Star Trek: Fortitude
Season Five, Episode Thirteen - “Cancelled”
By Jack D. Elmlinger
PROLOGUE
Tired… So very… tired…
At least… At least, the gas is working…
Bra’Kala … won’t be… be able to use us… in his show-trial…
This way, the… Federation… will… save face…
This way… maybe the Santragan people … will… know the truth…
Boxer… How is… Boxer?
Got to… find… strength! I’m… not… ready yet!
Got to… check on… Boxer…
Boxer…
Oh… oh my…
He almost… looks… peaceful…
Last time… I saw him this… this peaceful was when… when he was in that… coma…
Poor guy… Noble… guy..
Very … noble...guy…
Won’t be… be… long now, mate…
I’ll… be… joining you… joining… you… soon…
Damn this… gas! What’s taking you so… long… to finish me?!
Why?
Why did… I breach… that… pipe?
Why did I… beam into… this blatant… blatant trap?
Why did…
Hold on a… minute…
Why… am I… seeing… blue?
ACT ONE
“Captain? Captain, can you hear me?”
Ewan Llewellyn found his gas-induced stupor to be lifting at a surprising rate. The headache that clouded his thoughts was dissipating, energy flowing back into his limbs, and light pouring back across his piercing eyes. A hypospray was lowered from his neck as he realized that the dark Santragan cell walls had been replaced by the familiar interior of the Shuttlecraft Bromley. The hallucinatory voice inside his head was gone with a very real tone now ringing in his ears.
Valerie!
“Ewan, oh please! Be all right!”
“I’m here,” his scratchy throat gasped. “I’m here!”
Suddenly, a pair of relieved arms wrapped around his shoulders. Despite the groggy feelings from his near-death experience, the Welshman was awake and aware enough to recognize the loving embrace of Commander Valerie Archer. Using what strength that he could muster, he returned the hug. He had been fully prepared to accept the sacrifice of his own life… but he was only Human and therefore, he was relieved as hell to be able to see his beloved once more. Upon parting, he took in more of his surroundings. The Bromley’s interior was bathed in warm sunlight. Plan B must have worked!
It was only then that he noticed Rear Admiral Blackmore’s lifeless body. Doctor Pulaski was hunched over it, working fast.
“Tell me he’s going to make it.” Ewan had to know, lurching forward.
The Chief Medical Officer turned towards him as she collapsed her tricorder. “He’s going to be fine,” she reported. “Probably a little bit tired but otherwise fine. The gas that you both inhaled was highly toxic. If you had been left in there any longer, I wouldn’t have been able to reverse the corrosion in your lungs. It’s lucky for you that I decided to tag along on this rescue mission.”
“What the hell happened down there, Ewan?,” Valerie asked him.
“Tret Bra’Kala,” the Captain snarled. “He had whipped up some gaudy show trial and he was planning on making Ed and I the star attractions. Veth was right. He’s planning to force Santrag II to leave the Federation. I guess he just wanted to put the boot in while doing it. We both decided that we couldn’t let him use us so…”
Valerie was torn. She wanted to cry for the bravery of her lover, and for the bravery of the Rear Admiral too. However, her other side wanted to slap Llewellyn clean across the face for attempting something so reckless and stupid. He knew that they would be trying to get Plan B into motion, and even if it hadn’t succeeded, that wasn’t any excuse to go committing suicide, was it? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was overjoyed to see both men alive and safely back aboard a Federation vessel.
“Doctor, stay here and tend to Ed,” Ewan ordered. “I need an update.”
He found his feet once more. The first few steps were akin to those of an infant. By the time that he reached the Bromley’s cockpit, however, with Valerie’s guiding hands as backup support, he was standing tall and back in captaincy mode. Seated before him, Sollik and Gabriel Brodie navigated the Type-11 shuttlecraft through the atmosphere of Santrag II, speeding away from the historical township behind them. Both Lieutenant Commanders turned and acknowledged their superior officers with polite nods.
“Status, gentlemen?,” asked the Welshman.
“Plan B took some tweaking,” Sollik had to admit to him. “Sensors were scrambled as soon as you beamed down. We had to come in low to find your biosigns. You were right about the refractive shields, sir. The Santragans failed to detect the Bromley. Their own stealth technology is equally as effective against their own sensors.”
