Distant Shores - Marco Palmieri [63]
The admiral also stated that Starfleet was going to attempt to use the same alien communications relays that Voyager used to “send” the EMH to transmit letters from family members back to them. That distressed Mark somewhat-God, he wondered, how do I tell her about Carla?
However, there was one piece of news that distressed him even more: One of the names on the casualty list was Lieutenant Commander Alexander Honigsberg, chief engineer.
“Davey,” he muttered.
Carla looked at him. “You don’t think- ?”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t know what to think. But he probably got this same message. Who knows how he’ll- ” He got up. “We’ve got to get to Toronto, make sure he’s okay.”
Without even hesitating, Carla also rose from the couch. “Let’s go.”
Half an hour later, they materialized in the public transporter station closest to Davey’s apartment. Hurriedly, Carla barely keeping up with him, he dashed up the stairs and rang the door chime. “Davey?” he called out. “You okay?”
The door slid open to reveal Davey. He was still pale, still appallingly thin-but he’d shaved this morning, and his eyes were only a little bloodshot. More impressively, though, he was smiling. “Hi, Mark-glad you could come by.” He looked at Mark’s wife. “And it’s Carla, right? Mark’s told me a lot about you. It’s good to finally meet you.”
Mark couldn’t believe this; he’d never heard Davey use so many short sentences in all the years they’d known each other. “Are-are you okay, Davey?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. And I have you to thank for it.”
“Me? What’d I do?”
Davey chuckled. “You saved my ass. God, Mark, I was a mess when you got me to the hospital. And, honestly, even after that, despite almost dying. But today, when I got that letter from Starfleet-I guess I was finally able to let go. Yeah, Dad’s dead, and I do plan to mourn him-I was just talking with my aunt about doing some kind of memorial service-but now I know what happened.” He took a long, deep breath. “And I think I’m okay with that.” He shook his head. “Damn, I’m sorry, you guys want to come in? The place is a bit of a mess….”
That night, they had a very pleasant dinner with Davey at Felinity, where they chatted about his father and Kath and Tuvok and Gres and any number of other subjects-including Davey’s plans for the future, which included reenlisting in Starfleet as an engineer. When they got back to Davey’s apartment, a call from Gres, who was also concerned about Davey, came in. All three of them were able to congratulate Gres, both on Samantha’s survival, and on the birth of their daughter. The Ktarian was beside himself with joy. He also said he planned to organize another gathering-but this time on the anniversary of this day, because this was the day that he wanted to commemorate now. Mark, Carla, and Davey all promised to try to attend.
Finally, Mark and Carla bid Davey good night and returned home.
As they entered the living room, having been thoroughly greeted by Molly, Mark said, “I need to get in touch with Dina, see how she’s doing. It’s terrible about Aaron.”
“Later,” Carla said bluntly. “You have to write a letter to Kathryn first.”
Mark took a long, deep breath of his own. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do. It’s funny-never thought I’d have to write a Dear John letter.”
He sat down on the same couch where he’d learned of Kath’s disappearance four years ago and where he’d learned of her survival last night, and he stayed up all night composing the letter. First he told her about Molly and her puppies-she loved that silly dog, and she’d want to know about that. Besides, he preferred to ease into the bad news by starting off with some good.
Then he told her about Carla. Then he told her how much he still loved her. Then he signed it and sent it to Starfleet.
Then he went on with his life.
Closure
James Swallow
This tale is set early in Voyager’s fifth season.
James Swallow
James Swallow is proud to be the only British writer to have worked on a Star Trek television series,