Departure
Well, here it is, kids -- my first other-fandom fanfic, laid bare for all the blessed world to see. This is the first-ever short story of any sort I'd actually completed, and I was all warm and fuzzy and shiny-feelin' after it was done. So. As you may or may not know, I'm a big fan of the Star Trek: New Frontier series, by the incomparable Peter David. This is a missing-scene fic from the missing years between Stone and Anvil and After the Fall. It's Soleta's departure from Starfleet. Thus, the clever title. ;)
Title: Departure
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~7500
Summary: We learned the basics of Soleta's defection from Starfleet in After the Fall. Here's my take on what we didn't see happen.
Gentle waves lapped at the bank of the lake, washing over small pebbles and stretches of warm sand. Trees towered majestically above the entire area, shading the forest’s occupants as they darted from trunk to trunk.
This would be an ideal world for shore leave, thought Soleta, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. Pity that we’re here having a firefight instead.
"Shelby to Soleta," the Trident captain’s voice came over the science officer’s combadge.
"Soleta here," she said quietly, at the same time sweeping her tricorder over the area, searching for Selelvian life forms.
"I think we’ve got them all…Looks like this raiding party was smaller than the last one we faced." Shelby sounded exhausted. No wonder, either: The past weeks had been filled with skirmishes with the Selelvians, who had declared war and, though they had been rebuffed at every turn, were still putting up one hell of a fight.
Soleta, having surveyed the area and finding life signs of nothing save for a few small animals and one human, quickly tracked the captain to a location fifty meters away. "I will meet you at your present location in twenty point four seconds, Captain," she said, and closed the communication link as she sped through the woods.
Soleta found Shelby leaning against the remains of a mammoth fallen tree, her rapid breathing gradually returning to normal. "I just heard from M’Ress and Arex. They managed to take out the rest of the Selelvian forces after we’d gotten separated. They’re about a kilometer west of here, and they’re on their way."
Soleta nodded and let her head fall gently back against the trunk. She closed her eyes momentarily. This had been a tough fight. The whole affair seemed unreal. The Selelvians had apparently been infuriated that their powers - a mind-control technique called The Knack - had been exposed as much more potent than they’d let on to the Federation. She herself had witnessed the evidence of this discovery; she had fell victim to their power. Shelby had quoted her husband, Captain Calhoun of the Excalibur, as having said, "You can mind-control some of the people some of the time, but not all the people all the time." Was that what the Selelvians had been planning? A takeover of Starfleet, from within its personnel’s minds? And now that the secret was out, the Selelvians had allied with the Tholians and launched an all-out attack on the Federation as…retribution?
"Lieutenant, you look as tired as I feel," said Shelby, bringing Soleta out of her reverie. "Once we get back on the Trident, get together with M’Ress and see if you two can get those sensor sweeps finished from orbit. I have no idea how the Selelvians figured out we were here, but we sure as hell know we’re not safe now."
"Maybe they’ve found a way to tap into our communications," Soleta suggested.
"We’re using secure channels! Lord, just what we need…If they’ve figured out how to intercept our transmissions, we’re screwed. Hell…" Shelby sighed, then continued, "Anyway, after you’re done, we’ll get you set up in guest quarters until we rendezvous with the Excalibur. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get some rest."
Soleta slightly inclined her head. "Thank you, Captain. That is very much appreciated. And if I may be so bold, you may want to get some rest yourself."
Shelby chuckled. "Not a bad idea."
Suddenly, there was a soft noise some distance behind them. Soleta’s sharp hearing naturally detected it, and she reached for her tricorder and was scanning the surrounding area before Shelby even knew there was anything out of the ordinary amiss.
Soleta hoped she would find the life signs of one Caitian and one Triexian. M’Ress and Arex were, after all, heading their way.
No such luck: It was one Selelvian.
Heading directly their way.
And, from what she could tell by the energy signature of a recently-fired weapon, packing a disruptor.
"Captain," Soleta whispered. "Stay down."
Shelby glanced at Soleta’s tricorder readout and snarled. "God damn it, I’ve had it with these bastards."
"Stay down," Soleta repeated, more firmly, and she rose into a crouch, phaser at the ready.
The Selelvian warrior crested the nearby hill. Soleta had expected him to fire immediately. However, he did something that caused the Vulcan to react with outright surprise: He smiled broadly and put up his hands in surrender.
"This is unexpected," Soleta murmured. The captain nodded in assent, and slowly rose to approach the Selelvian.
That was when the disruptor fire began.
The Selelvian in front of them hadn’t fired that first shot, but he was quickly reaching for his weapon all the same. Soleta didn’t hesitate: She thumbed up the power on her phaser and, unflinchingly, drilled him through the chest.
Then, she whirled to face the first attacker.
He was dodging behind and between the brush and trees, firing all the way. Soleta ducked and returned fire, but her aim went awry and she sent a tree up in flames instead.
