Fight for the Future Part 3

Posted on Sat Dec 28th, 2024 @ 8:58am by Lieutenant JG Ethan Hunt

1,486 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: To Boldly Go
Location: Various, USS Lenox Hill
Timeline: 6 Days Prior to Arrival on USS Fenrir

12 Hours Later

The brig was cold and quiet, the hum of the ship’s systems the only sound in the background. Ethan sat on the narrow cot, stretching out his legs and rolling his sore shoulder. It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a hit for someone else, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

As he leaned back against the wall, he allowed himself a rare moment of satisfaction. Brill was safe, and Radek had been dealt with—at least for now. Ethan knew it wouldn’t end Radek’s antics entirely, but it sent a message to everyone else on the lower decks, and he had no regrets.

He sat quietly, his thoughts drifting to the future. He knew the reprimand would stick to his record—a blemish that might slow down his career. But that was a price he was willing to pay. If looking out for his team meant bending the rules from time to time, so be it.

The doors to the brig hissed open. Commander Sovan entered and dismissed the guard by the door. She approached the invisible force field, her hands clasped neatly behind her back.

“Time is up, Lieutenant,” she said evenly as she tapped some buttons. The force field de-energized.

Ethan rose from the cot, rolling his stiff shoulders as he approached.

“Thank you, Commander,” he said, his voice steady.

“By the way, your transfer request to the U.S.S. Fenrir has been approved.”

Ethan’s brow lifted slightly in surprise, though he kept his expression controlled. “I didn’t expect it to go through that fast.”

“You leave tomorrow,” Sovan said, her voice calm and even, as if they were discussing routine shipboard maintenance.

“Thank you, Commander,” Ethan said with a small nod. “I appreciate you letting me know.”

Sovan didn’t immediately respond. She studied him with that familiar Vulcan precision, her gaze unwavering. “I am curious, Lieutenant. You are a capable officer, well-regarded by your peers and respected by your subordinates. Why seek a transfer?”

Ethan exhaled slowly, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not the work,” he said after a moment. “I’ve loved my time here. But it’s time for a new challenge. Something different. The Fenrir is a new ship and I'm ready to break her in.”

Sovan raised a single eyebrow, the Vulcan equivalent of intrigue. “From my understanding, the Fenrir is a small vessel.”

"Ah... small but sturdy. It can respond, hit, and get out fast."

Ethan shrugged, a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Either way, I’ve always worked well under pressure.”

Sovan inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his point. “Indeed. However,” she continued, her tone softening just slightly, “it is worth considering that you leave behind more than just your post. Your team looks up to you, Lieutenant. They will feel your absence.”

Ethan looked down for a moment, the weight of her words settling over him. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s the hardest part.”

Sovan allowed a brief silence to pass before she spoke again. “What you did for Ensign Brill,” she said, “was commendable. You demonstrate a level of loyalty to your team that is… rare.”

Ethan gave a small nod, sensing the underlying compliment hidden beneath her Vulcan demeanor. “Sometimes rules don’t cover every situation. Sometimes the rules only delay the inevitable. Meeting a threat head-on is sometimes the faster and easier way to solve it.”

Sovan’s gaze sharpened slightly. “True, but rules do exist for a reason.”

Ethan crossed his arms, not confrontational but thoughtful. “Maybe. But I couldn’t stand by while one of my own got pushed around. I made the decision I made, and I accept the punishment freely, with no regrets.”

Sovan regarded him with a measured gaze. “And that, Lieutenant, is why you will do well on the Fenrir. But, please, do your best to follow the rules.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying good luck, Commander?”

A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—passed through Sovan’s eyes. “I do not rely on luck, Lieutenant. However, I do offer you this—continue to apply the same loyalty and dedication on the Fenrir, and you will excel.”

Ethan smiled, small but genuine. “Thank you, Commander. I’ll try not to disappoint.”

Sovan gave him a slight nod. “You never have, Lieutenant Hunt.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft hum of the brig’s systems between them. Then, with a final glance and nod, Ethan left the room. The door hissed open and he disappeared.

