Surprise!

Posted on Mon 13th May, 2019 @ 2:31pm by Lieutenant JG Artyom Mikhailov

1,512 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Quayside, Starbase 109
Timeline: MD 4, 14:00

It had been three years...

Three long years...

The question for Artyom Mikhailov was whether those three years were wasted? Or earned.

As the passageway opened to the Federation Starship Vestavia and its crew, two uncertain passengers waited as well. Artyom had been aboard the proven Spacedock-class back when he had just been a fresh recruit in Starfleet, and had passed through Starbase-001 on several occasions during his career. For his son, young Matthew however, a toddler of just two-years with the same blonde-hair blue-eyes of his mother, whom had only known the quiet trees and rocks and rivers, the experience of stepping onto a station populated by a quarter of a million beings was far more alien. The young child had buried himself into his father's shoulder the way he used to whenever he was scared.

"Vse v poryadke, syn."
"It's ok, son"

With the comforting tone of Artyom's reassurance, Matthew peeled his head away while his young eyes absorbed an amazing world that consisted of metal walls, automatic doorways, shops and stores, and an unfamiliar star-field that seemed to glisten against the window pane behind him. It was wonderful... and terrifying. The young boy buried his head again while he held his hands against his ears.

"To explore bold new worlds, eh?" Lieutenant Commander Daveros, a middle-aged brunette whom had accompanied both Artyom and Matthew from their exodus out of the Vestavia. For the past few days, she'd been Artyom's liason as well as his counselor into the civilized world. Matthew rarely took his eyes off of her when she was nearby, and she stuck her tongue out at him when he peeked this time hoping to reassure him.

"Konechno," muttered Artyom as the universal translator on her comm-badge translated his Russian into an acknowledgement of such sentiment. "I don't even know how I should explain this to him?" He followed up in Federation standard Terranglo a moment afterward.

Daveros smiled faintly and placed her arm on his shoulder for reassurance. "Truth be told, it makes me glad I don't have kids yet. But you both managed to survive more than three years on your own. I know that you have this." She started to look around, picking her up on her toes so she could see over the masses. Then her gaze parsed as though they were disappointed. "Someone should be here soon." She looked back to Artyom. "They'll help you get settled into a temporary apartment while you and Matthew figure out what your next step is." Then she tilted her head. "I can stay, if you'd like."

Artyom smiled but shook his head. "No, Commander... but thank you. I appreciate everything that you've done for us." Then he looked to a mass of technology and people that three years later he'd never expected to see again. "After so long on your mission, you must have many things to do. But Спасибо."

Daveros smiled. "You're welcome, Lieutenant. I will, but if nobody comes you let me know and I'll get things handled."

Artyom nodded. Daveros, the single officer whom had really took the time to reach out to him since his long exodus on that Class-L world, smiled again before disappearing into the masses. "Лейтенант," he muttered to himself quietly after she'd left before looking at his civilian drabs. "Thank you, but I work for a living. At least once upon a time." He said before looking back to the small boy in his arms. Matthew. His son.

"YA khochu, chtoby tvoya mama byla zdes', chtoby uvidet' eto."
I wish your mother was here.

The young woman waiting on the Station quay wore the golden uniform of Operations, with a first class petty officer's plaque on the right side of her chest, just above the black piping. She looked Human, though her ethnicity was ambiguous -- she had epicanthal folds on her steel-gray eyes, but her skin was almost dark enough for African ancestry, and her hair was the blazing orange color commonly known as "red." She wore an information headset with a single display disk over her left eye, and she smiled as she saw the Mikhailovs.

«Lieutenant Mikhailov? Matthew? Welcome to Starbase 109! I'm Fazluna Gray,» she said in Russian. She was perfectly fluent, though she had a Lunar accent. «I've been sent by Operations to guide you to your new quarters. Do you have any questions or concerns before we get started?»

There that rank was again, although Artyom was more pleasantly surprised by the telltale difference whenever the universal translator wasn't in use. Matthew came out of his hiding place long enough to see the woman approach before getting distracted by the sea of movement behind and around her as people went on about their lives. "Uh, thank you, Ma'am." Arytom expressed in Federation-standard, addressing her the way he would a senior officer seeing as how the last time he checked he'd been a Petty Officer. The thought had occurred to him that perhaps he had been commissioned posthumously at some point over the last three years. But for now, he wasn't sure exactly what his status in Starfleet was.

"No questions for now, although I'm sure there will be plenty later on." He replied. He considered making a joke about how he'd need help learning how to use a replicator or the turbolift again, but decided against it in case his generally stoic demeanor might have been taken literally.

"Right then, sir," she said in Terranglo, and now her accent sounded as though she'd been raised in the sound of Bow Bells. "This way, please." She turned and proceeded along the quay, speaking over her shoulder as she went. "The CMO requests that all arriving personnel use a transporter as soon as possible. And the tram system is temporarily closed for repairs following an unfortunate incident involving gravity shearing. So unless you object, we'll be heading to the transporter nexus to go down-station. You've been assigned family quarters on deck 330, among the other junior officers with dependents. Family quarters for Oh-Three and below include a kitchenette, but you're also in close proximity to a wardroom if you don't choose to dine in your quarters."

Artyom put a hand out to stop her for a moment, and realized only too late that he had done so more brusquely than he would have intended. Matthew absorbed the gesture and his father's demeanor with increased attention. "I am sorry, but I do have a couple of questions now if you do not mind," Artyom began with an offered smile to hopefully de-ice any tension from his previous action, although there was no dispelling the fact that he was confused. "As the commander of the Vestavia has informed me that my tour of service with Starfleet has been fulfilled, I am confused as to why I am now being assigned duty quarters. It is not as though I would object normally, but I do want to be sure that I haven't been returned to Aktivnaya obyazannost. Secondly, even if this were the case... I was a mere Petty Officer; not..." He paused, realizing that he was about to slip back into his native Russian before stopping himself. It also gave him time to collect his thoughts. His brain felt overwhelmed and yet was very foggy, which made it hard to process everything. At that moment, Artyom considered the possibility that he had somehow misheard. "...er... apologies... but with all due respect, the last I checked, I am no officer."

Petty Officer Gray stopped and turned toward Mikhailov. She made gestures in the air, manipulating the information visible through her eyepiece. "Ah, that's not quite accurate. According to this, you applied for a Limited Duty Officer commission before you went missing. The application was approved. And unlike enlisted personnel, officers have no set term of service. You are, therefore, currently Lieutenant Junior Grade Artyom Mikhailov, and will be until you are promoted or resign your commission." She smiled warmly. "Congratulations, sir. Now, as I look at your schedule, I see you have an appointment tomorrow with Lieutenant DeVore of the station JAG office, to help you with the details of changing your legal status from 'missing, presumed dead' to 'present and accounted for.' Don't worry; it's a thing that happens. I've heard one of the Marine fighter squadron leaders spent twenty or thirty years dead, and she came back just fine."

It was a lot to take in. Artyom barely recalled ever filling out the paperwork for a direct commission, let alone ever sending it in. And yet while there was a sense of pride in that his application had been accepted, making him a commissioned officer, he wasn't sure whether his Starfleet career would be compatible with his duties as a single father. There was a lot he'd need to think about, so he opted to table the topic for now while Gray guided him to the transporter.

 

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