Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Beginnings

Captain Michael T. Owens was back in his proper uniform for the first time in a week.

But that was not the change that concerned him most. It wasn’t his clothes that felt different, it was his body.

He was still in pain with several sore muscles that remained as a reminder of his brush with death when attempting to save Frobisher. He had noticed that his body had bruised much easier than it had only moments before the incident when it had been six years younger. Over just a few days he had witnessed his body age at rapid speeds and it had left him weak and mentally exhausted. Michael had always considered himself to be a man in very good physical condition but now he felt old. While it seemed to have little to do with physical reality it wasn’t exactly something that was just in his head either.

       He stood in his ready room by the viewport, looking down at the planet below. It had been extraordinarily lucky that Eagle had returned when it had, saving him and DeMara as well as the rest of the away team including Commander Leva by beaming them off the planet just in time.

His mission was over. He had been successful in achieving what he had set out to do. Frobisher was no more. It had taken a while and a bizarre trip through his past, but he had stopped him for good. And yet Frobisher had been right in pointing out that the price for his success had been a high one. He dreaded the prospect of writing a report on the incident. He wasn’t sure how Starfleet would react to any of it, from his initial act of insubordination that had launched this strange quest to how he had handled himself in the past.

       “The Kitty Hawk has just arrived and the Cherokee will be here within the hour. They will assist us in dealing with the Romulans that remain on the surface.”

       Michael nodded and turned away from the window to face his first officer. Commander Edison had entered the ready room a few minutes earlier to fill him in on the events that had transpired in his absence.

       “As for the Romulan ship,” he said. “We managed to intercept it. It was a short battle, we took out their weapons and engines but they self-destructed before we could take any prisoners.”

       “Did they send off any messages?” Michael said. Edison had already brought him up to speed on the Romulan spy affair and Nakaar’s attempt to pass along vital information to his government. He had, however, honored his word to the admiral and not revealed what that information was. Michael hadn’t asked.

       “They did not have the chance.”

       He nodded and sat behind his desk. He looked up at his first officer, a smile forming on his face. “You did a great job, Gene,” he said. “I hope having my father along wasn’t too much trouble. I know he can be stubborn from time to time.”

       Eugene Edison mirrored the smile. “I believe it runs in the family.”

       The door chime sounded, announcing another visitor.

       “Enter.”

       The doors slid open and DeMara stepped into the room. She carried a large white box.

       “What do you have there?” Edison asked.

       “This,” she said and placed the box carefully on the desk, “is a present.”

       “A present?” said the first officer intrigued and moved toward the box.

       “For the captain,” she said quickly causing Edison to stop short. He nodded and looked at Michael who gave him a shrug.

       “The Kitty Hawk delivered it. They stopped by Farga on the way over here and picked it up from the Agamemnon.”

       “Open it,” Michael said, his excitement building over the mysterious box.

       She pulled a string and the panels of the box fell away instantly to reveal a silver flower pot containing several long-stemmed, large-petalled, and purple blooms.

       All three of them looked at the pot with surprise. Michael recognized them immediately. They were all too familiar to him, after all, they had been his mother’s favorites.

       “Flowers?” Edison said without hiding his surprise. “Captain, you wouldn’t happen to have a secret admirer, would you?” he said with a wide grin on his face.

       He shot the other man an icy glare. “Commander, isn’t there something important you need to be doing someplace else?”

       Edison shook his head as he focused on the vase again. “No, not really.”

       Michael cleared his throat causing Edison to look up. He noticed the insistent expression on the captain’s face. He got the hint. “Actually, there was something I should be doing… someplace else,” he said quickly. He didn’t manage to wipe off his sheepish smile, however. He exchanged another glance with DeMara and then quickly headed for the exit. He left the ready room but not before shooting one last glance at the flowers on the desk.

       DeMara watched the first officer leave and then turned back to Michael. “Stargazer lilies?”

       He regarded her with a surprised look.

       “I’m well versed in botany,” she said. “Besides, I’ve been to your home on numerous occasions,” she added, glancing at the painting that hung on the wall of the office, depicting the old antebellum-style house Michael had grown up in.

