Through Her Eyes
Posted on July 15th, 2015 by Kathryn Harper and Ian Blackthorne

Although Atlantis was now safely docked at Starbase Vinland, and a clean office was available to him there, Ian Blackthorne had elected to remain based in his ready room aboard his ship. Without her warp-core heart beating and providing its subtle background hum, Atlantis felt eerily quiet. Even before they had docked, once the majority of the injured had been evacuated to other ships, the ship had seemed empty; now, with many of the remaining crew aboard Vinland, that feeling was magnified tenfold. To Ian, Atlantis felt like a house with all the children gone.

He sat at his desk, now clear of dust and debris in favor of two stacks of PADDs containing various reports, along with his personal effects that had survived the battle. The large bottom drawer that had protected his collection of fine liquor stood open, with one bottle missing. That bottle contained eighteen-year-old Scotch and now sat on the desk next to an untouched glass into which three fingers of the golden liquid had been poured. Ian was putting the final touches on a letter to the family of a deceased crew member, the latest of an interminable number, when the door chime rang.

Commander Kathryn Harper walked through the door after he answered the chime. Ian knew why she had come, and addressed her before she could speak. “You have the final after-action report for me from the Sharks, I assume.”

Harper stopped on the opposite side of the desk and presented him with a PADD. “Yes, sir,” she answered lifelessly.

Ian could sense the general nature of the report from the emotions she projected. “Exactly how bad is it?”

Eyes locked on the wall above his head, she answered in a quiet, evenly metered voice. “Only seven pilots survived. Four Mustangs. No Peregrines.”

He exhaled a long breath, eying the drink. “Damn. I’m so sorry, Kate.” The sudden drop in formality seemed to get to her as she forcibly tried to blink away tears, while keeping her eyes forward, almost standing at attention even though he had never asked it of her. “Please, sit down.”

Her gaze snapped from the wall to the chair, as if his invitation had broken her resolve to maintain appropriate military decorum. Kate sat, wiping at her eyes, and gave him a wet stare, through which Ian could sense a hint of anger and resentment. “I had just finished rebuilding the Wing from the losses against the Free Fleets. I recruited anyone with piloting experience, taught them, got to know them, and now most of them are dead. I doubt I can do it again.”

“I can’t blame you.” He produced a box of tissues from a drawer and slid them across the desk, wondering what else he could possibly say to her that might help. In truth, Ian doubted his own ability to continue after such a trauma, but that was not something a proper commanding officer should share. Ian Blackthorne was not known for being proper, however, and their decade of service together warranted candor beyond the usual military pep-talk. “I’ve considered retirement myself, after what we went through.”

Harper took a tissue and attempted to dry her eyes, without much success. “I once wished that this had been the only job I had ever held. Now…” she trailed off, seemingly unwilling to complete the thought aloud.

“Yeah. I know.”

“But why? Why do we keep throwing away good people in those fragile machines?” He could sense the anger surfacing, both empathically and in the tone of her voice. “Why… why do I have to keep losing them?”

Ian shook his head and looked down at the desk a moment, then back up at his officer in search of answers. “I’ll spare you the tactical analysis of the advantages of space superiority fighters, because you know that already. As for the effective reasons, well, look at just one of the positive results. If not for the actions of the Sharks against the boarding shuttles, Atlantis would have suffered a far worse fate than one boarding party getting through. Thank you for that.”

Harper’s anger seemed to subside, at least somewhat, and her gaze fell from Ian to the floor, staying there for several long moments of silence. Ian finally continued, “You were out there defending your home.” Thinking that an additional reminder based on some burgeoning feelings he’d sensed crossing the bridge might help, he added, “Protecting what – and who – you hold dear.”

Several seconds later, she looked back up at him, eyes still moist, and whispered, “I just do not know if I can continue doing it.”

“That’s quite understandable, Kate. You’ll have a long time to think it over, at least, and if you decide to step down as CAG, I won’t fault you for it.” He paused for a moment, considering whether his next thought would be welcomed given the circumstances, and decided in its favor. “Even aside from all of this, you’ve done that job well for seven years and may wish to consider advancing your career.”

“Sir?” Kate took a fresh tissue from the box, radiating surprise. At least this time, her eyes remained dry after she wiped them, perhaps from the distraction of the subject change.

“As I said, you’ve not only been CAG, but a full Commander, for seven years. You’re long overdue for an XO position, and I’m confident you would excel in that role. I’d hate to lose you, but there are certain to be openings, and you would have my full support in pursuing one.”

Kate appeared to study him for a moment before answering, “Thank you, sir. I will consider it, but as you said, Atlantis is my home. Leaving seems almost unthinkable.” He noticed that her voice had regained some of its tone.

“Change can do us all some good sometimes. As I said, these are your decisions, but give them some serious thought.” A thought occurred to him, and Ian opened the top desk drawer, removing a tiny black velvet box. “On that note, I would like to give you a job to do. Something that I can get off of my inordinately long to-do list.”

“Of course, Admiral.”

Ian tossed her the box across the desk, which she caught in one hand. “For Lieutenant Wright.”

Upon opening it and seeing its contents, Kate back at him questioningly. “Are you sure? You want me to do this?”

He nodded. “I think that it’ll mean more coming from you.”

Kate snapped the box closed and managed a smile. “You may be right.”

Ian remembered the untouched glass of Scotch sitting right next to him, and figured that she may need it more than he did. “I poured myself a drink. Would you like it?”

Rising from her seat, Kate shook her head. “No sir. I have a lot of thinking to do, and should get to it. If that is all, of course.”

“Please do. Get some rest and try to decompress. Dismissed.” Once she left, the ready room was returned to its unusual silence. Ian finally took up his glass and sipped, contemplating the host of changes that were sure to come. At any rate, the Admiral needed a break from writing letters, and his next immediate concern was the appeal to save Atlantis from the scrapyard. As he savored the aged whisky, that plea began to form in Ian’s mind.