The Burn

Posted on May 26, 2014 @ 5:21pm by Captain Michael Turlogh Kane
Edited on on Nov 02, 2015 @ 11:50pm

Mission: All Our Yesterdays
Location: Various

"THE BURN"

(Continued from "The Melting Point")

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"Anger is my meat. I sup upon myself."
- Coriolanus, Act 4, Scene 2
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Location: LUNA, Tycho City
Stardate: [2.140411.0005]
Scene: The Earthrise Hotel viewport

"Captain!"

The figure being called to does not immediately turn around. He is standing arms folded, staring out of the enormous viewport, stock-still like a statue. Outside, planet Earth rolls by serenely, a giant blue bauble sparkling against the curtain of night. Between it and the Moon, dozens of space vessels buzz about like a swarm of bees, and on the horizon McKinley station is beginning to appear, its orbit carrying it into alignment with the planet and the moon. It is an astounding sight even after all these years.

"Captain Kane!"

Behind him, the lobby of the Earthrise Hotel seethes with people. It is nearing the anniversary of the founding of Tycho City some centuries ago, and the city is filling up with Federation dignitaries, journalists, and Starfleet officers, all come to commemorate the establishment of the one of Earth's first permanent off-world colonies.

Starfleet. He hasn't thought of them in a long time, never thought they'd be the ones to get in contact with him. Eleven years of his life devoted to the cause only to resign in disgrace. Four years aimlessly travelling, finally settling on Vulcan two years ago, finding some measure of peace - all gone. They were stoking the fire again, rekindling the embers within him with talk of reinstatement, of a new voyage of exploration, of giving him back the centre seat.

Dreams fly away, reality asserts itself, and Michael Turlogh Kane turns his back on the vista outside. It makes him uncomfortable. Not because of the view, but because if he focuses his gaze he can see himself in the glass. Seven years is a long time, and they paint their own picture of his shadowy reflection - the grim, downturning mouth, the exhausted eye, the wrinkles of skin. No longer young, no longer renewable by a buoyant spirit. Mortal and ageing.

He sees Stonn making his way through the crowd towards him. The younger Vulcan is dressed in his Starfleet uniform and everything is perfect. His boots are polished, his three golden rank pips are shining, and his red-and-grey shoulder decal is creaseless. He approaches Kane and nods in greeting. "I was calling you."

"I was miles away," says Kane meaningfully. He gestures to two nearby armchairs squatting on opposite sides of a small table, and they sit down. "Is the Admiral here?"

"Yes. May I say that it is pleasing to see that you have accepted our invitation, Captain Kane. After our conversation on Vulcan I was unsure that you would be amenable to our proposals." Stonn cocks his head like a dog and raises an eyebrow.

"When Starfleet talks I listen." Kane tries to smile but it comes off like a sneer. "I wish you'd stop referring to me by my rank. It's all history now. But I suppose there's no harm in hearing what the Admiral has to say. My life has been kind of directionless for a while. Maybe it's time to put the past behind me."

"A most logical way of thinking." Stonn takes a credit chip from his pocket. "Your accommodation was satisfactory?"

"Yes."

"Did you have an opportunity to explore? Many Humans visit this moon to see the historical sites. Perhaps you took the time to visit your home on Earth?"

Kane looks over Stonn's shoulder to the viewport. It might be fate, but Ireland is visible, half-smothered by grey clouds. "This is the closest I've been to home in seven years, Commander. There's nothing really there for me any more. I'm estranged from my family, I don't have any friends, and I'd really just like to get this conversation out of the way so I can talk to your boss. How about it?"

If Stonn is offended he doesn't show it. "Of course, Captain Kane. I will settle your bill and take you to see the Admiral." He stands up and strides across the lobby to the reception desk.

Behind him, Kane idly fingers the collar of his shirt.

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"You're like some Roman centurion out patrolling the provinces, maintaining a dull and bloated Empire."

- Prof. Galen, to Picard
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Location: ShiKahr, Vulcan
Time Index: A month ago
Scene: Kane's house


Kane was meditating. At least, he was trying to. He'd been going to a class for off-worlders for almost two years but still couldn't get the hang of it. He appreciated all the sentiments - still your emotions, focus your katra, hear the silence - but they never worked for more than a minute or two. The old, bad thoughts always came back, worming their way into his mind by dark tunnels that he thought he had closed off years ago.

When the Prophets evicted him from Gateway station they deposited him back home. Not this home, not this little apartment in this Vulcan city. They dumped him unceremoniously back in Thomond, in the land of his birth, but any joy was tempered once Starfleet found out where he was and how he got there. Months of debriefs, months of answering the same goddam questions again and again, months of peeling the scabs off old wounds and making them run red. Why did you detonate the nuclear device on Byss? Do you know how many Calnarians died? Why did you kill the Danusian in Earth's past? How do you know you didn't irrevocably change history? Pointless, smug semantics from children who had neven been on the frontier, never made a decision that got someone killed, never done anything except safe, secure things that led to tenure or desk jobs. When he resigned, he walked away from it all with his wounds still bleeding.

