Posted by Lieutenant Commander Thomas McGregor (COS) in Clearing the Air - COS at Home

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Thomas McGregor (COS) in Clearing the Air - COS at Home

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Thomas McGregor (COS) in Clearing the Air - COS at Home
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻
After a long (but not interminable) shuttle trip, and a visit to the public transporter, Thomas was staring at the home he’d grown up in. It hadn’t changed a bit from when he’d last seen it three years ago, following the funeral reception for his mother. He could pick out the window from the room that had once been his, just over the door to the garage where his father kept the “toys” – ATVs for most seasons and snowmobiles for the winter. He’d liked it because it was easy to sneak out from, and much less dangerous than having a three-meter drop to the front lawn. Half a meter onto the garage roof, then shimmy down the drainpipe and he was out of the house and into the trees.

He let a small smile creep onto his face as he remembered using the route to try and learn parkour as a teen. He’d only broken his left leg once, his right ankle twice and various bones in his arms three times before giving up on that particular skill.

Still, standing here and reminiscing about things from more than a decade ago weren’t why he’d come home. Adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, he forced himself to walk up the drive. He made it far closer to the door than he expected before he saw movement in the front room, through the gauzy curtains that provided only the barest minimum of privacy protection, particularly given the sensor pods mounted on the fence posts at the end of the drive.

He strolled with precision and grim dignity up the three steps onto the porch, but before he could reach down and ring the chime announcing himself, the front door opened to reveal his father: Commander Conor McGregor, retired.

Both men stared at each other for a moment.

“Thomas,” Conor said, evenly, looking at his eldest son.

“Dad,” Thomas replied, the wistful smile replaced by a tight expression. Anxiety was roiling in his gut, and before he fully registered what he was doing, he’d closed the gap between them, raised his right arm and punched his father in the face.

COS

The punch was returned with a left to Thomas’ gut, before the younger McGregor let out a yell and tackled his father into the entryway, kicking the door shut behind them.

The split in his attention to do so gave his father an opening and the older man took advantage, quickly pinning his son in a half-nelson hold.

“Not exactly the welcome home I was expecting to give you, Thomas,” he said from behind him. “Nice to know you’ve kept up with your hand-to-hand combat training though, I’m going to need a minute with a vascular regenerator tonight.”

“Sorry,” Thomas said. “That wasn’t exactly the plan for this visit, no matter what I told my Captain.”

“If I let you up, will you explain just what you are doing here less than a month after you sent a message indicating you were on a deep space exploration mission in the Beta Quadrant?” Conor asked.

“Yes,” Thomas said. “It’s something we really should have done three years ago.”

“Alright,” Conor said, abruptly releasing his hold and standing, then offering Thomas a hand to pick himself up off the floor. “Is it something we should do over a drink?”

Thomas paused and considered the question. On the one hand, he didn’t want there to be any possibility of alcohol clouding the discussion and causing something to be misunderstood or ignored, but on the other…

“Yeah,” he said. “But just beer, no hard liquor until afterwards.”

“Fair enough,” Conor replied, beckoning his eldest son to follow him further into the house.

COS

The pair sat across from each other, each holding a frosted mug filled with a light amber-colored beer, capped with a healthy head of foam.

“We’re going to talk about Mom,” Thomas said, before taking a deep swig from his mug that left him with a foam mustache. “And specifically, your pigheadedness that ended up with her dead and then not telling any of us anything until the day after your starliner returned.”

Conor frowned, his grip on his own mug tightening. “Why, son, do you insist on blaming me for your mother’s death? It was a disease that took her, and you know it. Gods know you’ve spent enough time pouring over every record you could get your hands on immediately afterwards trying to prove otherwise.”

“Yes, I know it was a disease that killed her. But I also know she got it on the trip, a trip you wanted to take and arranged, and I also know you delayed letting her visit the starliner’s medbay until the disease had progressed to a point where they were unable to do anything about it,” Thomas replied with a glare. “You don’t think I bothered asking the ship’s medical crew about what they learned?”

