The Prodigal Son

Posted on Tue Oct 29th, 2013 @ 9:29pm by Captain Liarra Von & Commander Jordan Gunning

Mission: Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Commanding Officer's Office [Ops - Deck 12]

[ON]

The eyes of the entire Operations centre were locked on Jordan as he crossed the room. The moment he had stepped out of the turbolift the usual hum of activity had descended into silence as they watched him with a potent mixture of nostalgia and intrigue.

Jordan bore little resemblance to his deceased half-brother but the rumour mill on Starfleet installations was efficient and word had spread quickly of the family connection which brought him from 'way out West' all the way down to Galactic South. He had heard the rumour first hand from an over-zealous Lieutenant Commander in the docking station. He was the Sheriff, come down from on high to exact revenge on every unfortunate soul he came across. The Lieutenant Commander had heard that he once threw a man from a balcony for daring to speak ill of his date.

Jordan couldn't remember the last time he had been on a date, let alone thrown anyone over anything. He hadn't found his way to Starbase 332 to single-handedly pillage every Sojourner outpost within twenty lightyears but had come for something more important. Closure.

The hum of activity began in earnest as the Commander reached the door which stood emblazoned with the words, Captain Liarra Von - Commanding Officer. The plaque was fresh and he knew that somewhere, in some storage locker or other, one bore the name of his brother. The chime sounded as he absent-mindedly pressed for attention.

Liarra was sitting at the desk. Even though the sign outside had been changed a couple of weeks before, she had been taking her time moving in. It didn't really feel like her office. As it stood now, it was still half decorated with Alex's belongings, with a handful of her things transferred from her old office. Other things still remained in boxes. Truth was, she wasn't in much of a hurry to move in.

She picked up a random item off the desk. It was some trinket that belonged to her old mentor, a sculpture of some sort. She studied it for a moment when the chime sounded. "Come in," she said to the air, not looking up to see who was entering.

"I wouldn't hold it that way, Captain," her guest stated flatly as he stepped through the door, "it's a Ceorun fertility symbol and I think that you're showing a level of availability that you might not be entirely comfortable with."

He had seen it plenty of times before; Alex always kept some innuendo-laden piece of art lying around to give him a cheap chuckle to himself. In some ways, his brother had been the worst.

Liarra quickly set the statue back down on the desk. "No wonder he'd never tell me where he got it."

"Commander Jordan Gunning. Reporting for duty." He proclaimed, snapping to a less than regulation attention in front of his new Commanding Officer. This would be as hard for her as it was for him, there was no point in making it any worse.

"I wish I could have greeted you under different circumstances, Commander, but welcome just the same." Von gestured to a chair in front of her. "Please, have a seat. Forgive the clutter. I'm still going through your brother's things."

"Yeah, I'd be careful if you're going through any of it in front of the crew." It was strange to see someone handling his brother's things but Jordan lacked the sentimentality that would have seen many people clutching old pieces to their chests and sobbing. "He's probably left booby traps or something. I once picked up one of his models and got covered in squid ink."

Liarra chuckled and let her eyes drift to the desk top. "He always did love his little jokes. Did you know that I served with Alex on my first assignment. He was my superior, my mentor. Even with six lifetimes of experience, I doubt that I would be the woman I am without his support and leadership. It's just an odd feeling, knowing that he's gone."

"I barely saw him." Jordan said abruptly. "I keep expecting a subspace message from him or to hear about some swashbuckling exploit or other on the FNN Newswire. I can only imagine what it's like for the people who saw him every day to come to terms with something like that."

The station's new CO stayed silent a moment before shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "I'm sure neither of us want to sit here and dwell on the past. Alex was a good man, but sulking isn't going to bring him back. It won't bring any of them back."

"That's true." Jordan replied wistfully. "Just as much as it serves no-one to forget those we've lost and the sacrifices that we've made. That's why I'm considering petitioning Starfleet for a hundred foot high gold statue of my brother."

"I don't know if he'd want something that extravagant. I'm sure a seventy-five foot statue would suffice. Speaking of that, I have something for you." Liarra opened her desk and pulled out a small black block and handed it to Jordan. "I suppose that you should have this since you're next of kin. Starfleet awarded it posthumously."

"Ha!" Jordan blurted out as he opened the box, revealing the Starfleet Order of Valor. "The one thing my brother would have hated more than a statue is a little piece of tin to pin to his chest. I might have it framed."

"You know how Starfleet gets. Sometimes the brass think that little piece of tin makes everything alright, that it makes us feel better about what happened. I guess they haven't been in the trenches in a while."

"I doubt you'll find any of them swinging by to get their hands dirty, that's for sure." Gunning chuckled to himself at the thought of Admiral Alesi, Region Chief of Starfleet Tactical, rolling up his sleeves and repairing a conduit. "Still, someone's got to make the decisions that benefit no-one but the Galactic Core."

Liarra turned her chair to look out the office windows. "I've learned in my time here so far that we're out on the frontier. For the most part, we're on our own. Starfleet couldn't even spare more than a few ships for us to go to Thane. And the political side of Starfleet refuses to see this as a war. To them, they think what happened a month ago was an isolated incident. They want us to be vigilant, and to run drills, but they won't give us the resources we really need to end this thing. If it was up to me, we'd just march right back to Thane and make it clear that we won't stand for terrorism, but Starfleet has adopted a wait-and-see and contain-if-necessary attitude. Starbase 332 was supposed to be the Threshold to the South, but I'm starting to feel like we're reverting to the backwater outpost this was when Alex took over."

"The minute a bomb goes off, Starfleet always run away with their tail between their legs." Jordan mused. "Too much retaliatory force and you're accused of acting like Klingons, too little and you get the Ferengi comparison. Both of them seem to be regarded as insults these days. It doesn't surprise me that they're reacting to Three Three Two this way, either. They went out on a limb to send you all down here and at the minute, it looks like a gamble that hasn't paid off. We just have to prove them wrong."

"Let's hope we do, Commander. Let's hope."

[OFF]

Captain Liarra Von
Commanding Officer
Starbase 332

Commander Jordan Gunning
Chief of Strategic Operations
Starbase 332