Truthfully, he remembered it all so clearly it was like a waking dream. The DISCOVERY's much-vaunted deep-space exploration mission all the way to the edge of the spiral arm of the Beta Quadrant! It was a publicist's wet dream. Brave explorers shining a light in the darkness, pushing back the boundaries of knowledge! But knowledge came a price, and there were monsters living in the dark. Faces of old shipmates, dead or gone, moments of terror when he thought he was about to die - they all flashed by him like snapshots from another life.

The universe bloomed in his mind's eye. The Beta Quadrant was ancient by Federation standards - most of the civilisations there were extinct by millions of years. They lived and died aeons before the first Human looked up at the world around her with new sentience and wondered what her place in it was. A time scale like that was maddening to think about. Stars winked in and out of existence as time passed by - instead of exploding and trailing streams of coloured fire in their bright dances all over the galaxy, they appeared and disappeared like guttering candles, living one brief little moment and then dying forever, leaving behind no trace that they were ever there.

How much shorter, then, was the span of a human life?

The futility of it all gnawed at him like a dog with a bone. Travelling around the Federation's core worlds had been a distraction, for a time. Walking the mountains of Andoria, sailing the Opal Sea on Betazed - they never drowned out the anger, the burning rage he felt towards the bureaucrats and admirals who were prepared to judge him for decisions they had no hope of understanding.

Here on Vulcan, though, it was better. Fifteen years ago, in that long gone youth, he had participated in a speeder race through the Great Forge, in which his friend Stovik had been killed. It was less than a year before he graduated from the Academy. Everything came full circle when he visited Stovik's grave some months ago and wept for his dead friend, his dead career, his dead life.

The door chimed, breaking his reverie. Kane got up and activated the exterior camera. There was a Vulcan man in a Starfleet uniform standing outside on the street in the sunshine. His yellow-green face was smooth and unlined, his black hair cut into a military shape. Bizarrely, he had a small mole on his right cheek.

Kane punched the communicator. "Who are you?"

He watched as the Vulcan snapped to attention. {{I am Stonn, a commander in Starfleet. I am looking for Captain Michael Turlogh Kane. Are you he?}}

Kane frowned. It was all happening again, like an inrushing wave.Once more, his life was at a crossroads. He could open the door, let Starfleet back into his life again. Or he could refuse, switch off the communicator and go back to his meditating.

"I am," he said. "What do you want?"

{{I have come from Starfleet Command with an offer of reinstatement, Captain Kane,}} said the Vulcan.

"I'm not interested," Kane lied.

{{Starfleet needs experienced commanders,}} Stonn said quickly. {{We are rebuilding our numbers after the Dominion War. A new exploration voyage to the Beta Quadrant has been proposed. The USS DISCOVERY is to be refitted and dispatched to complete
its mission. Starfleet would like you to retake command.}}

Kane jabbed the controls, and the door hissed open. Face to face, they were about the same height. "Come in out of the sun."

"Thank you." Stonn stepped inside, looking around quickly. "There are not many Humans living on Vulcan."

Kane turned around as the doors closed. "There are almost five thousand Humans living on Vulcan," he said pointedly. "Put us all in the same place and you'll see how many we are. Can I get you anything? I think I have a gespar or two in the fridge."

"No." Stonn sat down on one of the two armchairs. "Captain Kane, why did you resign from Starfleet?"

"You came all the way to see me and you don't know?"

"I am merely curious. It is often the case that Humans say one thing but do another. Your resignation letter was not very detailed."

Kane sighed. "I was tired of justifying my existence." He waved his hand at Stonn's quizzical look. "Not literally. But I had had enough of all the red tape. On the frontier, a starship captain needs to be entrusted with the freedom to act as he sees fit to defend his ship and crew. I got tired of having to explain it a thousand ways to a thousand bureaucrats who kept asking me why. There's operational oversight, and there's constructive dismissal."

"You are bitter, then?"

"Yes, that word is apt."

Stonn leaned forward in his seat. "That is what I thought. You see, there have been some changes in Stafleet Command. A new generation of admirals is replacing the old. New minds mean new ideas, new methods."

"Not fundamentally. Starfleet isn't that revolutionary, Commander."

"Perhaps not, but a revolution of sorts has occurred in the higher echelons of command." Stonn's voice sounded almost earnest. "I spoke the truth when I said the DISCOVERY was to be activated. Her refit in McKinley is underway. An entire new crew has been assigned. Her mission focus is still exploration, with a slight tweak."

"The DISCOVERY must be twenty years old by now. I wasn't her first captain. Why not give her to one of the bright young things rising through the ranks? There must be a shortlist."

"Current thinking is about utilising experience over youth," said Stonn. "That is why I am here, Captain Kane." He produced a small PADD from his pocket. "Starfleet Command is offering you your career back, and the DISCOVERY along with it. Please read this carefully. If what you read is agreeable, I will set up a meeting with Starfleet in the next few weeks."

"What does it say?"

"It is proof of what I say, Captain Kane. Thank you for your time. I will show myself out."

