Rites of Closure: A Star Trek Story

Chapter 1: The Funeral

Cheltenham Veterans Cemetery
Cheltenham, MD
Earth

The funeral had been a short, quiet affair. There was no body to bury and little family to mourn the passing of the deceased. Of the young officer's family, only his grandmother was in attendance, weeping quietly on the shoulder of her chauffeur. A smattering of Starfleet officers, in rare funeral black, sat silently scattered in the folding chairs while the minister said the appropriate words. Light rain flickered against the windows. Grimaces at the young man's passing were interrupted every now and again by a nod or a smile at a fond memory. All were reverent.

Nurse Josephine Regal sat in the back row, tears dripping slowly down her cheeks, while she held the hand of the doctor by her side. They were an unlikely pair.

Doctor Praxis Diomedes was an older man, slightly overweight, and definitely past his prime. But while the conflicts that had stricken the federation in recent years - and claimed the life of the officer they had come to mourn - weighed on the young nurse's heart, her companion seemed to come alive in recent months. He'd always retained some zest of youth, a spirit which had led him to bond with her in the first place. But now, with their lives frequently in danger, he seemed decades younger. As the danger increased, his mood lightened, as if trying to counterbalance the gravity of their peril.

Today, however, the doctor was silent. He had buried all too many friends in his long life and knew the pain the young woman must be feeling. In times such as this, he said, grief became a virtue unlike any others. It brought people together and let them see the best in others as well as themselves. At least, that's what he had said to Josie on the shuttle ride from San Francisco. She often wondered how much Praxis believed all the long-winded speeches he gave.

In contrast to Praxis, Josie herself felt as if the war were aging her prematurely. She'd been in Starfleet for less than a decade, but the constant wave of patients suffering from disruptor burns, stab wounds, and impalements weighed heavily on her. She felt tired. . . always tired. . . her thin brown hair beginning to grey prematurely, and her face slowly becoming lined with stress and sadness.

Together they sat, doctor and nurse, comforting each other as only two colleagues who have been in the trenches together can.

The ceremony carried on, the minister eventually finishing his message. As he stepped down, the taps began to play. The grandmother was handed a folded flag, and a fresh wave of tears erupted from her eyes. It was all Josie could do to keep from rushing to her side.

Finally, the ceremony ended, and the crowd began dispersing, leaving Josie and the doctor standing before an empty casket, one that would never be buried.

"He finally got his promotion," Josie said, running her hands over letters engraved on replicated wood - Lieutenant Marshall Crane  - his name and rank. "He'd resisted the responsibility for so long, I thought he'd be an ensign forever."

"Many young men need time to find their ambition," Praxis said, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Especially young men with the compassion and humility of Lieutenant Crane. He was a fine officer, whatever rank he may have held."

"Thank you," Josie said, then followed after a pause. "Doctor Harker isn't missing you, is he?"

"Silas wouldn't have time for me if I wanted it," the doctor smiled. "It's been nearly a year since we've been back to Earth, and his reunion with Rebecca is sure to be... eventful. If you catch my meaning."

Josie smiled, for the first time that day, imagining the usually cold Doctor Harker somehow melting in his beautiful wife's presence. It was a sight, according to Praxis, that was simultaneously beautiful and uncomfortable, as true love so often is.