So Long, and Thanks for All the Dirt

Posted on Mon Jun 29th, 2026 @ 8:48pm by Lieutenant Cyrin Xanth
Edited on on Mon Jun 29th, 2026 @ 8:58pm

Mission: A New Day at Midnight
Location: USS Celeste, Edge of Federation Space

As the Pandora headed out to the frontier, another Starfleet vessel was due to pass close by, within several hundred thousand kilometers in fact. The two ships were both similar, and different, in a lot of ways. Where the Pandora was sleek, modern, practically humming with restrained power, brimming with all the latest that Starfleet had to offer as it hurtled through warped space-time, seeing the Celeste was like looking into the past. Fitting, perhaps, given the natue of the old Miranda Class ship's mission profile. There was a bit of similarity in profile as well, to show how Starfleet designs had changed over the generations. The Celeste was more bulky, but it had the same dedicated sensor pod above a saucer that gleamed white instead of silver, the same nacelle placement under the vessel. The older vessel was about half the length and mass of the newer, would never keep up in a prolonged race, couldn't match the Luca Class in firepower, or shield strength, or sensor resolution, or any number of measures, but for all of that, it had been perhaps one of Starfleet's greatest success stories. Miranda Class, the workhorse of two centuries for the fleet, was nevertheless, steadily and surely, being retired.

That's where the Celeste was headed now, to finally end her time amongst the stars, even as the Pandora was newly refurbished and refitted, heading off to a new mission of her own...

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"I'm sorry I'm going to miss the decomissioning ceremony," Cyrin said to the crowd of his shipmates outside the transporter room. His blue eyes were large and round with real anxiety over this, as he shifted on his feet and adjusted the duffle bag strap slung over his shoulder. He had to tilt his head back some to look everyone in the eyes, but it was something he was used to. Just about everyone on this ship was taller than him, including those who had come here to see him off. "You'll take lots of holos for me, won't you? And you won't hold it against me?"

"Oh aye, we'll never forgive ye, lad," Commander McInnis, the ship's XO, said with mock severity, shaking his head. He was leaning against the bulkhead next to the door, arms folded over his thick chest. Even in that relaxed posture he had nearly 30 cm on the Trill. His eyes gleamed above his bright red beard though, belaying his words. "Abandonin' us on our last trip together. So inconsiderate."

"What need does he have for us now that he's got that shiny new pip, and that shiny new post?" Lieutenant Torralba said, turning her own frown down at him from where she stood on his left. Funny, he'd once been utterly terrified of his department head, the lead scientist on the Celeste. He had never met a more foul-mouthed scientist, who could glare down a Naussican and go toe-to-toe with a Vulcan Science Academy graduate in a debate at the same time. Now he knew he would miss her rough humor and sarcasm, along with her mentorship and sheer love of exploration they had shared. "He's going to forget all about us as soon as he gets his hands on those hot, sexy, modern science labs. Gonna give them a real good work over, he is, and-"

"What they mean to say, Cyrin," Captain Carter interrupted with a laugh and a hand placed on Cyrin's shoulder, from his right side. The elderly human, who had just celebrated his 110th birthday the week before, gave his shoulder a squeeze. Not quite a surrogate father to the young Trill who had issues with his own back home, but close, and the most patient commanding officer Cyrin had ever known. Not that he knew many. "Is that we'll miss you, and all the others leaving us before the ceremony back at Earth. And we're so proud of you, too. I'm honored that among my final official duties was seeing you and the others promoted. You earned it. And I know the Pandora is going to be lucky to have you."

"Hear, hear!" said Ensign Foxa, her Tellarite snout wrinkled up as she smiled from ear to ear. She was followed by an, "I concurr," by Petty Officer T'van, whose elegantly arched eyebrow raised with unvocied disapproval. "Your efficiency notwithstanding, I will miss our conversations regarding ancient Tkon religious ceremonies."

It was all enough to make Cyrin's eyes start to grow wet with tears. He beamed up at his captain, his shipmates, and struggled for a moment to keep it together. He fidgeted in place, battling himself, on the one hand wanting to seem strong and confident, the kind of Starfleet officer who was ready to lead and jump into the unknown. He was going to have to be that. As soon as he reached his new ship, it was going to become real, the responsibilities of his new job. Then he just gave up, let the tears fall and the laughter start. "I told myself I wouldn't do this. I'm going to miss you all too, so much! This has been the best time of my life, ever."

"Lieutenant Xanth, two minutes till we're in range for high-speed transport protocols," came the call over the comms, from the transporter operator on the other side of the still-closed doors. It didn't seem like enough time to say goodbye, even though he'd done almost nothing but that for the last couple of days as they headed back to Federation Space. His orders had only just been confirmed less than 48 hours ago.

"Oh, bugger me with a Rigellian dagger!" Torralba said with a gasp. "I nearly forgot..." She reached into a pocket and pulled out a small black case, forced it into Cyrin's hands once he was done shaking that of McInnis. "To add to your collection. And my way of saying thank you, for all the paperwork you took off my hands the last couple of years. I've never had an assistant chief before that liked paperwork as much as you. And don't say I never got you anything. I still think you must be an impostor from the Mirror Universe, with how much you like filling out reports!" Cyrin could tell, from working so closely with the woman for two years now, that she was being extra to cover her own emotions, she just did it differently from him.

Cyrin sniffled as he took the case, gave the woman a pleading look. "You didn't have to-"

"Open it and say 'thank you', before I change my mind!" she laughed. They all gathered around, peering down to see what the gift was about.

