Post by Scribe on Jul 22, 2009 7:21:36 GMT -5
THE MEDICAL SHIP SURAK
IN ORBIT AT THE EDGE OF DENORIUS BELT
Stardate: 19.01.2169
The Vulcan’s name was Skon.
A tall man, regal in his gait, he walked through the hallways of his ship, the Surak, with hands folded behind his back in silent contemplation. Dark indigo eyes observed the different variation of beings currently roaming about the corridors, Vulcan, Terrans, Bajorans and some from worlds so distant that their very presence here was a marvel in itself.
Skon was a great proponent of IDIC – Infinite Diversity Infinite Combination. In the last two years, that simple tenet of Surak’s teachings had become the cornerstone of this alliance of worlds. With a logical simplicity that impressed even the most hardline Vulcans, the different races of the galaxy had banded together to fight the common threat. Yet, amidst the talk of war and victory, there was something else happening, something unexpected had come about in spite of these warring times.
Unity.
A unity among the races, that seemed to penetrate the barriers of their differences. Skon had seen cultures that would have no reason to otherwise, working together, relating to each other on more than just a common need. A change was coming in the future, a change that was borne out of mutual need and understanding.
Unfortunately, Skon sighed, it was a change that would also come about because of grief.
For a Vulcan he was a young man, no more than fifty Terran years but he was in the eyes of his people youthful. As Captain of this vessel, need had forced him into a position where he had to relate to these different races well before experience made him more capable. As he made his way to his destination, he knew that the news was already spreading throughout the ship and indeed the fleet. He would have announced it for the sake of expediency but suspected that some duties require a more delicate touch.
The war had been won.
The details of which were unimportant, they would be known to all soon enough but the fighting proceeding was bloody as all fighting is. In the underwater world of Azati, the Xindi had launched smaller versions of their planet killers. Not quite warship but deadly nonetheless, the alliance fleet was near decimated. Not one race did not lose a ship or in some cases, many ships. Thousand of bodies that lie in the aftermath of battle, being dredged for return home to get a victor’s burial if nothing else.
He was fortunate to have commanded a medical vessel that was needed here for he had not been risked and for Skon whose wife T’Lea waited on the home world with their infant son Sarek, he was grateful he could return home to them. However, not all spouses were that fortunate and on this occasion, he would have to be the one to deliver the worst of such news to one that he had come to know in recent days as the commander of the Terran forces on board.
At the end of the corridor, he arrived at the set of doors that slid open at his approach and led into the cargo area the Terran forces called the MACOs held court. In charge of this group of rather volatile and often colourful humans was one Thomas Merrick. Skon had become acquainted with the man and found him an acceptable chess player. When he was not behaving like a highly illogical human, Skon found him good company.
“Skon!” Tom looked over his shoulder as he and Ren Richards carried out inventory on what was left of MACO armaments following their latest mission. “Aren’t you supposed to be flying the ship mate?”
The Vulcan did not smile but then he never did so Tom did not suspect anything out of the ordinary.
“Thomas,” Skon spoke. “I would like to have a word with you alone.”
Sergeant Renee Richards who was assisting the Major since Derick Rickman had his own mission to carry out, immediately felt her spine stiffen at the Vulcan’s tone. She knew Vulcans and this one had something on his mind, something that wasn’t so good to hear. Knowing when to make a discreet exit, she had a feeling that she needed to get to a com station immediately. Something told her, she needed to get Gunny Rickman to this ship…fast.
“Major, I’ll come back.” She offered and before the Major had a chance to say anything to stop her, hollered out to the rest of the Sharks who were checking inventory and carrying out small duties while they were on the boat. “Everybody, out!” she ordered, not looking at Merrick as she spoke. “The Major needs the floor.”
Tom watched everyone leaving quickly, saw the look on Ren’s face and studied Skon ‘s expression. It was devoid of emotion. If anything, Tom had never seen the man look so Vulcan. He lowered the pad on the crate that acted as his desk, feeling a tightness spreading across his chest he did not want to admit to.
When they were alone at last, after what was only seconds in reality but felt like years to Tom, he dared himself to speak. “Tell me.”
“The reports have just arrived through subspace,” Skon spoke evenly. He considered the receptive value of having the news were delivered through another human but under the circumstances, Skon decided that there was no method of delivery that would lessen the pain of what was about to say. “The fleet has been victorious. The Xindi have been defeated. The war is over.”
Tom barely heard those words because they were padding. Who would have figured a Vulcan would care enough to make the effort? Tom didn’t speak because Skon wasn’t finished. He waited, his gut tightening into knots and his heart was clenched inside his chest.
