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Part of USS Denver: Mission 4: Can’t Come Home Again Part: 3 and USS Denver: Mission 4: Can’t Come Home Again

When is a Home No Longer Home?

New Berlin, Luna. Sol 3 Orbit, Sector 001
Last Day of of June, 2374
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Ming was home….Whatever home was these days.  Ming’s parents were up there in age however both remained active.  His mother was teaching at Starfleet academy now teaching the next batches of officers to serve both on the front lines and behind the lines in supportive roles.  Both needed the basics in her given field.  His father had retired from his role in Taiwan splitting his time now between continuing his coursework in Flagstaff along side military history at Starfleet Academy since the war broke out. 


Taking a huge breath and slowly releasing it he moved along the main drag of New Berlin, Luna.  It was a nice day he thought although it didn’t really compare to Earth, Pacifica or most other non-domed worlds.  Although the weather rarely changed all that much (although it was simulated for day vs night, summer vs winter) he had grown up here and was a fair judge of such things.  After walking a few more moments he went into The Moonpie Wave Café and Grill.  He stopped and looked around once inside.  He exchanged pleasantries with the Orion greeter as he continued to look around.  His eyes locked onto a human slightly taller than him, solidly built and with red hair, pale skin as well as amber eyes. The other man looked up just at that moment and big smiles crossed both faces as that happened.


After a few long steps by both the two embraced with exclimations of joy.  The two then found their way to a table toward a back corner in the modestly busy eatery.  The pilot started the conversation, “Nice place, Joel.  Figured you’d eventually have your own place.  I’m proud of you ya moon rat.”


The other man laughed and said, “Thanks.  You know me….Love to cook and I figure if I got to work for some jackass it might as well be me.  I’m glad to see you old friend but what brings you back to Sol sector?”


Ming took a bit of a breath and said, “Transfer.  Seems I impressed someone and they decided to give me a flight.  My wing commander on Tucson was doing a fine job herself so they’re moving me to the Denver.  Thinking they’re desperate.”


The restauranteur wasn’t lost on the fact Ming’s hand had brushed the two solid pips of a lieutenant on his collar. That same collar recently had the full pip and hollow pip of a J.G. He said, “Congratulations Marcus! …. And it is good to see you.  I worry about you with the war being on.”


The fighter pilot smiled a with a certain thoughtfulness, “I won’t lie…..There’ve been some bad tangles.  My fighter has been singed more than once but the Dominion doesn’t realize how hard to kill I am.”Chef Joel McCabe shook his head, “I am glad.  I’d be lost without my best friend after all.”


The two men continued the conversation for a good couple of hours.  They ate, drank (non-alcoholic / syntheholic beverages) and talked.  Toward the end of this timeframe the conversation was winding down and the dinner rush was not far from winding up.  Ming smiled and said, “I should be going.  I’ve should try to see the folks before I head to my next assignment.  Not much turnaround at this point but I might be able to stick around for a day or so….I’ll try to swing by before I report in to the Denver.”  


McCabe nodded sadly and the two made with bittersweet farewells.  Ming hated the idea of having to leave so soon but he needed to at least try to see his family and he did want to make sure he got to Denver in pleanty of time to get acquanted with her, her command crew and his new wing.  He looked forward to this damned war being over.  He aimed to take a long leave to catch up with everyone he was missing out with.   A little less than one full day was way too little time with all that was going on.