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Posted on 19 Apr 2026 @ 8:46pm by Lieutenant JG Ryan Collingway

607 words; about a 3 minute read

////USS Arawyn///
///Crew Quarters///

The opening ceremonies continued far into the night. When they had wrapped up, Ryan said his goodbyes to Alura, at least for now, and returned back to his quarters. He was pretty sure he was going to sleep like a rock. Fortunately he still had tomorrow off, and no set timeline to wake up.

But after what happened, tomorrow wouldn't compare to the day he had today. Ryan smiled to himself, for once having the sense of home he was sorely missing.

His head went on the pillow, and before too long he was out like a light.

///Xin////
///Sometime later///

Stephen sat in his office, studying about fifty pictures of Starbase 369. His contact had posed as a tourist, eagerly taking photos of everything in the festival, easily avoiding detection because none of them were in a classified area.

Only two or three of the photos really mattered.

The first was of the USS Arawyn, taken next to a window. He has gotten a good view of the damage, and his eyes narrowed as he realized exactly where the damage had been.

The second was of the ceremony itself. He shifted through various photos of a sea of people until he had found the one he was looking for. That of Lieutenant Collingway standing with a female.

"He looks happy," his assistant, Vivian mentioned.

"I don't care about his happiness," Stephen said dismissively, and sighed at her look. "Happiness is fleeting. The future is not. And if a second volley had hit that ship...."

He flipped back to the first image of the Arawyn. "Then Starfleet would have called me, saying they had murdered my son," he finished, leaning back in his chair.

Stephen knew he had made several missteps so far. He should have approached Ryan when he was vulnerable after the USS Thysia, convinced him to leave Starfleet at that point. But he had been too angry, too trusting that Ryan would leave of his own accord.

He did not.

Then Stephen had tried-not very subtley-to get him kicked off the ship. Another failure, one that might have reinforced Ryan's anger towards him.

"You can't convince him to leave," Vivian pointed out, echoing his thoughts.

"Yes," Stephen agreed with a sigh. His steel exterior cracked for a moment, and he looked very tired, and very old. "We seem to be past that point."

He took a cigar from his desk-vintage he knew, but everyone had their weaknesses-and lit it up. Any humanity he had shown had disappeared. Only the CEO remained. "I've lost years over this insanity, and I'm running out of patience with this." He said nothing for a moment. "For now, we continue to wait and see if an opportunity presents itself."

Vivian raised her eyebrow. "And if none do?"

"Then I have a plan for that too," he said. "Either way, I'll find a way to carve Starfleet out of him. With my bare hands, if I have to."

There was no anger in his voice. Simply fact. "Find out who the girl is, and if she is of any consequence," he said offhandedly. "He said her name is Alura."

"Already have. Civilian. MWR director," Vivian said.

"A recreational director..." Stephen scoffed, and promptly dismissed her a moment later. His eyes were still on the battle damage to the Arawyn. He viewed it not as a father who had almost lost his son, but someone who had nearly lost a valuable commodity.

His bloodline. Almost lost to Starfleet, of all things.

That will never happen, he promised himself. He wouldn't let it.

Stephen Collingway
CEO of NewFrontier Deliveries

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