“We’re just leaving the stratosphere,” Gabe added quickly.
“This is where we can relax, Captain. There’s less chance of being seen from the surface.”
Ewan was far from relaxed. Nothing fit anymore. Tret Bra’Kala and his wild accusations still echoed at the back of his mind. Well, admittedly, some weren’t so wild. There had always been an edge in the President’s voice when discussing that natural disaster and the relief efforts. This Human biosign, though… What was that all about? Was Bra’Kala grasping at straws, trying to boost the credibility of this anti-Federation tirade that he was on at the moment?
Screwing his face into a complex maze of frown lines, he could barely think anymore. Rage was overriding all logical and analytical processes. It was a powerful rage that he had struggled with before… and it was all directed at the unsightly features of President Tret Bra’Kala.
“Valerie,” he began to dictate, his voice low,” I want you to return to Fortitude. Start putting in the emergency evacuation procedures for Starbase 499. If those new Santragan cruisers make any aggressive moves, I want to be ready. As soon as the Rear Admiral wakes up, brief him and defer to his judgment.”
“And just where are you going?”
“Back to the surface,” Ewan replied, taking his First Officer’s combadge and transferring it to his own chest. “Don’t try to track me and don’t try to stop me. I’ll signal for emergency transport when I’m finished. I’ll see you then.”
Turning, he moved into the shuttle’s transporter. Along the way, he opened up a locker and pulled out a Type-III phaser rifle.
“Even if this wasn’t a violation of all kinds of rules,” Valerie started to object.
“I love you too,” he interrupted firmly, cutting her short.
“Why do you have to do this?”
“Unfinished business.” He loaded the rifle with a click. “Energize.”
Upon returning to the frozen black depths of space, the Shuttlecraft Bromley was faced with a dangerously spectacular sight. At the controls, the collective gasp of Sollik and Gabriel Brodie dragged the attention of Valerie Archer over to the window. She saw it in seconds, the sheer size of the operation hard to miss.
“Oh my God,” she breathed,” it’s starting…”
They were arranged in a particularly aggressive formation. All eight of them emerged from their hiding place over the Santrag IV mining colony, now clearly operational and flexing their technological muscles. Energy radiated from their powerful tri-winged structures, their tapered blue noses were like daggers… Eight shining daggers that were fervently hovering over a victim’s heart. In this case, that heart was Starbase 499. Today, faced with such a threat, it looked significantly smaller than before.
“I’m getting a message,” Gabe noted, reading it aloud. “It’s from Jason aboard Fortitude. He says that all Starfleet vessels have been ordered to begin evacuation procedures immediately by the order of President Tret Bra’Kala. He also mentions a forthcoming trial which will solidify the independence of Santrag II.”
“Like hell, it will,” Valerie said, complete witha satisfying smirk.
“The refractive shields are still holding, Commander,” Sollik reported.
“Keep us low and slow, guys… and take us home. We’ve got to start sorting this out.”
* * * *
Polished Starfleet-issue footwear was hardly designed for stealth, especially in marble corridors and up rough-hewn stone staircases. Each reverberating footstep made Ewan Llewellyn wince. Darting from cover to cover, his phaser rifle seemingly led the way through the historical township’s largest building as he desperately didn’t want his spur-of-the-moment mission being ended with some Santragan guard with good hearing skills simply shooting him in the back. His goal was too important, the unanswered questions too weighty as his desire for justice was too strong.
That desire leaped into action upon turning around a corridor and spotting two guards.
They pointed and opened their mouths to yell. Before a single word could escape either one of them, two powerful discharges from the phaser rifle ensured their silence. Watching them fall off their feet, Ewan felt nothing.
No remorse.
No regret.
Nothing.
It was only on stun but, even then, for a pacifist, he was being surprisingly cold about the whole thing. Lowering his weapon and moving on, he only made it a few more steps before something unexpected shattered his icy demeanor.
From nowhere, a set of arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He was being tackled! Ewan had no time to react. He slammed into the wall, hard. The phaser rifle clattered away, wrenched from his grip by the attack.
Wasting not a second more, the Captain grabbed his assailant by the throat and heaved him to a standing position. His spare hand balled up into a powerful fist, drawing back in preparation to deal a hefty blow to the bastard’s jaw. Upon seeing that very jaw and the fact that it belonged to, everything had changed. The aggression melted away, replaced by an equally dangerous spark of total and utter bemusement.