"Grozit," she heard Shelby say. Soleta couldn’t help but agree.
Their attacker was now concealed in the rapidly-growing blaze. Smoke billowed toward them, and the captain and Soleta dashed through the forest - away from the conflagration, and away from the assailant.
Within moments, they came to a halt and peered behind them. They were mere feet away from corpse of the first Selelvian, the one who had feigned surrender. There was no sign of the Selelvian who had fired on them. Shelby nodded and went to touch her communicator in order to inform the other members of the away team of their new position.
Soleta glanced quickly around - and she saw him just as he sidled through the trees and took aim at the captain.
"MOVE!" she shouted, and flung herself at Shelby. Shelby went crashing to the side, and Soleta screamed as her chest was hit with a disruptor beam. Green blood was pouring over the front of her uniform. She felt Shelby grab her arm, trying to steady her, but Soleta shoved her with the last of her strength in order to get the captain onto the ground, and out of harm’s way.
Soleta watched through a pain-ridden daze as Shelby dodged another disruptor blast, and as the captain grabbed the body of the fallen Selelvian and used it as a shield, swinging it in front of her. No disruptor howls rang out, though; instead, there was a swish, and a sickening dull thud. The captain glanced down in disbelief at the knife still quivering in her impromptu shield’s forehead.
Then, Shelby took careful aim with her phaser and fired, striking their assailant with remarkable precision.
The phaser was obviously set on disruption, as both hand and weapon evaporated on contact with the beam. The Selelvian screamed, but mercifully, he fell unconscious almost instantly.
Soleta felt as though her life was flashing before her eyes…Or, at least, one particular episode of her life. She had the strongest sense of déjà vu…
As the Selelvian collapsed, Shelby sprinted to Soleta’s side. "Soleta? Soleta, can you hear me?"
Soleta gazed up at her…And, to Shelby’s utter astonishment, the badly wounded Vulcan did something totally unexpected.
She giggled.
"Captain," she said, a grimace crossing her face as her eyes lost focus, "You have NO idea how ironic that was..."
Just as Soleta fell into darkness, M’Ress and Arex stumbled into the smoke-filled clearing, and Shelby hit her combadge and shouted, "Captain to Trident! Emergency beam-up, all four of us! Alert Sickbay, casualty coming through! Now! NOW!"
Sickbay was a madhouse.
Soleta had been rushed in on an antigrav gurney and placed immediately in a stasis field, in hopes of stabilizing her condition. The profuse bleeding had been curbed, but she was still in terrible shape.
Shelby had followed alongside the medical team, trying to keep up despite the fact that the smoke she’d inhaled in the forest had made her lungs ache. Wheezing, she was cornered by a very harried Doc Villers as she came through the sickbay doors.
A simple hypospray later and she was able to breathe much more comfortably, and she was awaiting treatment for the injuries she’d sustained in the early stages of the ground battle. Even as the medtech administered a mild sedative and began the process of repairing her wounds, she was worried sick about Soleta. She felt unbearable guilt over the fact that she’d been so badly wounded - possibly fatally so; only time would tell - in her stead.
Shelby lay upon the examination table, and listened carefully. She couldn’t make out the specifics of what was going on in the surgical chamber, but she could hear signs of frantic activity, and voices raised in what amounted to carefully choreographed chaos as the doctors tried to save Soleta’s life.
As she saved mine, Shelby thought.
Don’t worry, her inner voice consoled. Doc Villers is the best. She’s competent and thorough.
Then, in a panic, just as the sedative took hold, Shelby wildly wondered: My God…How thorough?
Soleta lay motionless on the surgical table, her entire midsection covered by the panel that would enable Doc Villers to perform the needed microsurgery with relative ease.
Doc Villers had assessed the damage quickly - Soleta’s wounds were indeed serious, but on closer examination, the doctor found that the young Vulcan’s major organs were surprisingly intact.
"Soleta, it must’ve been your lucky day," Villers muttered as she set to work carefully examining an outer edge of the disruptor wound, just millimeters from her heart. "No damage to any major veins or arteries…Just a load of minor damage, and significant blood loss. Doctor Banks, start transfusing her, Vulcanoid Type Q blood. Two units for now, two more for after we’re finished putting this young lady back together."
Doctor Banks quickly moved to the sickbay replicators, came back with two units of green blood, and carefully placed the transfuser unit over the appropriate artery near Soleta’s neck.
Meanwhile, Doc Villers’ enormous hands were carefully working to restore the minor injuries in Soleta’s organs. In spite of the lucky break Soleta had already received in the form of her still-intact organs, there was a major problem in her circulatory system. Villers was quickly able to find its source: the transfusion.
