Sins of the Father

Posted on 26 Jan 2024 @ 12:21am by Lieutenant JG Vren Vral & Master Chief Petty Officer Toren Vral

1,600 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Episode 19 - Tomorrow's Galileo
Location: USS Galileo-B Deck 3 - Corridor
Timeline: MD02 - 1700hrs

[ON]

It had taken more than a day for Toren to carve out time to visit the Galileo-B. His duties aboard the 'A' had been all consuming - morale was sitting on a knife's edge and it had taken all of his hard won expertise to keep the crew focussed on the task at hand. That plus his usual obligations of giving advice and getting into trouble with the captain led to a full schedule.

Finally, though, some time had opened up and he took the opportunity to slot himself into a group of engineers transporting over to the 'B' to work on deflector repairs. He wasn't 100% sure it was permitted for him to go over there just to have a look around, but given his somewhat unique position aboard the 'A', he felt justified in learning a bit more about their sister ship. He'd always preferred a hands on ethos, and in this case it would extend to a foot-on-deck approach.

The Galileo-B's corridors were abuzz with the frenetic energy typical of a ship with something to do but not much time to do it in. It was a familiar atmosphere to Toren - Starfleet lived and breathed on pulling all the strings together in a crisis. Yet… something was different. The ship felt unnervingly alien. As he navigated the hallways, his seasoned eyes missed nothing, taking in the subtle differences in technology and the determined expressions of the crew, battle-hardened and weary. It was a stark reminder that he, and his fellow officers, were a crew out of their time.

He wound his way through the corridors, taking the turbolift between decks occasionally, generally getting his bearings. He wasn't going to go into any rooms or offices - it wasn't his place, but he wanted to get a feel for the ship.

After the best part of an hour he found himself in a section which seemed less than bustling. The map indicated it was the Operations department. Made sense, he thought to himself, most of them would be working on getting the deflector shipshape.

He ambled on a few more steps when a figure caught his eye.

Standing before him was a man with the mustard collar of an operations officer, his white hair streaked with grey and his pale blue eyes reflecting a depth of harrowing experience and sorrow that was hauntingly familiar.

Toren's eyes narrowed slightly, studying the man's features. There was something about him, a sense of déjà vu that tugged at the edges of his memory. Before he could speak, the man's voice, cold and laced with an unmistakable bitterness, cut through the silence.

"You're supposed to be dead," the lieutenant said flatly, his gaze fixed on Toren intensely.

Toren's heart skipped a beat. The voice, the stance, the unyielding gaze – they were painfully familiar, yet distorted by the passage of time and the scars of war. "I... I'm sorry, do I know you?" Toren asked, his gravelly voice a mixture of confusion and a dawning realisation.

The lieutenant's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Oh, you don't recognise me?" He nodded his head in an odd manner, "Of course you wouldn't. You left, and everything fell apart," He took a step towards Toren, "I'm your son, Vren."

Toren moved his mouth but no words came forth. He'd made a conscious choice since they'd been thrown through time to not consider what had become of his family. They'd be changing it all soon enough so what did it matter. Well… evidence of how it mattered now stood before him.

"You left us," Vren continued, his voice rising, accusatory and imbued with deep pain. The words seemed to reverberate in the narrow corridor, carrying the weight of years of bottled-up emotion. "You left for your precious duty and medals, and you never came back. We needed you, but you were gone, lost to some distant star, to a duty that seemed to always matter more than your own family."

The pain in Vren's eyes was palpable, a stark contrast to the disciplined façade he maintained. "Mother was alone during the siege of Andoria," he said, his dry voice bitter and grief stricken. "I was stationed light-years away, helpless, when Andoria fell. And Lira... she was out there too. In the depths of space. We were all scattered, father, torn apart not just by distance, but by your absence. The day we heard of your death, it shattered whatever hope we had of ever being together again."

