“Raising a Glass to a Fallen Soldier”

Jonathan Barlow (Bar sons)

Captain Ben Ainsworth walked into his quarters after another weary day; his long, tired exhale blended with the closing of the door closing behind him. Rolling his neck slowly and deliberately he unbuttoned his top collar and strode wearily to the room- the ‘gold’ on his shoulders weighs more heavily on his shoulders than the beloved ‘bronze’ he graduated with in 2256. An era of hope and optimism to himself and his classmates immortalised in the picture standing proudly on the table- the sunshine and happiness immortalised in a capsule no more than 8 inches wide.

Neglecting to turn on the lights as he walked he allowed the warm light of the nearby star to illuminate his movements. The plain glass decanter glowed as he poured himself a strong measure of spirits and eventually collapsed into his leather chair. Both of these luxuries he allows himself as part of his vital ‘return to self’. He took his first satisfying gulp of brown liquid. Savouring the taste- Canadian- a rarity even on Earth he allowed his shoulders to finally drop and today’s challenges to quietly drift away, surrendering them to times passage.

This moment of bliss faded as he slowly returned to the room; next week’s duty rosters and KPI’s illuminated faintly on a table nearby. They could wait an hour whilst he savoured this earthy liquid, a reminder of home.  No other beverage in his travels to Vulcan, Orion or scrounged on the front lines ever measured up to the simple pleasure of human hand crafted malt. He drank more of this now. Commensurate he believed, of his rank and the pressures as master and commander of the USS Spartiate.

Spartiate? He smirked, his naval ancestors would’ve approved of this ship and its name- rugged, dependable and able to achieve success with minimal loss- though each one wounded him deeply. As a young Engineer fresh out of the Academy he never imagined this would be his path. Optimism and naivety indicated he’d serve his professional apprenticeship as an Engineer ending eventually, he’d hoped passing on his knowledge and passion for Engines to new generations that further pushed the boundaries of knowledge in the vaunted final frontier. 

The Klingon War changed that.

Starting well the first six months of his career started well aboard the USS Polyphemus with new friendships and interests gained from people across the Federation- he enjoyed life. However a disastrous border skirmish with Klingons changed this era of personal adventure quickly.

Despite significant and highly publicised gains from the Discovery and her crew, the Fleet was pushed into a series of increasingly costly fighting withdrawals. As losses mounted, battlefield commission rates increased disproportionally against those killed or declared MIA.

Following one of these doomed pitched battles and hurried evacuations at best speed Chief Patel, his valued mentor and friend barked when the engines were pushed well past their safeties “you can push people further than machines!” Under the hail of warning sirens and console fires above Captain Ha’ Kun shot back “but your machines can be replaced!”

He never appreciated this minute conflict until the mantle of command was placed on his shoulders. People can’t, that’s true. But pushed beyond their limits unlike engines their internal mechanisms can be irreparably damaged. Even Starfleet’s engineering corps has yet to invent a replacement human psyche.

Captain Ainsworth took another smaller, sharper drink to hold back the memories.

Both of these Officers lost their lives in the final stages of the War. Patel murdered during a brutal Klingon assault and scant weeks later during an ambush Polyphemus bridge and Captain Ha’ Kun simply stopped existing. Ainsworth led the surviving Engineers to make a blind warp jump to avoid annihilation. Through sheer determination, bent wire and engine coupling, he and the surviving crew returned to Federation space weeks later- battered but alive. With a ship declared “Beyond Viable Repair” surviving crew was transferred- destined to carry on until they prevailed against adversity or simply became names on a spiralling casualty list.

It came as a surprise to everyone and particularly Ainsworth when armistice was declared and slowly normality was restored, with re-continuing missions of exploration and discovery. Within a year Starfleet lost its war footing as if nothing happened, as if all those personnel and ships weren’t lost forever.

Frowning he took another drink, the liquid tasted bitter.

Now as Acting Chief Engineer and sporting plasma scarring across his right side, Captain, then Lt. Commander Ainsworth was recommended to “accelerated” Command Training and eventual promotion command a recommissioned Starship that survived the breakers yard.

Designed for frontier exploration but propelled into conflict, Spartiate, like him was damaged, physically and internally. Its systems were repaired but he refused to repair the scars of war on the outer hull. The Admiralty complained of this aesthetic in this era of peace. To hell with them- to him this ship is a monument like those on Earth. A permanent reminder to those optimistic friends who, like him were never to realise their dreams; through this ship, he will remember them.

Did soldiers, wide eyed at the start of a battle ever manage to regain their initial sense of optimism and their thrill of adventure? Somehow in the history of humanity and now the Federation he doubted it. However, over time he hoped peace could be made with himself and perhaps those he considered his enemies. He’d met a few Klingon mercenaries since, untrustworthy but valuable allies far from home nonetheless. 

Taking another sip, he reflected on what led him to this point in his life and career in 2267.

Blind luck and plasma conduit safety barriers certainly helped, but what truly brought Spartiate and its crew through the daily challenges?

It was he who refused to give up. Adrift on the Polyphemus and marshalled the decimated crew to ensure survival.  It’s also been he who’s guided his crew on a range of adventures since he first sat in The Chair. Guiding his crew safely through a routine patrol gone wrong, discovering new life in far flung corners and at times preserving life when everything seemed hopeless.

None of this is achieved through engineering knowledge and flair alone. It’s his courage to choose a course of action and the conviction to see it through when those around doubted him.

He surmised his greatest discovery in all of this was his true self once all the youthful optimism had been stripped away by conflict and loss.  A stoic, resolute Captain has been found with enough creativity and leadership mettle to ensure both his ship and crew could live another day. “Some discovery for a lowly Engineer!” He snorted as his internal monologue failed briefly with this personal revelation.  

Whilst celebrated, but selected Captains and their captured the headlines for vaunted deeds of heroism it’s his crew, his ship and the countless others like them that expand the frontier and scientific knowledge. They’re also the ones that also defend them, often making the supreme sacrifice in doing so. Like his friends in the photo frame, lost in space but immortalised in a frame no more than 8 inches wide.

Ainsworth raised his glass and to the ceiling saluted no one, but everyone before quickly downing the remnants.  He wiped his face and sighed, a Captain’s work is never done. Ensuring the safety of his crew and ship surpasses this small personal excess. This stoic resolve of his needed to be put to the test once more- against the dreaded scourge of interstellar bureaucracy. Raising from the comfort of his chair and powering the lights he strode to his desk and picked up the Pad.