"What the hell did you bring me, Banks? Is this type Q?" Villers cried, aghast at the now-falling readings on Soleta’s monitor. Her body was producing antibodies against the transfused blood. Even though Soleta was in stasis, it was as though the blood cells were waging war.
Banks came into the surgical room, carrying both a data padd and a stunned look on his face. "Yes, Doc, it’s Q…But I just typed her, and there’s something seriously wrong with the results I’m getting."
"I don’t give a blazing damn about the results right now! Get me 60 cc’s of AAR serum and 10 of cordrazine, now, damn it!" Villers shouted, leaning over her patient with hand outstretched, awaiting the hyposprays.
Soleta was quickly injected and stabilized, her blood cells slowly returning to normal, the damage repairing itself thanks to the serum, but Villers was stunned. What could cause her to reject the blood? Vulcanoid Type Q was synonymous to Type O for humans; it used as a standard treatment for all blood types.
Banks handed Villers the chart, but he didn’t even look at the CMO. Instead, his gaze was focused on Soleta. He was staring at her with a mixture of reserve and fright.
Villers glanced at Banks, wondering just what in the hell his problem was, and then she looked at the padd.
"This isn’t possible," she said shortly.
Banks tore his gaze from the insensate patient, whose midsection was still an ungodly mess. "Apparently it is possible. I ran it three times - once, for the initial results, and twice more to verify."
"But…" Villers broke off, looked at Soleta, and looked at the chart. "She can’t be CR-Negative. That blood type has been unheard of on Vulcan for centuries…Millennia, for God’s sake."
Banks bit his lip, met Villers’ eyes. "You’re right - it’s evolved into nonexistence on Vulcan, Doc. But not on Romulus."
Villers squeezed her eyes shut, then shook her head briskly and moved back over to the operating table. "Well, one way or the other, I guess we’ll need some CR-Negative to get us through. Take a sample and get to work on replicating it. Right now, we need to get her finished up here. We can ask questions later."
But even as Villers finished reconstructing the internal wounds with her customary efficiency, she found more evidence indicating that the unusual blood type may in fact have basis in scientific fact. Once Soleta was patched back together, Villers had run some quick tests on her patient’s unusual blood sample. What she found confirmed her suspicions. The most striking finding was in Soleta’s hormone levels: The level of sex hormones were in remarkably even balance, indicating that she was unlikely to experience pon Farr anytime in the near future, if at all. Since the Romulan offshoot race had not evolved a mating urge out of necessity, the corresponding hormones did not wane or spike like that of Vulcans.
Villers looked at Soleta, whose midsection was now grafted with dermal regeneration patches. She was out of stasis, but still unconscious. She looked so peaceful…Harmless, really, which, Villers reminded herself, was much the way she’d always known the young science officer.
"I’m sorry, Soleta," Doc Villers said quietly. She touched her patient’s hand with a gentleness one would never suspect from a human built more like a Brikar. "I’m so sorry, but it’s my responsibility. I have to tell."
Kat Mueller, first officer of the Trident, burst into the newly-recovered Captain Shelby’s ready room and tossed a data padd across the table. It skidded to a halt directly in front of the captain, who caught it automatically and brought it to life.
Before Shelby could read a word, though, Kat announced, "We need to get a message through to Starfleet Command immediately about this. Our security may be in serious jeopardy. We’ve been infiltrated."
Shelby’s head raised abruptly. "What the hell happened, Kat?"
Kat took a deep breath. "It’s Soleta. She’s not Vulcan. She’s Romulan."
Shelby didn’t look up from reading the medical report as she absent-mindedly corrected, "Half-Romulan."
Mueller’s eyes narrowed, and Shelby immediately snapped her full attention back to the conversation, feeling thoroughly chagrined. "You knew?" asked Mueller, her expression clearly showing her mounting incredulity. "You knew about this, and you didn’t report it? My God, Captain, regulations clearly state…"
"I know what the regulations say," snapped Shelby, "and I know I didn’t follow them, thank you. It’s nobody’s business but mine how I knew, and it’s nobody’s business but Soleta’s if she’s half-Romulan. She’s a good officer, and the circumstances of her birth sure as hell haven’t affected the fact that she’s smart, inventive, and loyal."
"When did she tell you this?" Mueller looked as though she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. This, from the queen of Starfleet regulations?…
Shelby finished reading the contents of the report and tossed it aside. "It’s been a couple of years…Right after the first Excalibur was destroyed. She told me I didn’t like any of the crew, that I valued…what was it?…’procedure over people’. And that may indeed have been true. This situation, though, caused me to think long and hard, and I changed my mind about how I look at that particular regulation. I’ve known Soleta since I became Mac’s first officer. She has proven herself time and again, and it makes me sick to my stomach to think of her being singled out, and possibly punished, because of something so inconsequential as her race."
Mueller looked down at her hands. She let out a long breath. "I guess I agree. But, Captain, it’s out in the open now, and we’re going to go down with her if we don’t report it."
