Henderson leaned forward. “Between you and me? Neither do I. But hey, there are free drinks and attractive people in uniform. What more can you want?” He laughed, and his gaze returned to a red-haired woman across the room who wore a similar uniform to him. She was talking to a creature that looked like a huge reptile in a barrel-shaped plate. Admiral Gepta, Evvyk reminded herself.
There were so many people in that room that she didn’t know—so many strangers from beyond the cluster—that she felt uneasy. Ambassador Rozhenko and Commander L’emka were the only ones that she didn’t consider strangers. The two Klingons had been stuffed into the escape pod along with Moadas and her and thrown into space before Kromm had steered his battle cruiser into the Purifying Flame’s asteroid base. Why the sadistic captain had spared their lives, Evvyk still didn’t understand. L’emka had looked pretty angry when she woke up inside the pod, but she had tried to explain it to her. It had something to do with the notions of glory and honor that apparently dominated Klingon culture.
It didn’t matter to the young Renao woman. What did matter was that she and Moadas were alive, and Kromm was dead. With his demise, their involuntary journey as prisoners of the Bortas crew had come to a good end.
The door to the lounge opened, and another group of Klingons stomped into the room. “General Akbas! General Klag!” Gepta shouted with a booming voice. “I’m honored.” He left the redhead behind and marched to the delegation from the Klingon Empire.
“Please excuse me,” said Henderson. He walked over to the female captain, taking Gepta’s place at her side.
The Klingons and Gepta made quite a racket while introducing each other and their adjutants. Rozhenko also joined the group, but only the one called Klag greeted him with any enthusiasm. The young ambassador didn’t seem to mind the chillier reception from Gepta and Akbas.
At that moment, the door opened again, and three more guests appeared in the doorway. Evvyk recognized Ambassador Spock immediately, as he had truly saved their lives on the Bortas. He was accompanied by a human with gray streaks in his hair and a cat-like man. When they entered the room, a fourth man came into sight, a Renao. Her eyes fell on him, and she felt a sharp pain in her chest.
Jassat!
Of course, she had heard about his incredible experience—the rumors about him had spread like a bushfire. Jassat had found Iad, had traveled to the edge of the galaxy to face the White Guardians, and had defeated the Son of the Ancient Reds. They said he had become the White Guardian’s sword, and that he should have died during his confrontation with the Son. But somehow, he had survived. If only half of that was true—and it was perfectly obvious that the Son was gone—her childhood friend had made an extraordinary development from outsider to legend.
He saw Moadas and her at the same time. His eyes glowed brighter. But before he could join his old friends, Gepta noticed the newcomers.
“Captain Adams!” he shouted. Apparently he was in a good mood and had the urge to greet every guest at the top of his voice. “The man who solved the riddle of the Lembatta Cluster.”
Some of the guests felt the need to interrupt their conversations and applaud cordially.
Adams raised his arm. “I was only one of many who did their best during this crisis in order to prevent an even bigger disaster.”
Gepta made a strange, jerky noise that might have been laughter. “Humble as ever, Captain. That’s the way I like you. Come on, let’s have a drink at the bar.”
While Adams and his cat-like companion were led away to the counter by Gepta, Spock and Jassat joined Evvyk and Moadas.
“I am pleased to see that you are both alive,” the Vulcan diplomat said.
“As are we,” Moadas replied dryly.
“How did you manage to escape the Bortas’s destruction?”
L’emka joined the small group, along with Rozhenko. “Kromm threw all those who were not worthy in his eyes off the ship before he chose a hero’s death. I am torn as to whether or not to be grateful or furious.”
“Be grateful,” Spock said firmly. “Your days under his command were numbered in any event. It would have been wasteful to end your life before you were able to earn your own glory.”
“You’re probably right.” The Klingon smiled. “I am indeed considering a new assignment already.”
“Oh really?” Rozhenko seemed interested. “May I ask what?”
L’emka’s gaze wandered from Jassat to Moadas to Evvyk. “I wish to learn more about the Renao, their culture, and the Harmony of Spheres. I will be requesting permission to stay in Auroun.”