Vren's stance hardened, a deep-seated resentment bleeding into his tone. "Do you have any idea what that does to a family? To know that the one person who could have held us together was lost in some distant skirmish? I was serving Starfleet, just like you wanted," the 'you' was particularly accusatory, "but it meant I couldn't be there for mum in her final moments. Lira... we lost contact with her after her station was destroyed. I couldn't be there for her either. You weren't there, I wasn't there... Our family was left to face the darkest times alone, all because of the choices you made." He jabbed a finger at Toren.

The corridor seemed to contract around them, filled with tension. Vren's face, etched with the scars of battle and loss, contorted with emotion. "You abandoned us, father. You chose Starfleet over your own flesh and blood, and we paid the price. We all paid the price." His voice, heavy with emotion, left an unspoken accusation hanging in the air – the cost of Toren's absence, a cost that had irreversibly changed the course of their lives.

Toren's throat tightened, words failing him as he faced the embodiment of his greatest fear. Not being able to be there for them all. The years he had skipped in the blink of an eye, the pain his absence had caused – it was all there in Vren's accusing eyes.

"I... I didn't know," Toren managed to say, his gruff voice barely above a whisper. The guilt, the sorrow, it was overwhelming. He had been proud of his service, of his duty, but at what cost?

"Of course, you didn't know. You were dead to us long before you actually died," Vren spat, his anger palpable. "You and your duty. You never thought about what it would cost us, did you?"

Toren's eyes reflected the pain of a father realising the depth of his son's suffering, a suffering he had unwittingly caused. "Vren, I'm sorry, I..."

"Save it," Vren interrupted, his voice hard as tritanium. "Your apologies mean nothing. You weren't there when we needed you most. You chose Starfleet over your own family."

The accusation hung in the air between them, a chasm too vast to bridge with mere words.

Toren's heart felt heavy, laden with a grief and regret that seemed to grow with each of Vren's accusations. The pain in his son's eyes was a mirror to his own soul, reflecting a lifetime of missed moments and unhealed wounds. He took a step forward, an instinctive gesture of a father longing to bridge the gap, to offer some semblance of comfort.

"Don't," Vren said sharply, stepping back. "Don't try to make this right. You can't. You weren't there when they destroyed our home, when they killed Mom. You weren't there when Lira went missing. We were alone because of you."

Toren's expression faltered, the weight of his son's words anchoring him in place. "I didn't choose this, Vren. If I had known..."

"But you didn't!" Vren interrupted, his voice rising. "You were off playing the hero while your family was torn apart! Do you know how it felt, waiting for you to return, only to hear that you were dead?"

Toren's throat tightened, his voice a mere whisper. "I'm so sorry, Vren. If I could change any of it, I would. I would give anything to go back, to be there for you and your mother, for Lira..."

Vren's expression hardened, his eyes glistening with unshed tears of rage and sorrow. "But you can go back can't you. You can join your crew and change history and pretend it never happened." He bared his teeth, "Erase me and forget perhaps?" He spat, "Well know that in one reality you made your choice, and we lived with the consequences. Your apologies, your regrets, they change nothing. In this timeline you're a ghost, a memory, and that's all you'll ever be."

The words cut Toren deeper than any physical wound. The realisation that his absence had caused such irreparable harm to his own son, his family, was a burden heavier than any he had ever borne. He looked at Vren, seeing not just the Starfleet officer, but the boy he had once held, the child he had promised to protect.

"Vren, I...," Toren started, but the words were lost, choked by the tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him.

"Don't," Vren said again, his voice low and cold. "Just don't. You're not my father. Not anymore. You're just a reminder of what we lost. Of what I lost."

With those final words, Vren turned and walked away, leaving Toren standing alone in the corridor. The sound of his son's footsteps echoed in the empty space, each step a resounding echo of the years lost and the pain that time could never heal.

[OFF]

--

MCPO Toren Vral
Chief of the Boat
USS Galileo-A
[PNPC Vala]

LTJG Vren Vral
Operations Officer
USS Galileo-B
[PNPC Vala]

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