iamjunglekitty@yahoo.com
02-26-2008, 12:52 AM
Title: By Some Other Sea
Author: Jungle Kitty http://www.invisibleplanets.com
Posted: 2/25/08
Archive: ASC yes, others please ask
Series: TOS (pre-TMP)
Part: 2/3
Codes: Kirk/Brandt, others
Rating: [PG-13]
Summary: Brandt responds rashly to a discovery about Kirk's
past. This story is set in the time between the end of the
5YM and TMP.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Wildcat for the countless betas
and insights, Jonk for supplying one of my favorite lines
and J Winter for early feedback and suggestions on a crucial
scene.
The Star Trek characters and universe are the property of
Paramount and Viacom. This not-for-profit piece of fan
fiction is not intended to infringe upon that. The copyright
applies only to the author's original characters and
creative content.
Feedback is welcome.
***
BY SOME OTHER SEA, part 2
COPYRIGHT Jungle Kitty 2008
Three days later, Brandt was finding the short trip back to
Earth more exhausting than the six-week mission that had
preceded it. After being welcomed aboard by Captain
Westerville, she had smiled her way through a tour of the
USS Carolina's refurbished facilities, glad that Westerville
was so proud of his ship that he never got around to asking
"How's Admiral Kirk?" With the preliminary courtesies out of
the way, she spent her daytime hours sorting her message
logs, composing her mission report and doing her best to
appear relaxed and natural to everyone she encountered.
Difficult as the "all's well" daytime pretense was, the
lonely honesty of the nights was far worse. Each moment
spent in painful self-recrimination scraped away another
layer of surety. She began to wonder if she would eventually
be worn down to her essential self, whoever that was.
Perhaps that woman might be able to understand the impulsive
lunatic who had so easily betrayed the man she loved.
Now, with only a few hours until the scheduled arrival on
Earth, she lay awake once more, listening to the quiet hum
of ship's night. It seemed that nothing could dispel
thoughts of the hidden history that had been revealed by her
unexpected encounter with Carol Marcus. With little hope of
sleep, she let the memory run its course once more.
Starbase 7 had always been a welcome changeover point and
she had expected this time to be no different. With nearly
twenty-four hours to herself, she'd turned down an
invitation to join her team on a hydrofoil trip to the outer
islands, opting instead for a day on her own.
She caught the ferry at mid-morning and went up to the top
deck where her only companions were the wind and sun. The
small boat glided through the canals, taking on more
passengers at each stop. By the time it reached the cultural
center, Brandt was no longer alone up top. She struggled
down the stairs, reaching the gate just after the ramp had
been retracted.
"Please step back," the guard droned and she did. Then she
sprinted forward, vaulted the gate and threw herself onto
the dock. She waved at the departing ferry as the guard
yelled, "Hey! You're not supposed to--"
"I'm not?" she called. "Sorry!"
Feeling extremely pleased with herself, she wandered through
the Fragan art collection and had lunch in a cafe
overlooking a sculpture garden. She was on her way to an
outdoor jazz concert when she saw a familiar face in the
courtyard outside the natural history museum.
"Carol? Do you remember me? Suzanne Brandt."
She held out her hand. The cool blonde ignored it.
"Yes, I remember you. What are you doing here?"
"I'm on a stopover. I was--"
"I meant why are you here? Did Jim send you?" Before Brandt
could answer, Carol pointed an angry finger. "You tell him
that I have nothing more to say to him. If the two of you
want a child, have one of your own. You can't have mine."
"What are you talking about--"
She was interrupted by a boy approaching them, calling
"Mom!"
Brandt judged him to be about thirteen years old. He moved
with the lanky awkwardness of someone outgrowing childhood
and still unused to his new height. As he drew closer, she
noticed that his sharply etched features matched Carol's
bone for bone. His hair was unruly where Carol's was tidy
but it was the same soft blond. His eyes--no, the eyes
weren't Carol's, nor was the way he carried himself or the
silent beat he took before he spoke.
"Sorry I'm late, Mom but listen to this! Dr. Hays says if I
come back tomorrow, she'll show me the dinosaur stuff that's
not on exhibit."
"David, I'm talking to someone."
"But is it okay? Can I tell her I'll be back?"
"I don't know, David. Ask me later."
"But Mom--"
"Later."
"I need to know *now.*"
The familiarity of his stubbornness hit Brandt like a body
blow. She sank down on a nearby bench.
"Mom, is your friend all right?"
"I'm fine," Brandt whispered, then raised her voice. "Fine.
Thank you."
"Can I get you something? Some water or--"
"No, thank you." Brandt realized her tone was too sharp but
the boy was unwittingly torturing her with his too-
recognizable kindness.
"David, go tell Dr. Hays you'll be back tomorrow," Carol
said.
"Really?"
"You better go quickly before she changes her mind."
"Thanks, Mom!"
Brandt heard his happy steps fade into the distance as Carol
joined her on the bench. Her own voice sounded far away when
she asked, "Who is that boy?"
"My son, David."
"How old is he?"
"He'll be fourteen next month."
She drew a deep breath and forced out her next question.
"Does Jim know about him?"
Carol gave her a curious look. "Yes, he does. But it looks
like you don't."
Dazed, Brandt shook her head. *Jim has a son? With Carol?
How? Why? A son...*
"Suzanne, I'm sorry I was rude to you." Brandt realized that
Carol was still speaking and had to strain to hear her over
the roaring in her ears. "I thought Jim had sent you to--It
doesn't matter. What does matter is David has no need to
know anything about his father. We've gotten along just fine
without him and I'm not going to disrupt my son's life just
because Jim's finished playing with his starship and needs a
new toy."
"I don't understand..."
