Shore Leave's Abrupt End

Posted on Mon Oct 6th, 2025 @ 4:13pm by Captain Erik Norsgaard
Edited on on Tue Oct 7th, 2025 @ 5:17pm

1,399 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Wolf in the Fold: Hide and Seek
Location: Norsgaard Homestead, Near Sorsele, Earth

The Lieutenant stood on the edge of the clearing watching the smooth swing of an axe, rising and falling, as the man chopped firewood. Firewood of all things. He checked the PADD he held in one hand but really, there was no mistaking him, was there? Six feet five inches tall, shoulder length blonde hair, and a physique that spoke of a whole lot of firewood chopping. Though why anyone would want to, well, that was just beyond him. Still, this was clearly the individual he was looking for, so he stepped forward, impatient now to be done with the task and back to somewhere more civilized. He froze at once as he saw two dogs come barreling toward him, barking furiously, from across the field.

"Var tyst," the man called out, his deep voice carry easily to the dogs, as he turned and saw the lieutenant stepping backward. Axe still in one hand, he stood his ground. The dogs returned to his side and sat attentively, watching the intruder, while the man took in the uniform, the PADD held in his hand, and said flatly, "I'm on leave."

"Sorry, Captain," the lieutenant said as he moved in closer. "Admiral Scofield sends his regards and says to tell you that you were right. It's happening." He passed over the PADD and waited while Captain Erik Norsgaard took a cursory look at the briefing package the Lieutenant had been ordered to deliver. He knew the dogs were watching him and found himself hoping that the Captain didn't intend to bring those beasts with him on the shuttle.

Norsgaard handed over the packet and said, "I'll be ready in an hour." He turned back toward the wood pile and amended, "Make that two."

"Aye, Sir. I'll have a shuttle here in two hours." He waited politely for a dismissal but the Captain had already returned to his wood chopping. Why, the Lieutenant wondered, why? I mean he won't be here so ... why does the tree have to give up its life? Not for me to question. He took the turned back to be a tacit sign of dismissal and headed out of the clearing so that he could contact the shuttle and be beamed back aboard. Once aboard, he walked up to the cockpit and dropped into the seat next to the pilot. "We've got two hours to kill," he said. "Where can I get a decent Raktajino?"

[Meanwhile on the Norsgaard Homestead]

He finished chopping the firewood and headed back to the guest cabin to get cleaned up. He was just coming out of the bathroom, a thick bath towel wrapped around his lean waist when his nieces burst through the cabin door, shrieking with laughter. Erik instinctively grabbed the tucked in portion of the towel as the girls came skidding to a stop in front of him. "Utanför nu, ni alla," he said with a mock growl, and they scampered out closing the door behind them. Knowing his nieces the way he did, Erik dressed as quickly as he could before giving them permission to enter.

Four young faces. framed in golden hair that bore little resemblance to the proper hairstyles they'd been given that morning by their mother. re-entered, more subdued this time as they took in the uniform and the open bag on the bed. "Måste du gå, farbror Erik," Ebba, the oldest, said.

"Yes," Erik said quietly. "I have to go." he walked over to where they stood and scooped up the youngest two, one under each arm, and headed for the bed. "But maybe, if I squeeze you tight enough, I can get you into my suitcase." He dropped them on the bed, amid squeals of laughter, as he chased down the other two. Agneta, the cleanest of the group, started refolding his clothes and Maja, not to be outdone, when hunting in the bathroom for anything that looked packable; Erik stopped her just in time before she dropped a used bar of soap directly into the bag.

"Why do you have to go," Ebba asked as Erik dropped to the floor beside the bed. Her eyes were the color of a summer sky and outlined by a double row of lashes, which was a medical condition that popped up in the family line from time to time. "Can't they get someone else? You could stay here, work with Pappa?"

"I could," Erik said and considered it, as he did all of their suggestions, before answering. The girls drew closer, ready to listen and argue back as needed. "Is Pappa as good at making bread as Mamma," he asked.

"No one makes bread as good as Mamma," Maja said at once. At six, she was just starting to take an interest in cooking and all of them, Erik included, knew just how bad things could get when his brother took over cooking a meal. "Viltgryta," someone whispered. Viltgryta, a stew made from wild game was something Gustav made once a year every year and no one, excepting himself, could eat it. The man was dangerous in a kitchen.

"Okay, so maybe its best that Mamma does what she's best at, eh?" The girls agreed. There were many, many things that Mamma could do but meals, well, that was something only she could do. "So, my job? The one I'm going back to, its something I can do really well. Like Mamma and the bread. And I made a solemn, cross-your-heart-hope-to-die promise that I would do it for awhile."

"That was a stupid promise," Agneta said, frowning down at her worn overalls as her nimble fingers picked at a loose thread. "If you hadn't promised, you could have stayed."

"Maybe so," Erik said. "But I promised and I have to keep my word. Now, I could really use a few hugs to take with me, if you wouldn't mind."

[At the Two Hour Mark | Norsgaard Homestead]

At the two hour mark, with the entire family, including the dogs, watching from the porch, the shuttle landed in the clearing and the hatch opened. The lieutenant, revived by two Raktajinos, stepped out, his hand already reaching out to take the Captain's bag, as Norsgaard walked over. He handed over his carry-on and heard the Lieutenant grunt as the full weight of it hit him, before turning at the last minute, just before entering the shuttle, to wave to Astrid and the girls and give one final nod to Gustav. Good-byes had been said inside, complete with hugs and promises to stay in touch; everyone had ignored his request to stay indoors. Hard enough to leave but to see them all standing there, just made it worse.

And then he was inside, the hatch was closed, and he was well on his way to Starfleet Headquarters for whatever came next.

[Admiral Scofield's Office]

Norsgaard entered the Admiral's office and waited with patience of a skilled predator for the great man to take notice of him. At 6'5", he wasn't someone easily overlooked and it assumed him some to see how studiously the Admiral avoided his direct gaze.

"Very good," Scofield said. "I'll make the arrangements from this end. Have a safe trip back. Scofield out." He looked up at last and smiled, waving the only Viking in Starfleet to a seat. "Sit down. Sorry. I was speaking with Captain Gray on board the USS Thunderbird. They've had a rough time of it, especially their Captain, and being diplomatic has never been one of my gifts."

"Don't I know it," Norsgaard answered as he scooted the chair back far enough to accommodate his long legs. "I've been on the receiving end of more than one of your attempts at diplomatic conversation, Sir." Scofield, born and raised in the Caribbean, had a near pathological hatred of cold weather which meant his office always seemed to be hot enough to melt furniture. As he leaned back in the seat, Norsgaard wished, and not for the first time, that there was a shorts and tank top version of the uniform -- just for meetings with the Admiral. "So, what's happened that you needed to cut my shore leave in half?"

So, Scofield told him -- at length.

---

Admiral Chester Scofield
Starfleet Command

and

Captain Erik Norsgaard
Currently Not Assigned to a Command

 

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