Family
Posted on May 26, 2014 @ 9:36pm by Commander Jacob Crichton
Edited on on Jun 05, 2014 @ 8:50am
Mission:
All Our Yesterdays
Location: USS DISCOVERY
= Family =
(cont'd from "You Asked For It")
LOCATION: USS DISCOVERY
SCENE: CEO’s Quarters
STARDATE: [2.14] 0519.1755
TIME INDEX: Before “Good Spirits”
Upon returning from UFP-855, Jake hadn’t returned to his quarters for several hours. First, he’d gone to Sickbay to check on Cindy Rochemonte, and was pleased to hear that aside from a few cuts and bruises, the young Lieutenant would be fine. Next, Jake had returned to Engineering, where he’d relieved the acting-CEO and proceeded to work a full shift.
When he’d finally gotten home, Jake was so tired that he almost missed the blinking indicator on his desk terminal. He went over, sat in his chair, and activated the screen. There were two messages waiting for him, both from Italy, on EARTH. Jake smiled; he hadn’t gotten the chance to give Xana or the kids a proper goodbye before being shuffled along to the DISCOVERY, and Jake had missed them all a great deal in the days since he’d come aboard.
The first message was from Dahlia.
{{Hi Jake,}} the girl said, waving at him through the screen. {{It’s Dahlia. From EARTH. I hope you’re doing good out there. Mom said that she wasn’t allowed to talk about where you were sent, but that you should hopefully be coming back soon. When you do, I want to come live with you.}}
Jake sat forward in his chair, his mouth open. He wondered if Xana knew that Dahlia had sent this.
{{Ben would come too,}} Dahlia added. {{I talked to him about it, and he wants to come.}}
Dahlia looked around, checking for eavesdroppers, then leaned in and whispered conspiratorially: {{I said you’d give him ice cream every night to help make up his mind.}}
Jake laughed.
{{I know you’ll probably say that it’s dangerous, or that I should talk to my mom,}} Dahlia said. {{But I already did talk to her. And if it’s so dangerous, how come you get to go and we have to stay? If you want to live on a starship, Jake, then I think it’s only fair that we should get to, too. And besides, lots of kids live on starships anyway.}}
The kid had a point. Hadn’t Jake even offered that argument to Xana when they’d last met? The war was over, nobody was shooting anybody else. Starship travel always had an element of risk, but it had always been safe enough for Jake. So why not his children, too?
{{So, think about it,}} Dahlia said. {{I think it will be good for Benito to get to know you. And good for you, too. So, message me back, okay? Bye, Jake. Fly safe.}}
The image of Dahlia winked out, and the next message began to play. An image of his wife, Xana, appeared next. She was seated in her bedroom.
**It used to be *our* bedroom,** Jake thought, and wondered when that had changed.
The recorded message began to play:
{{Hey, Jake,}} said Xana. {{I hope this finds you well.}}
She was smiling, but Jake knew her well enough to see that she was nervous. He couldn’t blame her. Their initial separation had been very hard on their marriage, and before those wounds had healed, Jake had been shipped out all over again.
{{I miss you. I do. I hope… well…}}
Xana’s eyes dropped, and she seemed to be deciding what to say next. Jake thought he might have seen a flicker of uncertainty in her expression.
{{I wanted to explain Dahlia’s communication to you,}} Xana began again. {{She’s chafing a bit, I guess it’s natural. But it even got Benito thinking about seeing you again. So I was wondering how you’d feel if at some point the kids and I meet up with you and… well... you take the kids.}}
{{Clearly they need you,}} Xana continued. {{I do too, but I can’t spend all my time on one ship. So maybe we- you and I- could spend a little time together. But they can, and you all need each other.}}
Jake was stunned. He never thought Xana would agree to it. The dangers of a life in space were one of the primary points of friction in their relationship. But this decision to let them go with Jake said a lot; Xana was willing to meet Jake halfway. More than that, Xana was trusting that Jake would be able to keep their children safe.