"Then I suggest you ask Jim for an explanation. I still--"
Carol's chilly mask was gone and despite the confusion in
her own head, Brandt clearly saw the other woman's unhealed
hurt.
"Carol--"
She extended her hand but Carol stood abruptly, walked a few
steps and then turned back, once again under control.
"I still don't understand how anyone can value their own
ambition that highly. Do you?"
The two women had gazed at each other for a long time.
Finally, Carol had left, heading in the same direction David
had taken. Brandt didn't know how long she'd remained on the
bench or how she'd gotten to the concert hall.
The ship's bell sounded, bringing her back to the present
and the realization that she was less than three hours away
from Earth, HQ and people who knew her too well to be fooled
into believing nothing was wrong. She didn't dare show up
reeling from lack of sleep.
She groaned and decided to give the relaxation exercises one
more try. She tensed every muscle, held for a count of three
and then released with a loud exhalation. Tense, hold-two-
three, release. Tense, hold-two-three, release. Inhale for
six, hold for three, exhale for one, two, three, four...
The next thing she knew, the chron was sounding her wakeup
call. She was surprised and relieved she had slept but she
soon wondered if she was worse off than before. Even after a
shower and breakfast, she felt groggy, disoriented and more
than anything else, guilty about those few hours of sleep.
It felt like she'd ducked a much-deserved scolding, as
though she didn't care enough about her threatened
relationship to sit up all night worrying about it.
***
Upon arrival at HQ, the first thing she did was turn down a
lunch invitation from Fig. Luckily it had come by text--she
could have never withstood a face-to-face conversation with
her too-perceptive friend.
Two hours later, she was staring at her computer screen
and rubbing her face when the other overly intuitive
person in her life caught up with her.
"Captain, are you all right?"
Her first officer. Damn. Let your guard down for one
minute...
"I'm fine, Jack. My eyes are just tired from reading all
these reports." She gestured toward the disks scattered
across her desk.
She inserted a flimsy into the computer and began scanning
the screen.
"Captain, are you going to the briefing this afternoon on
the Wethian situation?"
"Isn't Captain Moore running that network?"
"Yes but since we set it up, I thought--"
"All right, Commander," she said a little too sharply. "I'll
go to the briefing. Is there anything else?"
"Yes, sir, as a matter of fact, there is." Stunned by his
sharp tone, she stood and glared at him. But he kept going.
"If you're going to that briefing, I suggest you find a
quiet spot and get some sleep first. I watched you the whole
trip home and if Admiral Skorheim sees you like this, he'll
pack you off on a forced leave. Sir."
After a long stare-down, Brandt turned away, humiliatingly
aware that she should have put him in his place after his
first sentence. Hell, she should have never walked into
something as obvious as his question about the briefing.
With a bitter half-smile, she said, "You really snookered me
on that one, Wallis."
"I never could have done it if you weren't so tired."
"Your recommendation has been noted."
"Suzanne, is there anything I can--"
"No, Jack. If you leave now, I promise I'll lock the door
and rest until lunch."
***
Unfortunately, the briefing was moved up. She sat in the
back and contributed nothing beyond her presence and well-
timed nods of agreement. As the meeting broke up, her CO
commented that she was looking a bit pale.
"I'm coming down with a cold, sir."
He looked at her askance and said, "Walk with me, will you,
Captain?"
"Of course, sir."
The walk to his office was short and silent. When they
arrived, he offered her the chair opposite his desk.
"Thank you, sir."
Aware of him studying her, she tried to ignore the throbbing
pain that extended all the way into her cheekbones. He
leaned against the edge of his desk, frowned and said,
"What's wrong?"
How could she answer that? The thought of describing the
events on Starbase 7 made her want to scream or cry or
vomit. She had no intention of excising any of those options
in front of Admiral Skorheim.
"Did something happen on the mission that you haven't
disclosed?" he continued.
"No, sir."
"I didn't think so. And I don't believe you're getting a
cold. So what is it?"
"It's personal, sir."
"Personal. Well, as your CO, I guess I have to respect that
unless I find it's interfering with your duties, which it
isn't. Yet. But I'd like to think that I'm also your friend.
If there's something you need to talk about--"
"No, sir."
"--it will be off the record and confidential."
"I appreciate the offer, sir, but it's...personal."
He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his unruly red
hair.
"All right. Dismissed, Captain. Get some rest."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
She was nearly out of the room when he asked, "Did you
happen to see Admiral Kirk on Starbase 7?"
She turned slowly, feeling that the air was clinging to her
like glue.
"Sir?"
"Commodore Goldman and I play poker together on Tuesdays. He
mentioned that he'd managed to snag the admiral for the
panel on Starbase 7. I was pretty sure that coincided with
your itinerary."
"Yes, sir, it did."
He went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry,
Brandt. I'm not sure what I'm sorry about but I am sorry."
"Thank you, sir."
***
As the doors to the turbolift closed, Brandt dropped her
head to her hands and muttered, "Oh, ****."
"Please repeat your destina--"
"Level one, you stupid machine!"
As the lift began moving, she slumped against the wall,
tears of humiliation stinging at her eyes. Skorheim knew or
knew enough and it didn't matter that he didn't really know
anything, he'd *pitied* her!
"****!" she roared, hoping that anger was the antidote to
despair.
*I am not going to cry. I am not going to get off the lift
with red eyes. I am not going to have the entire building
gossiping about Captain Brandt boo-hooing after a meeting
with her CO.*
Desperate for distraction, she ordered, "Computer! Current
events summary!"
"Working." The flat voice of the computer was replaced by
the smooth articulation of a news reader. "--the mayor had
no comment on the allegations. Turning to news off-planet,
it looks like the plans to colonize the dark side of the
moon may not be dead after all. Geoform Technologies has
announced their intention to pursue the long-delayed
terraforming project. In a speech today at the Lunar
Technical Institute, renowned terraforming engineer Dr.
