It had been days, and nothing. No sign, no word, no trace… not even an spike in the core coding to indicate the presence or lack thereof. She had simply vanished.

Cori was gone.

Lieutenant Corinne Dalton, Cori to her friends, former living breathing human being and then unwilling AI tethered to the computer matrix of the Saracen had disappeared. One moment she and Sinclair had been in her quarters, quarters he had insisted on so she could start to feel more human, and the next day… nothing. No one could find her, or any sign of her. Stranger still, the ship’s systems hadn’t reacted at all. It was like she had never been.

But Royal knew she had. He knew she had been there, as did the crew. The Scottish Security Chief had spent days running between Security and Engineering; pushing and encouraging the engineers to try this, try that, think about what could have happened. To their credit, they did try. They tried so very, very hard.

But nothing came of it. Of Lieutenant Corinne Dalton, Cori to her friends, former living breathing human being and then unwilling AI tethered to the computer matrix of the Saracen there was no sign. Days, then a week, then two passed. Engineering and Security had gone from exerting all efforts on all shifts to find her… to one or two people remembering they should maybe try this when they had the chance. There was, after all, a large ship and her crew to support… missions to accomplish… journeys to make and enemies to fight.

Sinclair sat in his office staring at the display in his desk. He just had to tap the ‘send’ icon and it would officially be over… at least by Star Fleet rules and regulations. Royal sat there in silence, staring at the screen for almost an hour. Then he very slowly, lifted his hand and very gently set his fingertip to the icon. The ship’s roster came up, scrolled through and a line was highlighted in yellow: “Dalton, Corinne - Science Officer, Lieutenant - MISSING”. It flashed for a few moments and then the line vanished. It was no longer the concern of the ship. Royal hung his head, feeling as if he had just betrayed the person he cared for most.

Several hours later, the doors to what had been Cori’s quarters opened. A large figure with a bottle in his hand walked into the room. Royal stopped and looked around. Everything was the way he and Cori had left it. The cleanup crew would be in tomorrow, but for now everything was just as they had left it. Royal walked over to a book case. He remembered the moment like it was just happening then:

Light reflected off the polished silver frame. Cori handed the frame to Royal. Behind the glass with a teenage Cori, her dancer physique so very evident, standing in a filed with two adults. A woman, with a fluffy mass of platinum blond hair and bright blue eyes not so unlike Cori’s current colour (but more natural looking) that carried a vivacious energy. Beside her with an arm around the woman and a hand on Cori’s shoulder was man with short cut dark brown hair and a slight stubble around his jaw that looked on purpose. His grey eyes seemed soft and kind and he seemed proud as he stood there with them.

“That is Kip and Janey.” she said. “It was about a year before the war with the Klingons,” she said fondly. “They were good people, Royal. The best kind. Open-hearted. Generous with their praise and affection. The worst thing you could do was to disappoint them. It was like you would do anything to never see that look in their faces, because it was so crushing. I miss them so much somedays,” she said softly.

A droplet fell on the glass and Royal wiped it away with his thumb. He set the picture back and then went and got two glasses. He poured them each half-full and set them on the coffee table in front of where they had sat their for last conversation. He looked at the couch, the small table next to it on which rested her holo-emitter. Royal’s jaw clenched. It was like getting punched in the stomach by a photon torpedo. He picked up and raised his glass and said very softly to keep his voice from cracking “To you.” and drank his down. He then walked over and picked up the device and held it in his hand for a long moment before dropping it in his pocket. He then walked over and took the framed picture and looked at it again. His face grew hard even as more tears welled up.

“You want it back? Then come find me.” and he turned and walked out the door.

Sinclair awoke with a start. He blinked a few times and turned the pillow over so his face wasn’t lying against the wetness. He looked at the table beside the bed and reached out a hand, settling it gently on the small holo-emitter that stayed there. He then closed his eyes and fell back asleep. The dream was nothing new to him.

Sinclair, XO