Shelby nodded. "I know. Believe me, Kat, I know." Then, she turned around in her chair. Figuring that was a sign of dismissal if she’d ever seen one, Mueller got up to leave, but just before she reached the door, Shelby softly called, "Kat, raise a channel to the Excalibur. I need to speak with my husband about an official matter."
"Understood," said Mueller.
Shelby faced the screen, staring into the eyes of her husband. Captain Calhoun of the Excalibur stared back. For a long time, no more words were said. Then, abruptly, Calhoun said, "Excuse me for a moment, Captain."
Shelby was a bit taken aback, but nonetheless, she said, "Absolutely."
She watched Calhoun rise from his chair and pace slowly away from his computer terminal. As soon as he was out of sight, she heard what she was certain was his fists slamming against the wall.
"Grozit!" he shouted. "GROZIT!"
A few more moments passed, and then Calhoun reappeared, breathing deeply as he settled in his chair. He fixed his gaze back upon his wife. "Let me get this straight. I am required to call this into Starfleet, immediately, or risk having punitive action taken against myself."
"Yes," Shelby said softly.
Calhoun buried his face in his hands. "This is insane. Insane. I will not ruin the career, the life, of one of my most valued officers, simply because of some ridiculous regulation and an accident of birth. She didn’t ask for her parentage. None of us does." He rubbed his forehead. "I won’t do it."
Shelby sighed. "If you don’t, you’re putting your own career on the line. You could be busted back in rank. You could lose the Excal."
"Screw my rank," shot back Calhoun. "Screw my captaincy. This isn’t about me, Eppy. This is about Soleta. And for gods’ sakes, even if it wasn’t Soleta, if it was someone else…it’s about principle, dammit."
"Believe it or not, Mac, I understand," Shelby said. "But I wanted to let you make the call."
"Well, you can go ahead and call it: I’m not doing it."
"Not the judgment call, Mac," snapped Shelby. "It’s pretty much a given that you have to inform Starfleet, no matter what you think about it. I mean the actual, physical call to Command itself. She’s your officer, not mine."
Calhoun’s purple eyes stared deep into his wife’s, boring across the distance of light-years with such intensity that Shelby moved a few inches back from her computer screen. Then, he sighed and put his head into his arms. "I’ll let you know when I’ve informed Command," Calhoun said, peering up slightly to look into his wife’s eyes once more. "Are you bringing her here?"
"As soon as she’s stable enough to make the transfer, we’ll bring her right to you. But you’ll want to be prepared, Mac - She’ll likely face a hearing. She might not be able to come back on board the Excalibur."
"This stinks," he growled, putting his head back down.
"I know," Shelby agreed. They were both silent for a moment, then Shelby murmured, "I love you."
"Love you too," Calhoun said, settling back in his chair. "Let me know when you’re on your way. And Eppy…"
"Yes?"
"Please tell Soleta…I’m sorry."
Shelby looked down at the surface of her desk. "I’ll tell her for both of us. Trident out."
Soleta woke up in sickbay and, for a moment, marveled at the fact that she was alive at all.
Then, she noticed them: the security guards. Four of them, stationed around her bed, around which a forcefield had been erected.
"Oh, God…No. No," she whispered.
Doc Villers appeared at the foot of Soleta’s bed. "I see you’re awake," she said briskly.
Soleta didn’t reply, merely glared.
The doctor met Soleta’s gaze, then gave the guards a command to lower the fields. They did so, just long enough for Villers to edge over to Soleta’s bedside.
"Soleta…" the doctor began, but Soleta waved her off, having apparently considered the situation. She gave a sigh of resignation before she spoke.
"Do not concern yourself. I know it was what you needed to do. Had you not, you would likely have faced reprisals for not having followed the regulations, and I would have felt terrible about you having to suffer for my having kept silent on this matter."
Doc Villers was not an emotional woman. She was built like a wall and was usually just as easy to move. However, seeing the horror that had crossed Soleta’s face when she woke up in what amounted to a brig, after having nearly given her life to save that of a commanding officer, and then to be punished by the regulations of Starfleet itself…It was downright heartbreaking.
Villers nodded slowly, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Soleta, I am so sorry."
Soleta shifted on the bed, wincing slightly. "I take it that I am on my way to Starfleet Headquarters."
Villers had already consulted with Shelby, and Shelby with Calhoun, on the matter, and they had agreed: Both for Soleta’s physical and mental well-being, they would stall any disciplinary action for as long as possible.
"No," Doc Villers said. "You’ll be going back to the Excalibur within twenty-four hours. Captains Shelby and Calhoun wanted you home as soon as you could transport without risking your condition. From there, Captain Calhoun will escort you to Command Headquarters, and only once you are fully recovered."
