Stardate 75884.3; November 19, 2398
Episode 93
Edited by Peter Bossley
Written by Chris Adamek
ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS
Angela Christopher
Jadzia Dax
Elim Garak
Major Giras
General Drenis
Koldar
Rachael Meyer
Ogram Nel-sh’rog
Jayla Trinn
Prologue
“So, how was your day today?”
Lazily sprawled out on the sofa, his mind practically dead to the
world, it took Alan Christopher a few seconds to realize someone had spoken. Once the realization struck, it took another
few seconds to process the information, and then, no less than five seconds
later, Alan reached his conclusion:
“Good.”
Erin Keller stood a few meters away, steaming mug of hot chocolate
in hand. A wry grin lingered on her
face as she observed her phlegmatic husband, whom she suspected had not moved
much at all during the past few hours.
“You have inspired all of us with your incredible leadership.” Her grin widened. “Maybe tomorrow, everyone will want to stay in their
quarters and lie on the sofa all day? I
know I will…”
Alan’s arm slid off the side of the couch, his fingers grazing the
soft gray carpeting on the floor. “You
know, I’ve just spent the past few weeks scurrying around behind enemy lines,
valiantly bringing a peaceful end to our conflict with the Romulans. In my opinion, that warrants a little
downtime.” He chuckled. “And for the record, I haven’t been here all
day…”
“Oh that’s right… you had to go to the bathroom after lunch!” Erin sipped at her hot chocolate, and then
seated herself upon Alan’s abdomen.
“And I think I heard you brushing your teeth…”
Alan flashed a toothy grin.
“Plaque is the ultimate enemy, dearest Erin. If war is not waged, my teeth will fall out… and then you’ll have
to pre-chew all of my food.”
Erin adamantly shook her head.
“I don’t think so! I’ll put you
on a liquid diet before I chew any of your food.”
“You’re no fun…”
“I know,” said Erin amidst a sheepish shrug.
Though Erin was indeed a delicate flower, her weight was beginning
to upset Alan’s stomach. He gently
placed a hand upon her waist and said, “If you must sit, I’ll make room for
you…”
Erin’s ethereal brown eyes immediately looked down upon him. “Are you saying I’m fat?”
Alan hated those questions, because both of the obvious
answers were trap doors. Saying ‘yes’
would only anger Erin… and saying ‘no’ would invite one of her legendary
insults. So he brooded for a moment before
finally choosing his fate. “No…” But he
wasn’t about to give Erin the pleasure of insulting him—he would beat her to
the punch. “I’m just too old and feeble
to support your weight.”
She giggled and hopped to her feet, sloshing a little hot
chocolate on the front of her uniform in the process. “You’re so silly…”
“Tell me all about it.”
Alan swiftly reoriented himself, and then wrapped his arm around Erin’s
shoulders once she sat. “You slopped,”
he said, pointing to the new stain.
She rubbed at it with her thumb, but that only worsened the
stain. “I didn’t like this uniform anyway,”
she chirped.
Alan’s witty reply was on the tip of his tongue, but the moment
his lips parted to deliver it, the sound of little feet dragging on the carpet
diverted his attention. Within moments,
Angela appeared in the living area.
Clutched in her left hand was her favorite doll, Molly; in the right,
Pinky, her beloved blanket. She
wandered a bit further into the room before the sad frown on her face became
apparent.
“Hey, Angela!” said Erin.
She tried to sound happy, but given the frown, she was defiantly
concerned. “What’s wrong, honey?”
She was dressed in her pajamas, a little pink outfit dotted with
bunnies, and as she stood contemplating the question, Angela was the epitome of
cuteness. “I don’t know,” she
proclaimed after a moment.
“Are you sad?” asked Alan.
Given the long face, he assumed that was the case—perhaps she missed
Kitty?
But the little girl shook her head. She stared at her parents for a short while longer, and then
raced over to them, scrambling up onto the couch and squeezing herself into the
little nook between them. “I don’t feel
good,” she said a moment later.
“You don’t?” asked Alan, his voice filled with surprise. She had seemed fine most of the afternoon.
She nodded, and pointed to the area giving her the most
trouble—her stomach.
Having ended her shift not much more than ten minutes ago, Erin
was still equipped with her tricorder.
She carefully pulled it from its holster and showed it to Angela. “Do you know what this is?”
The girl nodded. “Mr.
Tricorder! Will he make my tummy feel
better?”
“We’ll see,” said Erin.
She quickly flipped the tricorder open and pointed it at Angela. Almost immediately, a wealth of data flitted
across the tiny screen—and given the look on Erin’s face, Alan assumed this
tummy ache was little more than that.
“Well?” he asked.
Erin smiled, and snapped shut the tricorder. “Angela,” she said softly, “did you eat a
cookie?”