Theodore Brandt expressed his belief that--"
"Halt turbolift!"
After listening to the report three times, Brandt ordered
the lift to the fifth level, where she sped to her office
and began hacking into the files of Geoform Technologies'
travel department.
***
Wishing she could reach through the monitor and shake her
friend by the shoulders, Brandt implored, "Fig, please! Just
delay the shuttle for twenty minutes until I get there!"
Captain Figueroa remained unmoved. "Suzanne, it's unfair to
ask favors based on our friendship--"
"This is important!"
"There's another shuttle in the morning--"
"It can't wait until morning! He won't be there!"
"Who won't?"
"Fig, I've never asked you for anything--"
"Yes, you have--"
"All right but I'll never ask again. Can't you just take my
word that it's important?"
"Suzanne, the Commissioner of Federation Infrastructure is
aboard that shuttle and I'm not going to piss him off
without knowing why."
Brandt thought for a moment and then put a coy expression on
her face. "Are the two of you still arguing over air
transport routes?"
"Yes." Fig drew the word out warily.
"Well, if I were you, I'd delay the shuttle just to show him
who controls the routes in Sol sector."
"Brandt--"
"Look, you're the sector commander because you're so good at
smoothing ruffled feathers. If there aren't any feathers to
smooth, you don't have a job."
After a long, stony stare, Fig tapped her desktop comm and
said, "Hold the lunar shuttle on my authority. Send all
complaints directly to me."
"Yes, sir!" came the startled reply.
"Thank you, Fig," Brandt said, going limp with relief.
"Twenty minutes. Figueroa out."
***
2761.
Brandt stared at the room number as she gathered her
thoughts. She'd managed to sleep during the shuttle trip and
although she hadn't shaken off all her tension, she no
longer felt like the woman who'd almost gone on a crying jag
in the turbolift. She drew a slow, even breath, reassuring
herself that the hurried trip from the lunar spaceport to
the hotel hadn't marred her composure. She pressed the bell
and heard a brusque response from the other side.
"Open!"
The doors parted silently, revealing a man in a dark travel
suit closing a briefcase.
"Just the large suitcase in the corner," he said without
looking up.
"I haven't come to pick up your bags," she replied.
Surprised, he turned to her. Although he topped her by at
least six inches, he was smaller than she remembered but
that could have been due to the distortion of memory. The
last time she'd seen him, she'd been fourteen years old. He
was now almost completely bald except for a salt-and-pepper
fringe just above his ears. The top of his head shone as if
it had been polished.
"May I come in?" she asked.
He nodded and then went to the mirror and straightened his
collar. She stepped into the room and waited until she felt
the soft rush of air as the doors closed behind her.
"Do you know who I am?"
He turned away from the mirror and looked at her with eyes
the color of steel.
"Yes, of course. You're Suzanne. You look quite a bit like
your mother."
Brandt stiffened. Was he trying to flatter her? Or was he
searching for common ground? In either case, mentioning the
mother she'd lost at age seven had been a poor choice.
"How old are you now?" he asked.
"Thirty-eight."
"And still in Starfleet, I see."
"Yes."
"You're what, a lieutenant?"
"A captain."
"Ah! Commanding a ship, I presume?"
"I didn't come here to discuss my career."
"Well, what do you want to talk about? Whatever it is, it
will have to be quick." He picked up his briefcase and
headed for the suitcase.
"You never did have time for me, did you? Well, now you're
going to make time."
He picked up the large bag, grunting slightly. "I'm afraid
not. I have a transport to catch--"
She stepped into his path and drew her phaser. "You're going
to miss it."
Staring at the weapon, he set the bag down slowly. "We can
talk until the attendant comes for my luggage." He went to
the bedside stand and picked up a cup. "It will give me a
chance to finish my coffee."
While Suzanne uncomfortably considered that she might not
have inherited her cool head from her mother, he sipped and
made a face.
"Cold." He started toward the synthesizer. "Shall I make a
cup for you as well?"
Putting herself between him and the synthesizer, she
fingered the trigger on the phaser and made sure he saw her
do so.
His mouth puckered in amusement. "Suzanne, you're not going
to shoot me."
"I'd suggest you get to know me a little better before you
jump to any conclusions."
"Isn't this a bit melodramatic?"
"It's what I do best. Now why don't you sit down?" She
nodded toward an armchair on the far side of the room.
"I don't seem to have much choice, do I?" He went to the
chair and sat.
"No, you don't. Interesting reversal, isn't it?"
He sighed impatiently. "What do you want?"
She dragged the desk chair over and positioned it opposite
him. Sitting down, she said, "I'd like to tell you the story
of my life."
He settled back and gestured obligingly. "Go ahead."
"Do you know what kind of child I was? I was the kind who
listened at doors. I heard a lot of things that weren't
meant for my ears and usually I ended up feeling hurt so
eventually I stopped. But before that I heard things that I
still remember. After my mother died, I listened in on the
Starfleet officer who rescued Dennis and me when the Annika
was drifting. He was dictating a communication to his wife.
He talked a lot about his sons and it was obvious even to a
seven-year-old how unhappy he was to be so far away from
them. After he turned us over to you, I listened when you
made the funeral arrangements for my mother, a funeral that
you were too busy to attend. I listened when you arranged
for Dennis and me to go to boarding school. I listened as
you spent the entire trip to Kyros talking to your
assistants, trying to keep your project on track from
halfway across the galaxy. I listened when you paid the
purser to keep us out of your way. I listened and I
remembered that Starfleet officer. You did not do well in
the comparison. I finally forgot about him because it hurt
too much to want a father like him."
