Time To Say Goodbye

Posted on 15 Jan 2024 @ 2:08am by Lieutenant Commander Christophe Leblanc

Mission: M4 - Falling Out
Location: Paris, France
1574 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure

He didn’t want this, but it was going to happen anyway. That was the life he signed up for when he entered Starfleet: boldly going wherever he was told.

The letter sat open on the rough wooden surface of his kitchen island, its pristine white surface marred only by the double fold. He had placed it there after reading it three or four times, demanding the words printed in it to change quickly into something more convenient. He didn’t know why he was in shock; he knew this was bound to happen sooner or later.

“You are hereby ordered to report to unit OBSIDIAN COMMAND for immediate reassignment in the role of CHIEF ENGINEER.”

Merde.

Christophe Baptiste Leblanc was an engineer first and a man second, at least that’s what he was told by every girlfriend he’d ever had. Having grown up in a beautiful coastal town in France, he cut his teeth repairing and engineering with his boat mechanic father. Ever since he could remember, travel and engine grease had been his deepest interest, sparking his imagination for how innovations in technology could change the world for the better. Waxing poetic about sparks and dings, that was his daily social habit since he’d first entered the academy almost 21 years ago. This love overshadowed all other loves, and pushed the people who wanted his whole heart into the margins of his past. But he was different now, right?

Perhaps that meant it was time to resign. Maybe he should start his family and get a nice job fixing boats like dear-old-dad.

Once upon a time, frontier engineering had been his greatest passion, and anyone who knew him could attest that he often mentioned what he might do if he suddenly found himself assigned somewhere far away from Earth. After 8 years of assignment on the little blue marble humans called home, four as the Assistant Chief Engineer at Earth Spacedock, and four more as the Agitant to the honest-to-God Head of the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, Chris was full of knowledge and, more importantly, ideas he couldn’t execute from a desk at Starfleet Headquarters. Now that the assignment was upon him, he hesitated.

Was this the moment when he put his old dreams to bed?

His apartment was spacious, with a huge floor to ceiling window wrought with a black iron frame, exposed black ducts, and an open floor plan. The entire design was modern and industrial, belonging most properly to a dedicated young city-dweller. It was perfect for innovating and thinking outside the box. When he wasn’t at work and the apartment was empty, this had been the foyer of his mental workshop.

As he danced his fingers across the rough wooden surface of the island, he heard the click of the door and his eyes drifted smartly to it. A flash of shoulder-length brown hair glistened in the gentle gray light of the overcast day which entered through the large window at the long side of the apartment. She was petite and wore a brown leather jacket with tan fur lining the inside for warmth. In her hands, she held a large black grocery bag.

Chris immediately got up and walked to her, his strong hands finding the bag and taking it from her. He leaned in for a kiss and greeted her in calm, short French. His eyes avoided hers.

Placing the bag in the island next to the letter, he sat down on the stool he had previously vacated. There seemed to be a golf between them from his perspective, even as she drew near to the other side of the island.

“Your shopping spree; was it fun?” He asked in somewhat tired French, his typically energetic features drifting to her with trepidation percolating just under the surface. He was handsome enough to be noticed and had an athletic, strong body, but his mind kept him aloof; emotionally distant even as he charmed people.

“I know I don’t need to do it, but I like to get out every now and then. It makes me feel…connected; natural.” She said, a smile on her face. She was pretty, with perfect teeth and a sweet face. He liked when she smiled. “If I let the replicator do it, you could replace me with any old person.”

“Is that your grand mating strategy?” He asked, allowing a smile in return, his hands moving to find hers. They were cold from being outside.

“Well, is it working?” She asked, smiling much more jovially then. “I wouldn’t want to be replaced by a newer model.”

“Or an older one, as you suggested.” He retorted, smiling still.

“Your passion is everything new. Technology and innovation; renewing the process.” She leaned forward, her grin becoming infectious, “it just means an old girl like me has to learn new tricks.”

That’s when she found the letter still sitting open on the counter. Her fingers had grazed it as she leaned forward, and her curiosity was immediately piqued. She pulled it closer to her, turning it so she could read it. For the next few seconds, she read in silence, and then her mouth slowly opened. She looked up at him, her eyes asking the question her mouth hadn’t yet devised.

“What is this?”

“It’s a letter. I received it today.” He said in return, his voice rumbling with masculine gentleness. Despite how much needed to be said, he spoke no more.

“I know it’s a letter, Chris..” she said, furrowing her brow and then, before the irritation and fear could wash her away, she bent her mind back to reality. “It’s just not what I expected. Could it have been sent to you by accident?”

“It has my name and my profession. I’m sure it’s mine.” He said in response. They waited for a while, hoping the other one would do the painful work of actually starting the discussion. He gave in first.

“Obsidian Station is..far away. And that means you and I must talk about the next stage in our life.”

Our life; that was a good sign. She sighed, plainly relaxing some of her built up tension. Then she responded, all caution and carefully chosen words.

“You said you were seriously considering resigning your commission if they tried to reassign you. With your resume, you could get a great corporate job here on Earth with a high salary. We could have our children and start a little family.”

Her eyes were full of hope, sweet and gentle, that he immediately felt shame at how her words made him feel. He said those things, yes, but now that the decision was actually upon him, his dream of frontier engineering felt irresistible and the prospect of binding himself to this planet unbearable. He said nothing; his face spoke for him.

He licked his lips, and a note of sad hope crossed his features as well, “You could come with me, Gret. You and me…we could travel the stars and start our family on Obsidian Command.”

“Or we could stay here.” She responded, the shadow of a stressed smile playing at her lips. “We already talked about this, Chris. A child should be born on real soil, not cooped up in a tin can far away from home. “Besides, I have a great job; I can’t leave my students to do something I don’t even want to do.”

“They’ll find another Headmistress who can do the job, Gret. You're not irreplaceable.” He responded, saying something he’d said a dozen times before, “a job like that can’t keep us tied down here. There’s more to life than that.”

“You still don’t get it,” she responded, her tone growing slightly cooler, “I don’t want to be replaced. I like my life the way it is. I don’t need to be on the cutting-edge of my profession to love what I do, and I don’t think it’s fair for you to throw a wrench into our plans to follow your boyhood dream.”

There was a heaviness to the comment, like it signified an old and often repeated criticism. It was full of resentment and all pleasantness promptly went out of the exchange.

“I just assumed you wanted to be with me.” He said, lifting his head with a logical defiance, “it’s not like you can’t find students elsewhere. I’ve sat here for years living your life. I don’t see what's wrong with wanting a chance to live mine.”

“It’s not like you can’t find work here on Earth, Chris. Let’s not pretend like this is a one-sided situation. I love our apartment, my job, and my family. We aren’t even married yet, and you want me to leave that all behind to go with you?” She sighed then, placing her fists on her hips. “You’re being a selfish ass.”

Chris frowned and stood up from the island immediately , standing at his full height. His face had a resoluteness that seemed to separate them.

“Well, then I'm a selfish ass. But I'm not the only one.”

Greta scoffed, but he spoke before he responded.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.” He said, neutral and calm, “be ready to go, or the engagement is off.”

END