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I can live with that. After everything that had transpired since he was named Starbase 47’s first commanding officer, retreating to some u
For a moment, Reyes wondered if Pe
“He’s given me some time to wrap up a few loose ends,” Reyes replied. “Say my good-byes—that sort of thing.” Pausing, he considered the odd relationship he had shared with Pe
“I came to say two things. First, thank you, again, for the things you did that saved the lives of people under my command. You took a lot of risks when you didn’t have to, but those actions made all the difference when it came to those men and women. I’ll never forget that.”
Looking uncomfortable with the praise being heaped upon him, Pe
Reyes nodded. “Second, I’m pretty sure I never got around to saying I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the things done to you early on. T’Pry
For his part, Pe
“Next time,” Reyes repeated, his voice low. Gripped with a sudden bout of self-consciousness, he tried to ignore the sensation that the patient ward had grown cooler in the last few minutes. Drawing a deep breath, he said, “I should probably get going.”
“Thanks for stopping by,” Pe
Once more Reyes laughed. “I’ll do my best. Take care of yourself, Tim.”
“Same to you, Diego.”
It was harder to leave the ward than he had anticipated, but any anxiety Reyes might have felt started to fade the moment he and his security detail emerged into the corridor and found Ezekiel Fisher standing in the passageway as though waiting for him. In his right hand he held what looked to be a large glass bottle filled with a golden brown liquid, and wrapped with a label he was sure he recognized.
“Is that Kentucky bourbon?”
Holding up the bottle, Fisher replied, “You pla
“Not a chance in hell,” Reyes said.
After asking the pair of security guards to wait outside his office, which required convincing them that there were no secret exits from his cramped, disheveled workspace, Fisher directed Reyes to one of two chairs positioned around a small conference table in the room’s far corner. The doctor retrieved two glasses from a cabinet behind his chair and commenced dispensing generous portions of the bourbon into them.
“I suppose you can’t even tell me where you’re going,” Fisher said, taking a seat.
Before replying, Reyes sipped from his glass, relishing the smooth, warming sensation as the alcohol worked its way down his throat. “After drinking the watered-down bug spray that passed for booze on that ship, you have no idea how good this tastes.” He glanced over his shoulder to verify that the office doors were still closed before saying, “I’m not allowed to tell you or anyone else that I’m heading for Caldos II.”
Fisher grunted. “Never been there, but I hear it’s nice.”
The colony world was one of five destinations Nogura had suggested as ideal locations for Reyes to “fade away” in compliance with his agreement. Though the original settlement was well established and continuing to grow, the colonists there prided themselves on adhering to the tenets of individuality and personal privacy. It was not uncommon for families to set out on their own and build homes far away from the colony center, either deep in one of the world’s teeming forests or among the isolated mountain regions. “There’s plenty of planet for anybody looking for a nice place to retire,” Nogura had said. The offer was sweetened by the notion that in Reyes’s case, exile did not mean total isolation. He would be given a new identity, so that he could live among the other colonists and not attract undue attention.
“I wasn’t sold on the idea at first,” Reyes said, “but the more I thought about it, the nicer it sounded. Besides, compared to prison, I think I can learn to live with anything. And who knows? I might even be happy there one day.”
“Now there’s something I’d like to see,” Fisher replied, smiling as he took a belt from his glass. “How many people know about this?”
Reyes shrugged. “You, me, Nogura, and two or three of his friends at Starfleet Command who made the whole thing happen.”
“Well, it’s probably all recorded in a computer file somewhere, anyway,” Fisher said. “They still have to get your retirement pay to you, after all.”
“True.” Nogura had also seen to it that Reyes would receive a small stipend. It was not a full restoration of the pay and benefits that would have been owed him had he officially retired from Starfleet, but it would be more than sufficient for living a quiet, anonymous life on a Federation colony world. “Other than that, though, and maybe checking up on me from time to time, they’ll probably leave me well enough alone. Ten years from now, nobody will know or care who I am, or was, or whatever, and I’m okay with that.” He had pledged to Nogura that he would accept and even embrace this generous revision of his sentence, and harbored no intentions of going back on his word, if for no other reason than to avoid dishonoring the admiral and the extraordinary effort Reyes knew he had expended on his behalf.
Taking another drink from his glass, Fisher asked, “So, what are you pla
“Catch up on my leisure reading,” Reyes replied. “Got any recommendations?”
Fisher nodded, playing his part. “I gave you a perfectly good selection of books, and you let them get blown up. I hope Caldos II has a decent library.”
Chuckling at that, Reyes drained the contents of his glass, grimacing at the bourbon’s sting as he swallowed. “Well, I haven’t really gone fishing since I was a boy. Maybe I’ll do that.” As he poured himself another drink, a mischievous thought entered his mind. “I could buy myself some old boat, fix it up as a do-it-myself restoration project, then hire it out for fishing charters. That ought to drive some of those admirals at Starfleet nuts.” He paused, considering another idea that had just occurred to him. “You know, taking on a job like that, I could use a partner.”
“Yeah,” Fisher said, leaning back in his chair and cradling his glass in both hands, “that’s exactly where I see myself: cutting bait on the back of some shipwreck you’ve given a fresh coat of paint. Do you even know how to sail a boat? What could possibly go wrong?”