Or

One of these stories is true.

You give away your astrometrics officer at her wedding. She dies in the arms of her husband and your first officer days before their second anniversary. You watch the sharply ordered intellect of your tactical officer and oldest friend decay into a quagmire of nonsense. You give twenty-two eulogies and arrive home twenty-three years late. Anxious to ensure that you never have the chance to lose another starship, Starfleet promotes you to admiral. Having bested the Borg for two decades, you are considered an expert and guest lecture at the Academy. You sleep with your former first officer and make love to the ghost of his wife. When he dies you begin to drink tea.

You arrive home seven years late. You watch fireworks explode over the bay as you soar past the Golden Gate Bridge. Your helmsman and chief engineer present a granddaughter to your mentor. Your tactical officer returns to his family and a cure. Anxious to ensure that you never have the chance to lose another starship, Starfleet promotes you to admiral. Having bested the Borg for five years, you are invited to guest lecture at the Academy. You are standing in your empty apartment, replicating all the furniture your family didn't keep, when your astrometrics officer knocks on your door. Without preamble, she announces that she has ended her involvement with your first officer, replicates you a carafe of coffee, and begins to construct a regeneration alcove in your bedroom. You stare into your mug, sit down on your floor, and realize that your life has changed.