She stopped, feeling almost giddy at having confronted him,
despite the fact that he'd shown no reaction. When his
response came, it was as curt and impatient as anything else
he'd ever said to her.
"Suzanne, this is ridiculous. I didn't expect you to
understand when you were a child but surely now you can see
how important my work is. The Federation that you military
types protect wouldn't even exist if not for what I made
possible. It's unfortunate that every time you decided you
needed a father, I was busy elsewhere but--"
"Oh, so it was just bad timing? Well, maybe you're right.
Mom should have waited ten or fifteen years before she died.
How inconsiderate of her."
"You were a child," he snapped. Was he finally showing
emotion? She felt a thrill of pride at having drawn him into
the argument she wanted. "You know nothing of your mother
and you know nothing of me."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Do you have children, Suzanne? Are you married?"
"No."
"Then you have no idea how other people can drag on you, how
they conspire to keep you from doing anything other than
cater to their needs. Frankly, you're in no position to
judge me."
"Yes, I am. I'm your daughter." She laughed mirthlessly.
"I've spent my entire life trying not to be your daughter
but the truth is you made me what I am. For years, I turned
away from everything that's actually meaningful and it was
because I'm your daughter. I thought my career was more
important than anything because yours was and I've kept
everyone at a distance because of that. I thought that
letting other people be important to you was a sign of
weakness. And now--"
A lump rose in her throat.
"Yes?" he prompted. "And now?"
She fired her accusation. "And now I've ****ed up the best
thing that ever happened to me. I've hurt the one person who
cared enough to cut through all the crap I've been carrying
around and I did it because I thought he was acting like
you. I didn't stop to think about who he really is or all
the reasons he could never be like you. I responded in the
only way I could, the worst way possible, because *I'm your
daughter.*"
Riding the high of unleashed hurt and anger, it took her a
moment to realize that he was completely untouched by her
words.
"Don't you have anything to say?" she demanded.
"To someone who's holding a phaser on me? No."
She opened the back of the weapon and tossed it to him. He
caught it and examined the empty slot that should have held
the power pack.
He shook his head. "Nice bluff. Is the uniform also a fake,
'Captain'?"
"No. I'm the real thing. I only used the phaser to get your
attention. Too bad I didn't think of that when I was seven."
"Yes, too bad." He tossed the phaser back to her and went
into the bathroom, muttering, "If that attendant doesn't get
here soon, I'll have to--"
The rest of his words were lost to her as the door closed
behind him. She went to the window and looked out at Selene
Natural Park. She wondered if he realized that his room
overlooked one of the few parts of the lunar colony on which
he and his machines had not left their mark.
"Oh, you're still here?"
She turned at the sound of his voice.
"Yes. I'm not holding a phaser on you now. I'd like to
finish our conversation."
"About the miraculous, crap-cutting boyfriend? Very well. It
occurs to me to question your certainty that he could never
be like me. I believe most women choose men who remind them
of their fathers."
"I didn't. For a moment I thought I had but I was wrong."
"Well, good for you." He strode past her and picked up his
suitcase. "Now if I hurry, I can still--"
Moving with pitched intensity, she grabbed the suitcase out
of his hand and threw it across the room. Pleased that her
sudden violence had startled him, she locked eyes with him
and said, "I told you, I'm the real thing. I don't need a
phaser to keep you here."
"What do you want?"
She was almost sorry that there was no tremor in his voice
but maybe it was better this way. If he had no fear, there
was no reason he wouldn't answer her honestly.
"Do you ever look back and wish you'd done anything
differently?"
In the space of a heartbeat, the long-imagined Suzanne who
might have been crept to the forefront of her thoughts,
waited breathlessly--
"No."
--and disappeared.
She nodded in acceptance. If there were no other
possibilities for her, if there never had been, then at
least she'd lost nothing by hearing him say so.
"That's how Jim is different from you," she said. "He
regrets his mistakes." She returned to the window, speaking
more to herself than to him. "And now it looks like I'm one
of them."
"May I go now?"
That crisp, indifferent tone. She thought of how he had
molded her life with the uncaring efficiency of one of the
machines he commanded. He *was* a terraforming machine,
always moving forward, making the world around him conform
to his design.
She continued staring out the window, feeling as empty and
lifeless as the stark landscape below. She heard him
breathing a little heavily as he gathered his luggage. She
wished he would move faster.
*Never hurry away from a tough negotiation; there is no
greater or more damaging concession.*
So many of the harsh lessons she'd learned from him had been
given a different shape by Starfleet.
"Suzanne, I'd like to explain something to you. If you--Are
you listening to me, Suzanne?"
His question sliced through the fog of her contemplation.
*Are you listening to me, Suzanne?*
He'd asked her that once before, right before he threatened
to cut her off from everything she treasured--her brother,
her home, her hopes for the future.
I'm not fourteen anymore, she thought angrily. Whatever he
says to me, I don't have to swallow my response.
Masking her emotions, she faced him.
"Yes, I'm listening."
"If you've screwed up your life, it's no one's fault but
your own. I did what I had to do. I suggest you do the same.
Figure out what it is you want and then do whatever it takes
to get it."
She smiled, even tilted her head. "An actual piece of
fatherly advice. And it lets you off the hook so neatly. But
I do appreciate it. So please understand--I'm just doing
what I have to do."
She drew back and slammed the heel of her hand into his
face. She watched him slide down the door and lay crumpled
on the floor with blood streaming from his nose. She bent
down and checked his pulse. He groaned and looked up at her
blearily. She dropped his hand and went to the comm.
"This is room 2761. Dr. Brandt needs some ice."
She stepped over him and left.
