A Bittersweet Shot, No Chaser

Posted on Saturday February 15th, 2020 @ 11:10pm by Miranda Von Furst

1,070 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Shakedown Cruise
Location: USS Poseidon - Lounge Manager's Quarters

::ON::

Miranda lowered herself into the chair, a cut crystal glass of whiskey in one hand, and a PADD in the other. The glass of whiskey seemed to be more of an afterthought, as all her attention was apparently focused on what she was seeing on the small screen before her. In the background of her quarters, the lights were dimmed, giving just enough ambient glow to be able to walk, and soft jazz music was playing.

On the screen was a letter.

Dearest Mira,

I am so sorry to have to tell you this in such an impersonal way, but I haven't seen you in so very long, and my only recourse was to ask Starfleet for help getting you even a letter. I hope you are in good health, and that whatever it is you've been running from all your life has finally fallen behind you so that you can seek your happiness.

Now, to the news I bear. I was contacted several weeks ago, by the caregivers at father's living facility, and advised that he was in poor health. It was recommended that preparations be made for the inevitable end, as we had all known his health was going to give out sooner, rather than later. I was able to make my way to the facility two days later but found myself arriving too late. I am so sorry to tell you this, Mira, but he's gone...

It was a peaceful passing, so they say. They showed me a bunch of graphs, and charts, proving that he'd been asleep and that the pain centers of his brain had been silent the whole time, but, and I hope you can forgive me for saying this, I know that his heart was hurting. He missed you so much Mira. More than you could ever know. He loved you, as well. You were all he had left, after all.

Anyway, Mira, I just wanted you to know what had happened. By the time you receive this everything will be taken care of, so don't worry about coming back. At this point, there's nothing here that will ever tie you to us again. I love you, Mira, I always will. Take care of yourself, kid.

Thad

With a deep breath, Miranda sat the PADD down on the small table beside her chair. Reaching up she lightly brushed away the single tear that was inching its way down her face. As she glanced around the room, picking up the glass and taking a sip of the smooth whiskey she'd poured herself, she made a decision.

Standing she pulled the sheer navy blue robe back over her shoulders and tied it so that she was more appropriately covered, and then approached her desk.

"Computer, establish a communications link with Thadeus Amundsen on Aldebaran," she said, and seconds later heard the familiar chirp of the computer confirming it had understood and was executing her command.

"Link established with communications relay, be advised real-time communication with Aldebaran is not available at this time due to bandwidth limitations at terminus point," the computer intoned.

She'd know very well that was going to be the case. It was part of the reason she had left the planet in the first place. Unless you were a part of the colonial government you never had access to real-time communications. That meant she'd never have to worry about having a true conversation, and that suited her just fine.

Settling into the chair at her desk she fluffed her hair lightly, and then began, "Thad, I received your letter, and I thank you for taking the time to write to me. I hope this response finds you well. I can't say I'm sorry to receive the news you've given me, because I have never lied to you, and don't plan to start now. With that in mind, I think it's time you know something. Reading your letter, and understanding that the man you spoke of is dead, has freed me in ways you may not understand. I am finally free of the specter I've been running from since I was fifteen years old, and I'm more glad of it than you could ever imagine.

"I am also glad that you understand that there are no more ties keeping me bound to Aldebaran. Whether you all knew my reasons, or would even have understood them, you never chose to support me in my struggle to free myself from the pain, and anguish I had borne for so long. When I ran away you did everything in my power to bring me back, never once stopping to ask me why I had run, what I was running from, or if I was truly okay. All you and Evangeline ever cared about was protecting the good name of your family, and if someone got hurt along the way, so long as it could be hushed, you were both perfectly fine with that.

"So, Thad, let me give you a piece of advice. Leave me alone. I have come to terms with my past. I have come to terms with the fact that I allowed you, and your family to buy my silence. That I used the money to begin to build myself a life and then disappeared as soon as I was able. Maybe it's time, now that he's gone, for you to come to terms with the fact that I'm dead to you as well."

Reaching out and tapping the control that would end the recording and encode it to the Amundsen family's private communication cipher, she sent it, and then slumped back in the chair, sipping her whiskey, and struggling not to cry. She knew tonight there would be nightmares. She knew by tomorrow she'd be in the grips of a full-fledged migraine and have to seek help from the ship's medical officer. But she also knew that she could now start to get better. She knew that the ghosts of her past had all finally gone to their graves, and she was free to begin again. It was going to be a long road, and would likely see her in front of a counselor more times than not, but it was a start and one that truly made her feel hope again for the first time in more years than she could count.

::OFF::

Miranda Von Furst
Lounge Manager
USS Poseidon

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