       “They’re from Amaya,” he said and leaned forward to inspect the delicate flowers more closely.

       She didn’t speak. Her smile was gone, replaced by concern.

       He sighed. “Please don’t give me another lecture on the Temporal Prime Directive. I think we’re way past that.”

       “I was just wondering how you’re going to explain all this to Temporal Investigations.”

       Michael leaned back. He hadn’t given that much thought. But the time travel investigators were quite insistent and precise in their interviews, that much he knew. They wouldn’t let this matter just slide. Michael had no idea if they would conclude that his actions had been necessary or at least incidental and unintentional. A negative review by the investigators could have severe repercussions. Perhaps he would have to tweak the truth slightly. After all, he and DeMara were the only people who knew about the changes that had taken place in the timeline.

       The Tenarian seemed to be able to read her friend’s mind. “Whatever you decide, Michael, I’ll back you.”

       He nodded.

       She looked back at the lilies. “As far as Captain Donners is concerned, you’re all on your own.”

       A smile crept onto his lips. He had many regrets about what had transpired over the last few days. But the way he had dealt with Amaya Donners was certainly not one of them. However, having to tell her that unbeknownst to her there had been a time when he had hurt her badly and she had grown to resent him would take some finesse.

       “That’s going to be a challenge of an entirely different caliber.”

* * *

The mood at the table Leva, Nora, Wenera, and Culsten had gathered in the lower level of the Nest was noticeably dour. All four officers sat quietly over their drinks each of them making an effort not to look directly at each other.

       It was the doctor who finally broke the silence. “I feel awful. We should’ve reported our suspicions much earlier. Perhaps that way…” she did not finish her sentence.

       Everybody present knew what she was going to say. Culsten nodded slowly, agreeing to the sentiment.

       “You can’t blame yourself for what happened,” Nora said. “From what I’ve heard so far, you didn’t have anything conclusive. I don’t think the outcome would’ve been much different if you had acted sooner.”

       Wenera glanced at the Bajoran security chief. The doctor had confessed her story to her earlier when she had come to sickbay to be treated for a disruptor burn to her shoulder. With Culsten’s help, she had also filed a complete report to the first officer but neither she nor the helmsman had yet to hear back from Edison or the captain. They did expect some reprimand to come their way. She had not counted on the sympathy of the usually rather unforgiving security chief, however. Wenera managed a weak smile.

       “I’m not so sure,” said Culsten who felt equally upset about the recent events. “I think we went too far. If we had informed Commander Edison earlier, we might have been able to take steps to apprehend Nakaar.”

       Leva shook his head. “Nakaar was well aware of your suspicions. If you had acted any sooner, he would have escaped and returned to Romulus with information that would have endangered a large number of Federation sympathizers.”

       Culsten looked up at the half-Romulan officer. He couldn’t quite make out what Leva was thinking. His words seemed clear enough but his eyes appeared to speak a different language altogether. He had lost a person he had cared for deeply and no matter what Leva said, Culsten could not shake the feeling that he was partly to blame.

       Nora glanced at her long-time friend. She could sense his apprehensions as well. “Are you all right, So’?”

       But Eagle’s tactical officer was not paying her any attention. His eyes were unfocused as he glanced into deep space, beyond the large windows of the Nest.

Nora softly touched his arm. “So’?”

He turned to the Bajoran as if waking from a deep trance. Then a smile came over his lips. “I’m fine,” he said and looked at the faces of the people surrounding him. “I’m home.”

Wenera nodded. “There are a couple of newborns in my sickbay who can make that same claim now as well. They’re incredible little critters.”

“The turtles?” Culsten said.

The doctor nodded.

“You know what? I wouldn’t mind having a look at them now,” the young helmsman said.

Wenera considered him suspiciously. “Are you quite sure  that wouldn’t be too insipid for your adventurous nature?”

“Doc, I believe having a look at your animals is just about all the excitement I can handle for now.”

“I’ll join you if you don’t mind,” Nora said.

