Post 172: Old Friends
Posted on Tue Dec 17th, 2024 @ 8:39pm by Lieutenant Thomas Ryan MD & First Star Admiral Dakota Olvera
911 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission: Secrets
Tom had finished with the Captain. Before he made his way to start working, he headed off to find Dakota. Tom, Chris and Dakota had known each other for many years. Tom had started working for Chris in intelligence as a Researcher and was also his personal physician. He had gotten to know them both very well and was even the best man at their wedding. They had gone through a lot together and even though he didn't see them often enough they always tried to keep in contact. Working on projects with Chris always had it's degree of mystery, and Chris himself was a secretive man, but Tom always knew better. He felt bad that he hadn't realized something was going on.
Admiral Dakota Olvera stood at the edge of the vast observation deck, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she stared out into the endless void. The station’s lights reflected faintly against the window, but beyond that—only darkness. Somewhere out there, Chris was gone. Taken.
The Synthulans had left nothing behind but questions and silence. The official reports called it an "incident," but to Dakota, it felt more like a theft. She didn’t move, barely blinking, afraid that if she turned away from the stars, the reality would hit harder.
“You’re going to strain your eyes.”
The voice was soft, familiar, and cut through the silence. Dakota didn’t need to look to know it was Tom, Chris’ trusted colleague, best friend, and Starfleet Intelligence’s Synthulan expert. Tom had the uncanny ability to appear when no one else dared approach her—when everyone else gave her distance.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” Dakota replied quietly, her voice steady but distant.
Tom stepped forward, his footsteps light on the polished deck. He stopped beside her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his uniform jacket. He wasn’t as tall as Chris, but his presence was solid. Dependable. A small comfort when so little else was.
“Force of habit,” Tom said. He gave her a small glance before turning his eyes to the stars. “You haven’t been sleeping, have you?”
Dakota tensed. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything,” Tom replied calmly. “It’s just an observation. You’re running on fumes, Dakota.”
She let out a slow breath, her shoulders sinking slightly. “I can’t. Not yet.”
Tom’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He understood grief in a way few others did. Losing his own family years ago had left him quieter, softer in his approach to others’ pain. He wouldn’t push.
Instead, he tried a different angle. “I’ve been going through the reports again—the ones from what happened. There’s… something there. Something we missed.”
Dakota turned to look at him, her sharp eyes narrowing. “What are you saying?”
He met her gaze, his expression serious. “I’m saying we don’t give up on him. Not yet.”
For a second, she froze. The mask she’d so carefully maintained cracked, just a hairline fracture, but enough for Tom to see the flicker of hope she’d buried beneath her grief.
“The Synthulans took him, Tom. They don’t return people.”
Tom exhaled softly, shifting his weight. “They don’t. But we also don’t know everything about them. Chris knew the risks—he knew what he was walking into. But I refuse to believe he’s gone. Not without proof.”
Silence hung between them. Dakota turned back to the stars, her face unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter.
“You’re chasing ghosts.”
Tom smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe. But sometimes ghosts are all we have until we find answers.”
Dakota said nothing, but Tom didn’t need her agreement. The fact that she was listening was enough. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small data chip, setting it gently on the ledge beside her.
“I compiled everything I’ve got. You’ll find anomalies in the Synthulan activity logs—patterns that don’t line up. I don’t know what they mean yet, but it’s a start.”
She glanced at the chip but didn’t touch it. Her voice was almost accusatory when she finally asked, “Why do you care so much, Tom?”
Tom turned his gaze back to the stars, his expression distant. “Because Chris was... is my friend. And because you need someone to believe in him when you can’t.”
Dakota’s breath caught in her throat, and for the first time in days, her carefully constructed walls faltered. She didn’t respond, but she didn’t have to. Tom knew her well enough to understand.
He stepped back, his voice softer now. “Get some rest, Dakota. I’ll keep working.”
As he turned to leave, Dakota finally picked up the data chip, turning it over in her hand. She didn’t say goodbye, but Tom didn’t expect her to. The fact that she held onto the chip at all was enough.
For now, that was how they worked—Tom keeping the flame of hope alive while Dakota held the line.
In the quiet of the observation deck, Dakota stared out at the stars once more, the data chip clutched tightly in her hand.
“Don’t you dare be gone, Chris,” she whispered to the darkness.
Dr Thomas Ryan
Research & Intelligence
Admiral Dakota Olvera
Fleet Admiral
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