With hands that shook from emotion, he wiped his cheeks first before nodding though the tears had only slowed but not stopped, and then gently, carefully opened the little box. His 'collection', she had told him, so that meant it had to be something precious, to him at least. A momento from one of their digs? The only thing he collected, besides bruises and PADDs, were minor artifacts from the dig sites they had been to over the last years. The Celeste was a science vessel through and through, but it had a speciality as an archaeological research team. Just about everyone, from the Captain down to the chef, had either been trained in archaeology or participated in expeditions. Together, they had excavated, catalogued, and researched a half dozen different sites since Cyrin had come on board, and dozens before that during the long, proud history of the Celeste.

The lighting in the corridor changed, shifted in softly moving rainbow patterns as the artifact inside was revealed. Multifaceted, made of some kind of transparent crystal that they had no idea how to replicate or create themselves, it was the source of the gentle radiance that turned the usual bright, white lighting in the old ship's corridor into something reminiscent of being in a brilliant nebula. "An Iconian data crystal?" Cyrin breathed out in an amazed sigh. "But...these are...this is..." He was at a loss for what to say. His mind whirled with excitement, his emotions just continued to overflow, shown by the tears that ran down his cheeks completely unnoticed now. His free hand trembled as he reached out with just a single fingertip to gently brush against the surface. Cool, despite the lights that looked warm.

Precious didn't even begin to cover it. He himself had dated one to several hundred thousands of years old when they'd been on that dig to an Iconian colony world. So rare that he had no idea how she'd managed to hold on to one herself and it not wind up in a Federation museum somewhere. Indecipherable, inscrutable, he'd never managed to translate the data contained on these artificial crystal storage units, no matter how many sleepless nights he'd spent at the task, but he'd proven that they put isolinear chips to shame when it came to their potential data storage capabilities. The crystal gave off it's own, soft light of scintillating colors that shifted through the visible spectrum and beyond, like some slowly moving prism refracting sunlight but it would do so even in complete darkness as well. The patterns were a bit subdued with the brighter, artificial lighting from the ceiling that drowned it out, but it was still beautiful. Though his hands had shook a moment before, now he held the object steady, instinctively ensuring he wouldn't drop it. It was the most incredible gift he'd ever known.

"You got some dirt on your nose, kid," Torralba said with affection, flicking his nose with a finger to get him to look up at her. She'd done that countless times to him since they'd worked together, pointing out the dirt he got all over when being so wrapped up in his work planetside, unearthing the latest Tkon, Iconian, or other ancient site. She grinned broadly to see the stunned, happy, sad, overwhelmed expression she'd made appear on his face, and her own eyes grew softer even as she continued to joke. "You sure you washed up after the last dig we went on? I'd never seen anyone that obsessed with Iconian relics before, and that's saying something, considering I'm the foremost expert on-"

"Lieutenant Xanth, thirty seconds." Did the transporter operator sound flustered now? Maybe.

There wasn't enough time to say all the things he held in his minds and hearts right then. The box was carefully closed and clutched tightly in one hand as he threw his arms around Jessica Torralba and hugged her tight. She'd taught him so much, helped him learn, helped him grow, gotten him drunk, tried to hook him up with no less than four women and five different men as she tried to decipher his preferences, gotten him into so much trouble on shoreleave more than once, made him her right-hand man. More than a boss, she was his best friend on the ship. Just a second or two, that hug lingered, long enough to whisper, "Thank you. Thank you for everything."

With final words of encouragement and final shoves and pats, they all ushered him into the transporter room and up onto the pad. The transporter chief was sweating; transporting while at warp wasn't standard practice, but the Pandora had a high priority mission and weren't stopping as the ships passed one another. Timing was everything. Cyrin had just enough time himself to lock a memory of them standing there - his shipmates, his friends, the wonderful crew that had taken him into their family, had given him so much. He started to raise his hand, to open his mouth to say 'goodbye' one more time. Then the restraining field froze him in place, and swirling blue energy whisked him away...

=====

[USS Pandora, Deck 8, Transporter Room 2]

Cyrin felt his stomach lurch as he was released from the beam, and let out a little sob as well, staggered just slightly before he caught himself and stood up straight. He couldn't help it, his heart was in his throat and his symbiont was shifting in its pouch. The transporter operator here on his new ship immediately looked concerned.

"Are you okay?! Oh no, did we leave some molecules behind or-"

"No," Cyrin said, taking a deep breath, still clutching the little box tightly in one hand, the strap of his duffle bag in the other. "I mean yes, I'm okay." Really, his stomach was doing backflips at that moment. He'd never done a high speed warp transport before, and now he understood why it wasn't done often. Good thing he'd been too wound up with nerves to eat breakfast that morning, otherwise his first moments on his new ship might be spent scrubbing the transporter pad. He didn't have to try that hard to put a smile on his face. The reality of his situation began to sink in.

"Okay. I can confirm we received your cargo transport for your quarters too simultaneously. Transporting things at warp is so much easier than people. For a moment there, I wasn't sure you were going to make it."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this..." Cyrin said vaguely as he continued to gather himself, and looked around.

The transporter room was so different from the one he'd just departed from! Sleek, black, shining, the lighting was a bit more subdued, almost intimate and comfortable. It even smelled different, the air filteration system more modern perhaps, the air a little more sterile. Did that mean it had less character than the Celeste? At times you could smell what was being cooked up in the mess from decks away, or if one of the containers in the cargo bay had spilled spare coolant after some hard manuvers. So strange. So different.

So exciting!

"Are you okay, Lieutenant?" the transporter chief asked again, this time meaning it differently. The short blonde Trill knew that he must look funny - tear streaked cheeks, a big smile on his face, standing there almost trembling with restrained emotion. Still standing there in fact, in the exact space he'd been in when beamed over, despite a good thirty seconds or more having passed.

"Yes," he said with more confidence now, and his smile grew. "Yes, I am."