The Human biosign… Suddenly Ewan knew who had been sneaking around on Santrag II.
Yet it made absolutely no sense.
“But,” he stammered,” you’re… but you’re…”
“That’s right,” the attacker grinned a familiar lopsided grin. “I’m you!”
ACT TWO
It was like looking into the Galaxy’s most unflattering mirror.
Ewan Llewellyn was staring in disbelief at his attacker… at his own face. He could feel his own hands pushing him against the marble. He was struggling against his own strength. And yet, there were differences… vast differences between them.
This version of Ewan Llewellyn was older, more weathered, and more ravaged by time than the Captain could ever remember having been. Gray was creeping from his temples, threatening the rest of the matted black hair. Several nasty-looking scars adorned his neck and forehead while others were covered by disorderly stubble. The lack of a Starfleet uniform helped sell the image of a broken and desolate Ewan Llewellyn… Of an Ewan Llewellyn at the end of his tether.
“What the hell are you?!,” Ewan spat back in defiance of the image before him.
“As I said, I’m you,” the elder Llewellyn sneered back. “More precisely, I’m you, ten years from now. Ironically enough, I’m also running out of time so shut your mouth and come with me. There’s an empty chamber down here that we can use.”
“Use for what?,” Ewan protested, suddenly rather scared of his future self.
"You want answers, don’t you?”
“I’m not quite sure that I’m going to like them, am I?”
“Probably not, but you’re getting them all the same,” the elder Llewellyn determined, yanking at his younger version’s shoulder and pulling him towards a small room. Leading him inside with an unceremonious shove, he bolted the old wooden door just as the thundering footsteps of several Santragan guards rose from the silence. Allowing them to pass, the confused Ewan reeled from the abrupt twist in events. His older version turned on him in short order. “Besides, you’re probably wondering if I really am you or if I’m some kind of dodgy copy, right?”
“It had crossed my mind,” his counterpart had to admit to him.
There was only one blunt way to prove it. Both of them knew what it was.
“You’re here to kill President Tret Bra’Kala.”
“How did you know?”
“Because I’ve been here before. I beamed away from the Bromley, ten years ago, starting on the very same revenge mission that you’re on! I pulled that trigger. I killed that fast bastard… and I’m here to stop you from making the same mistake!”
* * * *
Crewmen hurried back and forth…
Systems were being purged and files being transferred…
She could barely watch it.
Feeling as though she was losing a part of herself, Station Master Erica Martinez couldn’t restrain her tears any longer. Watching the evacuation of Starbase 499 in full swing, standing at the center of the Station Master’s Office as it was stripped of character, of life, of its essence… It was crippling. It didn’t help matters that, every so often, somebody in passing would give her a sympathetic pat on the back or make some misjudged attempt to cheer her up. None of it worked. She was losing her home.
There was only one voice that made her turn away from the horror.
“Hey,” Gabriel Brodie called out to her.
“Oh, Gabe,” she cried, burying herself in his embrace,” I can’t… I just can’t…!”
“I know, I know… It won’t be long now, though. It’ll be over soon.”
“And then what?,” came the unwelcome question. The Fortitude tactical officer hadn’t thought that far ahead in his comforting visit. Erica was asking him something that was so loaded with variables. Was he supposed to offer her shared quarters, or even beyond that perhaps? What was he supposed to tell her? He had to give some kind of answer. He couldn’t bear to see his beautiful Latina girlfriend in such a state. Squeezing her even harder as she sobbed, he gently kissed her trembling forehead.
“Then we’ll survive,” he whispered to her. “We should be thankful for that much.”
* * * *
“You’re not going to stop me,” Ewan said.
“I’ve got no other choice,” the future version of the Captain barked back. “I sank all that I had left in coming here, strapping myself into some rickety old crate that barely made the slingshot velocity for the trip back in time… but all of the risks are worth it if it means preventing you from killing Tret Bra’Kala!”
“This is a direct breach of the Temporal Prime Directive!”
“I have no Prime Directive!”
“You swore a lifelong oath to uphold certain values!”
“Oh, like your planned assassination isn’t breaching those values too!”
