Capt. Shayne: Chronological Checkpoint
Randal Shayne
((Deck 4, Captain’s Quarters, USS Khitomer))
They were still an hour away. Too imminent to stick himself into work, too distant to simply wait on the bridge. But there was nothing so toxic to his well-being than sitting in the ready room and… rotting. He had to do something. Something that kept him engaged, and active, and not mulling. He mulled enough to be a mead already. In the end, he’d stood, and he’d walked.
His course was irregular, his gait purposeful but slow. Everywhere he looked, the feeling of impending loss broiled; in the bulkheads, the doors, the people. It wasn’t so much the loss of the thing that bothered him; it was the loss of control, the usurpation of five hundred lives lived and scarred, only for it to be spoiled for them in every sense of the word. They would arrest their own fate. They would change what was to come.
He was too stubborn to accept an alternative.
Time wrought a contract, and one way or another, it was about to collect. Whatever their arrival at Alpha Trionus II heralded, this last hour was his. So when he found himself standing in front of his quarters, he’d sniffed a little chuckle.
The room was unchanged from what it had been with Ash’s departure months ago. Everything was clean and well maintained; well, the bed, the bathroom, and the like. Anything else had started to acquire a thin but noticeable film of dust. Such was the captain’s bargain. Beautiful quarters, and almost no time to enjoy them.
But for this, he would make the time.
He sat down, peered over his desktop screen, tried not to notice the sucking, vacuous absence of his red-headed bride to be. Nearby, Anubis, the ever-dignified black Maine Coon, mrowled and stretched luxuriously. Shayne and Anubis had come to a mutually neutral relationship status, which was progress. The captain nodded at the cat. The cat slowly blinked back.
Having established the customary codes of respect, Shayne turned back to the screen. How did he begin?
Shayne: Computer, new message, Commander Ash MacKenna. Mark personal.
Computer: =/\= Ready. =/\=
The pause lasted minutes, but finally he broke the silence.
Shayne: Hi.
Lame.
Shayne: I miss you. But for the first time since you left, part of me is glad you’re not on the Khitomer right now.
He had to follow it up quickly to sooth the sting that would travel light years.
Shayne: Things are… they’re wrong right now, Ash. I’ve never felt the crew like I’m feeling them now. They’re so angry, and afraid, and I’m too busy counting my own blessings to know what to say to them. The future… didn’t turn out the way any of us expected.
He leaned forward, laced his fingers together, already having spoken more words to her about a single idea than he was used to. Usually it all flowed together so well; she was the one bastion he could count on and trust the universe itself to accommodate.
Shayne: I just… I wanted to talk with you. I’ve seen what the future can look like, if we aren’t very, very lucky. I’m not even sure if either of us is alive that far down the road. I know, I know- focus on the now. The now is all we have. Well, for what it’s worth, my now is best spent with you.
It felt like the more he said, the more he needed to say. If he didn’t stop now, it would come as one long, dribbling onslaught. Where was the romance in that?
Shayne: I… I’m thinking of you. I love you. We’ll talk soon. We will.
He closed the message after a minute, watched it package itself in the next subspace communication burst that was sent out.
Anubis leapt up into his lap and just… stared. Shayne stared back.
They stayed like this for nearly twenty minutes.
Eventually, Anubis wandered off to a more comfortable perch, and Shayne stood, straightened his jacket, and left for the bridge.
It was time to face destiny.
TBC…
Captain Randal Shayne
Commanding Officer
USS Khitomer
NCC 62400
G239202RS0