April 5

            “I’ll see you at the café,” Jonathan told her, gave her his ‘proper public protocol’ customary ‘cheek-lip’ kiss, and turned back to Phlox.

            “What is it? Bad news?”

            “On the contrary, Cap-Admiral. I haven’t seen you like this in years. Maybe ever.”

            “Like what?” he asked, expecting the same answer he’d heard from Hoshi the week before.

            “Testosterone, adrenaline, dopamine, serotonin, you’re as high as a moon moth in love with that lovely woman who just left here. And frankly, I think it’s long overdue. You humans get to work on something and deny your basic instinctive needs like sleep, sex, even food. I know it’s kind of a survival mechanism, a stress containment system of sorts, but truthfully, Admiral, Riaan and your daughter are going to help your neuroses. I doubt it will return you to commanding a ship, but don’t be surprised to see improvements at least in your memory.”

            “Phlox, I couldn’t even remember the names of the most obvious stars in the sky the other night. I admit it, though; she’s put a hellacious spell on me. I haven’t been able to think of anything but her for months, now. And you’re telling me it’s a physical condition?” Phlox shrugged.

            “She’s in the same physical condition as you, but with all the female hormones: luteinizing hormones, estrogen, FSH. No wonder she’s pregnant. Who needs a Petri dish with all those chemicals doing the job?”

            “Did she tell you what she went through the night her husband died?”

            “She did. It’s a devastating experience, physically and mentally. She lost almost everything dear to her: a husband, a baby, her home. But you came along for her at the right time. Apparently the reverse is also true. You’re stuck with this mental debilitation, you lost people you were very close to, and had to leave behind your command. You are both healing each other. I can’t tell you how pleased I am for you, Captain. Admiral.” Phlox smiled from ear to ear, an expression Archer had come to appreciate each time it appeared over the years.

April 5, 2164.

            “One hundred and one years ago today, where we stand at this moment, Earth entered a new epoch of understanding about our place in the universe.” Admiral Archer stood where the century old missile, renamed The Phoenix, soared into the sky above and became the first ship on the planet to break light speed. “We come to this formerly small town in Montana to pay homage to the people who risked their lives for a better future, to people who held out hope that all was not lost in that devastating war.

            “We were greeted by an alien race that night. And indeed, by the time I was born on this planet, humans had come together to solve the issues faced by all civilizations at one time or many times. Overpopulation, education, sanitation, equal rights, poverty, and hunger, if not solved, were on the way to becoming history in the light of a new community from the stars.

            “This date we now celebrate the world over, and among the stars, as Zephram Cochran Day. I met this man before he left Earth. He was a humble human, not looking, wanting, nor accepting the fame and legacy that he achieved. As with all geniuses, eccentricity was part of the package of this man who changed the world. He would have enjoyed being remembered for being a reluctant visionary, and so that is how we dedicate today – to the reluctant heroes of Earth.”

            Archer stood behind the lectern while a few thousand people applauded. He had managed to worm out of the Centennial Anniversary since it happened while he was on Akal the year before. Of course, the year before was attended by more than one hundred thousand people. Archer had been through too many celebrations, too many ceremonies, too many christenings to feel honored anymore. He felt as if he’d become a fixture, an icon, with a mandatory attendance sentence. He, too, was a reluctant hero.

            He stepped down and did his best to blend into the crowds and leave for the airport. He had only one thing that mattered to him today, and it wasn’t Cochran. Had Phlox not prohibited him from using transporters, he’d be back in San Francisco already instead of catching the tourist train from the Cochran Complex to Bozeman’s airport.

            “Admiral Archer!” Jonathan looked in the direction of the voice. A Starfleet crewman jogged up to him with a PADD. Archer took the unit and his anxiety shot up. “There’s an airmobile standing by at the visitor center for you, sir.”