The noise of a bustling starbase population was nothing compared to the pressure all of those personalities, thoughts and feelings put on a sensitive mind. In the case of Thomas Walker, he learned to filter it a long time ago; however, if he were being honest with himself, he was somewhat out of practice with doing it on this scale. Luckily there was something to distract him.
He was sitting on the balcony of a little pub several levels up on the starbase’s public concourse. It overlooked the arboretum below which simulated the sounds of a terrestrial forest, complete with the whistles of arboreal creatures and streaming artificial sunlight that broke through the perfectly staged section of forest canopy. Arched pathways wove their way through the arboretum, softly lit when the station entered its night phase. They curved along grassy sections where families lingered and a carefully sculpted and maintained stream. The pub was about mid-way up the arboretum, providing a spectacular view across several warmly lit levels of forest.
The pub was named Fat Boy’s and it was run by a short, stocky man named Shawn with a buzz cut. Anyone familiar with sports in the early 21st century would be reminded of a mixed martial arts fighter. He had a sort of strut as he walked out from the kitchen’s pass with a towel tossed over his right shoulder and carrying a plate with a tall burger and an order of sweet potato fries.
“Here you go, homey,” he said as came around the table and sat the plate down in front of his guest. “One last special before you ship out. On the house.”
Shawn’s jovial nature caused Walker to smile; a near-grin that quirked one side of his mouth. The man favored a manner of speaking centuries out of date, it made him curious and unique. It made him endearing. He sat the mug of beer down and sat up in the chair while pulling his gaze from the peaceful arboretum. “It’s always on the house,” he said.
“That’s the beauty of it, brother, no worries. You want another?” he asked, motioning to the mug of Guinness.
“No, thank you,” Walker replied. He took the top bun off of the burger and placed the two slices of tomato that were on the side on top before replacing the bun.
Shawn tapped the table twice with his knuckles and walked back to the kitchen, intent on finding something to argue with the Tellarite cook about. Fat Boy’s on Starbase 12 was the only place Walker knew of for several sectors that served real, non-replicated food. There was real grease on the plate from real grilled beef and real bacon, and it was delicious. He had become a fan, and a pub regular, while stationed there for a year while attending Starfleet Academy. He was still nursing that mug of Guinness later, sitting comfortably in one corner of the baclony, when his commbadge chirped.
“Lieutenant Commander Walker, this is Captain Bage. Please report to my quarters upon your return to the Akagi.”
Walker tapped his commbadge in response. “Understood, Sir.”
The mug was left on the table and rather than report to a transporter room Walker chose to make his way back to the ship on foot via the gantry. He had, after all, just eaten a large bacon cheeseburger. It gave him time to collect his thoughts anyway, and gauge his commanding officer’s mood from afar. It was curious, an odd mixture of relief and annoyance. It remained so when he arrived outside of the captain’s quarters and his presence caused an announcement chirp. Walker smoothed his blue and black uniform shirt.
“Come in,” the command was announced by the computer when it picked it up and the doors slid open. Walker stepped inside the modestly lit cabin and clasped his hands behind his back as the doors slid shut behind him. Ahead of him and behind a short desk sat Captain Bage, an older human man of some years who was reclined in a chair with book in hand. Rumor was that the Akagi would be his last command, at least as far as the ship betting pool was concerned. Both were a joke meant in good humor, referencing Bage’s age and that he still held the rank of Captain. Walker found his Captain to be a formidable man and his age, which truly had only just begun to show, to be a non-factor.
What seemed like a couple of minutes passed in silence while Captain Bage continued to read his book, a display of dominance he seemed to be prone to ever since the events on Camaran IV. Walker played along with the game though such pettiness annoyed the Betazoid in him to no end. Truly the only fault in Camaran IV lay in those beings that instigated the encounter. Bage would finally shut his book and sit forward, leveling his gaze above old-style reading glasses at his Chief Science Officer.
“Walker,” Bage said in acknowledgement. “You didn’t need to cut your shore leave short.”
Walker smiled openly at the man. What else could he do when he sensed the truth of the matter, why Bage insisted on trying was beyond him. “Oh, it was no trouble at all, Sir. I was getting ready to return to the Akagi anyway.”
“Excellent,” Bage replied, giving the younger man what seemed a solemn nod. “Commander… let’s not beat around the bush. Things haven’t exactly been normal between us since that business.”
Walker remained silent in response. Bage always referred to Camaran IV as the business, or that business. His silence prompted the Captain to continue. “Thomas… your name was one of those entered into a pool of potential candidates. I gave you a glowing recommendation when I was contacted. Admittedly I worried about potentially overselling it.”
Walker straightened but he didn’t take the bait. He had far too much respect for the rank and position to allow one man’s bitterness to affect him. “Thank you, Sir. Your kindness was most thoughtful. I’m curious though… what kind of assignment was this applicant pool for?”
Bage stared at him for a moment then he looked down at the desk and with his book nudged a PADD toward Walker, waving the book dismissively to encourage Walker to pick it up faster. The younger man took the PADD in hand and began reviewing the display, his thumb scrolling through the order and relevant files sent by Starfleet Command.
“Take the assignment, Thomas. Put the business behind us,” Bage says.
Walker lowers the PADD and straightens his shoulders. His thumb subtly cracks the first few knuckles of his left hand. “Captain, with all due respect the only awkwardness is what you create… Sir. Neither of us were found at fault. No one was at fault and—”
Bage slams the book down on the desk and stands up from his seat with the spryness of a man half his age. “Are you going to take the damn assignment or not, Lieutenant Commander Walker?”
Straightening, Walker swallows down the next few words and gathers himself with respectable speed. His brows narrow and he looks down at the PADD for a moment then to his Captain to whom he provided a sharp nod of his head. “Yes, Sir, I believe I am.”
Bage sat back down and picked his book back up. From the corner of his desk he picks up a tiny object and gives it a toss so it rolls forward like dice at a game of craps. “Congratulations, Commander. The USS Lantree will be arriving at Starbase 12 in the next day or so for fitness evaluations. They will ferry you back to Mars before heading on to Sector Gamma 7 for their assignment. Now… get off my ship.”
A stern frown darkened Walker’s brow but he inclined his head to Captain Bage and turned to walk to the door after picking up the solid gold rank pip meant to replace his black one. He paused just as it opened and turned to look back at the man over his shoulder. Bage was reclining back in his seat to pick up where he left off with his book. “Captain,” Walker begins before he walks out. “Getting rid of me won’t change what happened. Sooner or later you have to come to terms with how the loss of control affected you, and you have to accept that the deaths weren’t your fault.”
Walker departs, leaving Captain Bage sitting in the near dark of his cabin as he heads to his own quarters to pack.
A Pen & Paper Jawa 