LtCmdr Connor Dewitt - See You Soon (Part II)

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Tim

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Dec 12, 2025, 7:16:56 AM12/12/25

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((Alpha Trionus II Prison, Corridor Between Junctions))

He froze for half a second. Bernard Foster? His grandfather. Connor hadn’t heard from him in... some time. And a priority one message? That wasn't casual. That wasn't anything. Bernard was not on active duty in Starfleet anymore, but he still had the authority to access certain communication channels. A priority one message, however, was not something to joke around with.

C. Dewitt: =/\= Wren, we’re mid-mission. Are you sure this can’t wait? =/\=

Wren: =/\= Sir, it’s flagged with command-level clearance. I’ve double-checked. It’s genuine. =/\=

He exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking to Stros and Zerva still bent over the wiring. Something in Wren’s voice told him this wasn’t a mistake.

C. Dewitt: =/\= Understood. Route it to my tricorder. Commander Stros, you have the lead. I’ll be back in a moment. =/\=

He stepped out into the adjoining corridor, enough to get privacy but not so far as to leave them vulnerable. His nose thanked him. Pulling up the message on his tricorder, he expected to see some harmless family update, some oddity his grandfather insisted needed high priority.

Instead, the words hit like a fist to the chest:

Connor. Your father passed away last night. Shuttle accident. You need to come home. – Bernard

The text was brief. Clinical. The kind of message you wrote when you knew no arrangement of words would make it better. His throat tightened instantly, and the tricorder dropped slightly in his hand. The air in the corridor thinned as the rest of the world seemed to tilt sideways. His father. Gone.

Just like that. With a short message.

He stood in silence for a few seconds, numb, uncomprehending. Then, slowly, his breath returned, and with it, the rising certainty of what he had to do. He tapped his badge again.

C. Dewitt: =/\= Dewitt to Captain Shayne. Sir… I need a moment. Could you find somewhere private? =/\=

Shayne: =/\= Response =/\=

Connor swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady.

C. Dewitt: =/\= It’s my father. He… he died last night in a shuttle accident. I need to return to Earth. Now. Requesting to be relieved, Randal. =/\ =

Shayne: =/\= Response =/\=

C. Dewitt: =/\= I really need to go. =/\ =

Shayne: =/\= Response =/\=

Connor nodded once, sharply, as the Captain’s voice ended. The channel closed with a soft chirp, far too quiet for the weight it now carried. He cleared his throat, trying to push the tightness out of it. One step. Then another. He walked back into the waste-reeking chamber and stopped just inside.

His eyes found Zerva and Stros immediately. The words he needed felt brittle in his mouth, too fragile for a place like this.

C. Dewitt: ::evenly, but low:: You’ll have to pursue the… whatever that was, without me. I’ve been recalled to the Khitomer. Personal matter.

He forced himself to keep his posture level, voice even. Just procedure.

C. Dewitt: Keep sweeping the junctions. Update the bridge the moment you have something actionable. We can’t afford surprises.

He gave them a nod and turned to leave without waiting for further questions. He couldn’t afford to stay another second. Not with the storm breaking inside him.

((USS Khitomer – Connor’s and Ayemet’s Quarters))

The hum of the environmental systems was the only sound in the room. It should’ve been comforting. It felt deafening. Connor stood by the small travel case on the bed, hands moving on autopilot. Uniforms. Toiletries. A pair of civilian clothes he barely wore. It all went in with practiced efficiency, like muscle memory taking over so his mind wouldn’t have to.

He paused at the desk.

A PADD sat there, screen dark. His fingers hovered over it, then tapped it awake. The blinking cursor of a message draft greeted him.

Ayemet, I’m sorry to leave this way. It was sudden. I don’t know when I’ll be back—soon, I hope. It’s my father. He’s gone. There wasn’t time to talk it through properly. I didn’t want to just disappear without a word.

His fingers stopped. Would it have been better to bring her? He swallowed hard, jaw tightening. She would have come. Of course she would. But he did not want her to see him like this, untethered, grieving, a son suddenly made fatherless. And more than that… there simply wasn’t time. He added the last lines.

I’ll call as soon as I can. Please tell the captain thank you, if I don’t get the chance. Love you.

He pressed send, then slid the PADD next to her plant by the viewport.

His duffel zipped shut with a finality that made his stomach sink. He gave the room one last glance. Then he turned and walked out, the door hissing closed behind him.

TAG/End for Connor

((OOC: This is me leaving for a short LOA. I’ll be back in 4-6 weeks after work is less of a gigantic chaos. I’m already looking forward to my return. All the best to you guys. Please keep the timeline intact.))