Chapter Text
It was one of those moments where one's eyes seemed to glaze over after staring at something for a long while. Most people referred to it as "zoning out." Others referred to it as reaching a state of inner peace, allowing the subconscious to take over and the freedom of thought prevailing over the conscious mind. Whatever it was, Lieutenant January McKenna was experiencing it when the commanding admiral of Starbase 818 sent for her.
The object of her attention was a bluish point of light in the distance from the vantage on the main commerce deck of the starbase. She had stood upon the deck, in that position for over an hour, enjoying the simplicity in not thinking about anything. Despite the noise of the commerce area, and the foot traffic behind her, she simply tuned everything out except for that single point of light. When the ensign sent down from the admiral's office touched his hand to her shoulder, she jumped at having been surprised.
"I-I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you, sir. I just, I mean, I tried to reach you on your communicator, sir, but you didn't respond." It was clear he thought January was going to scold him for the action.
Once January's heartbeats returned to a normal pace, she laughed. "That's all right, Ensign. I take it by your presence that the admiral wishes to speak with me."
"Yes, sir. If you would please follow me?"
She did not give a response other than to nod her head. Once the ensign announced her presence from the admiral's reception office, January walked into the private office and made her report just as a Starfleet officer should.
"Lieutenant January McKenna, reporting as ordered, Admiral," she stood at an attentive stance, with her feet spread even with the width of her shoulders.
Rear Admiral (upper half) Daniel Ross gave her a dismissing wave, asking her to stand at ease and conduct herself to a seat in front of his desk. "When Captain tr'Khellian contacted us here to inform us that he was towing the Malinche in from a skirmish with a Borg sphere, a skirmish that resulted in your victory no less..." he let his voice trail off, shaking his head at her with a smile on his face. "Lieutenant, you've far exceeded my expectations. You've exceeded a great many of Starfleet's expectations in a time when exceptional officers are needed more than ever before."
McKenna's face began to burn. "With all due respect, sir, my crew deserves just as much of the accolades, if not all of them." She heard herself speak the words before she even thought about them. Time was, there would have been a far more arrogant January simply nodding along with the praise being received. That time seemed so much further away than a year. In a year, she felt she had aged over ten years.
The rear admiral continued to smile, "I can assure you that your crew will be sharing in the glory of your victory. Out of thousands and thousands of patrols, the Malinche is the only ship to encounter a Borg vessel. And out of that single encounter, you have the honor of being the first surviving ship of a conflict with the Borg." He paused, letting that fact sink in, before continuing on, "You should know that both Chancellor K'mpec and Grand Admiral Mandukar'us were made aware of your battle, and they personally wish to convey their thanks and commendation for your crew, with the Unit Commendation, and for you, the Bronze Star."
Her eyes widened at the mention of the medal. This particular medal was awarded to those individuals who distinguished themselves with heroic actions while engaged in combat during a time of war. It was one of the higher medals Starfleet had to give, and while she thought about the honor of receiving that award, her thoughts went to the fact that she was probably the only officer from this war that did not received this medal posthumously. "Admiral, I really don't think that..."
Ross interrupted her, "I'm not finished, Lieutenant. In large part due to the extraordinary circumstances by which you had to assume command of a battlecruiser at such a junior rank, Starfleet has deemed you fit for a battlefield promotion to the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Congratulations."
"A promotion? But, sir, I..."
"Commander McKenna, you have a really funny way of celebrating."
She stopped, looking up at the admiral, trying to determine the best course of action in this situation. Not that in her wildest dreams did she ever think she would actually refuse a promotion based entirely on her lucky streak. Once more, just as she did when she assumed command of the Malinche, the sense of guilt overrode any kind of joy she would normally feel at being promoted so quickly through the ranks. "My apologies for not seeming too happy about this, sir, but if you would just listen..."
Ross sighed loudly. "This is bigger than you realize, Commander. Your victory was broadcast all over the Intergalactic NewsWire. It's being used as a morale booster to all of the Starfleet bases and ships involved. The medals, the promotion, the assignment..."
"Assignment?"
"Yes, the assignment." Admiral Ross leaned back in his chair, while his hand reached over to tap at his desktop terminal, pulling up the proper information about Jan's next assignment. "The drydock chief has reported that the Malinche is to be transferred to Eisn Fleetyards as soon as possible for a complete refit. The hit you sustained buckled several superstructure points along the engineering hull, it was really a wonder that it held out through the trip back here."
"I know, sir." Then it dawned on her; she was being relieved. "Am I to understand then that I have been relieved of my command?"
"Of the Malinche, yes."