Soleta seemed to allow half a rueful smile to cross her face. "Home." At least it will be, if only for as long as it takes to transport me to my hearing, she thought.
"Go ahead and rest. It’s the best thing you can do right now," Doc Villers said. Almost as though she wanted to underscore the point, she pressed a sedative to Soleta’s arm.
Soleta fell into a deep sleep immediately.
The captains of the Trident and the Excalibur had worked out a plan to make Soleta’s transition back to her home ship as easy and painless as possible.
Doc Villers had given Soleta a remarkably strong sedative in her last hypo; she did not wake until she had been in her quarters on the Excalibur for several hours.
She opened her eyes, expecting to still be in the brightly-lit sickbay, surrounded by a force field and a contingent of security guards.
Instead, she was in her familiar cabin, surrounded by her possessions, and instead of the four security guards she’d last seen, there was only one nearby now.
Zak Kebron, one of the few beings Soleta knew who could dwarf Doc Villers, was seated in a sofa (which he made look like a chair) a short distance across her quarters.
"Zak?" she called, confused. Her voice sounded unused, parched.
Kebron was out of the sofa-turned-chair in a flash. Soleta inwardly cringed, wondering if he was coming to swoop down upon her and begin the interrogation, but she was shocked when her old Academy classmate simply hurried over to pour her a glass of water.
Soleta was even more mystified when Kebron helped her to sit up and held the glass as she tried to drink.
Kebron set the glass back down on the table. "Can I get you anything else, Soleta?" he inquired solicitously.
Soleta just stared at him, dumbfounded. "What - How - Where…I am so confused…"
Kebron actually chuckled. Soleta wondered if she could ever grow used to his new personality. In some ways, the "kinder, gentler" Kebron was delightful company, but in other ways, after nearly twenty years of knowing Kebron as a surly, reticent Brikar-of-few-words, the change in temperament was almost too much to take in all at once.
"The Trident transporter chief beamed you directly to our sickbay. After Doctor Selar checked you over and declared Doc Villers’s work to be satisfactory - high praise from her, as you can imagine - we brought you down to your quarters. We figured you’d be more comfortable recovering here than anywhere else."
Soleta was shaking her head in disbelief. "But why? I mean, I may well end up being branded an enemy of the Federation. Why all the fuss, all the concern?"
Kebron went back to the sofa, which, like all furniture on Starfleet vessels, was bolted to the floor. The sofa wasn’t attached to the deck any longer, though, as Kebron pulled it loose, carried it over to Soleta’s bedside as though it weighed nothing, and settled into it. "Soleta, you may or may not believe this, but you are a valued member of our crew. We have seen you prove your cleverness and bravery time and again. What we have known of you during your time on this vessel - and, in my case, since our Academy days - far outweighs what we did not know." Kebron reached over from his makeshift perch and offered Soleta the water again.
"Thank you," she murmured, taking the glass. After a few swallows, she added, "Thank you, Zak. For everything." She shook her head, a faint smile playing across her lips. "Well, at least you’re reacting with more equanimity in this instance than you did when we found out about McHenry’s breeding."
Kebron was physically unable to shake his head, but he did swivel his torso side-to-side in an equivalent expression. His tone was rueful as he said, "Well, unfortunately for our old friend, he just missed my maturation. It wasn’t long after I’d left behind my adolescence that I realized I should have treated him more as a friend, and less like a potential suspect. There is more to us than our pasts, after all."
Soleta nodded in agreement. The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Soleta suddenly said, with a touch of wry humor, "You know, Zak, at this point, you’d make a commendable ship’s counselor."
The Brikar looked thoughtful. "Not a bad idea, Soleta," he said.
Calhoun sat in the command chair on the bridge, watching Earth grow ever closer on the viewscreen. "Estimated time of arrival, Morgan?" he asked the computer…and, consequently, the hologram seated at the conn station.
"One hour, eleven minutes, Captain," replied Morgan.
At Ops, Lieutenant Robin Lefler heaved a sigh. "We’re seriously going to do this?" she asked, turning to look at the captain.
Morgan also turned in her chair and directed a piercing stare at Calhoun.
"We don’t have a choice at this point," Calhoun said, gazing at each of the bridge crew in turn. The science station was empty, and Calhoun looked quickly away from the seat that had always been occupied by Soleta. Quickly, he continued, "We know Soleta. We know her as a colleague, and as a friend. Hopefully, Starfleet will be willing to see her in the same light."
"If they don’t, I’ll break them," Kebron rumbled from his post at Tactical.
Si Cwan, standing to one side of the bridge, dejectedly shook his head. In spite of his obvious melancholy, there was a distinct undercurrent of anger as he added, "Kebron, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…If it comes to that, I’m glad to help."
"Thank you, Cwan," Kebron replied, "I doubt I would need assistance, but I’d be delighted to have you along."