The brig was now still and quiet. Sovan took a moment to look around, then turned to the panel on the wall and pressed it. The lights dimmed as the room reduced power usage.

As Commander Sovan exited the brig, Major Ryland was waiting just outside, arms folded across his broad chest. He leaned casually against the wall, his sharp gaze following her as the door closed behind her. The hum of the corridor was the only sound between them for a long moment.

“I have to say,” Ryland drawled, tilting his head slightly, “Hunt reminds me of someone.”

Sovan raised a single eyebrow, the barest hint of curiosity crossing her Vulcan features. “Oh? And who would that be, Major?”

“You.” Ryland smirked, clearly enjoying the moment. “Back at the Academy. You did exactly what he did.”

Sovan’s gaze remained steady, though something flickered in her eyes—a fragment of memory she preferred to leave untouched. “You are mistaken. My situation was different.”

Ryland gave a low chuckle, standing up straight and folding his arms behind his back. “Yeah? Funny how I remember it differently. You went toe-to-toe with some hotshot cadet who thought it was funny to bully another student. Decked him right in front of half the classroom, if I recall correctly.” He grinned. “You even dislocated his shoulder. They called you ‘The Logic Fist’ for a whole semester.”

Sovan’s expression didn’t shift, but she clasped her hands behind her back—a subtle sign she wasn’t as unaffected as she appeared. “The matter was handled appropriately afterward, in accordance with regulations.”

Ryland gave her a knowing look. “Oh, sure. Afterward. But you still threw the punch first, didn’t you?”

Sovan’s gaze narrowed slightly, though her voice remained cool and even. “What I did was a lapse in judgment. One I have ensured was not repeated.”

Ryland grinned. “Maybe. But don’t pretend it wasn’t satisfying.”

Sovan remained silent for a moment, as if calculating the worth of engaging further. Finally, she allowed herself the smallest of nods. “There may have been… a sense of resolution.”

Ryland let out a short laugh, clearly pleased. “See? I knew there was a bit of fire under all that logic.”

Sovan adjusted her stance, redirecting the conversation. “Lieutenant Hunt demonstrated loyalty and initiative; qualities essential to leadership—though his methods require refinement.”

Ryland gave a small shrug. “He’ll fit right in on the Fenrir. They are going to need officers who think on their feet—and aren’t afraid to punch above their weight.”

Sovan tilted her head, as if in agreement. “That is my expectation.”

Ryland’s smirk softened into something closer to admiration. “You respect him, don’t you? For doing what you did.”

Sovan gave him a level look, her expression once again composed. “I respect that he acted to protect a crewmate. That is what matters.” She paused for a moment, then added, “But respect does not excuse action outside the boundaries of protocol.”

Ryland chuckled. “Yeah, well, sometimes the regs don’t cover everything.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice. “You know as well as I do—sometimes you’ve gotta bend the rules to get things done.”

Sovan’s gaze didn’t waver. “And sometimes, Major, bending the rules leads to unnecessary consequences.”

Ryland smirked, knowing full well there was no winning an argument with a Vulcan. He straightened up again, his grin lingering. “Well, I’ll say this much: Hunt will be just fine.”

Sovan gave a slight nod. “Indeed. And perhaps…” She allowed herself a brief, thoughtful pause. “He will learn when to act within protocol—and when to trust his instincts.”

Ryland crossed his arms again, looking amused. “Like you did, huh?”

Sovan raised an eyebrow but chose not to respond. Instead, she turned to leave, her posture as measured and precise as ever.

As she walked away, Ryland called after her with a grin, “Hey, Sovan—‘The Logic Fist’ still has a nice ring to it.”

Without missing a beat, Sovan replied, “I would advise you not to test the theory, Major.”

Ryland’s laughter echoed down the corridor as Sovan disappeared around the corner, her expression neutral—but perhaps just a little more satisfied than usual.

 

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