[End part 2]
Author: Jungle Kitty http://www.invisibleplanets.com
Posted: 2/25/08
Archive: ASC yes, others please ask
Series: TOS (pre-TMP)
Part: 2/3
Codes: Kirk/Brandt, others
Rating: [PG-13]
Summary: Brandt responds rashly to a discovery about Kirk's
past. This story is set in the time between the end of the
5YM and TMP.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Wildcat for the countless betas
and insights, Jonk for supplying one of my favorite lines
and J Winter for early feedback and suggestions on a crucial
scene.
The Star Trek characters and universe are the property of
Paramount and Viacom. This not-for-profit piece of fan
fiction is not intended to infringe upon that. The copyright
applies only to the author's original characters and
creative content.
Feedback is welcome.
***
BY SOME OTHER SEA, part 2
COPYRIGHT Jungle Kitty 2008
Three days later, Brandt was finding the short trip back to
Earth more exhausting than the six-week mission that had
preceded it. After being welcomed aboard by Captain
Westerville, she had smiled her way through a tour of the
USS Carolina's refurbished facilities, glad that Westerville
was so proud of his ship that he never got around to asking
"How's Admiral Kirk?" With the preliminary courtesies out of
the way, she spent her daytime hours sorting her message
logs, composing her mission report and doing her best to
appear relaxed and natural to everyone she encountered.
Difficult as the "all's well" daytime pretense was, the
lonely honesty of the nights was far worse. Each moment
spent in painful self-recrimination scraped away another
layer of surety. She began to wonder if she would eventually
be worn down to her essential self, whoever that was.
Perhaps that woman might be able to understand the impulsive
lunatic who had so easily betrayed the man she loved.
Now, with only a few hours until the scheduled arrival on
Earth, she lay awake once more, listening to the quiet hum
of ship's night. It seemed that nothing could dispel
thoughts of the hidden history that had been revealed by her
unexpected encounter with Carol Marcus. With little hope of
sleep, she let the memory run its course once more.
Starbase 7 had always been a welcome changeover point and
she had expected this time to be no different. With nearly
twenty-four hours to herself, she'd turned down an
invitation to join her team on a hydrofoil trip to the outer
islands, opting instead for a day on her own.
She caught the ferry at mid-morning and went up to the top
deck where her only companions were the wind and sun. The
small boat glided through the canals, taking on more
passengers at each stop. By the time it reached the cultural
center, Brandt was no longer alone up top. She struggled
down the stairs, reaching the gate just after the ramp had
been retracted.
"Please step back," the guard droned and she did. Then she
sprinted forward, vaulted the gate and threw herself onto
the dock. She waved at the departing ferry as the guard
yelled, "Hey! You're not supposed to--"
"I'm not?" she called. "Sorry!"
Feeling extremely pleased with herself, she wandered through
the Fragan art collection and had lunch in a cafe
overlooking a sculpture garden. She was on her way to an
outdoor jazz concert when she saw a familiar face in the
courtyard outside the natural history museum.
"Carol? Do you remember me? Suzanne Brandt."
She held out her hand. The cool blonde ignored it.
"Yes, I remember you. What are you doing here?"
"I'm on a stopover. I was--"
"I meant why are you here? Did Jim send you?" Before Brandt
could answer, Carol pointed an angry finger. "You tell him
that I have nothing more to say to him. If the two of you
want a child, have one of your own. You can't have mine."
"What are you talking about--"
She was interrupted by a boy approaching them, calling
"Mom!"
Brandt judged him to be about thirteen years old. He moved
with the lanky awkwardness of someone outgrowing childhood
and still unused to his new height. As he drew closer, she
noticed that his sharply etched features matched Carol's
bone for bone. His hair was unruly where Carol's was tidy
but it was the same soft blond. His eyes--no, the eyes
weren't Carol's, nor was the way he carried himself or the
silent beat he took before he spoke.
"Sorry I'm late, Mom but listen to this! Dr. Hays says if I
come back tomorrow, she'll show me the dinosaur stuff that's
not on exhibit."
"David, I'm talking to someone."
"But is it okay? Can I tell her I'll be back?"
"I don't know, David. Ask me later."
"But Mom--"
"Later."
"I need to know *now.*"
The familiarity of his stubbornness hit Brandt like a body
blow. She sank down on a nearby bench.
"Mom, is your friend all right?"
"I'm fine," Brandt whispered, then raised her voice. "Fine.
Thank you."
"Can I get you something? Some water or--"
"No, thank you." Brandt realized her tone was too sharp but
the boy was unwittingly torturing her with his too-
recognizable kindness.
"David, go tell Dr. Hays you'll be back tomorrow," Carol
said.
"Really?"
"You better go quickly before she changes her mind."
"Thanks, Mom!"
Brandt heard his happy steps fade into the distance as Carol
joined her on the bench. Her own voice sounded far away when
she asked, "Who is that boy?"
"My son, David."
"How old is he?"
"He'll be fourteen next month."
She drew a deep breath and forced out her next question.
"Does Jim know about him?"
Carol gave her a curious look. "Yes, he does. But it looks
like you don't."
Dazed, Brandt shook her head. *Jim has a son? With Carol?
How? Why? A son...*
"Suzanne, I'm sorry I was rude to you." Brandt realized that
Carol was still speaking and had to strain to hear her over
the roaring in her ears. "I thought Jim had sent you to--It
doesn't matter. What does matter is David has no need to
know anything about his father. We've gotten along just fine
without him and I'm not going to disrupt my son's life just
because Jim's finished playing with his starship and needs a
new toy."
"I don't understand..."
"Then I suggest you ask Jim for an explanation. I still--"
Carol's chilly mask was gone and despite the confusion in
her own head, Brandt clearly saw the other woman's unhealed
hurt.