“Maybe we could make this a little more official,” the young Klingon said. “I imagine that the High Council would not mind having eyes in the Lembatta Cluster.”
“You want to leave a minder behind before you take off?” Moadas asked.
“An ambassador,” Rozhenko said. “Someone who takes care of the negotiations between the Renao and the Klingon Empire. I will speak with Chancellor Martok and Ambassador K’mtok and see if they’re amenable.”
Spock said, “I will add my own recommendation to yours, Ambassador—if my voice carries any weight with the chancellor.”
Rozhenko smiled. “I doubt there’s any place in the galaxy where your voice doesn’t carry weight, Ambassador. Thank you.”
“Klingon ambassador to the Lembatta Cluster.” L’emka visibly enjoyed that title. She smiled. “Not bad for a farm girl, eh? I could get used to the sound of that.”
“What about you, Jassat?” Evvyk asked. “Will you return to Onferin? Or will you fly away again?”
A shadow darted across his face when he noticed the subtle accusation in her voice. But he answered without any anger. “I will remain aboard the Prometheus. She’s my home sphere now. But I will certainly not forget Onferin, and will visit as much as possible. Because this world is also my home sphere.”
“You can’t have two home spheres,” Moadas said.
“Oh yes, I think you can,” Jassat said, and his voice was calm and firm. Evvyk wondered whether he had gained some deeper wisdom during his encounter with the White Guardians. “And once all Renao have realized that,” Jassat continued, “a universe full of wonders awaits them.”
Later that evening another celebration took part; much less formal and with considerably fewer people.
“To us!” Jenna Kirk raised her glass, which was full of a violet cocktail with synthehol. “To the Prometheus, the best goddamn ship in Starfleet! And to her fearless crew, who was able to defy stubborn Klingons, religious fanatics, and ancient, mad life forms. And to the man who freed the Renao and saved us a lot of trouble in the next few months.” The chief engineer looked at Jassat.
“Hear, hear,” Sarita Carson said, raising her glass as well.
Geron Barai, Lenissa zh’Thiin, and Jassat also joined in the toast. The young Renao smiled. It was good to sit here at a corner table in the Starboard 8 with them, and to shake off all the burdens of the past few weeks.
“And who would have thought,” Carson joked. “At the Academy five minutes ago, and now the savior of millions. Just watch it, ak Namur, you might command your own ship in two weeks’ time.”
The others laughed.
“I guess I have extraordinary luck on my side,” Jassat said. “Going on a mission that can’t be survived and returning home, nonetheless… not everyone can do that.”
“I’m glad you did,” said Jenna. “It’s bad enough losing a crewmate. Having to pay my respects to a close friend would have spoiled the lucky end to this crisis enormously for me.”
Barai looked serious when he raised his glass again. “To all those we have lost—Bhansali, Ward, Dilmore…”
“…Loanaa, Atasoy, Kalim bim Gral…” Jenna continued.
“…Losheg and Goran Tol,” zh’Thiin finished the list of the casualties.
They drank silently.
A grin crept back onto Carson’s face. “But hey, we’re here to celebrate. We’re still alive! And the l
ast time we all sat together like this was on Deep Space 9 before the Lembatta crisis. Far too long, if you ask me.”
“Agreed,” zh’Thiin said.
“Good to have you back with us, too, Doc.” Jenna nodded at Barai. “Nothing against Calloway, but no one applies a hypospray as tenderly as you do.”
The chief medical officer smiled. “Yes, I’m really glad to be fit for duty again. The days in my quarters were… awkward. It felt as if I was trapped in a permanent nightmare. Strangely enough, I always felt as if I heard Ambassador Spock’s voice.”
“He was there,” zh’Thiin said. “Counselor Courmont asked him to stabilize your mind with the help of a therapeutic mind-meld.”
“Oh really?” Barai looked surprised. “In that case, I should probably thank him again. An interesting therapy. I wonder if it could heal other mental ailments. Maybe I should take a closer look at the studies in that field.”