“I thought it was a cold!” his father insisted. “It wasn’t like she was cramping and vomiting the first few days, she just said she felt a little off. I thought she was having her time of the month.”

“An attentive husband would have sent her to the medbay on day two, if not immediately,” Thomas retorted. “But then, that would spoil your trip, wouldn’t it?”

“It was a trip for both of us,” Conor began, but Thomas slammed his hand on the table and cut him off.

“It was your trip. She didn’t give a rat’s ass about ancient Andorian monasteries or Vulcan spy nests, she just wanted to spend some time with her husband for the first time in thirty Godsdamned years!”

“Is that what this is about? You think I neglected my family?”

“Hard not to, when I can count on one hand the number of times you were physically present for any of our birthdays. I’m not entirely sure you were even present for Garrett’s actual birth,” Thomas retorted. Both men exchanged glares and took deep drinks from their beer. “But then you sent that Godsdamn patronizing holiday message and it touched off something in me, that sent me to the Counselor, and a recommendation that I come home and actually try to hash out all the issues I’ve had with you in person.”

“How long have you got?” Conor asked.

“Up to six months,” Thomas replied. “But I think one of us would kill the other long before then, so I’m hoping to get the worst of it done in the next two weeks, so we can be civil enough that I can stand to be in the same room as you without trying to turn your head into a Jack o’lantern.”

That elicited a laugh from his father.

COS

“Are you going to tell your brothers and sister you’re back?” his father asked, once they’d each finished their first beer, and each gotten a second.

Thomas swirled his bottle around. “Eventually,” he said. “I’d like us to all get together as a family before I go back. I haven’t even sent them so much as a birthday e-card in three years, to my shame.”

“Why do you think we all sent the message?” Conor asked. “Hells, son, the only way we knew you were still alive was that I hadn’t been visited by a CACO. You didn’t even call when you had a ship shot from under you.”

“Er, about that,” Thomas said. “I didn’t have the ship shot out from under me… as much as I kind of wrecked it.”

His father gave him a flat stare, then took a deep drink from his bottle. “There’s a story in there, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, well it’s not exactly one of my prouder moments space-side. Sure, I was cleared of any wrong-doing by the Captain and the Board of Inquiry afterwards, but I still think it was a damn stupid, crazy idea and I’m amazed that I had it, and that I voiced it, and that it was okayed. I still can’t believe it worked, and didn’t kill us all in the process,” Thomas replied, taking a deep drink of his own.

“Besides, we’re getting off topic. This conversation is supposed to be why I hate you and basically completely separated myself from all of you the last three years, not about me.”

“Sorry, bud, but sounds like the two topics are inextricably linked to me,” Conor replied with a smirk. “Can’t talk about why you are upset without talking about you, now, can we?”

Thomas replied with a scowl and a glare. “That right there is part of it. You’re not a counselor, Dad.”

“Legally, you’re correct. I never bothered to take the licensing exams. But as part of my Security training at the Academy, I took a lot of Psychology courses, and even after graduating I took some continuing education in the subject, and made friends with several qualified counselors to keep up to date in the subject. It helped me understand the criminal mind, and was particularly useful in counter-espionage ops.”

Thomas was grudgingly impressed, and said so. Unfortunately for his mood, that only made his father’s smirk bigger.

“They didn’t make me a Commander for my good looks, son,” he replied.

“Yeah, well it’s not like they hand out Lieutenant Commander’s pips like candy, is it?” he asked, gesturing towards his own collar before remembering he wasn’t in uniform, and so his pips weren’t on display.

“You got promoted again?” his father asked. “Congratulations. At this rate you’ll have my rank before you turn 30. Might even manage to make Captain yourself.”

“How would you handle me making a higher rank than you?” Thomas asked, entirely unprepared for his father to break out in an honest-to-the-Gods smile.

“Are you kidding? I’d be more thrilled than when Anthony introduced us all to Felicity. Marriage is all well and good, but having your own Command would be something else. Now, you’ll drop down the list again if and when those two give me a grandkid, but if you make Captain first, well…” Conor said, tipping his beer bottle to his eldest.

