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The Sea ‘Heir’

Posted on Tue Jun 30th, 2020 @ 10:24pm by Captain Rufus Walker
Edited on on Tue Jun 30th, 2020 @ 11:16pm

Mission: Season 1 - Prologue
Location: San Francisco Bay, Earth
Timeline: Day 1 at 1730

The sun split the trees in downtown San Francisco, the sea air filtering up the hilly streets in waves. Each new wave of salty sea air from the Bay hit Walker’s nostrils, forcing them open and causing him to inhale a large breath.

Recalled from his last posting, in the Federation Embassy on Cardassia Prime, Rufus Walker, a 40 something Starfleet Commander had been back on Earth for 4 weeks now. He’d received little in terms of information about his next posting, in fact now that he thought about he’d received little information on anything. He had spent the last 4 weeks, being put up in Guest Quarters in one of Starfleet’s many accommodation towers. He spent his days running, drinking coffee and reading Starfleet reports.

He continued his run through the streets of San Francisco, eventually making his way down to the waterfront. Running along the path that snaked the coastline, large oak trees provided some much welcomed shade. Rufus’s pace slowed as he’d finally run out of breath. Eventually coming to a stop, he propped himself up against the waist height black bars that had been installed hundreds of years ago to stop people accidentally falling into the water below. He looked out over the Bay, the gentle waves of the tide lapped at the shoreline below, providing a tranquil sound that was near impossible to find on a desert planet like Cardassia Prime.

His rapid breathing eventually slowed, regaining its normal cadence. Rufus turned to begin his run again, taking off in a direction to his apartment. His feet pounded the pavement, the pace of his run increasing every few hundred yards. Just as he was about to reach his top speed, he was brought to a halt at the sight of a familiar Admiral purchasing coffee from a street vendor.

Walker’s trainers screeched, as the rubber soles made harsh contact with the ground. Panting, Rufus Walker came to a complete stop, as the Admiral approached him.

The Starfleet Admiral, in a full service maroon uniform approached from the street vendor, a cup of hot coffee in each hand. Flanked by an attaché and a bodyguard, they took the few steps forward to meet with Walker.

Admiral Peter Nixon, had in the year previous been promoted to Deputy Commander, Fifth Fleet upon the decommissioning of his previous command, the Sovereign class U.S.S. Alliance. His now greying hair, complemented the new metallic silver pips on his collar, his matching combadge glinting in the sunlight. As he approached Walker, he extended one of the cups of coffee out to Rufus, to accept.

“Dad!” Rufus exclaimed as he happily accepted the coffee, “What are you doing here?” He nodded politely to the accompanying attaché. She was a familiar face from the Admiral’s time on the Alliance, his former Executive Officer, Commander Emily Adams. They turned in tandem together, and started at a walking pace along his previous route.

“You don’t have to call me that, Rufus.” The Admiral spoke, as the attaché and bodyguard fell into position behind them. “I only did what your birth parents would have wanted.”

Unusually, Rufus Walker had been born at the height of the Dominion War, on the Starship Edgar. The Centaur class starship destroyed a few hours after his birth. Admiral Nixon, then Ensign Nixon, an Academy friend of Walker’s parents, opted to adopt him and bring him onboard the U.S.S. Bismarck, rather than allow Baby Walker to be entered into the Federation Custodial Service.

Rufus placed his spare arm around the Admiral’s shoulders, “You might not have made me, Admiral. But you did raise me, and that makes you my Dad. I’m sure my Mother and Father would be eternally grateful. So what do I owe this pleasure?” With a squeeze that brought their shoulders together, his arm fell back to the ground.

Almost as if the attaché had rehearsed the motion, she leaned around the outside of Admiral Nixon, and handed him a small black wooden box. Their travel along the street came to a brief stop, and in an unspoken action Admiral Nixon handed the box to Walker, who in tandem handed off his cup of coffee to the Commander Adams.

With a raised eyebrow, and a few glances between the box and his surrogate father, he opened it slowly. Inside, on an equally black velvet cushion, were 4 new titanium rank pips. Before Walker reacted the Admiral reached out and placed a hand on Walker’s shoulder, “I wanted to do this in person. Congratulations on your promotion Captain. You’ve earned it. You’ll need to report to Starfleet Command first thing tomorrow morning for your assignment details.”

With few more words between them, mainly due to the fact that Walker had been made speechless by the unforeseen promotion, they continued the walk back to Walker’s apartment.

 

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