There. Castillo stopped talking, stood his ground, and waited. He’d done it. He didn’t feel good exactly. Relieved just a little. Sick with shame, too. That would take time to go away, Tyvan had said. The important thing was that Castillo had admitted his culpability to a man he’d hated but didn’t any longer because Castillo understood that his hatred had merely been the mirror image of his hurt and anger. When he’d gone to see Tyvan, he’d known the doctor wouldn’t turn him in—couldn’t because Castillo had seen him in a professional capacity, patient to doctor. But now he’d revealed his secret to someone who could take action, and very likely would.
“Why have you told me this?” Halak asked then. “Why are you telling me this?”
Castillo searched Halak’s face and saw no anger there. Only sadness. Resignation. “Because you had to know,” Castillo said. “Because we’ll…because you needed to know going forward.”
“Going forward.” Halak gave a mirthless laugh. “Ensign, the only place I’m going right now is to a formal inquiry. Again.And,” he tapped his wrist, “we’re late.”
They didn’t speak again until they stood before the doors leading into the Starbase 12, Level 7 conference room.
Halak took a deep breath. “Before we walk through those doors, Ensign, I just wanted to say…thanks. I know that was hard for you. It took courage.”
Castillo’s gaze was unwavering. “It would have taken more courage to live with my feelings. To learn that things can’t always go my way.”
“We all learn, Ensign,” said Halak, and then his lips turned in a slight smile. “One step by one step.”
They walked through the doors.
A waiter came her way with a tray laden with Maltran sea-scallops marinated in a Kefarian apple-orange sauce, but Garrett waved her away. She taken special care with the menu, though she didn’t exactly enjoy that duty. My God, when was the last time she’d arranged a reception? She sipped at an amber liquid in a squat glass tumbler, smelled the spicy aroma of bourbon. The Carthage,that reception for the Klingons and Cardassians— Cardassians,for crying out loud. Garrett swallowed, felt the bourbon burn its way down her gullet before exploding in a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach. What a headache thatwas. Garrett gave a soft, private laugh of amazement, shook her head. Trying to figure out what Cardassians would eat, and then having to find those bizarre taspareggs, getting the mess chef to cook them just the right way so they weren’t still raw and lookingat you…Garrett shuddered. Everything had gone off all right, though she’d drunk a fair amount of bourbon that night, enough to kill the pain. She’d made sure there was plenty to drink, for everyone, including Ian Troi who was practically addicted to Betazoid allirapunch.
Poor kid. She smiled at the memory. Fresh off his honeymoon, and wishing he could go back to Betazed and his new wife Lwaxana, but itching to have his adventures, pursue his career; she could sympathize. She’d known exactly how he felt because that was how she’d been torn between Ven and hercareer. Only the Trois had made it work. Ian was still serving on the Carthage,still happily married; from what Garrett heard, they’d just had a second child.
Oh, Ven.Her eyes glazed with tears. She turned aside; she was glad now that she’d chosen to take up a station next to a viewing window that looked out at the stars and her ship. She took another pull from her drink (easy, girl, don’t get weepy on me),composed herself. Waited until the burn of tears pricking her eyelids faded.
Time for this later, in private.She turned back, let her gaze wander over the room, her crew. She spotted Tyvan right away; he was so tall it was hard not to. She saw that he was talking to two science techs, and good for him. Coming out of his shell. Glemoor was shooing Bulast away from the servers readying the food at the buffet, no surprise there.
Then she spotted Kodell and Bat-Levi at a small round table, their heads bent toward one another in that earnest way of two people who are, for the moment, seeing only one another, and that wasa bit of a surprise. Kodell said something to Bat-Levi, and Bat-Levi laughed, hooking that star-white streak of hair, so startling in that otherwise full head of black, behind her right ear. Bat-Levi was wearing her hair down this evening—still tucked up in some ingenious way as to be within regulations, because she was in full dress—but Garrett thought that the effect of that river of black spilling around her shoulders very attractive.
Something there.Garrett saw how Bat-Levi brushed her fingers against Kodell’s forearm. Something’s going to happen for those two.
She thought about Ven again, and that made her immensely sad, but she couldn’t help it. And maybe that’s the way I will have to be for a while.Garrett swirled her bourbon, watched the amber fluid catch and refract and break the light. Her thoughts spiraled, like the liquid: Maybe that’s the way it should be. Maybe I haven’t let myself besad, only angry that I couldn’t fix it, or that loving Ven wasn’t enough when it should have been enough and now it’s too late…
“A penny for your thoughts,” a voice said from over her right shoulder.
Grateful for the interruption, Garrett turned. “Don’t forget to clue Glemoor in,” she said, lightly, covering. “You look very nice, Doctor. Is that make-up?”
“Don’t be mean.” Stern raised a flute half-filled with pale yellow champagne. “And Glemoor knows that one, I’m sure. You’re not mingling, Captain.”
Garrett gave a disparaging half-shrug. Swirled her drink. “Just thinking.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Plucking Garrett’s bourbon from her hand before Garrett could protest, Stern snagged champagne from a passing waiter and handed the flute to Garrett. “Bourbon’s for good cries, and smoky bars on rainy nights. Or sickbay, when there’s just the two of us. You want to talk about it?”
The flute was chill against her fingers, a nice feeling. Garrett took a tiny sip. After the bourbon, the champagne tasted icy and crisp and fizzed in her mouth. “Not really. But…thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
Garrett changed the subject. “They’re late.”
“Think there was a screw-up somewhere?”
“Maybe. You never can tell with Command.”
“Amen to that. Relax. If it was really serious, we would’ve heard.” Stern nudged Garrett, lifted her chin toward the waiter who’d been circulating with the sea-scallops. “Ten to one, I have to put Darco on another diet.”
Garrett followed Stern’s gaze and saw her communications officer busily plucking scallops and crackers from the hapless waiter who stood, tray proffered, a study in patience. Glemoor stood alongside Bulast, gazing mournfully at the rotund Atrean.
“Know any pithy idioms about weight?” Stern asked.
“Penny wise, pound foolish?” Garrett saw Stern’s expression and wrinkled her nose. “I guess not.”
“Not that old saw. But you and me, we’ll think of something.” Stern slipped an arm around Garrett’s waist and gave it a quick squeeze. “Come on, you’re so serious!This is a party! Relax!”
“Can’t help it. It’s been rocky, these past few weeks—Batra, Halak.” Ven.Garrett gave a rueful smile, a little laugh. “Everything. Tyvan would say I’m brooding about past mistakes.”
“And he’d be right. You’ve got a good crew, and they’ve got a great captain.” Stern raised her flute in a toast. “The best damn ship in Starfleet. To the future, Captain.”
Garrett smiled. “To the fu…” But then the doors hissed, and Garrett turned in time to see Castillo walk in.
And Halak.
The room went dead. Halak stood absolutely rigid, a look of utter shock frozen on his face.
Then, Castillo blurted, “I couldn’t helpit! They gave me the runaround when I took custody!”