“The Battle-Damaged Luna”

There was a chime at the door, and it slid aside to reveal Chief Halloran, his ever-efficient executive assistant.

Church breathed a metaphorical sigh of relief and vowed to buy her a very large, very expensive box of chocolates to thank her. He turned his head towards her as if surprised to see her and raised an interrogative eyebrow.

“Chief?”

“My apologies for interrupting your meeting, Fleet Captain but I wanted to remind you that you have a 14.00 hours meeting scheduled with Rear Admiral T’Pal…” Halloran gave a slight smile to show just how apologetic she was.

“Ah, of course,” Church lied convincingly. “Thank you for reminding me, Chief.” Then to the nine people who sat around the conference table in his office: “I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to have to leave it there for today… If we need a follow up meeting, then please contact Chief Halloran and she’ll make the arrangements.”

He smiled pleasantly at each of the officers in turn as they collected up their piles of padds and trouped out of the office in single file. Halloran stepped aside to let them leave, her smile matching Church’s in its bland pleasantness. The door closed behind them.

Leaning back in his seat, Church closed his eyes for a moment and gave a long, audible exhalation. “Thank you Margaret,” he said.

“My pleasure, Sir. I decided that three hours with the Soft Furnishings Development Group was probably long enough for anyone.”

“You have no idea,” Church replied, shaking his head as he crossed to the replicator. “Andorian coffee. Double strong, extra bitter.” He turned back to face Halloran as the beverage materialised. “Two of them have just spent the last twenty-five minutes arguing over the most suitable upholstery colour for the seats in the main observation lounge on the Batch-2 Lexingtons…”

Halloran chuckled dryly. “And you didn’t think to stop them?”

Church gave her a resigned look over the rim of his coffee cup. “To be honest Margaret, I just couldn’t be bothered…”

Halloran chuckled again. “Well, at least you have the rest of the afternoon to catch up on some proper work.”

“My 14.00 hours meeting with Rear Admiral T’Pal?…”

“It doesn’t exist, Sir. I made it up as an excuse to get rid of the Pillows and Drapes People. I will however inform anyone who calls that you’re scheduled to be with the admiral for the rest of the afternoon, and I don’t expect you back before the end of the day.”

Church grinned. “Margaret, you’re a treasure.”

“I know, Sir. I know,” she agreed and left the room.

Taking his seat behind the large, curved desk, Church held his coffee cup in both hands and turned to look out of the expansive window which afforded him an impressive view of the starfield which surrounded Starbase Bravo. As he watched, a battle-damaged Luna-class starship slowly came into view heading towards the starbase’s main hangar doors, plasma sparks visible through a wide crack in her port nacelle flashed irregularly in the darkness, and the running lights which were still operational showed deep weapon scorching across her saucer section. Wherever she’d been, whatever she’d been doing, it must have been a hell of a scrap. But she’d survived to fight another day. He felt a pang of jealousy as he thought about the officer in command of the limping starship.

Maybe that was it? Maybe he was just in the wrong job. Did he need to be back on the bridge of a starship again like Julian and Keran still were? Was that it? He felt that same pang of jealousy once more as he watched the Luna continue her approach, picturing whoever her captain was, sitting in the centre seat, exhausted and battle-weary, but proud to have been able to bring their crew and their ship home safely.

And in comparison, here he was. Spending hours on end safely sitting in a plush office in a well-protected starbase, discussing inconsequential matters about starship décor. Yesterday there had been a debate about the optimum number of crew lounges required for the next batch of Typhoons. Did any of that matter? Well, probably to some. Just not to him. Here he sat, day after interminable day, discussing things that most people would never even think twice about. He was wasting his time when instead he could be… should be…

Searching for Kofi.

He reached for the framed picture on his desk – it was of himself and Kofi, taken on the day of his boy’s graduation from the Academy. Proud grins on the faces of both father and son, arms around each other’s shoulders. No idea about what was about to happen only six months later.

He should be searching for Kofi.

Church touched a control on the shiny black surface of the desktop, and a keyboard came to life, joined a moment later by the matching glow of a holographic screen which hovered above it. He began to tap at the keys, deliberately and without urgency.