Burgoyne 172 turned in hir chair. "Are you sure there’s nothing we can do? I mean…"
Calhoun shook his head. "We’ve written and sent our recommendations, all of us." There was a uniform nodding of heads around the bridge from all who had sent letters of protest about the hearing, and testifying to Soleta’s value as an officer. "Beyond that, as far as Starfleet is concerned, there’s not a lot we can accomplish on our own. All we can really do is let her know we support her for who she is, not what she is."
Lefler’s chin quivered slightly. "This just isn’t fair," she said quietly.
"No, it’s not, but it’ll be okay, honey. Soleta’s tough. She’ll handle it fine." Morgan’s hologram directed a compassionate look at her flesh-and-blood daughter at the station a few feet away.
In the meantime, Earth drew ever closer.
Soleta glanced out the viewport in her quarters. She had taken a long, hot shower, and was feeling refreshed, and somewhat heartened that the new dermal patches grafted on after the surgery had mended almost seamlessly with the rest of her skin. She had put on her dress uniform and pulled her hair into its usual chignon. As she pinned the IDIC clip into place, she looked at her reflection for a long time. Her eyes rested on the hairpin, and as she studied it, she whispered, "Mother, I did as you asked. I went back. And now I may have to leave. I am sure you would have understood that I tried my best."
Then, she turned quickly away from the mirror. It was bad enough that she could feel the tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to have to see them as well.
"Ten minutes until we are in transporter range," Morgan said.
Captain Calhoun tugged at his lower lip. He thought it over. He came to a decision.
"Burgy, you have the conn," he told his first officer. "I’m going down there with her."
Burgoyne stood…And, to the captain’s surprise, reached forth and quickly shook Calhoun’s hand. "Best of luck, Captain. Please send Soleta my best regards and wishes for a safe return."
From Ops, Lefler sniffled.
Just as the captain reached the turbolift, the doors opened to reveal someone inside, on her way to the bridge.
"Captain, I must see you immediately," Doctor Selar said with her customary Vulcan poker face fully intact.
The captain’s first impulse was to make a hurried excuse and push past her, in order to make it to the transporter room with plenty of time to spare, but something in Selar’s voice made him stop. He looked into her eyes, and ever so slightly, she nodded: Yes. It’s important.
"All right, Doctor. Five minutes." Calhoun turned on his heel, away from the turbolift, and led the way into his ready room. As soon as the doors closed behind him and the doctor, Selar turned to face him.
"I have been considering this matter for some time. It is…difficult for me to tell you this. I feel as though I am betraying a friend, but Captain, I think you should know."
Calhoun cocked his head to one side. "Selar, what exactly is this about?"
Selar took a deep breath. Calhoun was completely thrown: Selar’s face showed nothing more than mild anxiety, but even that was enough to alarm the captain.
Doctor Selar raised her face to look Calhoun in the eye. "This goes against my very moral fiber, since I vowed I would never share this information. However, if you are to go to Soleta’s hearing and speak on her behalf, I feel that you have a right - and obligation - to know what I know. Since her parentage has been called in to question, publicly, I am of the belief that you should know the facts in their entirety."
Calhoun leaned against his desk and motioned for Selar to sit.
And for the first, and most likely only, time in her long life, Selar broke a confidence.
"It is about Soleta…About her lineage. And how it came to be."
And Selar told the story.
Calhoun barreled down to the transporter room like a force of nature. He was angry enough to beat the hell out of something. He was angry enough to weep for Soleta’s sake. Maybe I’ll beat the hell out of something and break every bone in my hand. Then I’ll be entitled to shed some tears without losing my heroic image, he thought wryly.
As if Soleta’s knowledge of how she came to be - as though the violence and heartlessness was not enough for her to carry around - she was now being punished by Starfleet for her lineage. Born on a Vulcan world, raised by Vulcan mother and father, and only finding out about her true parentage when her mother’s rapist had laughingly told her himself…Soleta had met the bastard while serving on a Federation starship, for gods’ sakes. Granted, that was simply a ghastly coincidence, but still, Calhoun thought that Starfleet had done enough to screw up Soleta’s life.
Thankfully, Calhoun hadn’t missed her. In fact, he rounded the corner just in time to see her nearing the transporter room. Her head was held high, her stride confident and purposeful. She looked strong as ever, in spite of the horrific injuries she’d taken…
…Saving your wife’s life, he thought.
Quickly, Calhoun contacted the transporter chief and asked her to wait to transport Soleta until he’d arrived.
Then, he made one more call: To the bridge. "Boyajian, take the conn. Burgy, call Selar and tell her to join us. Kebron, Robin, Cwan, and Morgan, if you’d like to send along a semblance of yourself, I need you all to meet me in transporter room five. On the double."
Soleta was standing near the transporter pads, feeling a bit anxious, though she pushed the sensation aside and tried to find inner calm.
