The Last Ordinary Day
Posted on Thu May 7th, 2015 @ 1:08pm by Captain Julius Whitlam
Mission:
Prelude to War
Location: Whitlam Home, San Francisco
It was an ordinary day for Julius Whitlam; perhaps the last ordinary day for a long time. He was eating lunch in his family home, the kids were loudly enjoying their sandwiches or, in the case of the youngest, making an utter mess of himself.
For the last month, he and his family had been settling into their new home in San Francisco. The home was modest, but larger than the one they had on Cestus III before they moved to Earth after Julius’s tour as captain of the USS Sutherland had ended. His wife, Zoe, had secured a teaching position at Berkeley University, so they chose a home in nearby Berkeley Hills.
It wouldn’t be Julius’s home, though; except on those occasions when his duty saw him back on Earth. No, he would be aboard his new ship, the USS Manoora. He would love nothing more than to have his family with him there, but Zoe wouldn’t have that. Deep down he knew it was safer for them on Earth, particularly at a time like this, with the Dominion threatening. So Julius would be away from his wife, his daughters and his son once again.
He had already assumed command of the Manoora, but the ship was still in orbit of Earth being prepared for her first mission with him as commanding officer. Docked at the unremarkably named Spacedock 14-C, the Akira-class ship was being loaded up with supplies and heavy equipment before she’d be setting out for Lomax III to help establish a new colony there. The ship would then stay on in a security rotation role for another three months. At least, that was the plan.
Julius had a feeling that forces beyond his control were about to intervene. While the last month had been nice and he got to spend a lot of time with his three kids, there was an ominous shadow cast over everything he did. A growing sense of impending doom. Even his oldest daughter, Erin, seemed to know something was up.
“What if the Dominion gets you, Daddy?” Erin asked him earlier that day.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he said to her reassuringly. “I won’t be going anywhere near the Dominion. I’m going to a system right on the other side of the Federation.”
Showing understand well beyond her seven years, Erin quickly replied with, “What if Starfleet changes your mission?”
That’s the question, isn’t it? Julius thought. His eldest daughter had shown a worrying level of interest in the news lately and she already had enough of a critical mind to see the writing on the wall, even if she didn't completely understand it. She knew there was a danger and it was called the Dominion. If only more of the politicians in Paris or the admirals here in San Francisco had the sense and foresight of his daughter.
Those politicians and admirals would have seen the same reports from the Bajor Sector that Julius had read. Yet no action was being taken, nothing was being done to contain the aggressive expansion of the Dominion. Five fleets of warships had come through the wormhole in the last five weeks. There had been skirmishes and ships lost along the Cardassian border. The Dominion had helped their newest member, the Cardassians, to push the Klingons out of their territory and completely destroy the Maquis.
It seemed like only a matter of time before some spark ignited the powder keg on which they all sat.
Julius was cleaning up the kitchen while Zoe played with Joe on the living room floor and the girls disappeared into their rooms. He could hear Elouisa banging away on the toy drumset she loved so much and from Erin’s room came the usual silence. He knew she’d be on her bed reading something on her PADD.
The idyllic moment was shattered by the chirrup of his commbadge. He wasn’t wearing his uniform, but he always had his communicator nearby. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the badge, tapping it to answer. “Whitlam here.”
“Whit! Are you watching this?” came the urgent voice of George Lassiter, his friend and captain of the USS Baltimore.
A cold chill went through Whitlam’s body and he immediately activated the kitchen terminal. Lassiter was not someone to sound so insistent without good reason. “No,” he replied as he pulled up a newsfeed. “What is it?”
“The fucking Romulans,” Lassiter replied with a vicious growl.
The graphic across the bottom of the broadcast said it all and Julius focused on that rather than the inane, time-filling nonsense the anchor was dribbling.
ROMULANS SIGN NON-AGGRESSION PACT WITH THE DOMINION
Julius could feel his blood running cold as he leaned forward on the kitchen bench. Suddenly the galaxy felt a lot smaller and the likelihood of war a lot greater. “Well,” he said after a moment. “This is significant.”
“That’s a goddamned understatement,” Lassiter replied. “I gotta go, buddy. I’ll check in later.”
As the connection closed, Julius turned to Zoe, who had joined him in the kitchen. “I have to go to work,” he said.
“Does this really change things?” Zoe asked, gesturing to the screen. “What does it matter what the Romulans do?”
He looked at his wife with a furrowed brow. The look of deep concern on her face told him that her question was based more on desperate hope than any lack of understanding of the situation. She wasn’t ignorant of the situation, just worried. They’d been married for eight years and his heart still ached when he saw her worry.
“Hopefully it doesn’t,” he said, pulling her into a hug. “But it’s a development. I need to check in with Command.”
He kissed the top of her head, held her tight for another moment, then kissed her lips and rushed off to change into his uniform.
It was the last ordinary day.
Captain Julius Whitlam
Commanding Officer
USS Manoora
