A Problem Not Easy to Solve
Posted on Tue Jun 11th, 2024 @ 9:54pm by Lieutenant August Hobbes
966 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
To Boldly Go
Location: Temporary Quarters, San Francisco Bay Area, Earth
Timeline: Day 1 - Before Crew Boards the Fenrir
"Augeee," a familiar voice called out."Pull your nose out of whatever you're doing and talk to your brother."
August Hobbes, or Augie as he was known to his family, did not look up from his calculations. Instead, he held up one finger, in clear view of the screen, and continued pursuing his line of thought, expressed in a mathematical equation. It bought him a moment or two and then his brother was calling again.
"Come on, man," Ven said. There was thump off screen and then a softball arced into view, landing perfectly in his brother's overly large hand. But then, at 6'6" tall, everything about Ven was large. The ball sailed off out of view again, hitting the wall with a thump that was bound to annoy his neighbors, though this was not the sort of thing that Ven worried about overmuch. His next door neighbor was on the softball team with him and before long, he heard and answering thump on the other side of the wall. "I'm on duty in a half an hour. Whatever it is can wait."
Hobbes, as he was known in Starfleet, was 5'10" and 150 pounds; small and slight by comparison to his older brother. Ven was security through and through, the first to dive into trouble, while his younger brother was a science officer who preferred solving problems with his mind, not his fist or a phaser. Both had their place in Starfleet; Hobbes knew his. He pulled off his reading glasses and set them down on top of the calculations, turning his attention to the screen. "I thought you were on leave," he said, his voice soft and slightly husky.
"Was," Ven said. "Two weeks ago. Now I'm back on the Steady and, I have a message." The ball made its way back to his hand; he held it for a beat, and then sent it on its way again. This time, both balls hit and same time, eliciting a shout from Ven and his neighbor.
"Message," Hobbes repeated. "Dad alright?" As guesses went, it wasn't much of one. Ven generally spent some time on the homestead with their father whenever he could and there was nearly always a message to be relayed. His dad didn't approve of his decision to join Starfleet and the danger that went along with the job. His father liked his classifications. Ven the athlete who could handle danger; Augie the nerd who couldn't.
“Yep,” Ven said. “Getting married in four days.” Ven caught the ball and fixed Hobbes with his serious stare. The one he reserved for trouble-makers wherever he found them. “You didn’t RSVP and Dad is anxious for you to be there.”
Hobbes frowned, a slight furrow in his forehead, as he sorted incoming messages in his mind and found the one in question. Nodding, he said, “Thought I had.”
“It’s a command performance, Aug,” Ven said. “Look, Dad’s been alone long enough. He wants us there. Make sure we’re alright with it.” He paused a second, bouncing the ball up and down in his hand. “With her.”
“Mom’s been dead a long time,” Hobbes said plainly.“Of course I’m fine with it. Tell Dad, Starfleet willing, I’ll be there.”
“You tell him,” Ven said quietly.
“You’re going to report back,” Hobbe said. “You always do.” An easy deduction based on conversations going back years that did not carry with it any particular animosity. To his mind, it was just the way things were and he had given up on the prospect of change a long while back.
Ven sighed because it was true and because, for him at least, this was an old argument. Dad using him as the go-between because he didn’t know how to talk to his younger son and Augie, who was always busier than three other people, accepting it on face value with no clue as to the real reason. “I’ll tell him,” Ven said. You didn’t get far in Starfleet (or family politics) without understanding about picking your battles. “I’ll see you there. Be good to catch up.” Another old argument. Augie wasn’t good about sharing his life with his family and that never did sit well with Dad either. As though he were continually being branded too stupid to understand the child he helped potty train. Privately, Ven thought there was something else at work but hadn’t been able to dig it out as yet.
‘See you then,” Hobbes said. The calculations, which were already overdue, called to him and it was for that reason that he ended the call. Well that and conversation with Ven were completely predictable. He ordered himself a cup of tea, thinking about the call while he waited. His father had been alone for a long time and that at least was something he understood far better than his brother ever would. Marriage would be good for them both. As he carried the tea back to his desk, the thought struck him.
"What on Earth could I give them for a wedding present?" More than the ceremony, having to get dressed up, the looming threat of small talk, it was the idea of finding a suitable present that brought him to a standstill, his face nearly frozen in a look of horror. He gave a reluctant look at the equations, wanting to dive back into something he understood, and turned away. "Computer, contact Starfleet Cadet Chloe Bonham." She had been the last of the many cadets he had guided through their practicals and thus, the first that came to mind. If anyone would know what to get his Dad, it would be her.
Lieutenant August Hobbes
Chief Science Officer
USS Fenrir
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