Last Full Measure - Michael A. Martin [2]
Taking in the harsh, granite reality of the monument conjured painful memories, just as he had expected; his gaze kept sliding past the stone spire into the fog-shrouded distance, where the Golden Gate Bridge seemed to be holding a silent, early-morning vigil. San Francisco seemed preternaturally still, even for a foggy summer Sunday; for the moment, at least, all ground-vehicle and hover-car traffic had ceased along the bridge’s span. Except for the occasional reverberating cries of gulls and the barks of sea lions, silence had engulfed the nearby parklike grounds of Starfleet Academy. The lull transported the old man backward nearly eight decades to the days immediately preceding that very first Federation Day, when the city had often seemed to hold its collective breath in much the same manner, as though pausing in anticipation of its unknowable and unavoidable future.
Like many of Earth’s major cities at that time, San Francisco had still been healing from the fear and violence of the recently concluded Romulan-Earth War, not to mention the homegrown terrorism wrought by the xenophobic Terra Prime movement only a few short years before that. Ahead, a new alliance beckoned, this still untried, untested United Federation of Planets—and whatever unforeseeable mix of benefits, liabilities, and complications that might accompany it.
And a whole hell of a lot has happened since then, the old man thought, visualizing the powerful, graceful new starship whose keel was now being laid in the spacedock that hung invisibly overhead, far beyond San Francisco’s omnipresent ceiling of fog. He remained as determined as ever to do more than merely make anonymous marginal notations in Marvick’s Constitution-class construction blueprints.
Though he had no doubt that he was approaching the end of his days, he knew he was living nowhere near the end of history. The adventure’s really only getting started, he thought, and experienced a momentary surge of envy toward young Marvick and his contemporaries. He knew he needed to linger in the material world at least long enough to see the first new ship of the line leave spacedock, if only to prove to himself that a sustained cruising speed of warp six was actually possible.
“You look like you’ve never been here before,” Marvick said, interrupting the old man’s reverie.
He cast a quizzical look at the young engineer. “San Francisco? I’ve been here hundreds of times, when I served in Starfleet. You know that.”
Marvick shook his head and pointed to the stone spire that loomed overhead. “I was talking about the Starfleet War Memorial.”
The old man felt his deeply lined face slacken as a wave of sadness swept over him. “Guess there’s got to be a first time for everything, Larry.”
He noticed the expression of concern on the younger man’s face, and it reminded him of the lad’s great-grandmother, whom he’d gotten to know years before the signing of the Federation Charter, way back during the time of the Xindi hunt. Not for the first time, Marvick prompted the old man to reflect on the whims of fate; had things gone only a little differently back then, Marvick would not be here—and, perhaps, neither would the great vessel that was being assembled now in the skies over San Francisco.
“I was only wondering why you’d never visited the memorial before,” Marvick said, looking troubled. “Are you all right?”
“Relax, kid. I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Marvick’s eyes grew huge and he held up his hands as though trying to ward off an evil spirit. “Whoa. Who said anything about dying? I was just wondering why you stayed away from this place all these years—until now.”
It was only at that moment that the old man realized that he had no idea how to answer that question. A single fat raindrop landed behind his collar, startling him with its coolness.