It wasn’t working. She was still filled with dread about the imminent hearing, and what it would likely bring.
She was a realist, after all. She had estimated a fifteen point three percent chance that she would be dismissed from Starfleet altogether, but a five point two percent chance that she would be allowed to keep her current position, rank, and status.
As for the remaining seventy-nine point five percent, she had her suspicions, and she had a feeling that she already knew the outcome of this majority likelihood. She had planned ahead accordingly. She was ready to leave.
Soleta wondered what she was waiting for - Watson had said that the captain would be accompanying her to the hearing, and that he had requested that Soleta wait until he arrived.
Finally, the doors to slid open…and a crowd walked in.
Burgoyne, Kebron, Lefler, Si Cwan and Selar all entered the transporter room. They filed in and stood shoulder-to-shoulder. Then, the captain arrived. Soleta had to clench her teeth to keep her jaw from falling open as the captain called them to military attention. All of them - even Si Cwan, who was not an official part of Starfleet at all - drew themselves up into a formal salute.
Calhoun stood at the end of the line of officers, all facing Soleta, all saluting her. "Lieutenant Soleta, for your service, sacrifice, and bravery, above and beyond the call of duty, we recognize and honor you."
Morgan’s voice filtered through the comm system. "Formal? Are you kidding? I never thought I’d see that on this ship."
Soleta looked around at her longtime colleagues and didn’t trust herself to speak. She clenched her jaw even more tightly and directed a mute nod at her good-bye committee.
The captain followed her onto the transporter platform, turned, and as an afterthought, he added, "At ease."
"Gods, I thought he’d leave us standing here all day in that ridiculous position," Si Cwan muttered.
Calhoun nodded once to Watson, who began the transport process.
At the last moment, Soleta turned look at the motley group whom she knew she would now know only in her memories. Just as the transporter beams activated, Soleta faced the assemblage - her friends - squarely. Biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling, she drew herself up in a salute of her own.
The corridors in the main Command building were eerily quiet as Calhoun and Soleta walked toward the room where the meeting with the Starfleet senior counselor would be held.
They reached the counselor’s office. Soleta paused at the door and drew a deep breath.
Calhoun briefly touched on her shoulder. "Are you ready?" he asked.
Soleta glanced back at the captain. "No, sir. Not even close," Soleta replied, and with her shoulders thrown back and chin tilted high, she pushed her way in.
"When you applied to the Academy, did you know that you had blood ties to an actively aggressive race?" the senior counselor inquired, eight point nine minutes into the interview.
"No, sir."
"When did you discover that you were, in fact, half-Romulan?"
Soleta took a deep breath. "Approximately two years after my graduation from the Academy, during my first posting, aboard the USS Aldrin."
The senior counselor checked his paperwork. "That is approximately the time you left Starfleet, is it not?"
A muscle twitched in Soleta’s jaw. The captain, seated behind her and to the side, clenched his fists. Soleta doesn’t know that I’m fully aware why she left, he thought, but if I go up there and slug the bastard now, she’ll probably figure it out.
"Yes, sir," Soleta answered after a pause.
"And upon your return, Lieutenant, you did not inform Starfleet of your lineage, though at that point, you knew that you were half-Romulan."
"No, sir. I did not."
"And why," and the senior counselor leaned forward, "did you not?"
Soleta raised an eyebrow. "Starfleet did not ask."
The senior counselor closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And you think that to be a reasonable explanation?"
"Yes, sir. I do indeed. I do, in fact, regret having been dishonest, but I felt as though I needed to keep my silence on this matter. I have proven my worth as an officer, despite my breeding and my deception surrounding it." Soleta tilted her head toward the counselor. "I will apologize for my prevarication, but not an accident of birth."
The senior counselor again consulted his notes, but posed no further questions. He had apparently heard enough to form his decision. "Lieutenant Soleta, Starfleet Serial Number S615-112-73V, it is the decision of Starfleet that you will be reduced in rank to Ensign, effective immediately. Also effective immediately, your security clearance is altered to Delta level. You are free to seek an administrative position aboard a starbase, or through Earth-based organizations within Starfleet. The decision of this court stands. An appeal can be filed through legal channels within thirty days. You have a right to make a statement, on or off the record, at this time. Is there anything you wish to add, Ensign?"
Soleta appeared to give the matter some thought. "On the record, then," she said, then slowly stood. She sidled out from behind the table and leaned on its edge. Then, she reached just above her left breast and removed her communicator.
With a quick snap of her wrist, she flung it, and sent it skittering across the table at which the senior counselor was seated.
She then added something as she stared the startled senior counselor directly in the eye. It was spoken in a low voice, but Soleta’s lip was drawn up in something like a sneer, and while her intent was obvious, what she said was obviously not something with which the Universal Translator was familiar.
Soleta turned on her heel and stalked out, head still held high.