“The Alliance fleet has lot 35 ships,” Skon resumed and decided to simply tell the man what he was undoubtedly expecting to hear by now. “One of these ships was the NX-03 Saratoga. The ship was destroyed with all ands. There are no survivors. I am sorry … Thomas.”
Tom drew in a breath, letting the news sink in.
“Funny,” he whispered. “I always thought that if one of us went, it wouldn’t be her. It would be me.
Skon did not speak. He had no word to say. His people maintained their emotions with strict discipline and meditation to lessen the impact of such news. He did not dare to imagine how it would feel to hear it without such preparation.
“Thank you,” Tom blinked slowly, “for telling me yourself.”
“Is there anything I can do for you Thomas…?” Skon asked.
“I think Red was right,” Tom managed to say, eyes glazed. “The Major does need the floor. If you don’t mind, I could use a minute or so my own.”
“Of course,” Skon nodded and stepped away promptly, allowing the Major his moment of privacy.
Tom didn’t hear the man leave. He somehow made his way to a crate and lowered himself onto the floor next to it. All hands lost. With those three words, his entire world was shattered, fragments of it lying in ruins at his feet. Alex, his beautiful, beautiful Alex was gone. He closed his eyes and he saw her face, that strong, wilful woman who had caught his heart the minute he laid eyes on her. She was gone.
Lost with all hands.
He wanted to kick and scream and shout that it wasn’t bloody fair but he couldn’t because he was a Shark and he knew, bloody hell they both did, that this was always a possibility. And yet it didn’t make it acceptable, didn’t make it any easier to bear. He collapsed onto the floor, trying to breathe, trying not to sob like some Fleet pussy because his wife was dead.
His Alex.
“FUCK!” HE howled and slammed a boot into the crate, tipping it on its side. Burying his face in his hands, he wanted die. He wanted to die right there. She gave his life meaning at a time when he thought the best was behind him. Tom had never seen Alexandra Styles coming until she caught him right between the eyes. God he loved her, he would have given up anything to be with her. And now she was gone. Forever.
Four years together, that’s all they had together and she had changed his life and saved him like no one ever could be saved. In silence he sobbed, let his grief escape him in a torrent of sorrow so profound it felt like he was hollow when it was all done. Like the best of him had gone with her but he knew that could not be. After ages, when the grief had poured out of him and there was only emptiness in tattered remains, he reached into his pocket of his trousers and pulled out the photograph, an old fashioned thing he kept on him because it was easier to carry that holo crystal and stared at the image.
He was not in the picture but because he had been the one taking it.
As he stared into it, he traced the lines of the images as if that would allow him to feel again the soft touch of Alex’s skin or the smile that killed him where he stood. But Alex wasn’t alone in that photograph, Tom thought wiping his face of the moisture that had escaped without his being aware of it.
She had changed his life forever, turning him from a burnt out recovering alcoholic and into a husband and a father.
Standing up shakily, Tom Merrick knew he was done with the war for a moment. Right now, what he needed to do was go home to the daughter that awaited him at home. Because as of this moment, she was his reason for living.
And he was the only family she had left.
********
THE MEDICAL SHIP SURAK
IN ORBIT AT THE EDGE OF DENORIUS BELT
Ren Richards was waiting by the hangar doors when the shuttle arrived on the Surak from the rest of the medical fleet parked at the edge of the Denorious Belt. By now the news had reached the rest of the ship and whether or not the fleet was aware, she suspected Gunny probably didn't know yet. Either way, Ren was giving him the heads up when he arrived. She hadn't told him anything in her communiqué, only to get here as soon as possible because something had happened.
Pacing across the floor, she hadn't heard where Major Merrick had gone but she ordered Lorio to keep tabs on him and knew that when she asked, Lorio and Jazz would have the skinny on where to find him. In the meantime, she thought about pulling favours with Gabe, seeing if he could get a ship here or something, to get the Major back to Merrick, maybe even so far as to let Gunny go with him.
These were strings she was willing to pull because she could, because Major Merrick was her friend.
Derick could count on one hand the number of times he'd been summoned so summarily to any ship and all of those had been in official capacity. Never personal, until he got the message from Ren. A smart man, smarter than he let on to most people, Derick already had a dozen scenarios in his head by the time he felt the shuttle bump the hangar bay deck of the Surak. Out of his seat, he strode for the hatch, that hard stare that was so patently Derick bullying the young Ensign manning it into submission. One just didn't stand in the way of 205 lbs of a MACO on a mission.
