Star Trek (11 page)

Gomez smiled, feeling suddenly, absurdly shy. She had wanted to be alone, to think about things, but now she was glad Duffy was here. She had always been able to talk to him before. She wondered if that, too, had changed.

“May I join you?” she asked.

“Certainly,” he replied. She took the seat opposite him, and then suddenly laughed as she saw what he had ordered.

“Macaroni and cheese?”

“The ultimate comfort food. Like hot chocolate,” he said, forking up another mouthful. “Just like my mother used to make, if Mother had been a replicator. Good for what ails you.”

Sonya took a sip, enjoying the chocolatey, sugary hit of the smooth beverage on her tongue. It had been too long. Ever since “the incident,” as her spilling encounter with Picard had been dubbed by some wag, she had refrained from ordering the infamous beverage in front of others.

But Duffy was more than just someone she supervised. He'd been her friend, just like Geordi had, and then, he had become something more. He was someone she could trust, someone she could drink cocoa in front of when she really needed it, without fear of being teased.

What he had just said suddenly registered. “Comfort food? Why do you need comfort food?”

Now it was his turn to look away shyly. “You know.”

Sonya supposed she did. It was time they talked about it, at least a little. She was tired of this unresolved business getting in the way.

“What happened with 110—I mean, Soloman—and Friend,” she said softly. “Watching poor, young Jaldark dying alone, in pain, while her ship kept crying for her. And Soloman teaching it how to be by itself.”

He nodded, still not meeting her eyes. “It kind of brought home …”

“That we're here, but we're not together anymore,” Sonya finished. “I know.” She gestured toward her mug. “Why do you think I'm drinking this?”

“It was one thing when you got promoted and left,” said Duffy, leaning forward and talking quickly. “I mean, we said our good-byes, and we moved on.”

“Yes,” Sonya said. It had been hard—harder, she supposed, on Duffy than on her. She had a promotion to look forward to and to provide distraction—a new ship, a new mission. He had remained on the
Enterprise
. Until they had both ended up here, on a ship far too small for them to avoid each other. “And then, here we are again.”

He nodded. “And this time, you're my boss.”

“Another wrinkle in an already very wrinkled relationship.”

“Very wrinkled.”

“I've missed you.”

He looked up at her quickly. She held his gaze. Her heart began to beat faster. “I never got involved with anyone else,” Sonya continued.

“You were probably just too busy,” said Duffy, but his voice shook, just a little.

“I'd have made time for you,” Sonya replied.

“You could now.”

“Can I? Can I, really? Oh, Kieran,” she sighed, and she reached across the table to grasp his hand. “I'm tired. I don't want to think about this right now. I just want to be with you, eat our comfort foods, and enjoy each other's company.”

He smiled, and, as she remembered, he looked just like a little boy when he grinned that grin. “Sounds good to me,” he said.

Gomez felt warm inside. They'd broken the ice, and she had learned something that was very important to her. Kieran Duffy was still her friend, despite the time and distance that had developed between them. There would be an opportunity to explore this further, if it was what they both wanted. For now, she laughed, and clinked her cup of cocoa against his bowl of macaroni and cheese.

Alone in his quarters, Bart reread the letter he'd just finished writing to Anthony Mark. It was long, eight pages' worth of small, neat script. He had told his partner everything. About their fear of the Borg, about finding
Jaldark's log, about Soloman and his new name, about the sorrow and joy both sentient ship and unpaired Bynar were discovering in their newfound solitary lives. He frowned, crumpled up the heavy cream-colored paper, and tossed it over his shoulder. It was all wrong. It was full of details, of description. Those were the things he'd tell Anthony Mark later, over a delicious candlelit dinner in his quarters on Starbase 92.

Right now, he needed to say the important things. 111's untimely death and Jaldark's heartbreaking story had taught him that. There was no need for a long letter.

He selected another sheet of stationery, and began again.

My dearest Anthony, just a brief note to tell you how much I love you. Good night.