By The Gate Of Death

[Cmdr JFarrington 0]

At the door of life by the gate of breath,

There are worse things waiting for men than death.

~A.C. Swinburne: The Triumph of Time.

 

By the Gate of Death

 

Her mood had turned dark and brooding, and Jami Farrington couldn’t say she liked it at all, but neither could she shake the gloom. Deception in the name of peace seemed acceptable. Deception to begin a war that might lead to peace, but most certainly would result in violent, untimely death for not only the crew of Manticore, but for subjects of the Romulan Empire – that was entirely different. If they survived this attack on that sovereign world, the crew would have to face their captors, and their captors would have every right to interrogate them without mercy, then dole out a violent execution for violating the sanctity of their borders.

 

And the Federation would disavow.

When do the rules of engagement stop and the war crimes begin? ‘Tis a fine line, one they had walked many times, but never had they teetered so close to the edge as on this mission.

 

By far the most devastating blow to Jami as she walked the corridors one last time before they reached the Romulan Neutral Zone, was the sight of young men and women, spit and polish new personnel in high gear, eager to do their duty for the Federation. They think they know what they’re getting into, she thought as she leaned on the guard rail that ran along the catwalk in the shuttle bay. Bay Chief Johnson had them hopping, cleaning and prepping for the coming battle. In the adjacent repair bay Jami had picked out a handful of seasoned veterans. The rest that gathered around Bay Chief Karas for final instructions were obviously new – antsy – ready for a fight. At the thought of the coming hours, her stomach knotted. She hadn’t eaten for days.

 

A sharp turn and she was out the hatch and down the ladder on her way to the bridge.

 

“Commander?”

 

The young voice behind her brought her up short, and the face she saw upon turning looked… about the age of her nephew, Jack. His height. His weight. His enthusiasm bursting from those lively brown eyes. “Yes, Ensign . . . Calvert, is it?” Thank goodness for fatigue name tags.

 

“Yes, Ma’am. Calvert, Edward T., Shuttle Engineering.” He snapped to attention.

 

Jami slipped on her practiced smile, relaxed, and nodded in acknowledgment. “As you were. How may I help you, Ensign Calvert?”

 

“Well, Ma’am, I just wanted to tell you what an honor it is to serve on this ship, and to serve under you, Ma’am. Permission to speak freely?”

 

Her smile faded a bit as a few passersby gave them a strange look, then moved on. “Of course.”

 

“Well, Ma’am, I… uh… that is,” a faint flush crept up his face and he glanced around uneasily, “I chose this ship because of you, Ma’am.”

 

“Really.” It was more a statement, but somewhat of a question. Jami was curious, to say the least.

 

“Yes, Ma’am. Really. Your grand-cestor being James Kirk and all.”

 

Oh, gods… She slid a hand from her forehead to her cheek.

 

Calvert’s flush had become a full-blown blush and he shifted from side to side as he continued. “And I was wondering… my parents… when they heard I had been assigned here… well, Ma’am… would you sign this for them?” He shoved a Manticore NCC 5852-A ball cap and a pen into her hands.

 

Jami’s oh, gods look shifted to a threatening glare as a cluster of new personnel behind Calvert guffawed at the request. They fled, her glare returned to a smile, and she dutifully signed the cap, then handed it back. “Thank you, Ensign. We are honored to have you aboard.”

 

And Jami’s last thought as he darted back into the shuttle bay with his precious memento was whatever am I going to tell his parents when he doesn’t return?