“Not tonight,” the Andorian woman stated with pretended strictness.
“Aye, Commander.”
Jassat saw them exchange a look.
“Would you excuse us for a few minutes?” said zh’Thiin suddenly. “I have to speak to the doctor alone.”
Now it was Jenna and Carson’s turn to exchange a knowing, amused look.
“Sure,” Carson said. “You two clear up what you have to clear up. And afterwards, we’ll drink Moba’s bar dry.” As if to stress her words, she raised her empty glass, waving at the Bolian bartender.
“We’ll be right back,” said zh’Thiin, getting up. Barai followed her. Together, they left the Starboard 8.
“I bet two holodeck time sessions that they will be at least an hour,” Carson said with a wicked smile.
Jenna grinned. “Leave them be. We’ve got time, we’ve got drinks—I’m not in a hurry to get out of here.”
Jassat agreed with her wholeheartedly.
* * *
“What do you want to talk about?” Geron asked when they reached Lenissa’s quarters.
Lenissa walked into the dimly lit cabin. Her antennae swayed to and fro. Geron didn’t have to use his telepathic talents to sense that she was nervous.
“Geron,” she said, turning to face him, “we need to talk about us, about our… relationship.”
His face changed to a resigned expression. “I was worried that this moment would come eventually. Great timing. The mission is finished, life goes on.”
“Wait.” She raised her hand. “Listen to me first.”
He nodded. “All right.”
Lenissa chewed on her lower lip and looked as if she was trying to find the right words. “You know how difficult things were between you and me during the past few weeks. Especially after I was kidnapped by the Flame.”
Cautiously, he tilted his head in confirmation. “I admit that I sometimes didn’t know how to treat you properly. You seemed… torn inside. Sometimes you showed me the cold shoulder, sometimes you pulled me between the sheets. And after every time we were together I was worried it might have been the last time.”
Lenissa turned away, walked to the bulkhead, and looked into the mirror that was mounted there. “I really did have my doubts. You know, back then, when I came aboard, I began having an affair with you because you didn’t demand anything, the same as me. You didn’t have any hidden agendas. That was fine by me because that’s the way it had been for me on the other ships as well. I looked for a man, we had fun; that was all.”
She turned back to him, leaning against the wall next to the mirror with her hands behind her back. “But eventually I realized that you… felt more for me. More than you should. More than I wanted. And once I got away from the Renao fanatics…” She shrugged. “I was completely confused. I wanted you close to me, but your care annoyed me.”
Geron cleared his throat awkwardly, rubbing his chin with his hand. “Well, you know, as far as the care is concerned… I’m probably guilty as charged. I really was worried about you when the Flame abducted you and Jenna. And once you were back, I thought I had to look after you—which, honestly, was pretty stupid. You are the security chief, not me.” He grinned at her. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m also sorry that I was so… ambiguous.” She sighed, shaking her head and looking at the floor. “When the Son got you, and I didn’t know whether you would ever recover, something stirred in me.” She looked up again, regarding him with shimmering eyes. “I realized that you… are more to me than just someone I’m taking to bed. I went to see Courmont—and believe me, that wasn’t easy for me—and we talked. Thanks to her I could see that I was scared, that I could allow proper emotions, and… well, it was all pretty complicated. The important thing is—she advised me to leave the past behind me and to look to the future. And she told me to be courageous and take a risk… with you.”
A wonderful warmth spread inside Geron’s chest when he heard those words. That sounded a lot different from what he had expected to hear. With a smile on his lips, he walked towards Lenissa, putting his hands on her slender waist. “Does that mean I’m allowed to love you?”
A mischievous sparkle was in her eyes when she looked up at him. “Would you stop it if I forbade it?”
He shook his head, grinning. “I’m afraid not, Commander.”
“In which case, I’m obviously powerless, Doctor.” She pulled her arms out from behind her back, putting them around his neck. Her fingers stroked the back of his neck.
“And what about you?” he whispered. “Do you think you could love me back?”
