Call Your Mother Once in a While

Posted on Sat Aug 2nd, 2014 @ 4:27pm by Lieutenant Commander Horatio Hawke

Episode: Orphans
Location: Executive Officer's Office
Timeline: MD29 - 1649hrs

It was going to take Horatio some time to get used to the fact that he now had an office. An office! It wasn’t spacious in anyway, but it had a desk, a computer terminal, a seat for visitors and even a window! Even if it was small, Horatio wasn’t complaining; a utilitarian office was a big step up from no office whatsoever.

He didn’t have any mementoes or decorations to move in; all of that was lost with the Endeavour and he hadn’t started to collect space fillers since. So the office looked sparse and unlived in. But, he didn’t mind that at all. This was a place of work, after all.

Quiet piano music was playing from the speakers of the computer terminal as Horatio stood in front of his window, looking out at the cloudy visage of Dreyas IV. It was night time at the colony site, but in their morning he would be heading down to the surface to take charge of the ship’s personnel helping the colonists setting things up. It would be his first real test as First Officer and he was determined to do a good job. Fortunately, it was mostly a logistical operation and as long as he had Ethan and Leon down there to take care of the technical details he didn’t anticipate any hiccups.

The music suddenly stopped and was instantly replaced with a nasally, haughty voice. “Patching you through now, sir.”

Horatio quickly scampered back around his desk and landed in the chair just as the screen flicked to show the head and shoulders of a dark haired rear admiral with a small mouth and piercing eyes.

“Hello, Mother,” Horatio said as he straightened his tunic and swivelled his chair ever so slightly to the left.

Rear Admiral Haydée Kader-Hawke blinked and leaned forward slightly. “You’ve been promoted!” she said, ignoring the pleasantries that weren’t really needed anyway. A proud smile crossed her face as she said, “Well done, Horry!”

“Thanks, Mum,” Horatio smiled back, ignoring the nickname that only she got away with calling him. What was it with mothers and their reckless disregard for their children’s desire to avoid embarrassment? “I’m now First Officer of the Highlander. Captain Williams passed me this morning. Had me send one of my best mates to his death, but apparently that was the point.”

Haydée chuckled and shook her head, “I think that’s exactly the point, Horry,” she said. “I remember going through those tests, but let me tell you this … they don’t prepare you for the real thing.” She paused, allowing her words to linger across the many light years between Drayas and Earth. “But you will do just fine when the real thing comes along. Learn from Captain Williams; he’s a decent skipper. And never doubt your abilities. There’s a reason they stuck that hollow pip on your collar, my boy.”

He smiled. Horatio was never short on confidence, but his mother had a great way of destroying even a seed of insecurity before it had the chance to grow. “I know,” he said, reaching up and brushing a fingertip over that third pip. “This gets me light-years closer to my goals and I’m not going to let the opportunity pass me by.”

“That’s my boy,” she said with a beaming, proud smile. She had always been very supportive of her only son.

Growing up a fleet brat, Horatio had two excellent role models to emulate and they both took their mentoring role seriously. After Horatio’s father died in the closing stages of the Dominion War, his mother redoubled her efforts, taking an even more active role in helping him achieve his goals. Without that support at that time, Horatio was pretty sure he would have wound up washing out of Starfleet Academy and probably spent his life drifting from job to job in the less savoury reaches of the galaxy.

A quiet tone sounded, letting them know that the comm window would close shortly. “Sorry, mum, the line is about to drop out,” Horatio said. “I just wanted to check in and let you know what’s happened. I might have some shore leave next year, I was thinking about coming to Earth this time.”

“That would be nice,” she said. “I’ll still be here, I think. This project will last at least another two years if we do it right. Take care of yourself, Horry. Don’t forget to write. I love you and I’m very, very proud of you.”

He smiled, “I love you too, mum.”