Thomas, beyond all his expectations for this visit, did something he’d hardly expected to do this afternoon: laugh.

COS

“So, tell me about your new ship,” Conor said, after a moment’s silence while the two sipped on their beers. “She’s an explorer, isn’t she?”

Thomas nodded. “Genesis-B. Manhattan-class, and let me tell you, if I ever meet the idiot who designed her, I’m going to greet him the same way I did you today.”

“Why?” his father asked, curious.

“The Godsdamned idiot didn’t include any Security facilities. I had no brig, no squad room, no office, nothing when I walked on board,” Thomas groused. “Took a few ‘spirited’ conversations with the Captain and the engineering staff to jerry-rig something that passes for all three: we’ve basically re-purposed one of the facilities that’s supposed to hold animals the Science department finds interesting.”

Conor smirked. “Sounds like your designer spent one too many nights in a drunk tank at the yards.”

“Yeah maybe,” Thomas said. “Still doesn’t excuse the rest of the idiots who approved the design for not catching it. Three layers of bureaucracy at Starfleet Engineering, and no-damn-body noticed you’re sending a starship with a crew of 600 souls out without so much as a single holding cell?” He made a ‘huff’ of frustration and took another long drink. “Some Admiral along the line got distracted by the executive summary of ‘Galaxy-class, but only 3/5 as big’ and probably fast tracked it without so much as a second glance.”

At this point, their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“You expecting someone else this afternoon, Dad?” Thomas asked, taking his father’s frown at the interruption for a ‘no,’ before the older McGregor even said it.

“No,” Conor said anyway, rising and moving behind the bar. Thomas wasn’t exactly surprised to see that his father had a link the the home’s security system there, but was surprised to see him hurry towards the door after a mere glance at it.

“It’s your sister, and she looks upset,” Conor explained. That got Thomas to drop his beer to the table as well, and hurry after him.

COS

Thomas hung towards the back once they reached the entryway, as Conor opened the door to admit a sobbing Josephina McGregor.

“Ach, me bairn, what’s wrong?” Conor asked, Scottish accent coming out.

“I-I b-b-blew an-no-nother one, Daddy!” Josephina said, with what Thomas thought was an uncharacteristic amount of wailing from her.

“It’s 1740, Josie,” Conor said, somewhat confused. “Unless, wait, where was this date?”

Thomas screwed up his face. Josie was this upset over a date? How bad could it have gone?

“Tokyo! I beamed straight over, I was so embarrassed, Daddy!” Josie exclaimed. “It started fine, a couple sake bombs before sushi, but I must have eaten it wrong, or I reacted to something in it, and I puked all over him!”

Thomas couldn’t help it, the mental image was hilarious. He let out a snort of laughter, which was loud enough to be heard by Josie and his father.

“Who was that?” she asked. “That sounded familiar. Who else is here at twenty to six on a Thursday?” she asked, tears forgotten in the presence of a sudden mystery to solve.

‘Well, nothing else for it,’ Thomas decided, stepping out into his sister’s line of sight and sparing his father from trying to make an excuse. “Hey, Josie.”

“TOMMY!” She wormed her way out of her father’s embrace, and sprinted across the entryway to tackle Thomas into the wall. “You utter jerk, when did you get back? What are you doing here and not on a starship in the middle of nowhere? You didn’t blow up this one too, did you?”

“Hey!” Thomas exclaimed, once he could breathe again. “I didn’t blow up the last one, I crashed it into another spaceship. And then it blew up. But I didn’t blow anything up, I just took some leave to talk some things over with Dad.”

“And punch me in the face, you did that too,” Conor piped up, very unhelpfully in Thomas’ opinion, eliciting a gasp from Josie.

“Yes, and punching you in the face, which you’re not exactly dissuading me from doing again. You know how she gets when she’s in an interrogatory mood!” he said with a glare, indicating the 5‘6” missile of curiosity that was currently pinning him to a wall.