Wenera stood up. “Not in the least. You’ll love those little creatures. They’re adorable.”

Culsten and Nora followed suit, leaving their seats. Leva remained where he was.

“Are you coming?” said the Bajoran.

Leva looked up. “You go ahead, I’ll join you later.”

Her face still mirrored concern.

“Don’t worry, Laas. I’m fine, really.”

She nodded and then left the table, following Wenera and Culsten toward the exit.

So’Dan had spotted a more infrequent visitor to the Nest enter a few moments earlier. The Vulcan science officer had found an empty table at the far corner, had sat, and was now staring into the emptiness of space.

So’Dan stood up and walked over to him.

“It’s soothing, isn’t it?”

Xylion turned to look at the Romulan who had stepped up behind him. If he was surprised to see him, he didn’t show it. “I beg your pardon?”

So’Dan gestured at the windows. “To look down into the great void of space, trying to find answers among the stars.”

Xylion turned back. “It does help me to meditate.”

He nodded. “You mind if I join you?”

“I do not.”

So’Dan sat opposite the science officer. They hadn’t spoken since the day K’tera had died. They had stood together at her side, patiently waiting for her to draw her last breath. It had been painful for So’Dan to watch but in the end, she had died calmly in her sleep. After that they had left sickbay, going their separate ways.

“Commander, I feel that I owe you an apology.”

Xylion’s expression remained almost entirely neutral. It was only his eyes that gave him away.

“I had no right to come between you and your fiancée.”

“You acted in accordance with the traditions and manners of your own culture, and K’tera openly embraced those influences. Regardless of how illogical and inappropriate those influences were they nevertheless served a very specific purpose, Commander. This purpose might have brought satisfaction to both of you.”

So’Dan wasn’t quite sure what Xylion was saying. He listened intently to his words but somehow, he couldn’t be certain if they were an absolution or an accusation. He decided to leave the matter be.

“I may not have been the most cooperative colleague over the last year. I hope that we will be able to work together more harmoniously in the future.”

Xylion raised an eyebrow. “That, Commander, will be entirely up to you.”

So’Dan nodded.

They both remained quietly in their seats, their gazes drifting off into infinity.

* * *

A wave of new memories had overcome him. He was certain that he had not experienced them and yet they seemed to be as clear as any other memory he had ever had. And they were becoming clearer by the moment. Some of the memories were contradicting each other and fighting for dominance, trying to assert themselves as the one and only truth. And yet he knew that each and every version contained a little bit of the truth. Even though confusing, all of them were real and he feared that eventually one side of the truth would be lost forever.

       Doctor Wenera had informed both him and DeMara upon their return that they had shown signs of new memory imprints forming in their hippocampi. They would suffer from slight headaches for a while but there was no physical damage and no way of stopping the brain from doing what it had to do. She had suggested that they both took some time to speak to Counselor Trenira. Michael figured that that was probably a good idea even if he had never felt entirely comfortable talking to psychoanalysts. He had a desperate urge to speak to somebody but at the moment there was only one person on board he needed to face.

       “Enter.”

       Michael stepped into the V.I.P. quarters still being occupied by his father. He found him in the bedroom over a small suitcase, packing together the few belongings he had brought. His back was turned to him and he didn’t show any sign of acknowledging his presence.

       “You’re leaving?”

       “I need to get back to Farga. I’ll take the Cherokee once she arrives,” he said still packing.

       Michael took a few steps into the bedroom. “We could take you.”

       The admiral shook his head. “You’re going to be tied up here for the next few days cleaning up what remains of that Romulan base.”

       Michael watched silently as his father walked between a dresser and his suitcase, finishing up his luggage.

       “Do you have any idea what kind of fall-out I can expect?”

       The admiral stopped and turned to face his son. “What do you think? You violated a direct order from your superior. Insubordination is a serious charge,” he said, anger shimmering in his eyes.

       “I stopped Frobisher. I stopped him from committing an act that would have seriously changed the timeline. That must count for something.”

       “Yes, I’m sure it will. But the ends do not always justify the means. You’d do well in learning that someday.”