"Carol--"
She extended her hand but Carol stood abruptly, walked a few
steps and then turned back, once again under control.
"I still don't understand how anyone can value their own
ambition that highly. Do you?"
The two women had gazed at each other for a long time.
Finally, Carol had left, heading in the same direction David
had taken. Brandt didn't know how long she'd remained on the
bench or how she'd gotten to the concert hall.
The ship's bell sounded, bringing her back to the present
and the realization that she was less than three hours away
from Earth, HQ and people who knew her too well to be fooled
into believing nothing was wrong. She didn't dare show up
reeling from lack of sleep.
She groaned and decided to give the relaxation exercises one
more try. She tensed every muscle, held for a count of three
and then released with a loud exhalation. Tense, hold-two-
three, release. Tense, hold-two-three, release. Inhale for
six, hold for three, exhale for one, two, three, four...
The next thing she knew, the chron was sounding her wakeup
call. She was surprised and relieved she had slept but she
soon wondered if she was worse off than before. Even after a
shower and breakfast, she felt groggy, disoriented and more
than anything else, guilty about those few hours of sleep.
It felt like she'd ducked a much-deserved scolding, as
though she didn't care enough about her threatened
relationship to sit up all night worrying about it.
***
Upon arrival at HQ, the first thing she did was turn down a
lunch invitation from Fig. Luckily it had come by text--she
could have never withstood a face-to-face conversation with
her too-perceptive friend.
Two hours later, she was staring at her computer screen
and rubbing her face when the other overly intuitive
person in her life caught up with her.
"Captain, are you all right?"
Her first officer. Damn. Let your guard down for one
minute...
"I'm fine, Jack. My eyes are just tired from reading all
these reports." She gestured toward the disks scattered
across her desk.
She inserted a flimsy into the computer and began scanning
the screen.
"Captain, are you going to the briefing this afternoon on
the Wethian situation?"
"Isn't Captain Moore running that network?"
"Yes but since we set it up, I thought--"
"All right, Commander," she said a little too sharply. "I'll
go to the briefing. Is there anything else?"
"Yes, sir, as a matter of fact, there is." Stunned by his
sharp tone, she stood and glared at him. But he kept going.
"If you're going to that briefing, I suggest you find a
quiet spot and get some sleep first. I watched you the whole
trip home and if Admiral Skorheim sees you like this, he'll
pack you off on a forced leave. Sir."
After a long stare-down, Brandt turned away, humiliatingly
aware that she should have put him in his place after his
first sentence. Hell, she should have never walked into
something as obvious as his question about the briefing.
With a bitter half-smile, she said, "You really snookered me
on that one, Wallis."
"I never could have done it if you weren't so tired."
"Your recommendation has been noted."
"Suzanne, is there anything I can--"
"No, Jack. If you leave now, I promise I'll lock the door
and rest until lunch."
***
Unfortunately, the briefing was moved up. She sat in the
back and contributed nothing beyond her presence and well-
timed nods of agreement. As the meeting broke up, her CO
commented that she was looking a bit pale.
"I'm coming down with a cold, sir."
He looked at her askance and said, "Walk with me, will you,
Captain?"
"Of course, sir."
The walk to his office was short and silent. When they
arrived, he offered her the chair opposite his desk.
"Thank you, sir."
Aware of him studying her, she tried to ignore the throbbing
pain that extended all the way into her cheekbones. He
leaned against the edge of his desk, frowned and said,
"What's wrong?"
How could she answer that? The thought of describing the
events on Starbase 7 made her want to scream or cry or
vomit. She had no intention of excising any of those options
in front of Admiral Skorheim.
"Did something happen on the mission that you haven't
disclosed?" he continued.
"No, sir."
"I didn't think so. And I don't believe you're getting a
cold. So what is it?"
"It's personal, sir."
"Personal. Well, as your CO, I guess I have to respect that
unless I find it's interfering with your duties, which it
isn't. Yet. But I'd like to think that I'm also your friend.
If there's something you need to talk about--"
"No, sir."
"--it will be off the record and confidential."
"I appreciate the offer, sir, but it's...personal."
He scratched the back of his head, ruffling his unruly red
hair.
"All right. Dismissed, Captain. Get some rest."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
She was nearly out of the room when he asked, "Did you
happen to see Admiral Kirk on Starbase 7?"
She turned slowly, feeling that the air was clinging to her
like glue.
"Sir?"
"Commodore Goldman and I play poker together on Tuesdays. He
mentioned that he'd managed to snag the admiral for the
panel on Starbase 7. I was pretty sure that coincided with
your itinerary."
"Yes, sir, it did."
He went to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry,
Brandt. I'm not sure what I'm sorry about but I am sorry."
"Thank you, sir."
***
As the doors to the turbolift closed, Brandt dropped her
head to her hands and muttered, "Oh, ****."
"Please repeat your destina--"
"Level one, you stupid machine!"
As the lift began moving, she slumped against the wall,
tears of humiliation stinging at her eyes. Skorheim knew or
knew enough and it didn't matter that he didn't really know
anything, he'd *pitied* her!
"****!" she roared, hoping that anger was the antidote to
despair.
*I am not going to cry. I am not going to get off the lift
with red eyes. I am not going to have the entire building
gossiping about Captain Brandt boo-hooing after a meeting
with her CO.*
Desperate for distraction, she ordered, "Computer! Current
events summary!"
"Working." The flat voice of the computer was replaced by
the smooth articulation of a news reader. "--the mayor had
no comment on the allegations. Turning to news off-planet,
it looks like the plans to colonize the dark side of the
moon may not be dead after all. Geoform Technologies has
announced their intention to pursue the long-delayed
terraforming project. In a speech today at the Lunar
Technical Institute, renowned terraforming engineer Dr.