“We were just doing a little day drinking before you showed up. C’mon, we’ll get you a ginger ale to settle your stomach and you can join the improptu therapy session,” Thomas said.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of answering my questions that easy, Tommy,” Josie said, loosening her grip slightly. “I want to know exactly what brought you home after three Gods-damned years, and not just flippant quips!”

“Gods above, I’ve missed you,” Thomas said fondly, pushing away from the wall and guiding her back the way he’d came. “Good to know I’m not the only one in this family who can’t find a life partner.”

“Watch it, mister,” Josie said, punching him in the arm.

COS

“So, Tokyo, huh?” Thomas asked once they’d returned to the home minibar and gotten a drink for Josephina. “What was this one’s name, where’d you meet him, and why’d you agree to go out with him in the first place?”

“Sato Kaiichi, he’s a structural engineer I met at a conference last month. We hit it off at a pre-conference social mixer, talking about the new Rigellian consulate in Paris and the way they’ve blended Rigellian glass and transparent aluminum into the facade of the building, he offered to take me out for a night on the town in Tokyo and, well, that ended in a bloody failure,” Josie said with a grimace, before taking a deep drink from her glass.

“Strange that you reacted like that,” Conor mused. “You’re certainly not allergic to fish, and I know you can hold your liquor better than that.”

“I think it was the wasabi,” Josie said. “It burned something fierce going down, and worse coming back up thirty seconds later.”

Thomas winced. He’d had wasabi once, at the Academy, and it had ended almost as badly for him. His puke hadn’t landed on any person, but he had been banned from that particular sushi bar. Not that he had any intention of ever patronising it again, after that, but he supposed it was the principle of the thing for the proprietor.

“I would believe that,” he told his sister. “Same thing happened to me sophomore year at the Academy, basically.”

“Really?” Josie asked. “That’s a relief, and interesting to know that you puked on a boy you were interested in too,” she said in a teasing tone.

Thomas still flushed. “Shut up, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t puke on anybody, just a bonsai at our table.”

“Oh, come on, I know you, Tommy,” Josie said. “Half the people in that bar probably wanted to bang you even after you emptied your guts on the shrubbery, but you’d be about as interested in accepting those offers as this barstool I’m sitting on.” She paused and took another drink. “What do you even do on shore leave, if you’re not bouncing from bed to bed and sowing your wild oats?”

“I’m a department head, Josie, I catch up on my paperwork,” Thomas said flatly. “I try not to let it accumulate, but there’s only so many hours in a day a man can devote to reading overall shift reports and specific incident reports before he wants to airlock himself, and unfortunately, that number is only about half of the hours that would be required to get through it all. Not to mention, I can’t just spend my entire shift in my office reading reports, I have to get out and do some rounds of my own, plus training on my own and with my staff. It’s a wonder I even manage four hours of sleep some nights, much less six to eight.”

“So boring,” Josie said, frowning as Thomas described his shipboard life. “At least tell me something interesting that’s happened while your crew enjoyed shore leave.”

It didn’t take long for Thomas to dredge up a particularly interesting memory. “Alright, this was right before we were about to set out on the new ship, with the expanded crew. The Captain had thrown a ‘meet your new shipmates’ event on the starbase, and some of the new crew and some of the returning crew got together like a house on fire. So much so, in fact, that I got called at 0600 the next morning to the ship’s crew lounge, where I found six crewmen, three ensigns and a junior lieutenant in a big jumble of naked limbs.”

Conor laughed. “I bet that was fun to sort out with no brig available. How’d you handle it?”

“Had the lounge staff that called it in spray them down with the hose behind the bar they use to rinse out glassware that’s not constantly recycled in the replicator, then issued them all a public indecency citation and restricted them to quarters for three days once they were awake and mostly cognizant of the mess they were in. Also made the crewmen and the ensigns clean up the lounge. The lieutenant was actually one of mine, so I sent him to get dressed and then report to my office for a more in depth bollocking.”

COS