The Vulcan got up and left. Kane activated the PADD.

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"They say time is the fire in which we burn."

Dr. Tolian Soran, to Picard
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Scene: Kane's house, again
Time Index: A month ago


It was all there, all down in black and white, just like Stonn had said. Refit schedules approved by various yard masters, requisition orders signed by quartermasters, crew assignments acknowledged by ship commanders. They really were hauling her back from whatever graveyard they had put her in. Two hundred and thirty one souls stood ready to populate the DISCOVERY again, to give her life and breath. All they needed was a captain.

Kane put the PADD down on his knee, torn. The call of the stars was so strong. New voyages. The discipline of shipboard life. Boldly going where no-one had gone before. The chance to make a difference.

He had been away from it all too long, the burn of his spirit reduced down by degrees to mere ash. The crew manifest was impressive. Several of the lower ranks had been brought back, and even with an all new command crew to get to know, he could already feel himself champing at the bit.

It would do no harm, he mused, to go and see the Admiral. He lifted up the PADD again and searched for Stonn's contact details.

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Time is the one thing you don't have, Admiral.

- Khan
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Location: TYCHO CITY, LUNA
Scene: Turbolift -> Suite
Time Index: Now


The turbolift speeds its way up through the Earthrise Hotel, gutting it like a scalpel as it climbs up the hotel's central spire to the executive rooms. The notes of the piped elevator music dance around him like flies. He wants to wave his arms, to clear the air for himself. Instead, Kane balls his hands into fists. Beside him, Stonn stands umoving.

The turbolift slows down and stops. The doors open, and Stonn leads him out into a plush penthouse suite hallway. "This way, Captain."

"Wait." Kane stops. There is another viewport here, at the end of the hallway. Stonn pauses and follows his gaze.

Through the glass Kane sees that the penthouse spire, McKinley station, and planet Earth are all stacked up in perfect alignment. In the midst of McKinley he sees, tiny against the backdrop of the blue planet, a starship with four nacelles enswarmed by engineering craft. Her lights are out but her nacelles are glowing dully. From here it looks like they are churning with power.

It's a sign, he thinks, as surely as I'm standing here.

He follows Stonn down the hall. "Why aren't we meeting the Admiral in a Starfleet installation?" he says. "There's a shipyard on the other side of the city. A hotel doesn't seem the most formal of places for this sort of thing."

"The Admiral is not an especially formal man," says Stonn. "It was his wish that you be brought here. He thought it might make your transition from civilian to fleet run more... smoothly?" He stops at a plain, non-descript wooden door. "This is as far as I go. Go in, Captain Kane. The Admiral is waiting for you."

Kane stepped forward. The door hissed open.

The interior was beautiful. Rich orange-red wallpaper framed by walnut mantlepieces. A roaring fire that gave no heat danced invitingly in a red brick hearth. A mahogany desk lay between the door and the fireplace.

Behind the desk sat a man in a Starfleet unform, with the golden star insignia of a Rear Admiral on his right collar. He was whip-thin, his arms and legs long and lithe. His hair was black, cut into a widow's peak. Spindly fingers were steepled like insect legs in front of his face, and his high cheekbones looked sharp enough to cut stone.

"Captain Kane." The voice was commanding, almost hypnotic.

Kane stepped forward. "Yes, sir."

The Admiral stood up. The fire behind him threw his shadow on the floor. "Thank you for accepting my invitation," he said. "What do you think of my parlour? The hotel's penthouse is a holodeck, you see. Guests can fashion it to be anything they desire."

Kane looked around at the shadows the flames were casting. It might have been his imagination, but he felt like he was hot. "It's very impressive."

"Then we shall leave it as is," the Admiral said. "I am here on behalf of Starfleet to officially offer you your command back, Captain Kane. No doubt my devilish friend outside has filled you in. Now, I know you wouldn't be here unless you were very, very interested in our offer. You are interested, aren't you, Captain Kane?"

Kane licked suddenly dry lips. "Yes. I'm interested."

"Splendid!" the Admiral smiled smoothly. He activated a PADD and turned it around on the desk. "Then all you need to do is sign here. Sign here, Captain, and you're back in Starfleet."

Kane almost bolted for the PADD. With an effort of will, he held his ground. "Just a moment. I have some questions. I had hoped for a short interview with you before I assented to anything. There are many things I don't know."

"Such as?"

"Your name," said Kane, as evenly as he could.

The Admiral came around the desk, his long legs flexing as he covered the gap between them in four strides. He was a full head taller than Kane and he stood very close. With that disarming smile still playing on his lips, he extended his hand.

"My name is Edgerton, Captain Kane," he said. "Richard Edgerton. And I am very, very pleased to meet you."

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NRPG: And I am very, very pleased to meet you all again. Very, very pleased.


Jerome McKee
The Soul of Michael Turlogh Kane
Commanding Officer (he just signed it)
USS DISCOVERY


"He speaks an infinite deal of nothing!"
- "The Merchant of Venice", Act 1, Scene 1.113

"Futile is resistance. Assimilated you will be."
- Yoda of Borg

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