Ewan couldn’t believe the conversation that he was having, the debate that he was undertaking… with himself! It was as though his morality had been given a separate body and was lecturing him. Unfortunately, in his current state of pent-up aggression, logic and reason was the last thing that the younger incarnation of the Welshman wanted to hear. He was on an adrenaline high, barrelling towards the hideous Tret Bra’Kala to make him pay for what he had done, what he had caused, and for what he had yet to cause. Coming within inches of the elder Llewellyn, Ewan lowered his tone to beyond sinister.
“Get out of my way,” he growled at him.
“You can’t see what’s happening to you,” his future self stated calmly. “Thanks to retrospect, I can, and believe me when I tell you that killing that Santragan bastard will be the biggest error of your life! Look at me for crying out loud! Don’t you want to know where my uniform has gone or why I’ve got all of these scars?”
“Your mistakes, not mine. My future isn’t written yet.”
“That’s bollocks and you know it. After I shot Bra’Kala and returned to Fortitude, things seemed to settle down for a while… but when the Santragans found their murdered president, he became a martyr. The separation of Santrag II from the Federation still happened but rather than quietly bowing to the demands of an arrogant prig, we stayed and fought. Hundreds died in the split, Captain. You… me… I became fuelled by my anger and my hatred of the situation, and what did it get me?”
“I don’t know. What did it get you?”
“Another lost starship… and too many lost friends to count,” was the somber reply.
That made the Ewan of the present freeze.
“Valerie?,” he asked slowly.
“Dead.”
“Boxer?”
“Gone, along with Jason, Jim, and Sollik. Kate Pulaski went back for them during the battle and was killed too. Fortitude was destroyed. If there’s one thing that I can make you believe, then let it be this. You will never, ever forgive yourself for the suffering that you cause and it all stems from this moment!”
The most tremendous migraine surged through Ewan’s skull. Deep inside, two halves of the same consciousness were at war. The logical analysis of his actions, so far beaten down into repression by his primal savagery, was reasserting itself. It was listening to the visitor from the future, listening to itself made wise by ten additional years… Ten years were spent in affliction and in eternal anguish. It wasn’t going to let the rage win, not in a mind that used to pride itself in pacifism, regardless of all of the emotional damage that it had taken. Naketha, Agent Hawkins, Charles Cooper, Tano Jmara, the End, the Borg, and the Shemosi had all done their best to expose the raw power of fury.
“Do you remember what you told Valerie?,” the potential Llewellyn asked him.
Ewan simply shook his head, letting him continue.
“You said, ‘the day I lament the chance to commit murder is the day that I stop being Human’. You said it right to her face. Are you going to break that promise to her? Are you going to lament turning away from this madness? Listen to me! You’ve got a beautiful woman who loves you and a superior officer who considers you to be the son that he never had… and you’re just going to throw it all away to slake your anger’s lust?”
Silence hung in the air, the tension almost palpable.
The older one grew impatient.
“Well, the decision isn’t yours to make anymore,” he finally snapped at him, reaching out and punching the combadge resting on his counterpart’s chest. It was his last resort, the final base that he had covered after giving everything to this desperate attempt to save the past… and save himself. “Fortitude, this is Captain Llewellyn. One to beam up!”
Ewan couldn’t have stopped him, even if he wanted to. The transporter beam enveloped his mournful gaze in seconds.
With history altered, the future Ewan Llewellyn simply faded away from the timeline.
ACT THREE
Captain’s Personal Log, Stardate 53777.4;
The return to Fortitude and my crew has had a calming effect on my mood. While a lesser man would be tempted to place blame on the noxious content of the gas that I inhaled or perhaps even to try to plead temporary insanity, the jolt of having a future version of myself appear and deliver a sermon on a few personal home truths had forced me to accept that I was simply, inexcusably, in error. My attempts to atone for my actions, however, have been slapped down by Rear Admiral Blackmore. His advice is to forget the whole thing. It won’t be easy advice to follow, but he’s my best friend and so I’ll have to try. Besides, there are more important things to address.
“How are they, Doctor?”
The concern in Veth Ka’Gerran’s tone was formidable. Rushing to catch up with Katherine Pulaski in the crowded corridor aboard Fortitude, the exiled Santragan was desperate to know anything beyond the snippets of information that he had been able to find out since the return of the Bromley. Upon hearing about the capture of his two friends, he had become wracked with guilt. Getting the full score was his only preoccupation.