Soleta tore down the corridor, trying to put as much distance between herself and that detestable trial as possible. She felt a bit guilty for having run off without telling Captain Calhoun goodbye, but she figured that was the price of the choices she had made.
Needless to say, she was shocked when she heard pounding footsteps behind her, and the captain’s voice calling her name.
Soleta slowed and ducked into an adjoining corridor. The captain followed.
"You do realize," he said, trying to suppress a grin, "that what you suggested the senior counselor do is physically impossible."
Soleta’s eyebrows raised. "You understood that?"
Calhoun laughed. "Yeah. Remember, I spent plenty of time myself outside of Starfleet. Got myself into plenty of situations when I heard that line not just in Romulan, but in eight or nine other languages, too."
Soleta shook her head. "Well, at least I went out with style, right?"
Calhoun’s head dropped. "You know, I did that once, too. Went out with style, I mean. And this whole mess…It makes me remember exactly why I left Starfleet. I swear, after this, I’m ready to do it again."
"No," Soleta said with unexpected vehemence. "Captain, don’t even think about it. This situation is a relatively rare occurrence, and I’m willing to face up to my choices. Starfleet will be fine without me, but it needs you. There needs to be officers out there who see their crewmates for who they are, and to hell with everything else. I suppose that last statement - ‘to hell with everything else’ - could also apply to your view of the rules in general. Starfleet needs more of that, as well. I’m only leaving if I can count on you to stay."
Calhoun chuckled. "You make a good point. I don’t entirely agree that I’m the one to get the stick out of Starfleet’s collective ass, but I’m glad to keep trying." Then, he bent slightly so he could look Soleta in the eye. "Soleta…Listen. I know how unfair this dismissal is. Truly, I do. It’s not your fault. None of it…None of the circumstances that led to your lineage…None of that is your fault."
Soleta looked at him quizzically for a moment, then a range of emotions was as visible on her Vulcan face as it would have been on that of a human: shock, anger, betrayal, and finally, a sort of resignation. She turned away and faced the wall. "Selar. Selar told you."
"She did," the captain agreed. "She thought I should know. She felt I needed to understand."
Soleta rested her forehead against the wall. "And do you? Do you understand?"
The captain slowly shook his head. "No. I can never completely understand. I don’t think anyone can. But for what it’s worth…I’m sorry." Calhoun carefully placed a hand on Soleta’s shoulder. "I am sorry that you have had to carry this with you. You are a remarkably bright young woman, the best damned science officer I could have hoped for, and I wish that you could have had less pain in your life. Soleta, I am just so sorry."
Soleta turned away from the wall, and Calhoun was stunned to see the tears running, unchecked, down her cheeks. "It’s just too much…Too many secrets…"
Calhoun put an arm around her shoulders. In response, she threw her arms around him, sobbing into his uniform jacket for a moment, then pulled away and took a step back, breathing deeply.
"Thank you, Captain," she said, wiping away tears.
"We’ll see each other again," Calhoun said. "I’m sure of it."
Soleta smiled slightly and shook her head. "No, we most likely won’t."
"What makes you so sure of that?" asked the captain, puzzled by the certainty in her tone.
"Well," answered Soleta, "I have one more thing to take care of, and I doubt I’ll live through the aftermath. But it’s something I have to do."
For a moment, Calhoun stupefaction was evident. Then, slowly, he nodded. "You know, Soleta, believe it or not, that I do understand."
Soleta began to say something more, but a door was opening, and when she saw which one, she turned on her heel and bolted.
The senior counselor was just emerging from the office up ahead, and he fell into step with Calhoun. "I don’t know how she lasted so long in Starfleet. That young woman was an accident waiting to happen," the counselor sighed.
"Really," said Calhoun.
"And that she would be so disrespectful as to throw her communicator at me…I’m assuming she said something untoward to me at the end, as well."
Calhoun gave a sideways glance at the counselor. "You’d better believe she did."
"You understood her? What did she say?"
Calhoun glanced down at the front of his uniform. There were spots of wetness on the jacket: Soleta’s tears. A grim smile crossed Calhoun’s face. "Roughly translated…"
And he whirled around and, with a swift uppercut, broke the senior counselor’s jaw.
Staring at the insensate adjudicator, Calhoun shook his head. "Serves you right, you pompous bastard," he muttered. Then, he heard something from the end of the hall.
A giggle.
Calhoun looked up, startled, and caught sight of Soleta, peering around the corner.
"Peace and long life, Captain," she said, raised her hand in a Vulcan salute. She didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, she glanced at the prone form of the senior counselor and a fleeting ghost of a grin crossed her face. And then she turned, and she was gone.
Not long after, a small shuttlecraft carrying a single occupant departed Earth and set course for the Romulan Neutral Zone. Soleta was determined to tell her truths, once and for all.
She set out into the heavens, heading straight for hell.