Star Trek Voyager: VX

Assignment: Voyager

Stardate 48115.5

Zariel sat down at the communication screen in the family room, shook back her long strawberry blond hair and tapped the panel to accept the incoming communication. On the screen was a very young woman with bottomless black eyes, and a kind, pretty face, and an ensign's pip on her collar. Zariel recognized her as a Betzoid, and sensed that she had news that she thought might be unwelcome. She said, "Lieutenant Zariel Sindile?"

"Yes."

"I see here that you are scheduled to report to Starfleet Academy in four weeks, correct?"

"Yes, I'll be teaching linguistics."

"We have a temporary duty assignment for you in the meantime. A new Intrepid-class ship called Voyager. The mission is search and rescue, anticipated duration two weeks, maximum three."

Zariel thought fast. Three weeks would put her home before the beginning of the upcoming semester, but... "I had a request on my personnel file for no deep space assignments, not even accompanied ones." Her older son was starting college in the fall, and her youngest beginning high school soon, and her decision to stay on Earth was important to her, prioritizing her boys' stability as well her own desire to avoid starship duty.

"Yes, your file is tagged no deep space and no detached duty, but this is a temporary assignment. Another officer will take up the post after this mission. You'll be back in plenty of time to report to the Academy." Her eyes moved away from the screen for a moment, apparently looking at information on another screen. "You'll be back in time to get your children's school semester started." She tapped an unseen console. "I'm sending you mission parameters and your assignment. Report to Deep Space Nine, and Voyager will depart day after tomorrow."

Zariel sighed, considerably less than pleased, but noted the arrival of a file from Starfleet Personnel, and said, "Got it. I'll be there." She powered the screen off, and muttered, "Dammit."

Zariel went out the front door of her house, and stood on the porch, idly picking up and putting on one of the many baseball gloves that lay about, watching the never-ending baseball game taking place in her front yard. Her eyes went to the crack of a bat, and the ball fouled off hot, directly toward her head. On pure reflex, she caught it. Several of the players blinked hard at this. She called out, "Time," made a T-shape with her hands, walked out to the mound and asked the pitcher, "So where we at here?"

"Bottom of the ninth, Mrs. S, two gone, one and two to this whiffer." He lifted his chin toward the kid at the plate, who happened to be her younger son, Michael. She turned back to the pitcher and said, "Great. Go ahead and put him away then." She slapped the ball into his glove, and then pointed first at Michael, then at her older son Patrick in left field, then at the house.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and her sons entered, sweaty and stinky, and made a beeline for a cold drink from the replicator. She came out of her room, where she'd been in the early stages of packing, and followed them into the kitchen. She sat at the table, and they joined her with their drinks. She sighed, and said, "Boys, I got orders."

They blinked hard, and met her cobalt blue eyes with theirs, and as they did, their surprise hit her like a wall. Patrick said, "What about commuting to Starfleet Academy?"

"This is just a temporary assignment. It's deep space, which I didn't want, but I'll be home in two weeks, three tops. I'll be back in time to start y'all both off at school, and then to start teaching myself."

Michael asked, "What's the assignment?"

"It's search and rescue, babe, but I don't think it's particularly dangerous. We'll be looking for a Maquis ship in the badlands, but there shouldn't be much Cardassian presence anymore. Just a bunch of plasma storms."

She looked at them, and looked past what they were saying. Michael was apprehensive, just as he had always been upon her leaving. He hadn't asked about the danger, and he wouldn't. He seemed to have a better sense than Patrick did that Mom always knew what he was really asking, anyway. Patrick didn't need much reading; eminently practical, he'd want to know first how this change would affect their daily lives.

Sure enough, Patrick's next question was, "Should we stay here? Or go stay with Mamaw and Papaw?"

She considered. "Why don't y'all go stay down there? They can help get Michael back and forth to baseball workouts if you have to leave for work earlier."

Michael asked, "You're sure you'll be back before school starts?"

She grinned at him. "Baby, I'm already there."

Patrick wanted to know, "When do you leave?"

"I have to be on Deep Space Nine day after tomorrow, so I guess I'll need to head out tonight. Need y'all to help me close up the house this afternoon, and you can head down to your great-grandparents' in the morning."

She could tell, in the way she'd been able to tell about people all her life, that Michael was worried and Patrick was annoyed. She wasn't particularly worried, but she certainly was in sympathy with Patrick's emotions at the moment. They'd have to move their planned beach trip, and she had really wanted to spend this school break with her boys, the three of them together. Patrick was starting college in the fall, somewhat reluctantly, and things were going to change. Nobody had discussed it much, but she knew how they were feeling about it. They all were wondering if they'd still be the same tight-knit threesome that they'd always been. They'd been Starfleet kids their whole lives, but she'd managed to create some stability for them the past five or six years, managed to avoid too many of these curve balls. One of their family sayings was that it took three points to define a plane; it was an acknowledgement that each of them was a defining part of their family. But Patrick's pending departure and now this assignment were shifting the plane a bit.

She grinned at them, trying to soften it. "I guess your Mamaw and Papaw won't get too sick of you for three weeks, while I'm on Voyager."