Chapter
5

The next several days were a whirlwind of activity for Gomez and Gold both. They had twenty-five vacancies to fill—in addition to those who died, Lieutenant Ina Mar had requested a transfer and Medtech John Copper opted to retire. The surprise, Gomez had thought upon reading Ina’s transfer request, is that she’s the only one. As for Copper, he’d been making noises about retiring for as long as Gomez had been on the da Vinci, so that wasn’t much of a shock, either.

The last time a member of the command staff died in action, Gold had left it to Captain Scott to recommend a replacement—he suggested Gomez—and both captain and first officer were happy to solicit another recommendation from Scotty to replace Duffy.

Even with fobbing replacing Kieran off on someone else, Gomez found that Gold’s prediction was holding true: It was hard. Every requisition, every upgrade, every crew replacement was a reminder of what they had lost—of what she had lost.

Is it going to be the same? She’d been on the da Vinci for almost a year, yet the place felt as much like a family as her own home. More, sometimes, she amended, thinking of Belinda and mami’s latest spat.

In fact, Gomez had spent most of her time leading up to the da Vinci’s relaunch at Gold’s house in New York. They were able to do their jobs as efficiently from there as from Starfleet Headquarters, and it enabled them to do so away from the hustle and bustle. They both made regular trips to McKinley Station, particularly Gomez, making sure that the upgrades that she and Kieran had been talking about for months were being integrated. Gomez was especially glad to see that several modifications were based on Kieran’s ideas for the Roebling, the ideal S.C.E. ship he’d been designing in his spare time. In addition, the computer was getting a massive upgrade courtesy Soloman’s designs, which the Bynar—having returned from a mission to Vrinda with Carol Abramowitz and Bart Faulwell—was also overseeing personally.

Yes, it was hard, but it was made easier by doing much of the work from the Gold-Gilman residence. After weeks of barely eating, Gomez found that working proximate to Rachel Gilman’s kitchen enabled her to make up for that, with interest. I think I’ve gained a kilo a day since we came back from Portland.

One afternoon, Scotty contacted them with his recommendation for a new second officer. “Also, you’ll be happy to know that the da Vinci ’ll be ready two days ahead of schedule.”

“Good,” Gold said.

Scotty shook his head. “Good isn’t the word for it, lad. In my day, it’d take six months to do a repair job like she needed, not a few weeks—and we probably would a just scrapped the lot and started from scratch.”

Gold snorted. “‘Your day,’ hell. Five years ago.”

Gomez smiled wryly. “Nothing like fighting a war against a technologically superior foe to motivate you to improve your repair efficiency.”

“Aye, more’s the pity. In any event, I think you’ll like the lad I’m recommendin’. He’s a Tellarite, name’a Mor glasch Tev. He’s as good as they come.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Gold said.

“I know that name.” Gomez thought for a moment, then the memory came bubbling to the surface. “Isn’t he the one who wrote that monograph on methods of penetrating cloaking shields last year?”

“Aye, and the one on miniaturizin’ transporters.”

“Sounds like a winner,” Gold said.

They discussed some other business, then Scotty signed off. Rachel Gilman then came in from the hallway—they had been working in the study upstairs.

“So how soon before you sally forth again?”

“In three days,” Gold said.

“Perfect. I have an idea.”

Gomez smiled. Rachel having an idea usually meant that said idea would be implemented, one way or the other.

When she gave her idea, Gomez’s smile widened further.

*    *    *

The day before the da Vinci was to be released from McKinley Station, Gold tethered Freser to the dogwood in preparation for several arrivals. He and Gomez had sent out messages to the remaining fifteen Galvan VI survivors who were remaining aboard the da Vinci, and one by one, they all beamed or shuttled or walked up to the house in the Bronx.

Freser tried desperately to leap about, but the leash was intact. Obviously, Gomez thought with a pang of sadness, he’s not a Houdini dog like Alexander.

Some were dressed in uniform—like Soloman, who had beamed down from McKinley after giving the new computer a final once-over. Others were in civilian garb—like Carol Abramowitz, who had come straight to the Bronx from her trip to Pacifica. Both she and Bart Faulwell were looking especially pleased with themselves as they listened to Fabian Stevens tell of his adventures doing a cargo run with Domenica Corsi and her father. Wonder what Fabe’s gonna say when he finds out the species of our new second officer, Gomez thought, and only wincing a little at the thought of Kieran’s replacement.

Very few were listening to Fabian, however, as they were either pestering Pattie Blue with questions about the rather historic rediscovery she’d made on the Nasat homeworld of a sentient, plant-based species living on the planet’s surface, or pestering Robin Rusconi about her rather bizarre experience with an interdimensional portal on the moon.

Before long, though, Gold called the “meeting” to order. Which, in practical terms, meant that everybody stood on the lawn and faced Gold as he addressed them.

“We’ve been through hell and back—almost literally. A lot of good people gave their lives. Other ships have survived disasters like this only to see the remaining crew split up, sent to the nine winds. But that’s not the way we do things around here. We’re the S.C.E., after all, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned is that, when we see something that’s broken, we not only fix it, we make it better. I have every faith that you’ll do the same for the da Vinci tomorrow when we take her back out.