It meant a lot. Jake’s heart swelled with uncomplicated feelings of love for his wife. And all at once, he wished he wasn’t on the DISCOVERY. He wished he was home, with blue sky over his head and green grass beneath his feet. He wished he was with his family instead of out, among the stars.
{{I know your ship is too far out for a rendezvous right now,}} Xana said. {{But let me know how you feel about it, and maybe we’ll work something out. It will be good to see your face and hear your voice. I love you, Jake. Be safe.}}
The screen went black. Jake sat back in his chair, smiling sadly to himself. Green grass and blue skies might be out of his reach for now, but Jake could have something better. He could have his children. And it would be good to see Xana, even if only for short time. He sat forward again, activated his terminal, and recorded his own message:
“Hi, Xana. I got your messages, yours and Dahlia’s. I’d love to have the kids come stay with me. As soon as we’re back from the Beta quadrant, we can find a place to meet up. I hope you’ll have time to stay awhile too.”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously. He could appreciate now why Xana looked so nervous in her own message. If she were here, in front of him, it would have come easier. But sending messages across lightyears was different.
“Listen, Xana… I appreciate that you’re agreeing to send them to stay with me. It must be hard for you, and it means a lot that you’re willing to do it. So, thank you. I promise, I will make it up to you. I miss you, too. And the kids. I miss all of you a lot. I’ll send a message to Dahlia too, to let her know that we’ve agreed. I’ll do my best to give her an accurate account of starship life so she isn’t too culture-shocked when she gets here. She told me about the ice-cream every night for Ben, so I guess I’d better reprogram the replicators for soft-serve. I’ll see you all soon, I hope. I love you, Xana.”
Jake closed the message and sent it. He then started to look around his quarters. His bed wasn’t made, he had some laundry tossed carelessly across the couch, and a half-assembled tricorder spread out across his coffee table. Plates from his last meal, before he’d gone to UFP-855, still sat on the table where he’d left them, still speckled lightly with the residue of replicated food.
“Guess I should start child-proofing this place,” he said.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
LOCATION: USS DISCOVERY
SCENE: Bridge
TIME INDEX: After “Good Spirits”, before “Friends In Low Places”
The data they’d retrieved from UFP-855’s computer was mostly corrupted, but Jake and Lt. Byte had spent the better part of a day trying to assemble what they had into something sensible enough to actually review. It was a complicated process, equivalent to assembling a million piece puzzle in the middle of a hurricane, and would have taken Jake at least a week to complete if he was working on his own.
But with the assistance of the Maddox-type android lieutenant, the work was going along at an astounding rate. Byte was an obvious asset to the crew, and at several points during the process, Jake had gotten the distinct sense that the android was patronizing him.
“We could put together a trace program that could scan the data for repeated code fragments,” Jake suggested. “We could sort everything we have by system, and find out what portions of the data go where. That’ll make it easier to start piecing them back together.”
{{A most excellent idea, commander,}} Byte said. {{I will run the trace at once.}}
“Well, we have to define the search parameters first,” Jake said, but Byte was already moving, his mechanical fingers dancing across the console with expert precision. “And you had that idea five minutes before I did, didn’t you?”
{{4 minutes, 39 seconds, commander,}} Byte said. {{It was a most excellent idea, nonetheless.}}
“So why didn’t you run it past me?” asked Jake.
{{It has been my experience that many organic life-forms, especially humans, tend to reason out their problems in stages,}} Byte said, not taking his eyes off of his workstation. {{My own internal processors are capable of running millions of scenarios simultaneously, allowing me to arrive at the best course of action according to my programming in a matter of microseconds. That you arrived at the same conclusion is a testament to your abilities as an engineer, Commander. I am simply designed to get there faster, and I did not wish to deprive you of your own logical process.}}
“You wanted me to get there on my own,” Jake translated.
{{Correct, sir. Was this in error?}}
“Well, since you went ahead and did what I was about to order you to do, I guess there’s no harm done,” Jake said. “I assume in an emergency, you won’t be so tight-lipped with your ideas?”
