LtJG Jocelyn Marshall - Messages from Home

[Jo Marshall]

(( Officer’s Quarters, Deck 13, USS Gorkon ))


L. Marshall: =/\= ...and we wanted to let you know that there’s absolutely nothing to worry about. In fact, we’re thinking of taking a vacation soon, aren’t we darling? =/\=


:: Jo heard her mother’s muffled confirmation in the background, which she instantly recognised as having a mouthful of toast. True to her prediction, the visage of her mother moved into the frame.::


R. Marshall: =/\= Oh absolutely, my love. ::still chewing:: Risa, possibly. It’s lovely this time of year. ::she looked to Luther:: And they have this umm this ritual don’t they, dearest? ::she looked back to Jo as she swallowed, though to her credit it didn’t slow her speech:: We’ve been meaning to participate for an age, you know, explorations of the body and mind, so to speak. Really connect with one another on a deep level. =/\=


:: Jo couldn’t decide if she should be perturbed by that or not; although she had worked out what they meant judging by the horga'hn sitting on the table behind them. Her mother waved her hand; the signal for a change of subject, and Jo let out a breath she’d been holding the the hope that her mother wouldn’t explain it in detail.::


R. Marshall: =/\= Nevermind that - congratulations on your promotion, my love, it’s awfully exciting. ::she beamed:: Bear was thrilled when we told him, wasn’t he, darling? ::a muffled “absolutely” from father:: George is incommunicado at the moment so that’s that, and… oh, there was something else I needed to tell you. Oh. Oh, Luther. ::she slapped her father’s arm:: What did I say I needed to tell Jossy? =/\=


:: The familiar nickname sent chills down the blonde’s spine. She jumped to correct her mother immediately, despite the lack of interaction she had with a recorded message.::


J. Marshall: Jo, mum. It’s Jo. Drop the ‘ssssss’. Make me sound like a snake.


:: Her father’s erratic mumbles just off frame were not decipherable to her ears having spent so many years away from them now, however her mother understood him perfectly. She touched her hand to her forehead and let it slip down over her mouth as she tried to remember. Good old mashed Marshall brain cells at work.::


R. Marshall: =/\= No, I'm afraid it’s gone. If I remember I’ll send you a message. ::she stopped and her nose twitched:: What’s that smell? Luther? It smells. Did you close the workshop… Oh… my stew! =/\=


:: In a flash, her mother was gone, replaced by the salt and pepper haired visage of her father, his calm countenance something she could always depend on. There was a faint plume of smoke above his head attaching itself to the ceiling and crawling along it from the direction of the kitchen. She could hear her mother shouting to open a window. Jo could only imagine what it smelled like. Ratamba. She was sure it had burned into her nasal passages as a child.::


L. Marshall: =/\= Sounds like dinner’s ready. ::her father grinned from the screen:: Keep your chin up, monkey. Remember the rules. You’re doing great. I’m proud of you. =/\=


:: Jo smiled, though her heart wasn’t in it, and squeezed the racquetball in her hands. She missed them. Her heart knew it. They were a close family, but she was the middle child. Her parents had been through the delights of having their first child succeed their footsteps in Starfleet. They were proud of her, she didn’t dispute it, and she had been independent for so long they left her to her own devices. If she needed them, they would be there in a heartbeat.::


:: The recorded message disconnected, returning her computer screen to the revolving star studded symbol. She was up in the crevice that contained her window, legs straight out with ankles crossed, terribly comfortable. Perfect for stargazing.::


:: The light from the screen had been the only light in the room, now bathed in a darkness with pinpricks of luminescent stars emanating outside. She wondered where George was and if he was doing alright; he was always so nervous, though he had little reason to be. He was the smartest of the siblings by a longshot. She thought about Bear; wondering if he’d shaved his beard yet, if he would get home with all limbs attached in their original places and not chase some dream of being part of the Intelligence service. He was in over his head.::


Marshall: Computer, play music from my collection.


:: The beep of the computer acknowledged the request and the track started with the familiar electric guitar, a male voice singing lyrics that were tattooed on her skin. She leant her head back against the frame of the window, watching the stars twitching energetically; a host of undiscovered worlds, new galaxies, determined species and who knew what else. The possibilities were endless.::


:: Perhaps out there was another universe that held a version of her in it. She briefly considered what she would do for a living, if she would look the same, if she had survived the mining collapse a decade ago or died in the resulting catastrophe, if she had gone on to professional sports instead of enlisting. All those small decisions and large events in her life could have been extremely different.::


:: While in the other universe, she had looked up herself in the Starfleet database to find that she didn’t exist. How could she? The Dominion had won the war, Bajor didn’t need to help keep the peace, Starfleet were disbanded. Her alternate father and mother had both perished on their respective ships, split apart by the ravages of war. A sad existence. A lonely one.::


:: The dark room reminded her of the brownouts in Engineering back in that other universe; sat talking in a blackened Engineering occupying the deserted upper decks and sharing a mug of something that could have been coffee with fellow engineers, a very faint light coming from the dying warp core. She thought about Erin, about her smile, in dusklight among redwoods, replayed a memory of watching her rip apart a biobed in Sickbay as they tossed tools back and forth, listening to her explain the refined mechanics of anything while work kept them busy.::


:: She recalled how the Engineer handled the turns in San Francisco, leaning into the bike as it maneuvered, firing it up the highways beside the ocean. Her eyes drifted to the bike sat proudly in the corner of her rooms; cleaner than it had ever been, as per the Transporter Chief’s request; her black helmet sat on the seat.::


:: The memory elicited a slight smile from the Operations Officer, of a friend she did miss. She leaned her hand down to the floor, picking up her mug of warm coffee, most assuredly coffee, and was content to stay like that for a while, watching the stars flicker distantly from their starship orbiting Palanon, quite happy with her existence in this cosmos.::




TBC


Lieutenant (JG) Jocelyn Marshall
Operations Officer
USS Gorkon
G239304JM0