The girl shook her head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Sensing her little white lie had not fooled anyone, Angela paused
and reconsidered her earlier sentiment.
“I was getting them for Daddy!” she explained. “But he was sleeping!”
“So you ate them?” asked Erin.
This time, Angela reluctantly admitted to the crime. She nodded her head—but her bright blue eyes
were welling with tears.
Unable to watch the little girl cry for even a nanosecond, Alan
immediately scooped her up. “It’s
okay,” he said, running his fingers through her mess of blonde hair. “We’ll take you to see Sarah, and she’ll
make you all better.”
“I didn’t mean to eat the cookies!” cried Angela, oblivious to her
daddy’s words.
Holding Angela close to his chest, Alan again tried to reassure
her that everything would be fine.
“Don’t worry about it, honey.
You’re a good girl.”
She sniffled, and nodded her head into Alan’s shoulder. “I love you, Daddy.”
The words melted Alan’s heart every time he heard them—and this
time was no different. He planted a
gentle kiss atop Angela’s head and happily returned the sentiment. “I love you, too, Angela.” He was content to hold the little girl for
an infinite amount of time—but little more than a minute into infinity, she
squirmed her way back onto the sofa.
Erin smiled. “Why don’t we
go see Sarah?”
Angela nodded her agreement, and away they went.
• • •
Rachael Meyer blinked.
She fully expected to see sickbay and Doctor Hartman’s scowling
face in her field of vision, but as she began to take in her surroundings, it
was immediately obvious to her that she wasn’t even aboard the Starlight.
Rachael was in her bedroom.
It was an opulent, spacious room that smelled of fresh flowers and
morning dew. The huge window on the
south wall was decorated with lavish white drapes, and had a picturesque view
of the mountains and surrounding valley.
There was a desk in the corner, littered with a few seemingly
out-of-place padds. The north wall was
covered in art, most of it abstract, but all of it beautiful. There were a few dressers and vanity mirrors
near the bed… and Jadzia.
Rachael gently kicked aside the silky white covers and sat up in
bed, her eyes slowly wandering over to her lover. “I’ve been having the strangest dreams,” she mused. The tender vision of little Angela was still
fresh in her mind, and a part of her wished it could have continued.
Jadzia took a brush to her long, dark hair. “The Starlight again?” she
skeptically inquired.
Rachael nodded. She had
been having the dreams ever since the discovery of an interdimensional gateway
on Tal Qirat a few weeks ago. But while
most everyone, including Jadzia, tended to dismiss them as pleasant dreams,
Rachael was inclined to give them a bit more credence. “I experienced something back on Tal Qirat,”
she insisted. “It was like… I stepped
through a doorway to another world.”
“A world dominated by humans?” Jadzia chuckled at the very notion. “It’s a nice thought—and we could definitely use some nice
thoughts right about now—but don’t you think it’s just a little
far-fetched?”
At first, Rachael found the whole idea of the ‘United Federation
of Planets’ completely absurd. But the
more time she spent dreaming up this new Alpha Quadrant, the more content she
was to believe in it. Everything just
seemed to click. “If only you could see
it…”
“I could use a vacation,” mused Jadzia, gently stroking her
hair with the brush. “Maybe I should
cancel our getaway to Risa and book us passage on the next freighter heading to
Earth! I think the Bajorans could
probably smuggle us past the Xindi patrols—and once we’re there, the
possibilities are endless. We could
visit the African Wastelands… or the American Wastelands… or the Pacific Wastelands—I
hear they’re beautiful this time of year…”
A vacation sounded nice—maybe not to Earth—but a vacation was
definitely appealing. Unfortunately, it
was completely out of the question.
“Maybe after the war,” said Rachael.
“Assuming we live that long,” Jadzia mused as she finished
brushing her hair.
Supreme Commander Neelar Drayge was sick and tired of the Trill
Confederation. For decades, they dared
to defy the supreme authority of the Bolian Dominion, and for decades, the
Bolians stood by and did nothing. Some
had said a war against the Trills would be too costly; others argued the
resources for such a war were too scarce; still, others argued that a
negotiated peace was the only answer.
But all this reasoning resulted in the one thing Drayge hated most:
inaction.
While the Trills quietly expanded their little empire, the Bolians
did nothing. While the Trills built up
their defenses, the Bolians did nothing.
Nothing! Drayge shuddered at the
very notion of such insolence. The
Trills were a plague to be wiped from the galaxy—and now that Neelar Drayge was
in command of the Bolian Dominion, he would not rest until he reached his
objective.
And seated upon the upon the opulent command chair in the heart of
his illustrious warship, Drayge smiled deviously. He was confident that he would be resting comfortably in his
quarters very shortly. His
warship was just the tip of the iceberg; lingering nearby were thousands of
raiders and destroyers, ready to spill onto the hallowed battlefield and
unleash the dogs of war…