells emanated from beyond a set of double doors. Phlox glanced side-long at Hailey, then stepped toward them.

  “Doctor,” she warned.

  Phlox smiled. “I know it’s the kitchen,” he said. “I wasn’t, ah, born ye
sterday, as you people say.”

  “Two?” asked a Vulcan woman.

  “Two what?” Phlox asked.

  “Yes,” Hailey interrupted. “Table for two.”

  The woman led them to a handsomely built table with slightly stained coverings. Phlox glanced around at some of the other diners and nodded approvingly at their food. As with Denobulan messes, large fish tanks dotted the walls, but Phlox suspected these fish were for eating, not display.

  “Hello, Hailey,” said a man holding two long books. “Haven’t seen you for a while. Who’s your friend?”

  “I’ve been sick,” said Hailey. “This is Doctor Phlox. He’s Denobulan.”

  The man nodded, then held up the books. “Menus?”

  “I think we’re fine,” said Hailey. Phlox opened his mouth to protest, but she fixed him with a knowing gaze.

  “The usual?” asked the man. Hailey nodded and the man walked away.

  “Egg drop soup,” she said before Phlox could voice his misgivings. “You’ll love it.”

  Egg drop soup. It sounded lovely, though Phlox hadn’t thought those words could be combined in such a way.

  “You come here often,” he noted, nodding after their waiter.

  “I’ve been in this hospital over six months. There was a really nice Vietnamese place near my last hospital.”

  Phlox nodded. Hailey looked at her hands. Phlox recognized the silence as a lull in the conversation.

  “You know,” he said after a moment, “I really can’t help you.”

  “Help me what?” she asked, frowning.

  “Help you live,” he said. “I get the feeling you think I might know something that will cure your ailment. I’m afraid I do not.”

  Hailey’s pale cheeks flushed. “Why are you saying this? That’s not why I asked you here.”

  Phlox lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, realizing the extent of his social blunder. “I can—”

  “Never mind,” she said, ice in her voice.

  The waiter appeared a moment later. “Egg drop soup,” he announced, placing two decorative bowls on the table.

  Haily didn’t reach for hers, but Phlox slid his bowl under his face, the smell the very essence of what his nose had fallen in love with when they first entered.