Milwaukee

Posted on Sat Aug 2nd, 2025 @ 9:24am by Rear Admiral Rebecca Talon
Edited on on Sat Aug 2nd, 2025 @ 9:29am

2,181 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Mission 9: When the Stars Went Silent
Location: Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Earth
Timeline: July 10, 2375

Milwaukee was just as hot and humid as she remembered. A heavy July sun hung overhead, casting its glare through sagging, leaf-laden trees blurred by the dense summer haze. The street hadn’t changed either. Built in stages throughout the 20th century, red-brick and wood-sided houses stood in quiet rows, weathered by time. Their modest lawns, patchy and green, gave way to concrete sidewalks cracked and heaved by the roots of those same trees and offering meager shade against the oppressive heat.

Rebecca turned onto one of the sidewalks; the heels of her boots made muted clicks against the concrete. Sweat trickled down her back, giving her an uncomfortable, sticky feeling in places she would rather not mention. Not even five minutes in the Midwest and she was already yearning to shed her uniform in favor of a shower. A cold shower.

She climbed the steps to the front porch of a red-brick two-story house, built in the early 1900s. A wind chime tinkled softly in the breeze. Before her stood a white-painted door with a semicircular window divided into five wedges, like half an orange, flanked by two matching windows trimmed in white. A pair of white outdoor loungers waited patiently on the porch, ready to welcome their evening guests, those who would sit, sip ice-cold beers, and watch the sun dip below the trees.

She sucked in a lungful of muggy air, and with the tip of her finger, she depressed the black doorbell button.

Ding-dong

She stepped back and took in her setting. She was saying goodbye to a lot of places, it seemed, and like her home in Santa Fe, she knew that this would be the last time she would stand here. Inside, there would be the heavy scents of Polish food and cinnamon candles.

After a few moments, the handle clicked, and the door creaked open with a low scrape of wood on the sill. On the other side stood Doctor Tess Ryder, her hair the same copper-red as Rebecca’s. More than once, they’d been mistaken for mother and daughter.

“Becca!” Tess beamed, the smile stretching to the fine lines etched at the corners of her eyes.

Rebecca stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, breathing in a soft, unfamiliar floral scent.

“You got a new perfume,” she murmured.

“I did,” Tess said, squeezing her tighter. “Leo picked it out. A few months back. What do you think?”

Rebecca pulled away just enough to meet her gaze, the corners of her mouth lifting. “I like it.”

“Come in, come in. You’re letting the cold out, and the heat in,” Tess teased, stepping aside with a wave of her hand.

Rebecca crossed the threshold, and there it was. That scent of pierogi, sausage, and warm cinnamon wrapped around her like a blanket. Her boots clicked softly on dark-stained wood floors, polished to a soft sheen that reflected glints of afternoon light through the gauzy curtains. Patterned rugs softened each step, their placement unchanged from the last time she’d been here.

A crocheted throw rested neatly on the couch arm. On the bookshelf, a photo of Tess and Leo smiled out from behind glass, nestled between worn volumes of Tacitus, Shakespeare, and Grey’s Anatomy, a collection that only made sense in this home. Another frame showed the whole Ryder clan on a windswept beach, faces squinting back at the camera with Lake Michigan stretching into the horizon. Her eye caught the goofy, lopsided grin of Tess’s son Nick. Nick's younger brother Tony wore a pair of tropical board shorts and his arms crossed over his puffed-out chest and mock-serious expression.

Some things never change, she thought.

Trinity and Ethan emerged from the hallway, their faces long, hands clasped tightly. Both looked like they’d been crying, though, knowing her stepson, she knew Ethan would never admit it. That just wasn’t the cowboy way. They stood at the threshold between the hall and the living room, neither willing to step fully into the space, and Rebecca sympathized. Ever since their capture at the hands of the Dominion and their escape, those two had been inseparable. Well, they already were before that. Still… now it felt cruel to break them up.

But the Ryders didn’t make the list of names, and there was no family in the fleet to take any of them.

"Nick wants to see you," Tess announced, breaking her from her thoughts. "He's in the study."

Rebecca raised an eyebrow. That was strange. Why didn't he come out to meet her?

Shrugging, she crossed the living room, slid the stained mahogany door aside, and stepped into the darkened study, closing it softly behind her. The curtains were drawn, casting the room in dim shadow. Light spilled in around the edges, forming a halo that silhouetted a male figure standing behind the desk.

The air was thick with the scent of old cigar smoke, whiskey, worn leather, and dust-covered books. This had always been the domain of the men in the family. She’d never been forbidden from entering, but there was an unspoken rule: this was where they came to escape the feminine energy of the household. Where Tess’s world revolved around medicine, the study bore the unmistakable imprint of Leo, Nick, and Tony engineers to the bone.

She’d been tolerated in their ranks because she spoke the language, trigonometric shorthand, load-bearing calculations, structural stress analysis, and on it went. Being a female engineer always placed her in a strange, liminal space: the "cool woman" in one breath, "just a girl" the moment she disagreed. The Ryders weren’t like that. They’d left their caveman ways back in the cave, but that didn’t mean she was ever invited in for cigars.