Theodore Brandt expressed his belief that--"
"Halt turbolift!"
After listening to the report three times, Brandt ordered
the lift to the fifth level, where she sped to her office
and began hacking into the files of Geoform Technologies'
travel department.
***
Wishing she could reach through the monitor and shake her
friend by the shoulders, Brandt implored, "Fig, please! Just
delay the shuttle for twenty minutes until I get there!"
Captain Figueroa remained unmoved. "Suzanne, it's unfair to
ask favors based on our friendship--"
"This is important!"
"There's another shuttle in the morning--"
"It can't wait until morning! He won't be there!"
"Who won't?"
"Fig, I've never asked you for anything--"
"Yes, you have--"
"All right but I'll never ask again. Can't you just take my
word that it's important?"
"Suzanne, the Commissioner of Federation Infrastructure is
aboard that shuttle and I'm not going to piss him off
without knowing why."
Brandt thought for a moment and then put a coy expression on
her face. "Are the two of you still arguing over air
transport routes?"
"Yes." Fig drew the word out warily.
"Well, if I were you, I'd delay the shuttle just to show him
who controls the routes in Sol sector."
"Brandt--"
"Look, you're the sector commander because you're so good at
smoothing ruffled feathers. If there aren't any feathers to
smooth, you don't have a job."
After a long, stony stare, Fig tapped her desktop comm and
said, "Hold the lunar shuttle on my authority. Send all
complaints directly to me."
"Yes, sir!" came the startled reply.
"Thank you, Fig," Brandt said, going limp with relief.
"Twenty minutes. Figueroa out."
***
2761.
Brandt stared at the room number as she gathered her
thoughts. She'd managed to sleep during the shuttle trip and
although she hadn't shaken off all her tension, she no
longer felt like the woman who'd almost gone on a crying jag
in the turbolift. She drew a slow, even breath, reassuring
herself that the hurried trip from the lunar spaceport to
the hotel hadn't marred her composure. She pressed the bell
and heard a brusque response from the other side.
"Open!"
The doors parted silently, revealing a man in a dark travel
suit closing a briefcase.
"Just the large suitcase in the corner," he said without
looking up.
"I haven't come to pick up your bags," she replied.
Surprised, he turned to her. Although he topped her by at
least six inches, he was smaller than she remembered but
that could have been due to the distortion of memory. The
last time she'd seen him, she'd been fourteen years old. He
was now almost completely bald except for a salt-and-pepper
fringe just above his ears. The top of his head shone as if
it had been polished.
"May I come in?" she asked.
He nodded and then went to the mirror and straightened his
collar. She stepped into the room and waited until she felt
the soft rush of air as the doors closed behind her.
"Do you know who I am?"
He turned away from the mirror and looked at her with eyes
the color of steel.
"Yes, of course. You're Suzanne. You look quite a bit like
your mother."
Brandt stiffened. Was he trying to flatter her? Or was he
searching for common ground? In either case, mentioning the
mother she'd lost at age seven had been a poor choice.
"How old are you now?" he asked.
"Thirty-eight."
"And still in Starfleet, I see."
"Yes."
"You're what, a lieutenant?"
"A captain."
"Ah! Commanding a ship, I presume?"
"I didn't come here to discuss my career."
"Well, what do you want to talk about? Whatever it is, it
will have to be quick." He picked up his briefcase and
headed for the suitcase.
"You never did have time for me, did you? Well, now you're
going to make time."
He picked up the large bag, grunting slightly. "I'm afraid
not. I have a transport to catch--"
She stepped into his path and drew her phaser. "You're going
to miss it."
Staring at the weapon, he set the bag down slowly. "We can
talk until the attendant comes for my luggage." He went to
the bedside stand and picked up a cup. "It will give me a
chance to finish my coffee."
While Suzanne uncomfortably considered that she might not
have inherited her cool head from her mother, he sipped and
made a face.
"Cold." He started toward the synthesizer. "Shall I make a
cup for you as well?"
Putting herself between him and the synthesizer, she
fingered the trigger on the phaser and made sure he saw her
do so.
His mouth puckered in amusement. "Suzanne, you're not going
to shoot me."
"I'd suggest you get to know me a little better before you
jump to any conclusions."
"Isn't this a bit melodramatic?"
"It's what I do best. Now why don't you sit down?" She
nodded toward an armchair on the far side of the room.
"I don't seem to have much choice, do I?" He went to the
chair and sat.
"No, you don't. Interesting reversal, isn't it?"
He sighed impatiently. "What do you want?"
She dragged the desk chair over and positioned it opposite
him. Sitting down, she said, "I'd like to tell you the story
of my life."
He settled back and gestured obligingly. "Go ahead."
"Do you know what kind of child I was? I was the kind who
listened at doors. I heard a lot of things that weren't
meant for my ears and usually I ended up feeling hurt so
eventually I stopped. But before that I heard things that I
still remember. After my mother died, I listened in on the
Starfleet officer who rescued Dennis and me when the Annika
was drifting. He was dictating a communication to his wife.
He talked a lot about his sons and it was obvious even to a
seven-year-old how unhappy he was to be so far away from
them. After he turned us over to you, I listened when you
made the funeral arrangements for my mother, a funeral that
you were too busy to attend. I listened when you arranged
for Dennis and me to go to boarding school. I listened as
you spent the entire trip to Kyros talking to your
assistants, trying to keep your project on track from
halfway across the galaxy. I listened when you paid the
purser to keep us out of your way. I listened and I
remembered that Starfleet officer. You did not do well in
the comparison. I finally forgot about him because it hurt
too much to want a father like him."