To: RADM T’Pal – Director, Operational Development, Fourth Fleet

Copy: VADM Maxwell Stafford – Chief of Staff, Fourth Fleet

Subject: Resignation from Starfleet

Dear Sir,

Firstly, may I take this opportunity to thank you for your guidance and support during my time as Deputy Director, Operational Development. I have appreciated our conversations and have believe that we have been able to resolve some challenging projects together over the last three years.

However, I find myself in an unfortunate situation, whereby I believe that my undivided focus is required on another, more personal task – specifically undertaking the search for my son, Ensign Kofi Church, following his ‘displacement’ earlier this year.

Please accept this letter as confirmation of my resignation from Starfleet, effective immediately.

Once again, I thank you for all the kindness and support you have provided me.

I have the honour to be, Sir, your obedient servant

Respectfully yours,

FCAPT Thomas Church

He leaned back in his chair and read the letter through. It said everything that he wanted to say – if not completely everything about how he felt.

The damaged Luna had disappeared from view now. Somewhere inside the cavernous docking area of Starbase Bravo, a frowning dockyard engineering officer would be rubbing their chin and shaking their head at the amount of repair work required as they made a preliminary visual assessment, just as countless generations of engineers had done before them.

His desk communicator chirped. “Yes Margaret?”

“Sorry to bother you, Sir. I just wanted to make you aware that you have a message from Captain Dempsey. I thought it might cheer you up. I didn’t open it as it was marked ‘personal’.”

Church grinned at the news. A message from Julian would definitely cheer him up. “Thank you Margaret.” He closed the channel and opened his messages on the screen.

To: FCAPT Thomas Church – Starbase Bravo

From: CAPT Julian Dempsey – Commanding Officer, USS Cartagena

Subject: Our Time on Colludia

He touched the screen to open the message. Rather than a recording from his best friend, Church was greeted by the familiar image of a beautiful woman, her long blonde hair framing a flawless, sun-tanned face with its pair of dark-irised eyes. It was Cass.

“Hello Thomas,” she said with a shy smile. Church smiled back at her, even though it was a recording.

“I’m sorry if you were expecting a message from Julian – but I thought a message from a civilian mercenary contractor might have had difficulty getting through the Starfleet communication filters… I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

At this, she gave a slight laugh. Church felt his heart rate quicken.

“So… I was feeling a bit down after our vacation,” again the slight laugh. “and I decided that sending you a message would cheer me up a little. Hope you’re doing ok… and not hating being back at work too much. Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m missing you… and I suppose, I’m hoping you’re missing me a little too. If you want to meet up some time, then I’d like that. A lot.” That slight laugh again. “I’ve embedded the comm details of a land agent contact of mine – you can reach me through him. That is, if you still want to. Anyway – I’ll let you get on with your day… and I hope to hear from you soon. Byeee!”

On the screen, Cass reached forward to end the message. Then her eyes widened.

“Oh! I nearly forgot – I’ve been spreading the word about Kofi. I hope you don’t mind. But I figured that if we get enough people looking for him, then somebody’s bound to turn up a lead. And when that happens, we’ll go and get him. Together. Ok. Gotta go. Miss you. Mwaaah!” She blew a kiss to the screen and the image went black.

Still smiling, Church turned to face the broad window once more, gazing out at the infinite, silent starfield beyond. Cass was right. Of course she was. If enough people knew his name and were asking about him, then surely, they’d get a lead at some point? And then they could go and get him… and bring him home.

Maybe everything wasn’t a complete waste of time after all. He considered the battle-damaged Luna again and realised that he had a lot in common with the plucky starship. They were both battered, weary and on the ropes. But they were both where they needed to be. The Fourth Fleet engineers would take care of the Luna, repair her and get her back in operation – and he had his own support network to take care of him. Julian, Keran, Chief Halloran… and Cass.

He nodded to himself.  It would seem that all was not lost after all.

“Computer. Delete message ‘Resignation from Starfleet’”

A chirp in response. “Message deleted.”

A ping at the door chime and as usual, Chief Halloran entered the room without waiting to be told, a stack of padds in her arms.

“Everything alright, Sir?” she asked as she took in his curious expression.

He smiled warmly at her. “Yes, thank you Chief. Everything’s fine.”