She felt her blood beginning to rise within her, getting more and more agitated with the admiral's flagrant use of dramatics. He was an absolute master of theatrics. "May I respectfully inquire as to my next job, Admiral?"
"That all depends on you."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You have your choice of assignments, Commander. However, it would seem that everyone wants you. Captain Keogh of the Odyssey extends an invitation to join his new ship as executive officer. We have several new corvettes and frigates available for your leadership. Even Admiral Mandukar'us has provided a transfer order for you to join his general staff at the temporary headquarters on Qo'noS," Ross explained. "As I said, it all depends on you."
Without any warning, January shot up out of the seat and began to pace. "Permission to speak candidly, Admiral?"
"Go ahead."
"With all due respect, sir. I don't deserve any of this. The Malinche took that hit from the feedback of the cobalt device that I ordered fired. Ensign Kevlin died as a result of friendly fire," she spoke in almost a rapid-fire speed, trying to get the truth out and off her shoulders. "I don't deserve the medal, the promotion, or having Starfleet literally at my fingertips!"
Following her last word, Admiral Ross waited a few moments before asking, "Are you finished, Commander?"
McKenna's anger began to rise, and with each word, her voice dripped with a little more annoyance, "I suppose so, sir."
"Good. Because once in a while, I like to finish explaining everything before you fly off the handle." His own annoyance was made known with a pointed finger at the chair, and a quiet order to sit down. "As I was saying, your victory is being used to boost morale. I am aware of the circumstances and details of the encounter with the spheres. If Starfleet felt you acted improperly, you would be in the brig, not here in my office."
She nodded, understanding that much. "It just seems as though if Starfleet wanted a victory so badly, then perhaps they would bury the truth about what really happened in order to give everyone something to emulate, sir."
"I can appreciate that perspective. However, I would hope that you would at least trust me enough to tell you with all honesty that this is not the case. Whatever regrets or unjust burden you feel it necessary to carry, Starfleet has seen fit to do what it has done." Ross continued, "Yes, we're proud of you. Yes, we want everyone to know that the Borg can be beaten."
"Yes, you want to parade me around the fleet so everyone can get a look at the new battle horse," she said, in a tone far more sarcastic than she intended.
"That was uncalled for, Commander," the rear admiral snapped back.
She did not say anything. In the silence of the office, she made her decision within a full minute of her last statement. "If I can have any assignment I want, then I want command again. You mentioned frigates and corvettes. I want another Excelsior-class."
It was a rather brazen command to make of a rear admiral, even if she had the position and reputation to make it. Ross wiped at his upper lip before responding, "You're still too junior of rank to be able to accommodate that request. With the influx of the other governments and their defense forces, we're far beyond Starfleet's original size. Unlike the situation after Antares, we've no need to ask you to put yourself back in such an extraordinary position. My recommendation is to take Admiral Mandukar'us' offer to join his general staff."
She felt insulted by his recommendation, but she held herself from saying so. "I want command, Admiral. I don't want to be stuck behind a desk, making sure that an admiral's public relations machine is working properly. I am not a trophy officer. If I truly have earned everything that's coming to me, then let me go back out and do my job. Please."
Rear Admiral Ross now felt his temper flaring slightly at the barb she inadvertently threw at him. The admiral was a career desk officer, rising through the ranks on various staffs instead of on the deck of a starship. The only time he ever put in on a ship was whenever the admiral he served under wanted some space duty. After thinking about it, he realized she did not intend to slight his career, and instead of reacting to the perceived insult, he took a deep breath, and eyed January long enough to come to a decision. "Very well. Give me a few minutes to see if there are any Excelsior-class vessels available."
"I want the same command crew, too."
He looked at her, a furious expression on his face. "And while I'm at it, how about a fleet for you to command?"
"This isn't about my ego, sir," she said, having been properly cowed by the admiral's anger. "I just wouldn't feel right to accept another command without them."
Ross was not yet ready to let go of his fury. "I'll see what I can do, Commander. You're dismissed."
Clearing the office doors, she found herself back in the reception area, where the ensign who startled her was sitting at his desk. He looked up, and immediately went to his feet, holding a padd. "Oh, Commander. I have some papers for you to go over, and the schedule for the awards ceremony for you and the crew of the Malinche."
She was not in the mood for paperwork, or to even be in the admiral's general vicinity for any longer than she had to be. "Can we go over that later, Ensign? No, wait a minute. Instead, just send all of that to me by mail and I'll go over it and return whatever needs to be returned to you later." Without waiting for him to respond, Lieutenant Commander January McKenna mumbled to herself as she made quick strides for the exit, "I think I need a drink."
