Dedicated in memory of George D. Morgan, whose departure from this world reminds us how much any any life, no matter how brief, adds to the whole of our existence.
The following presentation is rated G.
O'Brien shut off the vidscreen and sat there in a stunned silence.
The news still seemed unbelievable, even though he had already replayed the
message four times. It was just...well, hard to believe. A man he had
known for over 37 years. A man with the most determined sense of survival
that he had ever had the privilege of serving with. Gone.
He half expected to hear the sound of Keiko walking in from one of
the bedrooms, but knew it wouldn't happen. She and Molly were both
presently residing in some small village down on Bajor while his wife
partook in a geological research project. Right now he would have given
anything to hear her concerned voice asking him what was wrong. He would
have laid bare his whole soul for her just then. As such, though, his only
audience was the bulkheads of their quarters. He needed more consoling
than that. There was one place he could think of that could provide all
the comforting he required.
Dr. Bashir entered Quark's with the full intention of enjoying
himself. He planned to have a few drinks and chat up Leeta, the new Dabo
girl. Leeta had caught his eye for quite some time now. With the dresses
Quark made her wear it was no wonder. He sidled up to the bar and waited
for the Ferengi bartender to finish serving a denizen of parched patrons.
After a few minutes Quark made his way over. "Doctor Bashir, how nice to
see you this evening. What can I get for you?"
"A Rigelian Sunrise, please."
"Coming right up," Quark cheerfully replied, grabbing a couple of
bottles from beneath the bar.
"You're in a good mood tonight."
"What can I say? Business has been very good tonight. People drink
a lot more when they're in a really good mood, and I've got a really happy
crowd here tonight. Well, except for Chief O'Brien, anyway." He nodded to
the far end of the room. "He came in ten minutes ago looking the same way
he does now and he's already on his third drink. He wouldn't say what was
wrong. I'd go over to check on him but I've been swamped." He finished
mixing the drink and set it in front of the doctor. "One Rigelian
Sunrise."
Bashir looked over his shoulder and around several bodies to spot the
engineer sitting by himself with a large, half-finished mug of ale. Worry
took hold at the man's look of misery. Leeta could wait another night. He
distractedly picked up his cocktail from the bar. "Thank you, Quark." He
moved away from the bar, intent to give confidence to the chief.
"I'll be right here if you need anything else, Doctor."
Bashir weaved his way through the crowded room. "Mind if I join you,
Chief?"
O'Brien glanced up from rim of his glass and grunted. "Suit
yourself," he replied tersely.
Julian sat down and took a cautious sip of his drink. He examined
the frown lines on O'Brien's face and felt a heaviness settle into his own
features. "What's wrong, Miles? Quark tells me you've been trying to
drown yourself with synthehol."
The chief drained half his glass before replying. "I just found out
that my best friend was killed in a Maquis raid. His wife sent me a
message a half hour ago. His ship was delivering supplies to the Rudimar
colony when they got jumped."
Bashir's face sagged. "Oh, that's terrible, Miles. I'm sorry. How
long did you know him?"
"Me and Daniel were friends since we were kids back in Dublin. You
couldn't separate us. We were like brothers." He stopped abruptly and
grabbed a passing waiter by the sleeve. "Another pint of bitters, and make
it quick. I'm almost finished this one."
Julian looked on with concern as the rattled Ferengi waiter scuttled
hurriedly back to the bar. "Miles, perhaps you should slow down a little.
You could make yourself sick."
O'Brien scowled at his tablemate. "I knew Daniel for over 30 years,
Doctor. I'll pay my respects to him in whatever bloody way I feel like.
We went to the same schools, played on the same teams, we even enlisted
together. We took our training at the same base and got signed on to the
Rutledge where we served together for 7 years. You never met a more
wily, pig-headed cuss than Daniel. It didn't matter what kind of trouble
our unit got into, he'd find a way to get us out. That man saved my life
more times than I can remember. He never deserved to die in an ambush."
"Probably not, Chief. These things just happen sometimes, though."
"You didn't know Daniel," O'Brien shot back, tipping his mug back and
emptying it into his gullet. "What would you know about it?"
"Miles," Julian sighed. "You're right, I didn't know your friend,
but I am a doctor. I've always felt that every patient I've ever lost
never truly deserved to die, thinking that there must have been something
more I could have done to save them. It's never easy to admit that
sometimes there's nothing you can do to prevent a death. Believe me, I
understand what you're feeling."
O'Brien's face softened to a lamentable gaze. "I'm sorry, Julian.
It's just that we went back a long way."
"It's all right, Chief. Someone very close to you has passed on.
It's natural to feel protective of that loss."
The chief smiled weakly. "Thanks, Julian." A brimming glass of ale
was set in front of him, and the waiter scurried away before he was rough-
housed again. O'Brien picked up the mug and looked at it thoughtfully.
"Care to join me in a toast?"
"I would be honored, Chief."
O'Brien held his glass up, pausing to think of the appropriate words.
"To Daniel, the toughest, surliest, stubbornest, most foul-mouthed sod ever
to wear a Starfleet uniform, and the greatest man I ever knew: may you walk
proudly among your ancestors in the field of God, knowing you served kin
and country and the Federation with a good and noble heart. While you are
no longer with us, your dedication and sacrifice will forever live on in
the memories of those who knew you and loved you. Peace be with you, old
friend."
"To Daniel," cheered Bashir, raising his drink in toast with the
chief's. The glasses clinked in an odd tone as they struck together, but
Julian didn't notice. Apparently, neither did Chief O'Brien. What
mattered most was sharing the moment of camaraderie and mourning the loss
of a life taken before its time.