Not Our Last Goodbye

Posted on Sat Apr 26th, 2025 @ 5:42pm by Lieutenant Commander Harrison Knox

840 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: A Silence of Friends
Location: USS Polaris

STARFLEET COMMAND SUBSPACE COMMUNIQUE
PRIORITY ONE
ENCRYPTION: LEVEL 9—EYES ONLY
TO: LT. CMDR. HARRISON KNOX
CURRENT LOCATION: USS POLARIS (NCC-68712), COMMAND TRAINING DETACHMENT
FROM: ADMIRAL ALYSSA TAGGART, STARFLEET COMMAND, SAN FRANCISCO

The communique crackled into existence on the viewscreen, the seal of the United Federation of Planets slowly dissolving to reveal the solemn face of Admiral Alyssa Taggart. Her Starfleet Command uniform was crisp, but the lines on her face betrayed the gravity of the message she was about to deliver.

“Lieutenant Commander Knox,” she began, her voice calm but tightly controlled. “Effective immediately, your little leave of absence from the USS Thunderbird is rescinded. You are to report back to your vessel at once.”

Harrison Knox sat forward at the desk in the small shared quarters he had aboard the Polaris, only recently finally learning where he was. The dimly lit surroundings around him had illuminated with the incoming message's priority. He didn’t speak—just listened, his jaw tightening and his thoughts racing. Did I just fail this command training? he thought to himself.

Admiral Taggart continued. “We've been contacted. The Thunderbird initiated an emergency occurred aboard. We are still learning the details, but it is medical related. Quarantine protocols are actively in place, Commander.”

Knox's brow furrowed. “A medical quarantine?”

The Admiral nodded, her image flickering slightly as the transmission adapted to Polaris’s relay systems. “Preliminary data suggest a possible outbreak of a pathogen of sort. Some of the crew have been admitted to Sickbay. Captain Gray is among them, he's relinquished command to Lieutenant Malbrooke”

The air in the training room turned cold. Rylan Gray had been his friend for years. The thought of him incapacitated by anything—let alone a disease—felt fundamentally wrong. It took him aback. If Malbrooke is in command that means something happened to Commander D'Sai, and for Rylan to relinquish command... Harrison did not like this one bit.

“Malbrooke is a fine officer, but it is imperative that we get you back aboard the Thunderbird, Commander.” Taggart went on, “command of the Thunderbird has fallen to Lieutenant Tyler Malbrooke for the time being, but once you arrive that command will rest on your shoulders.”

Tyler Knox thought about the man being in command.

“He is maintaining control of the situation but Starfleet Medical wants senior command present. That means you.”

Knox drew a breath, then nodded. “Understood.”

“There’s more,” Taggart added, leaning slightly forward, her voice dropping in tone. “A lot more and I'll ensure that you receive everything we know while you're en route. The Polaris' Commanding Officer has been notified that we're pulling you. We can't afford to spare them, but you'll take a runabout and proceed to the Thunderbird's coordinates."

“Thank you, I'll read everything sent to me.”

“Commander, when you reach the rendezvous point with Thunderbird be advised—the situation is grim. No one’s been allowed to beam aboard or off since the quarantine.”

Knox stood, pacing now. “What are my orders once aboard?”

“Assess. Coordinate with Lieutenant Malbrooke and regain command. And most importantly—determine whether this is a containment issue, or something worse. You are authorized to enact emergency medical protocols, decontamination, whatever is necessary.”

Her gaze intensified, as though seeing through the screen. “Lieutenant Commander, I know this is not what you expected when you stepped off that bridge but the Thunderbird is still your ship, and her crew needs you.”

Rylan needs me thought Harrison. That was something that spoke loudly to him and resonated deep within his soul.

Knox nodded, tension visible in his posture. “Yes, Admiral.”

“Good luck, Commander. And be careful.”

The viewscreen cut to black with the end of the transmission.

He would find out what was happening. He would fix this.
For the ship.
For the crew.
For Rylan.

Runabout Tarkanan – En Route to USS Thunderbird

The low hum of the warp engines was steady beneath Knox’s boots, but his thoughts were anything but. He sat in silence, eyes unfocused on the stars streaking past the viewport, his mind on Rylan.

Rylan Gray. Friend, captain, chess tyrant.

They’d played a dozen times aboard the Ark Royal, and Knox hadn’t won once. Rylan always smirked when he checkmated him but it was never smug, just quietly amused, like he was letting Knox discover the lesson himself. Knox hated chess. Too many steps ahead. Rylan lived there, in the quiet space between the moves.

Now he was probably lying still in a biobed somewhere on the Thunderbird, silent, unmoving or perhaps moving too much for his own damn good.

What if that last game had really been the last?

He remembered the way Rylan used to lean forward when he saw a clever tactic, how he'd pick up on every flicker of Knox’s frustration and turned it into a gentle joke.

Knox swallowed the lump in his throat.

He wasn’t ready to lose him. Not Rylan. Not like this.

 

RSS Feed