The dress uniform worn by members of the Starfleet Marine Corps was a distinctive and more extravagant uniform than that of their fleet counterparts. Unlike the fleet dress uniform, the marine version carried with it the ceremonial saber attached to the sash worn over the left shoulder. The collar was more flared and unbroken around the neck of the wearer, and the space black color was a contrast to the maroon, gold, and blue-green of the fleet uniforms.
First Lieutenant Norman E. Yamaguchi wore his with pride, even if the event he wore it to gave him no personal joy. In fact, the event he attended could be contorted into one of the most painful experiences of his life. His childhood friend and fellow marine officer, Captain Nancy Kotobuki, was getting married. Traditionally, and because of their close families, he attended on her behalf. The most painful part of the ceremony came when he was asked to give her away.
With the pair dressed in their dress uniforms, she took his arm for the very last time as they walked up to the aisle. Both sides were filled with shipmates, old friends, and whatever surviving family there was. Her younger brother, Geoffrey, now a marine sergeant, was amongst the groomsmen, standing next to the groom.
Norman met the groom only a few days prior, once the Malinche's crew was ordered to seek guest quarters aboard the starbase. At first, he appeared a bit young to Norman, but it was simply the nature of his youthful face. Clean-shaven and with his hair kept in a marine fashion, he was every inch the infantry commander. A major aboard the Iwo Jima, he was in the same battalion as Nancy. He wanted so much to resent the man, but he remembered that if that was what Nancy wanted, then who was he to stand in the way?
Nancy and Norman walked down the aisle until it was time. Nancy turned to Norman and applied a gentle kiss to his cheek before walking away from him and toward the major, her future husband. The starbase chaplain held open his book and began the ceremony.
Hours later, with the reception held in the starbase's observation lounge, he was asked to sit at the main table with the bridge and groom, but he declined and sat with the rest of the guests. Though even then, he grew tired of the conversation at the table and left to seek out a permanent berth at the bar. He broke away to dance with a few of the more attractive female guests, some of whom pulled him away from the drinks he was throwing down his gullet with staggered regularity.
There would be no honeymoon for the newly wedded couple, however, he found out much later in the reception through the gossiping guests. In fact, both of them had marching orders within the next three days. The Iwo Jima would depart Starbase 818 in less than seventy-two hours to perform reconnaissance a few light-years away from the colony at Cirrius Prime. Rumor had it that Starfleet would make a push into the Borg Hot Zone (BHZ), in an attempt to push the Borg back. The victory of the Malinche seemed to be like a battle cry to everyone around him. Even through the overriding nature of being at a wedding reception, a lot of the buzz was about what the Malinche did and about January McKenna.
When it became known that he was on the bridge of the Malinche during that battle, it generated more interest in him. That interest and sudden rise in questions rose to a degree where it was becoming very apparent that his presence was about to take away from Nancy's special day. He did the only thing he could think of. He left the reception and walked the quiet state of the commerce decks during the starbase's nighttime hours.
Along the outer ring of the upper deck, there was a little hole in the bulkhead known simply as the Starshiner. He never would have described it as a restaurant or even a bar; it was a long counter inset against the bulkhead, with a transparent rack of bottles and six stools for customers to sit in. The view from the stools was the expanse of space outside of the starbase. Norman found it just eight hours after moving his things from the ship, and wandering around for a bite to eat. Instead of dinner, he enjoyed the view with bowls of pretzels and nuts, and a tall glass of light blue Romulan Ale.
With the imposition of the trade embargo removed, now that the Rihannsu Stelam Empire had joined the Galaxy Alliance, a great many of the Romulan products were now freely available. Once considered a contraband item, a bottle of Romulan Ale was now a mundane item to see behind the bar of a Starfleet space station like Starbase 818.
Tonight, there was only one other person sitting at the Starshiner, and that person was none other than his former commanding officer, January McKenna. She had a bowl of pretzels in front of her that went undisturbed, and a glass of a clear liquid to match it. Her eyes were focused upon the stars, and on the other side of the counter, the bartender continued to wipe down the counter without offering any sort of conversation to her. Yamaguchi froze in stride, seeing her there and wondering if he should come back later. Did she want to be alone tonight? Would he be intruding?
"The answer to your question, Lieutenant, is that this is an open establishment. Who am I to dictate whether or not you can have a drink or not?" McKenna responded, not even turning around to look at him.
His expression was one of fear, as though perhaps the captain had always been telepathic but never let on. How many times on the bridge did his mind wander from time to time during those long shifts? How many times did he disagree with her in his mind during briefings or perhaps in the assignment of duties? What about all of the times he thought she was just a snot-nosed little kid playing captain at the very beginning of their tour together? All of these thoughts weighed in upon his mind, and before he could come up with a stammering response, she interrupted his personal little moment of terror.