With her voice deliberately low, thanks to the multitude of civilian and Starfleet personnel bustling through the cramped interior of the Norway-class starship, Pulaski quickly brought Veth up to speed on all that she knew. It included a rather tall tale about Captain Llewellyn meeting a future version of himself. A tale that Ka’Gerran instantly had difficulty swallowing, but then many recent events had required a slight leap beyond the usual levels of comprehension, hadn’t they? Passing by a window, he noted the continued presence of the eight Santragan cruisers keeping their threatening vigil over the evacuation of Starbase 499 and the impending withdrawal of the Federation.
He snorted with deliberate insolence.
“I would have loved to have seen the look on Tret’s face when he realized that he had lost them!”
“From what I’m told,” Pulaski corrected him,” the future version of the Captain was incredibly passionate about his plan. I doubt that he would have left anything to chance, especially with the possible repercussions of an obvious prison break. I doubt that Bra’Kala is even aware of their safe return to us. I think that’s for the best.”
“Gah… a shame…”
“So what will you do with yourself now?,” Pulaski asked him.
Before he could answer, a piercing whistle cut through the crowds. It came from a nearby turbolift, the door being held open by Rear Admiral Blackmore. He beckoned the pair over to him. They had somewhere to be, after all. In passing by her superior officer, Kate was given a reminder of the excellent hearing that he still possessed in spite of his age.
“Veth’s coming home with us,” he told the Chief Medical Officer.
The former Prime Minister gushed with his appreciation. “Despite this mess, the arms of the Federation are still open, it would seem.”
“For you, my friend,” Blackmore grinned,” they’ll always be open!”
* * * *
At another turbolift door, Ensign Jason Armstrong pressed the summons button and kept himself close to the bulkhead, thankful to be away from the main flow of Starbase 499 evacuees. Several steps behind him, the mass of bodies was simply too great to ensure that he remained beside his boyfriend, James Morgan, who was trying to catch up. Technically, he should have been in civilian clothing with his inactivity as a Starfleet officer being far too long and his permanent record still listing his status as Missing in Action. However, today, the rules were bent in his favor. A brand-new uniform hugged his muscles, complete with a glistening single rank pip. Today, he was an Ensign again.
Jim turned around as a green-scaled hand landed on his shoulder.
“You’re looking well, Ensign,” Lieutenant Commander Sollik hissed at him.
“Thank you, sir,” Jim accepted with a smile.
“Are you heading up to the Bridge?”
It was a pointless question. Where else would the senior staff be heading right now?
“Jason and I are, yes,” he replied nevertheless, nodding towards his partner. “It would appear that he’s got a turbolift too if you fancy joining us?”
“Thank you,” the Suliban chief engineer said, bowing his head. “Before we proceed, though, I was wondering if I could have a moment. You see, during your absence, I faced several revelations. I don’t wish to overinflate them with such grandiose terms, but suffice to say, I owe you an apology. It’s an apology that I never thought that I would get to give.”
“Say no more, sir,” Jim waved away. “Jason told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Your genetic abilities, the letter, the apology that you gave him… everything, yes.”
Sollik’s yellow eyes met Jim’s dark stare. It was a stare filled with an understanding that went above and beyond what the chief engineer thought that he deserved. In particular, Jim had been the target of his prejudice in those first two years. There was no way that it was simply that easy to flick a switch and forgive it all, was it? He didn't know if it was or not. All that he knew was that Humans had an amazing capacity for emotional generosity and this Human, in particular, should have his thanks.
The handshake was awkward, not a Suliban custom, but it was welcomed all the same.
“Now,” Jim grinned,” to the Bridge?”
“To the Bridge…”
* * * *
“Our mission in this corner of the Galaxy has been cancelled.”
They were words that Captain Ewan Llewellyn had never wanted to say. They were words that nobody listening had ever wanted to hear. Defying the collective sentiment and resisting the small tear building in his eye, the Welshman pressed on with the final speech that he would ever give in the Santrag system.
Every single station of the Bridge of the USS Fortitude, NCC-76240-A was manned by a member of the senior staff. Along the back wall, framed by the pulsing master systems display, Rear Admiral Edward Blackmore stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Veth Ka’Gerran, Doctor Katherine Pulaski, and Station Master Erica Martinez. While the Bridge had no places for them, they were no less welcome than anybody else. There was additional compassion directed towards Erica, of course. It was her starbase being lost and being honored in this ceremony.
