Like everyone else on the Christopher-class vessel Peregrine, she wore an open-collared blue uniform with a black mock-turtle pullover underneath it. A gold Starfleet chevron graced the uniform’s left breast, and Kelly’s rank of lieutenant was denoted by two gold bands encircling her right sleeve.
She tilted her redhaired head to one side and frowned. She had worn the gold and black of Earth Command for so long she had come to think of it as part of her natural coloring. A blue uniform looked as inappropriate as a hot-pink atomic missile.
But there it was, Kelly mused, her frown deepening. And she would get used to it. She would have to.
The sound of chimes brought her out of her reverie. Kelly turned to the double set of sliding doors that separated her quarters from the corridor beyond and wondered who might be calling on her.
Maybe it was the engineer she had met earlier, who had gotten lost looking for the mess hall. Or yet another lieutenant j.g., wondering if she had received her full complement of toiletries . . .
It couldn’t be a friend. After all, the lieutenant only had one of those on the ship...and he was waiting for her on the bridge.
“I’m coming,” she sighed.
Crossing the room, Kelly pressed the pad in the bulkhead beside the sliding doors and watched them hiss open. They revealed a silver-skinned, ruby-eyed figure in a uniform as blue as her own.
“Captain Cobaryn—?” she said, unable to conceal her surprise.
He inclined his head slightly. “May I come in?”
Kelly hesitated for a moment. Then she realized she really had no choice in the matter. “Of course. But I should tell you, I’m—”
“Due on the bridge in ten minutes,” the Rigelian said, finishing her declaration for her. He fashioned a smile, stretching the series of ridges that ran from his temple to his jaw. “I know. I spoke with Captain Shumar before I transported over.”
“Did you?” the lieutenant responded, getting the feeling that she had been the victim of some kind of conspiracy. I’ll be the first officer in Starfleet to kill my captain, she told herself.
“Yes,” Cobaryn rejoined. “I wish to speak with you.”
Of course you do, she replied inwardly.
After all, Cobaryn had taken every opportunity to speak with her back on Earth Base Fourteen in the aftermath of the Romulan assault. It hardly came as a shock that he wanted to speak with her now.
And he had gone to some pretty great lengths to do so. All six of the fleet’s Christophers were supposed to leave Earth orbit in less than an hour, and the Rigelian had a command of his own to attend to. There might even have been a regulation prohibiting a captain from leaving his vessel at such a momentous juncture.
If there was, Cobaryn seemed unaware of it . . . or else, for the sake of his infatuation with Kelly, he had decided to ignore it.
“Look,” she said, “I—”
He held up a three-fingered hand. “Please,” he insisted gently, “I will not be long, I promise.”
The lieutenant regarded her visitor. He seemed to mean it. “All right,” she told him, folding her arms across her chest.
Cobaryn offered her another smile—his best one yet. “First,” he said, “I would like to apologize for my behavior back at Earth Base Fourteen. In retrospect, I see that my attentions must have been a burden to you. In my defense, I can only state my ignorance of human courtship rituals.”
An apology was the last thing she had expected. “Don’t worry about it,” she found herself saying. “In a way, it was kind of flattering.”
The captain inclined his hairless head. “Thank you for understanding. There is only one other thing. . . .”
But he didn’t say what it was. At least, not right away. Whatever it was, he seemed nervous about it.
As much as he had annoyed her at the base, Kelly couldn’t help sympathizing with the man. “One other thing?” she echoed, trying to be helpful.
“Yes,” said Cobaryn. He seemed to steel himself. “If it is not too much trouble, I would like a favor from you.”
She looked at him askance, uncertain of what he was asking but already not liking the sound of it. “What kind of favor?”
His eyes seemed to soften. “The kind a knight of old received from his lady fair, so he could carry it with him on his journeys and accomplish great things in her name.”
Kelly felt her heart melt in her chest. It was far and away the most romantic thing anyone had ever suggested to her, and it caught her completely off guard. For a second or two, she couldn’t speak.
Cobaryn winced. “You do not think it is a good idea?”
The lieutenant shook her head, trying to regain her composure. “I . . .I’m not sure what I think.”
He shrugged. “Again, I must apologize. It seemed like a good solution to both our problems. After all, if I had a favor, I could perhaps feel content worshiping you from afar.”
Kelly sighed. She hadn’t intended to. It just came out.
This is crazy, she told herself. Cobaryn was an alien—a being from another world. What did he know of knightly virtues? Or of chivalry? And yet she had to admit, he embodied them better than any human she had ever met.