“But we’re also a family—a big family, and believe me, I know from big families.” Several people chuckled at that. “And I was reminded of something recently. In times like this, families come together. So I’ve brought you all here today, on the eve of our going back out into space, to reassure you of that, and to invite you all to join me in celebrating our lives. We’ve had time to mourn our losses—it’s time we started moving forward. Now before we take this party inside, I want to deal with some business.”

That was Gomez’s cue to step forward with the large box that Starfleet Command had sent. “Promotion time came and went while we were in drydock,” Gomez said, “so we’ve got a few to take care of.” She reached into the box and pulled out a hollow rank pip. “First of all, to Nancy Conlon, I hereby promote you to the rank of lieutenant junior grade, and also officially give you the position of chief engineer of the da Vinci.

Conlon had stepped forward to accept the pip, but stopped short at the second part. “What? You’re making me chief? Sir, I’m flattered, but—”

Gomez attached the rank pin to Conlon’s collar. “You earned it, Nancy. Hell, if helping install a warp core and starting it up in less than an hour doesn’t qualify you for chief engineer, I don’t know what does.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” Conlon said.

Gold grinned. “‘Thank you’ works.”

“Yes, sir,” she said quickly. “Thank you both, sirs. I hope I can live up to this.”

“You will.”

In turn, Gomez doled out promotions to Songmin Wong and Anthony Shabalala, both also to lieutenant junior grade. Shabalala was also taking over the alpha-shift tactical officer duties from the late David McAllan; Wong was remaining alpha-shift conn officer.

Then Corsi stepped forward. “The officers don’t get all the fun here. Vance Hawkins, step forward.”

Hawkins did so at full attention, which looked amusing to Gomez’s eyes, since he was still wearing civilian clothing.

“I hereby promote you to the rank of chief petty officer, and appoint you deputy chief of security.” She allowed a small smile. “You and Robins are going to be the only ones I can count on for a while, and I want you to help me beat the new recruits into shape.”

“I won’t disappoint you, sir.”

“Damn straight you won’t,” Corsi said, meaning every word of it.

Still, Gomez thought, Domenica sounds a bit more playful than usual. Maybe that trip with Fabian did her some good.

“Now then,” Gold said, “there’s a fine old Jewish tradition: When major life events happen, we respond by gathering in a large group and eating copious amounts of food. Conveniently, I married the best cook on the planet to provide us with the latter. So, if you’ll follow me…”

Gold led the other sixteen inside. As soon as he opened the front door, Gomez caught a whiff of the kitchen. Rachel had made some amazing dishes over the last several days that Gomez had been spending at the house, but this beat all of them into olfactory heaven: fish, chicken, beef, assorted sauces and soups, and fresh bread that Gomez knew would melt in her mouth.

It’s going to be very hard to go back to replicated food after this, she thought.

Gold had set up the large wooden table in the dining room with eighteen chairs—including one specially modified for Pattie—and invited everyone to take a seat as Rachel brought in the matzo-ball soup.

After the third sip, Abramowitz turned to Gold. “Captain?”

“Yes, Abramowitz?”

“I was wrong.”

Gold smiled. Gomez, for her part, frowned, and wondered what that was about.

Soon, people were telling stories. Hawkins talked about one of his and Drew’s shore leave misadventures, which led to Stevens telling a similar story about a bar crawl he and Duffy had engaged in during the war shortly after Stevens signed on to the da Vinci. (Gomez was torn between anger and gratitude that Kieran had never told her the full story.) Wetzel described the entertaining process of separating Robins’s and Lipinski’s hair after it was fused together, with Robins adding colorful commentary and Conlon—the instigator of the practical joke—sinking deeper into her chair. Blue then told a tale of her, Barnak, Feliciano, Frnats, and Orthak on leave on Starbase 96, when some idiot had a problem with a group of five people from five different species sitting together that almost led to a brawl, and did lead to the person in question having five different drinks spilled on his head. Lense even told a story about her and Emmett.

Gold then asked Soloman, “Were you able to restore any of Emmett?”

“Not as such. I’m afraid that the EMH on the da Vinci will be akin to what he was when he was first installed.” He turned to Lense. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I did attempt to retrieve the data, but the damage was too extensive.”

“It’s all right,” Lense said. “I was hoping he might be restored, but I wasn’t really counting on it. I don’t think I want to call this one Emmett, though.”

The stories continued through the fish course, the chicken course, the beef course, and dessert. As he was polishing off his baklava, Stevens decided to do something he’d never done before.

He told the Tellarite story.

Gomez forced herself to keep her composure, but she appreciated what Fabian was doing. Everyone here (except Rachel) had heard the Tellarite story—from Kieran. He loved recounting it, though it was hard to say which he enjoyed more: embarrassing Fabian by telling it behind his back or embarrassing Fabian by telling it in front of him.

By telling it now, Fabian assured everyone that none of the dead would be forgotten, but that the living were, as Gold had said, moving on.

Eventually, the party broke up, though some decided to stick around for coffee, tea, and fruit in the living room. More stories were exchanged, and some started talking about the modifications and improvements to the da Vinci—the addition of guest quarters, for example, as well as the expansion of the hololab, the more versatile tractor beams, and the industrial replicator.

Sonya Gomez wasn’t sure if she was going to be able to face going back up there. It had been one thing to reconcile her own feelings of anger toward Gold and her ambivalence about Kieran. Even there, she still, weeks later, had no idea what answer she was going to give Kieran to his marriage proposal. All she knew for sure was that she missed him terribly.

Tomorrow, she’d find out if she could go on without him.