{{Affirmative,}} Byte said. {{My primary concern is, of course, the preservation of the ship and its crew.}}
“That’s good,” Jake said. “So here’s what I don’t get: why have biological crew at all? Why not just have a ship full of Bytes, getting things done five minutes ahead of the rest of us?”
{{There are only 3 Maddox-type androids in existence at this time, Commander. That would be insufficient to run a starship of this size at optimum efficiency.}}
“Hypothetically,” Jake said. “I mean, why are there only three of you guys? Why haven’t they gone to mass-production?”
Byte seemed to consider this questions for a moment. The android turned to look at Jake with his synthetic blue eyes.
{{Commander, you underwent a series of evaluations to achieve your current rank, is that correct?}}
“Yeah,” Jake nodded. His time in ACT had him fast-tracked to command positions, but each increase in rank had also carried with it aptitude tests, psychological evaluations, and a whole mess of paperwork that Jake could have done without. “Did you?”
{{Affirmative,}} Byte said. {{My rank of lieutenant is not honorary. I began my service as an Ensign and distinguished myself early with an excellent service record, working my way up the chain of command to the rank I currently enjoy.}}
“Sounds pretty normal,” Jake said. He wasn’t sure where Byte was going with this.
{{Aptitude tests pose no challenge whatsoever to a being such as myself,}} Byte said. {{My ability to store and recall data at speed is on a par with the ship’s computer, and my memory is more than sufficient to include an encyclopedic knowledge of Starfleet regulations and technical specifications. Further, psychological evaluations of me are of limited value, as I do not experience the world in any emotional context and am therefore immune to stress, prejudice, fear, uncertainty-}}
“I get it, you’re a rock,” Jake interrupted. “What’s your point?”
{{Objectively, I have all the qualifications and skills necessary to occupy a command position,}} Byte said. {{But there are intangible aspects of leadership, subjective qualities, that I have been determined to lack.}}
“The ability to schmooze with the top brass?” Jake offered.
{{Moral choice,}} Byte said, returning his gaze to the workstation. Jake’s eyes widened a little.
“You wanna run that by me again?”
{{Do not misunderstand,}} Byte said. {{Of course, moral considerations figure heavily into my programming. I have an imperative to protect life, including my own existence, and I possess the contextual awareness necessary to make moral judgments. However, while I have the ability to account for subjective considerations, my moral programming is ultimately inflexible.}}
“So either you can’t rationalize moral decisions at all, or your ability to rationalize them borders on the scary,” Jake said.
{{Aptly put, Commander,}} Byte said. {{One of my officer evaluations posed a hypothetical situation to me. I had received two distress signals. One was from a colony ship of 250 human settlers, including men, women, and children. The other was a quarantine ship of patients suffering from Atraxian flu, a currently incurable affliction that is highly contagious and dramatically shortens the lifespan of those infected. This ship had 4000 patients and staff aboard. Both ships were in peril, and I could only save one.}}
“I’m familiar with the question,” Jake said. “Don’t feel bad if it stumped you. They don’t care so much *what* your answer is, they just want to know how you got there. There’s not supposed to be a right answer.”
{{I arrived at my solution in 0.6 seconds,}} Byte continued. {{The median life-expectancy of the flu patients, multiplied by their number, compared to the median life-expectancy times crew of the colony ship. Mathematically, the only sensible course was to rescue the quarantine ship.}}
Jake stared at Byte, not quite sure what to think. Jake had saved the colony ship when faced with the same question, though his calculations had involved less math and more hand-wringing.
{{I do not often struggle with choosing the correct course of action, Commander,}} Byte said. {{As a commanding officer, I may be called upon to take life, or to sacrifice it, in service to a greater good. But perhaps my ability to always make a quick decision does not necessarily equal an ability to always make the right one.}}
Byte turned again to look at Jake with his synthetic blue eyes.
{{Does that answer your question, Commander?}}
“Yeah,” Jake said, nodding slowly. “I suppose it does.”
======================================================
NRPG: Thanks to Jerome for his input on Lt. Byte!
Shawn Putnam
a.k.a.
Jake Crichton, Commander
Chief Engineering Officer
USS DISCOVERY
