Admiral Michael Sinclair stood at the railing in the observation corridor, watching closely as the *USS Jonathon Archer* slid slowly into Spacedock. The ship had been in commission just over seven years now, its duty patrol corridor the Galactic North end of the Romulan Neutral Zone. This was not quite the same ship Michael had launched those seven years ago. She was older now, more seasoned which was a polite way of saying more beat-up. But she wore her scars well. Her CO for the entire eight years had been a young woman (well, maybe not quite so young, but to Michael *all* women were young) that Michael had had the pleasure of serving with. Captain Vanessa Ravenhawk had been his XO on Starbase 114: Melcoas. She had since added several more years of service with distinction to her record. Michael watched the ship closely, noting all her scars, already planning the modifications to her hull to go with the internal upgrades that had been in the planning stages for nearly a year. Doreen had the actual breakdown on his desk, which he'd only glanced over. Knowing that the *Archer* was coming home, he'd had to come down here to watch. The tractor tugs eased the ship into its berth, and then she fell silent as engineers attached external umbilicals. For the next few hours she would be powering down, and then crew would disembark en masse, leaving only a maintenance staff behind. But Michael had no intention of waiting that long. As soon as the catwalk had been moved into place, he headed down toward the *Archer*. He had not quite made it there when the airlock hissed open, and Captain Ravenhawk moved into the doorway to greet him. "Captain Ravenhawk," Michael said, the smile easily on his face. "Welcome home." Vanessa glanced up when she heard the familiar voice. A warm smile spread across her face as she saw him. She walked over and embrassed him with a friendly hug. "Now I know I really am home, Admiral Sinclair. Ryan should be coming along in just a moment. He wanted to grab a few things before disembarking." Michael stepped back a pace after the hug and then drew up a formal salute to formally welcome her. Old habits and whatnot. "How is Ryan?" he asked, the question being asked on several levels. She, in turn, answered it on just as many. "He is doing well. He still has his tough nights when he wakes up screaming. I know what he is dreaming, but there is not much that I can do for him except be there for him. He was alone during those experiences on Kemet so I can't expect the scars to heal quickly." Michael was shaking his head. "It has to be much better than it would have been without you here," he told her. "You're a stablizing force, Vanessa." Almost on cue, Ryan Thompson stepped onto the catwalk, a small package under his arm. In khaki pants and a blood-red shirt, Ryan drew himself to attention and saluted Michael, who just as crisply returned it. You could take the boy out of the Fleet, but you'd never completely get the Fleet out of the boy, Michael couldn't help but to think. "Admiral," he greeted him with a half smile. For Ryan, it bordered on giddiness. "Ryan, good to see you again," Michael told him, offering his hand in a firm handshake. There was more than just a little strength to Ryan's handshake. That was a good sign. "This is for you, sir," he said, offering him the brown paper wrapped bundle. "Thank you," Michael said, knowing instantly what it was. He pulled back just enough paper to see the black gold and green foil on the bottle. "Saurian brandy, vintage 2349. Holy Cow, Ryan." "Won it in a poker game, sir," he said quickly. Buying it outright would have taken the better part of a month's wages. "And there is no one I know who would appreciate it more than you." "With our compliments, admiral," Vanessa told him. "Thank you both," he said, rewrapping the bottle and then tucking it under his own arm. "I've made arrangements for you on the Spacedock. We're still very early in the construction of the *Concordance,* so you really aren't needed for another three or four weeks. I understand you've got some significant leave built up, Vanessa. I hope you won't be offended if I suggest you use some of it?" While Vanessa was a little saddened by the idea that she could not get started on her new assisngment, she would enjoy the chance to visit her mother in India. "Do you have a few minutes to show us the ship?" "Of course," he told her. "Believe me, it won't take long." He started off down the catwalk at a leisurely pace, the two falling into step with him. They passed by the port side of the skeleton that was quickly becoming a *Miranda* class ship. "Not much to look at just yet, I'm afraid," he told them as they looked it over. "By the time you've worked on that tan, we'll have her looking like a ship." "I am sure that you will have her in top shape by then." "This is the new *Courage* class?" Ryan asked, his eyes turned in the other direction. Michael knew that look. It was the same look he, himself, had every time he looked at her. "Yes, and you're the first two to hear, officially, that she's becoming the *USS Kimberly L. Havlicek*. The flagship of the *Courage* class and the flagship of the Sixth Operational Fleet. Your boss, Gary Booker, is on the comm every week wondering when she's going to launch." Michael managed to hold his voice neutral. "In a perfect world, Vanessa," he said, "this would be your next command. Unfortunately, it seems that Admiral Booker has someone else in mind. Captain Rue Lockman? Are you familiar with him?" Ryan made a noise that might have been a cough, before he was able to stifle it. "I don't know him all that well, to be honest. Rue is a nice guy from the few times I have met him. I am sure that he will find the Havlicek an interesting challenge and a chance to show everyone what he has," was Vanessa's reply. There was more, but Vanessa was never one to talk about other officers. It wasn't her place. "Indeed," Michael said, his eyes narrowing a bit. From Vanessa, that was a first class indictment of the man's character. "So, how are things going out there in the border fleet?" he asked her. "Well, let's just say that I am not surprised the Booker selected him for the assignment." It was not a statement of hurt feelings, but rather an indication that things could be better. She decided to change the subject, though, before she felt compelled to go more in-depth. "How are things going with you, Michael?' He had to pause a moment with the sudden change in topic. There was more here. He'd get it, eventually. But probably not from Vanessa. "Things are... welll," he said. "I think I've finally settled into this job and it agrees with me. For the most part. I see Celeste a great deal, and Christopher once in a while. He's currently studying on Vulcan. He's in the laureate program for theoretical physics and given that that is pretty much all he has time for and given that only a laureate truly understands that stuff, he and I just dont' have much to talk about at the moment." Vanessa couldn't help but see the pain in his eyes. It was clear that Therese had left a hole in his life. Vanessa doubted that his current assignment would allow him to have enough of a challenge to focus his attention on work instead of his loss. Perhaps.... Footsteps on the catwalk made them all turn. and Vanessa allowed her train of thought to break off there. Approaching them was a slight woman with long, almost unruly dirty-blond hair, dressed in a professional dark suit. She wore dark sunglasses to shield her eyes from the overhead lights. "Admiral Sinclair," she greeted him, her smile crooked, almost teasing. Or perhaps cocky. Michael's own smile was warm, if a bit guarded. He had long ago learned that with Celeste, sunglasses usually either hid a hangover, or a bruise. "Undersecretary Sinclair," he greeted her back. Celeste turned her attention on the couple. "Ryan and Vanessa," she said. "Welcome home." Vanessa couldn't believe how much Celeste had grown and matured. She kept such a comment to herself knowing how much Celeste would hate hearing it. "It is wonderulf to see you again, Celeste." "I was hoping," Celeste said, "that I might be able to spirit Vanessa away for lunch, before you get all tied up in boring details about how many rivets the new ship will hold and whatnot." Michael chuckled. "I'm sure Vanessa appreciates the gesture," he said. Vanessa smiled. "Appreciation would be an understatement. I think that I would definitely enjoy a lunch with Celeste much more than I would hearing more about starship construction." "I had Doreen clear my schedule in the hopes that I might be able to talk Ryan into 18 holes of golf this afternoon." "Consider me talked into it," Ryan told him. "So, then, any chance the four of us can have dinner together? I'll cook," Michael offered. "Sounds good to me, dad," Celeste told him. "Same here," she replied. "I think I just heard my stomach growl in anticipation."
