Welcome to the Real World
Posted on Fri Jun 12th, 2026 @ 2:44pm by Lieutenant Thomas Fletcher
614 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
Preamble
Location: New Bajor
It was early in the third week when his combadge finally chirped.
Tom looked up from the PADD balanced precariously atop an equipment crate and wiped a smear of dust from the back of his hand onto his trouser leg before tapping the badge.
"Fletcher."
The familiar voice of the Starfleet liaison crackled through the speaker.
"Lieutenant."
Something about the man's tone immediately made Tom suspicious.
Over the previous three weeks he had come to recognise the subtle difference between routine administrative communication and Starfleet is about to complicate your life.
This sounded distinctly like the latter.
"Go ahead."
"The Venture is running behind schedule."
Tom stared across the construction site.
Workers moved between partially completed support structures. Survey drones drifted lazily overhead. A section of newly installed pipeline waited to be buried beneath several tonnes of imported soil. Further down the valley, construction crews were assembling one of the project's larger pressure regulation stations.
What had begun as a consultation had become something considerably more ambitious.
For a moment he simply stood there.
Then he laughed.
A short, disbelieving sound.
"That's hardly news."
The liaison sounded faintly offended.
"Perhaps not."
"No, definitely not."
"Regardless, the senior staff briefing is proceeding as scheduled."
Tom's smile faded slightly.
A warning bell rang somewhere in the back of his mind.
"And that concerns me because...?"
"Because you're expected to attend."
The warning bell grew considerably louder.
Tom lowered the PADD.
Slowly.
"Attend."
"Correct."
"I am currently on New Bajor."
"We're aware."
"You told me to remain on New Bajor."
"We did."
"The Venture is not currently on New Bajor."
"No."
Tom closed his eyes briefly.
The silence stretched just long enough for the liaison to realise exactly where his train of thought was heading.
"Holographic attendance."
Of course.
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose.
Of course it was holographic attendance.
Why transport an officer to a starship when you could instead transport his likeness halfway across the quadrant and save everybody the inconvenience?
The fact that it actually made sense somehow made it worse.
"What time?"
The liaison consulted a PADD.
"Forty minutes."
Tom lowered his hand and glanced around once more.
The aqueduct project stretched across the landscape beyond him.
New support stations dotted the hillsides.
Survey markers tracked the route of pipelines that would eventually carry fresh mountain water to settlements still years away from being completed.
Somewhere several kilometres away, enough fresh water to sustain an entirely new community was waiting for infrastructure that did not yet exist.
It was exactly the sort of problem he enjoyed solving.
The realization probably should have concerned him.
Instead it simply felt familiar.
"Understood."
The channel closed.
For a few moments Tom remained where he was.
The afternoon sun hung low above the distant hills.
The work crews continued about their business.
Nothing had changed.
And yet, somewhere beyond New Bajor's atmosphere, aboard a ship he had never set foot on, his future department heads were beginning to gather.
A captain he had never met.
A crew he did not yet know.
An assignment he had spent weeks trying to reach.
All waiting.
The thought should have made him anxious.
Instead he found himself smiling.
Because despite every delay, every diversion and every bureaucratic complication, he was finally about to meet the people he would be serving beside.
The future, it seemed, had finally caught up with him.
Tom gathered his PADD and started walking back toward the farmhouse.
If he was about to introduce himself to the senior staff of a Galaxy-class starship, he should probably change out of his work clothes first.
Lenara would never let him hear the end of it otherwise.
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