"Christ, Lieutenant, calm down." January finally turned around, her left elbow atop the counter, and one of the most evil and sadistic grins plastered upon her face, "I saw you in the reflection of the damn viewport."
Norman's relief overwhelmed him. Without saying anything else, he settled into the stool on her right side, raising a finger to the bartender to order himself a drink. "I'll have whatever the captain's having."
The bartender was amused. "Captain?" He looked over at her, "What, you got two more promotions?"
McKenna shook it off, "No, no. He's one of my officers from the Malinche." She suggested to Norman, "Unless you want a water, I suggest you get something stronger."
"Make mine a Romulan Ale, then." Norman looked back at her, "Promotion?"
"They made me a light commander," she replied, as the bartender moved to go get the most popular drink on the station. "They want me to join the admiralty. As a staff officer, I mean."
Lieutenant Yamaguchi looked at Lieutenant Commander McKenna for a long moment, trying to decide whether or not to take her seriously. After his glass of ale arrived and he took a long quaff from it, allowing it to run down his throat, scraping the cells along the way. "I'm very happy for you, sir," he said, deciding that false happiness was better than the truth. He was passed over for promotion again.
January sighed. "I didn't mean to rub that in your face, Lieutenant. It's just that I, myself, feel that I didn't really do anything to deserve it. You were there, you know just as well as I do."
"I was there, yes, sir." Norman nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "I know that all of us were there together. I also know that heroes tend to be whatever people want them to be. I know that right now, we need a hero. Why shouldn't it be you?"
She stopped looking out at the stars to turn toward him. Through all of the conversation and soul-searching she had put herself through after the morning meeting in Admiral Ross' office, that thought never occurred to her. If Starfleet needed a hero, why was she being so obstinate about not performing that duty? She wondered immediately if the legends of Starfleet history ever had this same self-worrying period in their lives, when the realization of being referred to as a hero dawned upon them. Did Captain Kirk ever fight away those opportunities? Did he come to expect them? Did he allow any of that to distract him from his duty?
McKenna changed the subject, "What brings you down to the bar, tonight?"
"There was a wedding," he didn't hesitate to tell her. "Old friend, a captain with the Fourth Marines. She got engaged about six months ago, they decided to tie the knot as soon as I was available to give the bride away."
"A captain, huh?" Jan thought aloud, "Captain... captain... captain... Captain Nancy Kotobuki?"
"You know her?"
"No, not really."
"Oh."
"The wedding announcement was all over the starbase's bulletin board."
"Oh."
"Old friends?"
"Yeah."
"Lovers?"
He hesitated. "Uh, no."
"That sounds like an interesting story," McKenna smiled, unable to keep from teasing.
He said nothing, not wanting to go into it.
She nodded, "Understood, Lieutenant."
"Sir?"
She finished her water, pushing away from the bar and standing on her feet again. "Never mind, Lieutenant. Finish your drink, enjoy the view." Raising a finger to the bartender, "Settle me out later?"
"Sure thing, Commander," the bartender replied.
Norman went to his feet, as well, "Captain, I..."
Jan paused as he began to speak. "Lieutenant, whatever it is that's eating at you, that's between you and her. I can listen to what you have to say, if you want me to."
He went silent again, looking away from her and down at the deck.
"I think you need the view more than I do, right now. If I stay, you'll feel obligated to talk to me," she said. Jan looked at the barkeep, "Put that ale on my tab."
"No, Captain, I..."
"That's an order."
"I... uh... thank you, Captain."
Jan smiled. "Good night, Lieutenant."
The walk back from the Starshiner to her guest suite was deliberately long. She decided that it was time got to know the station a little better. With the limited availability of the class of ship she wanted, it was a safe bet to assume she would remain on board for a long while. Going to the bar every night to drink a glass of water could get rather boring, she mused to herself. As she passed by the other restaurants on the main commerce deck, she looked into the closed storefronts to see what kind of food they might to offer.
One of the most popular choices of cuisine on the commerce deck, by the number of restaurants that appeared to serve it, was Klingon. Counting in her head as she passed by, she realized that the Narendra system housed a Klingon colony. The starbase itself used to be an old Klingon base, with Federation and Romulan advances installed. All of the computer monitors and displays along the bulkheads held the ever-familiar Library Computer Access and Retrieval System (LCARS) style; with the important information every civilian visitor to the base should know.
When she passed by one, her communicator gave the small chirp. "Ross to McKenna."
Giving her communicator an acknowledging touch, she responded, "Yes, Admiral?"
"I have your orders, Commander. Recall key personnel and report with them to docking port four for transport to your new assignment."