Stepping Back In Time

Posted on Tue Jul 29th, 2025 @ 8:17pm by Captain Tristan Faust & Lieutenant Commander Marc Kitchner M.D.

1,233 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Mission 6: Echoes of the Interphase
Location: Earth: San Francisco
Timeline: M6 MD01 (2268.10.02) 1600

The Starfleet staff car flew down the highway from the Starfleet transfer station at the San Diego Airport towards the Roseville - Fleet Ridge neighborhood. Captain Faust was dressed in his standard gold command uniform, anything else would yield comments. He looked out the back window of the car. Off in the distance stood the steel grey hull of the U.S.S. Midway, the namesake of his ship, the original Midway.

“It's like she's welcoming us home,” Tristan commented with a misty-eyed smile.

Marc looked over. "I was just thinking the same thing."

The Captain looked back forward as the advancing visage of mid century modern ranch houses. This zip code has the highest number of retired and active duty Starfleet officers on Earth, a tradition going back to the 20th century. "Back home again, like stepping back in time," Tristan commented, "This neighborhood is like a wax museum with a pulse..."

Marc took to laughing hard. When he could stop long enough to breath. "You are definitely your father's kid. When your dad and I were in residency, we had a class that met up at the Mutter Museum in Philly. Creepy is being polite describing that place. Your dad pretty much said the same thing." For the next few miles every time Mark looked at his nephew he began chuckling all over again.

The staff car pulled up along the curb in front of a nondescript ranch which matched the quant 1950's neighborhood. Each house was meticulously maintained. Tristan stepped out of the car and gazed at the house. It had only been five months, but it may have been five years. He thought of all the close shaves and near deaths the Midway had survived during its first few months of service.

The front door opened and Tristan's Mom Anna stepped out. She was overjoyed as she rushed over across the yard. She was glad he was back, even if it was only brief.

Marc climbed out of the car and walked to the porch. "Anna ... come here." He gave her a crushing hug. "It's good to see you in the flesh." Marc gave his old friend a peck on the cheek.

"Eh the flesh is getting more grizzled every year," Anna responded with a chuckle, "Like I ask George every day, when are you going to retire? Of course I could ask you the same thing." Despite her years Anna was still the striking and compassionate woman she always had been. Strong and resilient, the perfect partner to a Starfleet officer.

Marc tried to hide a grin. "Don't tell the kid I said this, but I feel more alive the past six months then I have in the past decade." Anna led him to a rocking chair and sat in the one next to it. "He's got a good crew Ann."

Tristan stepped on the porch a minute later, catching the end of what his uncle said. "I lucked out," He sat down on the couch. It was a pale yellow, modern shaped but was rather low to the ground. Tristan's knees practically came up to his chin. The couch's color complimented the sage green of the wall and the walnut furniture throughout the living room. He looked around, visiting relatives, even his parents was always the same.

"Ann where is that ole warhorse of a husband of yours?" Marc said leaning back in the chair. He chuckled.

"He should be along," Anna responded, "He knew what time you were getting here... Probably some paperwork mess... The man refuses to give it up... Can I get you anything?" She slowly stood.

"Anything colds welcomed." Marc said looking along neighborhood, feeling at peace with the galaxy as Anna walked back into the house. Thinking out loud and unintentionally. "I'm a bloody idiot. I'm sorry I couldn't give you this Jenn." Tristan cleared his throat. "What did you say Tris...." The cough bringing him back from his dreams.

"Furball..." Tristan said clearing his throat again. He looked around, "Maybe dust... Sorry." He sighed, "I have a feeling I'll never get married," he responded. He looked around the neighborhood. On the wall inside was his Starfleet Academy graduation photo. "Not with my job," he said with a touch of melancholy.

Ann came back with a stack of glasses in one hand and a pitcher of pink lemonade in the other. She poured a round before she settled into her rocking chair again.

Marc took a swallow from his glass before leaning forward in the chair. "Don't close your heart kid. Please don't." He rung his hands a little bit. "I'm not talking purely about marriage. You, will, have days where you need somebody to just be in the same room with you when everything in your universe is going to hell. Tris, I know I was talking about your aunt just now." Marc settled back in the chair again. "We were together almost 45 years. My mistake was not knowing how much I needed her in my life." He let out a deep sigh. "Until it was too late."

"There were days one of us couldn't find the words to describe how our day went, In my case all I'd want was to hold on to her in my arms until the pain I was dealing with subsided. She'd grunt and grumble until I flat out annoyed her until she lost her temper because she needed to vent," he continued.

"An I know as sure as your sitting there, there, is, someone who will fill the hole in you that you didn't know was there." Marc reached out and took Anna's hand. "Your father found her. An he gave her everything she could ask for. Home ... Child ..." He paused for a moment as he trailed off.

"She would have loved a place like this, but I was always too deep in some project or other. She would have liked children, I never knew we both had troubles in that way. I didn't know for far too many years ... until it was too late." Marc released Anna's hand and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. "You pay attention to a lot of things kid, and you do it well. Just don't let your vision stop at the uniform." He took another drink from his glass. "Ann what's for dinner?" Marc had to change the subject.


The front door opened, "That was a nice speech but... I always told you, Marc — you talk too damn much,” came a deep, steady voice.

Tristan turned his head sharply, and there he was. George Faust stood in the doorway, his Commodores uniform immaculate as always. His grey hair was combed neatly back, and though his frame had thinned with age, he still stood like a man used to command — back straight, gaze sharp.

"Welcome home son," George added with a wink as he headed towards the familiar arm chair across from them.

"Coming from you George that's almost laughable." Marc reached up and shook his old friends hand. Both men had deep grins on their faces.

Just then a buzzer went off inside the house. "Dinner's on boys. Marc, I made your favorite for desert. Chocolate pecan pie."

The four ventured into the dining room and continued with an evening laced with nostalgia, voices of the past and of stepping back in time.

 

RSS Feed