The distance from the shuttle to the doors was eaten up in his long stride and Derick hit the doors into the passageway, looking for Orphan Annie. She would be waiting, she said... and had the communication allowed cursing, Derick suspected the message would have been MOVE YOUR ASS NOW.
When she saw him, Ren didn't waste any time on ceremony, she strode across the bay, past any one who might stop her, giving glances at the Vulcan techs on the floor that to interfere with her who would be to invite a whole world of fucking hurt.
"Gunny," he was an officer now and she still called him that. She couldn't help it, They'd known each other too long for anything else. "Thank Christ you're here. Have you heard anything yet?"
"No," Derick offered, slinging his rucksack over a shoulder. "What the hell's going on, Ren? What happened?" he demanded, ignoring the looks from Vulcans and humans alike.
Ren took a deep breath and found herself swallowing thickly. "Its probably to the rest of the fleet now but there was an engagement at Azati Prime. We took out the Xindi decisively. The war is over," she replied, voice steady for the moment. “Enterprise made it but a lot of ships didn't. We lost more than 30 ships throughout the alliance." Closing her eyes, she steeled herself and said quietly.
"Derick, the Saratoga was one of them. All hands lost."
Even for a man used to hardship, who learned at a young age that loss was inevitable, the news rolled over Derick like a planet killer. He swayed slightly; face hardening perceptibly even as the colour drained from it. The Enterprise made it, meaning Sloane might still be alive... that didn't soften the blow that something out there was so evil it managed to take Alexandra Styles.
"Are..." His mouth worked for a second, silent. "That's... that's confirmed?" he asked, blue-green eyes just... void.
Ren's eyes were misting over. "Yeah," she nodded. "Its confirmed. The Captain of the ship told the Major himself." She saw him shudder slightly and clutched his arm. "Are you okay?"
Freeing his arm gently, not wanting to be touched, he looked down at her. "Where's Tom?" he asked. If the news had floored him, he who was only half taken with the extraordinary woman and now a little thing on Gaia that liked to be lifted into the air to 'fly' - then Tom would be devastated. Worse, Derick realized there was something out there evil enough to actually kill the man that couldn't die.
"I saw him heading towards his quarters last," Ren replied but reached for her communicator to confirm it. "Jazz, where is he?"
"He's still holed up in his quarters," Jazz answered automatically.
Ren lifted her gaze to the Gunny, "I'll take you there." She replied and led the way out of the hangar.
Holed up... the last time Tom had been holed in anything that wasn't a foxhole had been after he'd punched the Iron Colonel, now the Governor and was looking at no more career. Years ago. Following Ren, he remained silent until she stopped him in front of a door.
"Thanks Ren... “He offered, not really seeing her, seeing only the devastation that he knew would be on the other side of that door.
She embraced him on impulse, not caring whether or not he wanted it. This was about family and they were. Her, Rickman and the Major, Captain Styles...family. One of their own was gone. Captain Styles wasn't MACO but she might as well have been. She laughed with them, she respected them and when treated them like the warriors they were when so many hadn't. "You call me if you need anything." Ren looked at him, eyes wet with the tears she'd held back until now.
Derick wrapped an arm around Ren, squeezing her tightly to him in a very rare show of affection. "I'll come find you later," he offered quietly, separating them. Tom was the priority here, with so much more involved but Derick wouldn't forget about the rest of their group.
******
The shot glass was full.
He had been staring at it for almost a full half hour. He beckoned him, like an old mistress telling him that the pain would go away if only he stepped into her embrace. Tom stared at the amber liquid, wanting that comfort, wanting her arms around him, wanting to fill that abyss like hole inside of him with something other than pain. A siren's whisper and a sip of her lips would make Tom Merrick feel nothing.
It was so inviting.
He sat on the sofa, staring at the glass, at the bottle. Wanting to forget so badly.
******
Leaving Ren, Derick entered Tom's quarters and walked, it seemed straight back into his childhood, when he was eight. Back to the day when his life had changed forever. The irony wasn't lost on Derick.
Glass crunched under his boots as he moved into the room cautiously as a weird sort of deja vu hit him. "Tom?" he called out, finally spotting the man. One difference he noted right away. That day when he'd found his dad, the bottle had been empty.
Tom looked up, actually surprised to see Derick in the room. "Let me guess...Ren?" He asked quietly. The glass still was untouched.
"Yep." Derick nodded, gaze not leaving his friend... hell, Tom had been so much more than that. Tom was his brother, made so by something thicker than the blood they'd spilled together.
"I always thought when something like this happened," Tom whispered, "it was going to be me. I expected it to be me. Ground pounders, we're fodder aren't we? That's been the bloody rule?"