       “I can’t believe this,” Michael said to himself. “I didn’t expect to get a medal for what I did but perhaps some form of acknowledgment—”

       “You want praise for defying orders? Son, who do you think you work for? You do what you’re told nothing more and nothing less. That is your job description. You have no idea what kind of danger you brought upon the Federation and my mission on Farga.”

       “Your mission? That’s it, isn’t it? It’s not about the Federation or Starfleet. It’s that I didn’t do what you wanted me to do. That I endangered your plans. If I hadn’t done what I did your mission might never have happened in the first place.”

       “That is complete conjecture and you know it.” The admiral barked, his voice raised a few octaves. “Be assured that I will review your reports with great scrutiny.”

       Michael remained silent for a few moments. “Dad, I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

       He closed his suitcase. “In that case, you’re not doing a very good job,” he said, picked up his luggage, and moved into the living area.

       Michael followed. “Things happened when I went after Frobisher that I didn’t intend for.”

       That got his attention. He put the suitcase by the table and turned to face his son, a look of expectation on his face. It was almost fatherly.

       “I … I’m not sure how to explain it. I haven’t decided if I should even put it into my report.”

       Jon Owens took a small step toward him. “You must,” he said firmly. “If you did any damage to the timeline it has to be recorded. All of it.”

       Michael nodded slowly. “I’ve blamed you a long time for what you did to Matthew and what you did to me.”

       He abruptly turned away. “I don’t have time for this. We have—”

       “Please, dad, just let me say this.”

       The admiral stepped to the large window, he didn’t continue but he didn’t turn around either.

       “I might never understand you completely and why you always felt that your work was more important than your family. But I’m not going to judge you for that. I do understand one thing. You wanted me to succeed and to be good at what I do. There was a time when I thought all you wanted was to mold me in your image and make me more like you. I don’t know, maybe that is partly true. The complete truth is that I’m happy with where I am and what I do.”

       Jonathan Owens turned.

       “You did something. I guess you will read it in the report but I need to tell you now. A few years ago, you believed in me even though you had no idea what had happened. You stood by me even though you had any reason not to. Without what you did then I wouldn’t be standing here today and for that, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

       The admiral just looked at his son for a moment. There were no words spoken between them but Michael felt an immense relief at that moment. He had decided to make an effort to forgive his father. It had been a difficult choice, especially after seeing his brother killed for a second time. It had been something Matthew had told him that had changed his mind.

       Michael, I do not regret my life or the choices that I made. Don’t regret yours.

       He was not going to disappoint his brother. He couldn’t even bear the thought of it. It was not going to happen overnight, he knew that. After all, he had allowed his anger to simmer over years. But he had taken the first step.

       “Admiral Owens, the Cherokee has arrived and is now ready to receive you.” It was Commander Edison’s voice, coming over the intercom that interrupted the silence between father and son.

       The admiral nodded curtly, picked up his suitcase, and walked to the doors. They slid apart and he stopped in the doorframe and turned around.

       Michael noticed a frailty he had never spotted in his father before. Michael had always prided himself that he had a strong and resilient man as a father and that he had inherited that same sturdiness. But it seemed all but gone now. He didn’t know what exactly his mission to Farga had entailed but he was certain that it had not been a success. His father had never handled failure very well. But what he saw now was not just a fleeting weakness. Jonathan Taylor Owens was getting old. Perhaps too old for the demanding life he led.

“As for your question about the consequences of your actions,” he finally said. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry a great deal. Take care, son,” he added then turned and walked away.

       Michael remained where he was, staring at the now-closed doors. As he stood there, he knew that he was mainly to blame for widening the rift between him and his father. It was he who had thrown accusations at him, some of which he knew now had been unfounded. God knew, Jon Owens was, and never had been a saint but he had caused the man pain that he had not deserved. It would take time to heal the wounds of the past, that much was certain.

When Michael finally turned away from the doors he stepped to the windows and spotted a starship peak into view. It stayed there for a few moments and then it streaked away and vanished in a bright flash of light.

       “Goodbye, Dad.”

The adventures will continue ...