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By Root 791 0

the marauding bands of refugees that had combed the nation’s wild places in those days, as well as the radiation poisoning that had killed millions. The town had lost two residents, both to exposure during a particularly long, cold winter, but otherwise they had all made it through the worst days. Eventually, of course, Jamie Riker had died of old age, and many of those under his protection had gone as well, of natural causes, mostly. But the legend lived on-a Riker had persevered and kept his town alive when the rest of the world was going mad. Kyle already had failed to live up to that example, though-if the starbase was his town, he had utterly missed the mark.

Even so, he was unable to just give up. It wasn’t in his nature.

And finally, they found him again. They breached the tube twenty meters from him, and he started firing as soon as the first Tholian showed his ugly crystalline face mask. At the same time, he tried to stand, to run again, but his injured muscles had frozen up, locked him in place. Stuck where he was, in a half-crouch, he tried to raise his phaser again, but it was so heavy, so heavy….

Just as the red beam from a Tholian stick weapon struck him, he stumbled and fell flat, the beam slicing across his back as he landed facedown on the surface of the Jefferies tube.

Chapter 14

Kyle lost consciousness again, so he didn’t see precisely when or why the Tholians left. Maybe they thought they’d killed him. Maybe the Berlin had come too near and it was time for them to retreat. At any rate, they’d sent their message, loud and clear. Don’t get too close to us, they had said. From now on, Starfleet would pay attention.

Kyle had remained comatose through the whole journey on the Berlin. He hadn’t come around until he’d been transferred to an infirmary in San Francisco, where his care had been taken over by Dr. Katherine Pulaski. She credited his own will to live for his incredible survival, in the face of enough wounds to kill several times over. He had always credited her medical skills. Yes, he had wanted to live, but until she came along he didn’t have the tools to fight for life. She taught him those, and more-she gave him another reason to live, one he hadn’t had since Annie had died eighteen years before.

Kate Pulaski had brought a unique combination of medical and psychological insights to his case, leavened with good humor and a powerful dose of humiliation. “You can do better than that!” he remembered her barking one day during physical therapy, when he’d wanted to give up after a dozen achingly slow laps around his room.

“I can’t take another step,” he had protested meekly.

“My niece can walk faster than that, and she’s not even a year old yet,” Kate countered tartly. “And she does it without complaining, which is something you might think about.”

Kyle remembered smiling at her, although that meant lifting his head, which was also painful. “You’re the devil,” he had insisted. “And…” he searched his mind for an adequate insult, but couldn’t come up with anything he hadn’t already used during that session. “And you’re named after a fire-fighting tool.”

“It’s named after me,” she shot back. “Well, an ancestor, on my father’s side. He’s been dead for hundreds of years and I’m sure he can walk faster than you, too. Now get at least another lap done before you break down and cry like a baby.”

He had complained, but he had done the lap. And the next one, and the one after that. Kate had a way to keep spurring him on to new achievements, and the persistence to not let him quit until he really couldn’t go on. She had brought him back from the edge of the grave, there was no doubt of that.

Now, thinking about Kate, about Simon and Commander Bisbee and Lieutenant Michaud and Li Tang and the rest of the brave souls who had died on Starbase 311, Kyle felt his eyes threaten to fill with unexpected tears. He blinked them back, glad there was no one here to see this. It was undignified, a man crying for the dead and the lost, all these years later. An observer might see him and assume he was crying