He looked at Derick, eyes empty.
Moving over to a chair, Derick sat down, nodding. "Yeah. Bullet catchers." You expected it. Fought like hell to keep it from happening but in the end, it was what they did. "First in, last out," he said quietly.
"I was ready for it to be me," Tom said in an even measured voice. "I mean if my kid had to deal with one parent, it was going to be Alex because she knew how to take care of things. She knows about vaccination dates and dental appointments; she knows how to cut the kid's nails without taking the whole toe off. I don't know how to do any of those things.... but Alex, she always had it together. She was the brains of the outfit; I just hung around to keep her from going crazy when it got too much."
Tom wanted that drink badly, wanted it so much that he could taste it but he couldn’t make that move, his hand wouldn't let him reach for it.
"Here I was thinking I hung around because she was the one person who could make sense of anything. I always thought it would be us...you, me, too. I mean..." Derick sighed heavily, thinking on Lexie and Alex's consternation that he'd shown her how much fun jumping on the bed could be. He sighed again, reaching over to move the shot glass. For some reason, if he let Tom have it... Derick felt it would be letting the Xindi win.
Tom wanted to stop him but when Derick removed the glass, he almost felt relieved. But when it disappeared from his eyes, Tom found himself facing that wall of black despair, the one that told him in fifty foot letters that Alex was gone. It was soul crushing.
"I never saw her coming." Tom spoke out loud, with wonder in his voice. "Not a clue that she was over the horizon four years ago. She just swung that great arse into the Barn and took me completely by surprise. Nailed me right between the eyes. I didn't think after everything we'd seen that something like her could exist...for me most of all. What am I going to Derick," he shuddered. "How am I going to shake her?"
"I'm... " Derick paused before letting out another heavy, deep sigh. "I'm not sure you can... or that you should," he offered.
Tom blinked and the moisture he had been holding back in his eyes, ran involuntarily down his cheek. "Its not fair," he said through gritted teeth. "It's supposed to be me. I can deal with it being me but not her. I wanted her to see the kid grow up, to be there for her because Alex would make the good parent, I'm the fuck up. Four years...isn't enough. We should have had more than four bloody years." He kicked the table and dropped the bottle over, the contents spiled across the surface of the table, drooling on the carpet.
Not flinching, Derick righted the bottle and then the now empty shot glass, moving them off the low table. No, this wasn't fair... for his best friend to have finally found happiness after a life of hardship and then have it ripped out of his grasp. "You should have but she didn't.. " He couldn't say 'die'. "She never saw you that way."
"I know," Tom nodded, drying his eyes quickly because he wasn't some Fleet wuss. "She never did, did she? Christ knows what she saw in me but she did love me. Mad woman." He laughed humourlessly. "I wanted that drink so badly a moment ago," he looked at the bottle. "I could taste it but then I kept thinking four years, it wasn't much but she gave me something I'll never be able to let go. And if I take that drink, I'll destroy it as surely as our bastard fathers did to both us when we were kids. I swore, I'd never do what my da did, I will not put my daughter through what I did."
Frankly, Derick was glad to hear that, because he didn't want to be the one making sure Lexie didn't go through it. "I wouldn't let you. Alex... she saw the good in all of us." Tom. Him. Alex hadn't been naive but she'd still seen the good. "There's better ways to remember her."
"I feel like I want to die with her," Tom whispered, closing his eyes. "It would be so much simpler but then Alex never let me get away with what is simpler and the best of her is still here, with the living. I still have the best part of her," he swallowed. "She gave me a family; I don't think I'll ever be able to thank her enough for that. I can't ruin what we had by destroying myself. For my kid's sake, I've got to get my shit together."
"She'd want that, Tom," Derick nodded, eyeing his friend. "She wouldn't want you to lie down and you know..." His voice caught and Derick had to clear his throat. "She would have called you a dumb ass if you did..."
A smile actually formed on his face and then it faded because he thought of Alex and realised, he'd never hear her call him that again. Burying his face in his hands, a sob escaped him.
Derick closed his eyes as Tom's grief echoed in the room. Something wet dropped onto his hand and Derick stared at it for a minute, before realizing it had come from him. Dashing it away, he moved from the chair, to kneel in front of his friend. He hadn't known what to say when he was eight and this was his father. Time had only brought the wisdom to know there wasn't anything to say. Derick simply set an arm over Tom's shoulders.
More than wanting Alex alive, Derick wished he could stand between her death and Tom, protect him as he had his brother for so many years. Knowing that wasn't possible, he did the next best thing and stood at his side so Tom wouldn't face this alone.