“I . . . see you’ve been doing some reading,” she observed.
“A little,” Cobaryn admitted. He looked sad in a peculiarly Rigelian way. “Well, then, good luck, Lieutenant Kelly. I trust you and I will meet again someday.”
He extended his hand to shake hers. For a moment, she considered it. Then, certain that she had gone insane, she held up her forefinger.
“Give me a second,” she said.
There was a set of drawers built into the bulkhead beside her bed. The lieutenant pulled open the third one from the top and rifled through it, searching for something. It took a while, but she found it.
Then she turned around and tossed it to Cobaryn. He snatched it out of the air, opened his hand, and studied it. Then he looked up at Kelly, a grin spreading awkwardly across his face.
“Thank you,” he told her, with feeling.
She smiled back, unable to help herself. “Don’t mention it.”
Still grinning, the captain tucked her favor into an inside pocket of his uniform, where it created only a slightly noticeable bulge. Then, with obvious reluctance, he turned, opened the doors to her quarters, and left her standing there.
As the doors whispered closed again, Kelly had to remind herself to breathe. Come on, she thought. Get a grip on yourself.
Cobaryn’s gesture was a romantic notion, no question. But it hadn’t come from Prince Charming. It had come from a guy she didn’t have the slightest feelings for.
A guy from another planet, for heaven’s sakes.
Now, the lieutenant told herself, if it had been the Cochrane jockey who had asked for her favor . . . that would have been a different story. That would have been unbelievable.
Chuckling to herself, she pulled down on the front of her uniform and put on her game face. Then she tapped the door controls, left her quarters, and reported to the bridge.
Where she would, in her own unobtrusive way, give Captain Shumar the dirtiest look she could muster.
Hiro Matsura got up from his center seat on the Yellowjacket and faced his viewscreen, where the image of Director Abute had just appeared.
The captain wasn’t required to get up. Certainly, none of his bridge officers had risen from their consoles. But Matsura wanted to show his appreciation of the moment, his respect for its place in history.
For weeks they had talked about a Starfleet. They had selected captains and crews for a Starfleet. And now, for the first time, there would actually be a Starfleet.
“I bid you a good morning,” said Abute, his dark eyes twinkling over his aquiline nose. “Of course, for the United Federation of Planets it is already a good morning. More than two hundred of our bravest men and women, individuals representing fourteen species in all, are embarking from Earth orbit to pursue their destinies among the stars.
“Before long,” the director told them, “there will be many more of you, plying the void in the kind of ships we’ve only been able to dream about. But for now, there is only you—a handful of determined trailblazers who will set the standard for all who follow. The Federation is watching each and every one of you, wishing you the best of good fortune. Make us proud. Show us what serving in Starfleet is all about.”
And what was it about? the captain wondered. Unfortunately, it was still too soon to say.
Of course, Matsura knew what he wanted it to be. The same thing Admiral Walker wanted it to be—a defense force like no other. But as long as Clarisse Dumont’s camp had a say in things, that future was uncertain.
Abute smiled with undisguised pride. “You have my permission to leave orbit,” he told them. “Bon voyage.” A moment later his image vanished, and their orbital view of Earth was restored.
Matsura didn’t take his eyes off the viewscreen. He wanted to remember how the sunlight hit the cloud-swaddled Earth when he left on his first Starfleet mission. He wanted to tell his grandchildren about it.
“Mr. Barker,” he said finally, “bring us about.”
There was no response.
The captain turned to his left to look at his helmsman. The man ensconced behind the console there was staring back at him, looking a little discomfited. And for good reason.
His name wasn’t Barker. It was McCallum. Barker had piloted Matsura’s ship when it flew under the aegis of Earth Command.
The captain had wanted to take the helmsman with him when his ship became Starfleet property. However, he had been forced to adhere to Abute’s quotas, and that meant making some hard decisions.
“Mr. McCallum,” he amended, “bring us about.”
“Aye, sir,” said the helmsman.
The view on the screen gradually slid sideways, taking the clouds and the sunlight and a blue sweep of ocean with it. In a matter of moments, Earth had slipped away completely and Matsura found himself gazing at a galaxy full of distant suns.
They had never seemed so inviting. “Full impulse,” he told McCallum.
“Full impulse,” the man confirmed.
The stars seemed to leap forward, though it was really their Christopher 2000 that had forged ahead. As it plunged through the void, reaching for the limits of Earth’s solar system and beyond, Matsura lowered himself into his captain’s chair.
McCallum, he told himself, resolving not to forget a second time. Not Barker. McCallum.