Affectionately, she looked at him. “You never know. Everything is possible. Now, everything is possible.” She pulled his head down to her and kissed him.
* * *
Elsewhere, in the captain’s ready room, two other people enjoyed each other’s company, though they were old friends, not lovers.
“Jamaican Blue Mountain blend,” Adams said when he handed his first officer a cup of coffee.
“Captain, why are you wasting your special coffee on me?” Roaas asked. “You know I’m not capable of distinguishing good coffee from bad.”
“Oh, stop whining, Roaas. I feel like celebrating, and you don’t celebrate with a standard blend from the replicator in the mess hall.”
“As you wish.” Dutifully, the Caitian accepted the cup.
Adams had dimmed the lights, and outside the window the first streaks of passing stars appeared in the red warp swirl. The Prometheus was approaching the periphery of the Lembatta Cluster. It was a reassuring sight. The crisis in the Renao home spheres had been overcome, and they were heading toward a two-week shore leave. Of course, there was damage to the Prometheus that still required repairs. And once again, Adams would have to write letters of condolence for the families of crewmembers who had lost their lives during the battle for the shipyard of the Purifying Flame. Fortunately, only a handful of men and women had fallen, but every loss hurt. Not to mention the thousands who had died in or outside the cluster. They would need to be remembered—at an appropriate time.
But not now, he reminded himself. Not tonight. He took a sip from his coffee, enjoying the wonderful flavour that unfolded across his palate. Slowly, he walked toward the window, looking out.
“Oh, the irony,” he said, lost in thought.
“What?” Roaas joined him by the window.
“We were so close to losing the peace with the Klingon Empire. We were on the verge of war against the Renao. And we regarded the energy being on Iad as the root of all evil.” He shook his head. “It’s so easy to make enemies or regard others as the enemy. But in the end, they were all victims one way or another. The Klingons, the Flame, us—we were all victims of the Son’s madness. And the Son was a victim, too. He fell prey to his own inquisitiveness, of his wish—that we know all too well—to boldly go where no one had gone before.”
“According to your reasoning, the Renao would be right after all,” Roaas said. “All this wouldn’t have happened if we had all remained in our home spheres—in the
space that nature has defined for them.”
Adams shook his head. “That’s not the answer. In fact, I think it’s more important than ever to question one’s actions and their consequences consistently. Recklessness, bigotry, greed for glory, hubris… These traits blind everyone’s sight for the greater good, whether they stay home or not.”
“So, according to you, the Federation suffers from hubris?” Roaas looked at him curiously.
“In this case, yes. We regarded the Renao as a backward people and neglected the Lembatta Cluster. How much sooner might we have noticed these difficulties if we had taken their problems seriously?”
Roaas shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. “I believe the Federation had simply reached the limits of its capabilities. You know the crises of the past few years as well as I do, sir. We simply had to lose sight of the galactic sideshows eventually.”
“Yes, maybe. So it’s even more pleasant to have one problem less than before. And with L’emka on Onferin, the first step has been taken to bring the Renao and their neighbors closer together.”
“That sounds like a toast to raise your cup to.” Roaas’s whiskers twitched in amusement.
“You’re right.” Adams smiled faintly. “Talking about events worth drinking to—I have received pleasant news from Starfleet.”
“You mean other than the permission for two weeks’ shore leave?”
“Yes, other than that.” Adams walked to his desk, picked up a padd, and handed it to his first officer, who scanned the contents. His furry ears pricked up in surprise.
“Starfleet is beginning a new science program?”
“The most extensive for ten years,” Adams said, nodding. “With everything you would expect from such a program—deep-space missions, the search for alien life, exploring unknown regions of space. It sounds like a true new beginning. And the first ships have already embarked on their missions.”
“The Enterprise-E under Captain Picard, the Robinson under Captain Sisko.” Roaas read the rosters of those ships participating in the new program. “That looks huge. If they send out famous captains like these on research missions, the fleet and the Federation are sending clear signals. The decade of war has ended. Hail a more peaceful future.”
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