“I have here,” Ewan presented, holding a PADD aloft,” an emergency communique from Admiral Owen Paris at Starfleet Command. It reads that we are to comply with President Tret Bra’Kala and withdraw from the Santrag system. It is with great regret that, for this moment on, I can officially announce that Santrag II is no longer a member of the United Federation of Planets.”
The viewscreen blinked into life. It showed a small convoy of starships moving away, back towards the deeper heart of Federation territory. The USS Steamrunner, NX-52126 led the way, followed closely by the USS Katherine Johnson, NCC-1224. Both of them were fully laden, just like the Fortitude, with equipment and personnel from Starbase 499. Behind them soared a collection of non-Starfleet ships of allies, trading craft, and those who stayed to lend a hand. Together, distorting subspace in a single bright flash, they all jumped to warp. That only left Fortitude herself.
The viewscreen switched to an angle that pointed astern. Starbase 499 hung behind the two radiant nacelles. She was lifeless, empty, and a shell with nobody to protect. No light came from her windows. No energy flowed through her circuits.
With delicacy at the helm, Commander Valerie Archer turned slowly away. The new angle showed, for a brief moment, the eight Santragan cruisers that had helped tow Starbase 499 the safe distance away from their homeworld. It had been their last joint venture. Now they were flying back, their sharp noses in retreat, as though they were snubbing the last remaining Starfleet ship and the vacant space station she grieved.
“The five years spent alongside Starbase 499,” Ewan closed,” have been filled with honor and courage. The men, women, and transgendered species who have shared in our adventures, our misfortunes, and our exploration are among the bravest and the best that Starfleet has to offer. You should all, all of you, be deeply proud of yourselves. Structures can be replaced. Crew members cannot. While our ships may have been named Fortitude in order to explore strange, new worlds, they have also helped us make the most important discoveries of our lives… the discoveries within ourselves.”
The Captain moved, looking over his command chair. “Station Master Martinez,” he asked,” would you do the honors?”
Nodding weakly, the Latina woman moved over to tactical. Feeling Gabriel Brodie wrap a comforting arm around her waist, she leaned over and entered the commands that everybody was waiting for. With the aft torpedo tube loaded and target locked, she shared one final glance with the Welshman in charge of the ceremony.
He replied with an order. “Fire.”
Of course, the torpedo wasn’t enough to do the whole job. It was merely symbolic, striking the hull of Starbase 499 as a trigger. Hundreds of antimatter storage pods across the superstructure were detonated in concert, uniting in a Goliath-sized fireball that served to decimate every last tiny fragment of debris. The Bridge became awash with the blaze, but nobody dared flinch to protect their eyes. They had to watch. They had to say goodbye. They had to remember.
Only when nothing remained did Fortitude leave at maximum warp.
The crew was heading back to Earth with their heads held high.
EPILOGUE
The view from his quarters was spectacular.
They were passing by a stellar nursery. Even faster-than-light, the phenomenon was visible for a good hour so all-encompassing was its scope. Losing himself in the swirling colors and twinkling new stars, Ewan felt his old lopsided grin return. It was rebelling against his mood. The departure ceremony had been rough and the following night’s sleep was uncomfortable for many… but waking early and seeing this sight… Somehow it had brought the grin back.
He heard the padding of bare feet behind him.
Valerie Archer’s arms wrapped themselves around his heaving chest.
Feeling her warm breath on his neck broadened his smile. It always had, and he suspected that it always would. He closed his eyes to better indulge in the moment. It was one of the things that he enjoyed knowing about what was to come, the same, pleasing moments that everybody hoped and wished for. Beyond those moments, he didn’t want to know. Such knowledge would destroy anticipation, excitement, and that wonderful feeling of potential that came with each new morning. It had come this morning too, for the first time in a long time and he didn’t want to lose it.
Besides, Ewan had seen one of his futures… and it had terrified him. Now that future was gone, replaced by a blank slate that he swore never to tarnish. He owed it to Valerie, to Boxer too, but above all, he owed it to himself.
“What are you thinking about?,” she asked softly in his ear.
“Tomorrow,” he simply replied.
The End.