She stopped, feeling almost giddy at having confronted him,
despite the fact that he'd shown no reaction. When his
response came, it was as curt and impatient as anything else
he'd ever said to her.
"Suzanne, this is ridiculous. I didn't expect you to
understand when you were a child but surely now you can see
how important my work is. The Federation that you military
types protect wouldn't even exist if not for what I made
possible. It's unfortunate that every time you decided you
needed a father, I was busy elsewhere but--"
"Oh, so it was just bad timing? Well, maybe you're right.
Mom should have waited ten or fifteen years before she died.
How inconsiderate of her."
"You were a child," he snapped. Was he finally showing
emotion? She felt a thrill of pride at having drawn him into
the argument she wanted. "You know nothing of your mother
and you know nothing of me."
"Whose fault is that?"
"Do you have children, Suzanne? Are you married?"
"No."
"Then you have no idea how other people can drag on you, how
they conspire to keep you from doing anything other than
cater to their needs. Frankly, you're in no position to
judge me."
"Yes, I am. I'm your daughter." She laughed mirthlessly.
"I've spent my entire life trying not to be your daughter
but the truth is you made me what I am. For years, I turned
away from everything that's actually meaningful and it was
because I'm your daughter. I thought my career was more
important than anything because yours was and I've kept
everyone at a distance because of that. I thought that
letting other people be important to you was a sign of
weakness. And now--"
A lump rose in her throat.
"Yes?" he prompted. "And now?"
She fired her accusation. "And now I've ****ed up the best
thing that ever happened to me. I've hurt the one person who
cared enough to cut through all the crap I've been carrying
around and I did it because I thought he was acting like
you. I didn't stop to think about who he really is or all
the reasons he could never be like you. I responded in the
only way I could, the worst way possible, because *I'm your
daughter.*"
Riding the high of unleashed hurt and anger, it took her a
moment to realize that he was completely untouched by her
words.
"Don't you have anything to say?" she demanded.
"To someone who's holding a phaser on me? No."
She opened the back of the weapon and tossed it to him. He
caught it and examined the empty slot that should have held
the power pack.
He shook his head. "Nice bluff. Is the uniform also a fake,
'Captain'?"
"No. I'm the real thing. I only used the phaser to get your
attention. Too bad I didn't think of that when I was seven."
"Yes, too bad." He tossed the phaser back to her and went
into the bathroom, muttering, "If that attendant doesn't get
here soon, I'll have to--"
The rest of his words were lost to her as the door closed
behind him. She went to the window and looked out at Selene
Natural Park. She wondered if he realized that his room
overlooked one of the few parts of the lunar colony on which
he and his machines had not left their mark.
"Oh, you're still here?"
She turned at the sound of his voice.
"Yes. I'm not holding a phaser on you now. I'd like to
finish our conversation."
"About the miraculous, crap-cutting boyfriend? Very well. It
occurs to me to question your certainty that he could never
be like me. I believe most women choose men who remind them
of their fathers."
"I didn't. For a moment I thought I had but I was wrong."
"Well, good for you." He strode past her and picked up his
suitcase. "Now if I hurry, I can still--"
Moving with pitched intensity, she grabbed the suitcase out
of his hand and threw it across the room. Pleased that her
sudden violence had startled him, she locked eyes with him
and said, "I told you, I'm the real thing. I don't need a
phaser to keep you here."
"What do you want?"
She was almost sorry that there was no tremor in his voice
but maybe it was better this way. If he had no fear, there
was no reason he wouldn't answer her honestly.
"Do you ever look back and wish you'd done anything
differently?"
In the space of a heartbeat, the long-imagined Suzanne who
might have been crept to the forefront of her thoughts,
waited breathlessly--
"No."
--and disappeared.
She nodded in acceptance. If there were no other
possibilities for her, if there never had been, then at
least she'd lost nothing by hearing him say so.
"That's how Jim is different from you," she said. "He
regrets his mistakes." She returned to the window, speaking
more to herself than to him. "And now it looks like I'm one
of them."
"May I go now?"
That crisp, indifferent tone. She thought of how he had
molded her life with the uncaring efficiency of one of the
machines he commanded. He *was* a terraforming machine,
always moving forward, making the world around him conform
to his design.
She continued staring out the window, feeling as empty and
lifeless as the stark landscape below. She heard him
breathing a little heavily as he gathered his luggage. She
wished he would move faster.
*Never hurry away from a tough negotiation; there is no
greater or more damaging concession.*
So many of the harsh lessons she'd learned from him had been
given a different shape by Starfleet.
"Suzanne, I'd like to explain something to you. If you--Are
you listening to me, Suzanne?"
His question sliced through the fog of her contemplation.
*Are you listening to me, Suzanne?*
He'd asked her that once before, right before he threatened
to cut her off from everything she treasured--her brother,
her home, her hopes for the future.
I'm not fourteen anymore, she thought angrily. Whatever he
says to me, I don't have to swallow my response.
Masking her emotions, she faced him.
"Yes, I'm listening."
"If you've screwed up your life, it's no one's fault but
your own. I did what I had to do. I suggest you do the same.
Figure out what it is you want and then do whatever it takes
to get it."
She smiled, even tilted her head. "An actual piece of
fatherly advice. And it lets you off the hook so neatly. But
I do appreciate it. So please understand--I'm just doing
what I have to do."
She drew back and slammed the heel of her hand into his
face. She watched him slide down the door and lay crumpled
on the floor with blood streaming from his nose. She bent
down and checked his pulse. He groaned and looked up at her
blearily. She dropped his hand and went to the comm.
"This is room 2761. Dr. Brandt needs some ice."
She stepped over him and left.
[End part 2]