PNPC Commander Etan Iljor: An Order

[Michael Meir-Wright]

(( Botanical Arboretum, Deck 9, USS Octavia E. Butler ))

The truth was that Iljor did not know where his parents were presently incarcerated. The last he had heard they had been awaiting trial at the colony on Prophet’s Landing. He had specifically asked not to be contacted about their sentencing because it had been much too painful to even contemplate.

Milly: Is it nice where you grew up?

He smiled to himself, remembering happier times when his parents were his parents and not war criminals.

Etan: I grew up on a farm in Muscilla Province. :: beat :: My parents were farmers and they had a lot of land. I used to spend a lot of time in the hills around the homestead. Mostly reading books about history.

Milly: Do you miss it?

Etan: Very much so. :: he replied with a bob of his head. :: Life was very simple there.

There had been moments during his career when Iljor had wanted to return to the homestead and spend his days reading in the shade of one of the large jumja trees that had grown there. They had been fleeting wishes, however- and he knew that he could not turn away from Starfleet.

Milly: Do you get to go home very often? It must be hard being so far away.

Iljor shook his head, strangely at ease with the young girl’s questions.

Etan: I went back recently- but the chances are few are far between.

The truth was that there was nothing left for him there. No family, no home… nothing. During his last layover, he and Peri had run afoul of the Ohaluvaru- and that had been enough for him not to want to go back for a long while. Maybe one day Bajor would be his home once again, but for the time being the ‘Oumuamua was that place.

Etan: What about you? Do you get to go home to Earth much?

Milly: I'm back with my Da. ::A mischeavous smile not unlike her fathers appeared.:: He gets intae way too much bother when I'm no around tae look after him.

The Bajoran chuckled at that, more than aware of Arturo Maxwell’s propensity for sniffing out or attracting trouble. It clung to the Marine like a bad smell.

Etan: That he does. You will have to promise me that you’ll make sure you Da does not get into any trouble while I’m away. :: he said with a roguish wink. :: Truth be told, I’m very fond of him.

Milly: Response.

Iljor was about to respond when a boatswain’s whistle pierced the stillness of the Arboretum and an unfamiliar voice called his name.

Communications Officer: =/\= Bridge to Commander Etan. You have a Priority One subspace transmission from Starfleet Command. =/\=

Is there any other kind? He thought waspishly as he clambered back on to his feet. The Oumuamua’s captain tapped his comm badge.

Etan: =/\= Understood. Route it to my quarters. Etan out. =/\= :: he looked at Milly. :: I have to go. ::he said, ruefully. :: 

Milly: Response.

Etan: I enjoyed our talk. ::he grinned at her.:: You take care of your Da, that’s an order!

Milly: Response.

He bid the young girl farewell and left the Arboretum, wondering if the security briefings from Starfleet would ever end.

—

Commander Etan Iljor

Commanding Officer

USS ‘Oumuamua

as simmed by:

Commander Margaret Walker

Director of Intelligence

Gamma Flotilla Expeditionary Taskforce

USS Octavia E. Butler

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