Not that she would have wanted to share one with the men as they puffed away and likely loosened their belts and competed over whose farts were the worst. Men. Still, it kind of sucked to be excluded. Why should she have to help Tess clean up after dinner? And what did she know about medicine? She couldn't tell the difference between a patella and a fallopian tube.

Nick stepped around the desk. As he moved, the light caught the faded grey of his Van Halen T-shirt. Without a word, he drew her into his arms, and she rested her head against his chest. They stood there in silence, their breathing slowly syncing. He was always so solid, with just the right amount of fluff. Her rock back at the Academy. And she wished; God, she wished, he could be her rock for this mission, too.

Milo would be jealous. He already is. But that ship... Nick and I sailed a long time ago, and that went down in a fiery crash that almost torched our friendship.

"I missed you," he said softly. "You made Admiral. Congratulations. I always thought I would beat you," Nick teased with his signature lopsided grin.

"I missed you too," she said, separating from him and giving him a playful jab to the chin. "Thanks, and not a chance, and I have two doctorates. I'm just more qualified than you."

Nick chuckled and gave it a mock massage, pretending she had inflicted damage.

Rebecca grinned. "Standing in the dark, being all mysterious? Why the cloak and dagger?"

He shrugged. One of her old officers, Peter Crawford, would have rated that an eight-point-eight. "You know me. Starfleet Intelligence training runs deep. Old habits."

Rebecca did know. He’d been pulled into the espionage life not long after graduating, primarily to chase after his ex-wife, Julie. That ill-fated union had at least given Becca her two goddaughters, Angel and Trinity. So maybe it hadn’t been all bad. The girls were nothing like their toxic mother. Hell, Angel isn’t much like her father, either.

"Seriously, what are you up to? You’re acting like James Bond or something."

Nick turned away and walked along the bookshelves brimming with technical manuals, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Tom Clancy, Ian Fleming, and J.R.R. Tolkien. He paused to pull one of the steel balls back on a Newton's Cradle and released it. He watched it swing back and forth with his back to her.

Tick.

Tick.

"Nick?"

Tick.

"Nicholas Noel Ryder, goddamn it! What are you up to?"

Nick sighed and placed a finger against the cradle, stopping the motion with a muted click. He exhaled sharply and turned to her. "I have a favor to ask," he said in a low voice. "I know about your mission, Noah's Ark."

Rebecca blinked and stared at Nick in disbelief. The silence fell around them, and then the heat rose up her neck and spread. She closed in on him and slapped him, her open palm breaking the silence like a thunderclap. He stood there with the imprint of her hand blooming red on his cheek. He looked away from her, a single tear streaking down his cheek.

"Nicholas Ryder! Jesus fucking Christ!" She hissed just above the pounding of her heart. "What the hell is wrong with you? By telling me this, you make me complicit if I don't report it. You are asking me to turn in my best friend and send you to prison, or we both go." She turned her back on him and took two steps towards the door, her boots sounding hollow on the hardwood floor.

She paused and turned back to him, her eyes alight with fire. "Who gave you this intel? It's classified beyond classified. No, don't fucking tell me. I don't want to know. Just tell me why? Why would you torpedo your career? I know you, Nick. You love to tinker, but you are also a leader. You need to make a difference. You need the center seat."

"My daughter is more important than all of that. I know what's in store for the Federation. I'm not stupid. We're in the death throes of this war. According to Julie, the Changelings are sick—and I think we had something to do with it. Either way, they're dying, and that makes them more dangerous than ever.

"And when they’re gone, when they turn to dust, who’s going to control the Vorta? The Jem’Hadar? No one. There’ll be a power vacuum, and chaos will fill it. A fire is coming, Becca. It’ll burn across this entire quadrant. I know it. You know it. Hell, anyone with half a brain can see it."

"Your daughter?" Rebecca said, catching the singular usage.

"Becca, take Trinity with you. Take her on your mission so that she does not have to see the burning," Nick pleaded. "I will fight to the end, but Trinity is all I have left." His voice cracked, and he slumped into the bookshelf, his chest heaving in silent sobs.

Rebecca was at his side in two steps, leaning into him, rubbing his back. She let him cry, and when the shaking slowed, she spoke in a soft voice, dreading the question and fearing the answer even more. "Nick... where is Angel?"

"She was..." He swallowed and choked out the rest, "She was on the Enterprise."

Rebecca’s breath caught. She had seen the Enterprise destroyed from that Vulcan command center Q had taken her to. She hadn’t known Angel was stationed there. She was so young: seventeen. She should’ve been in high school, worrying about boys, not enlisting in Starfleet… and dying.

But Nick wasn’t the first parent to lose someone so young to war. It was a tale as old as civilization. And despite all the Federation’s moral grandstanding, no poverty, no hunger, no money, there was still war.

And it was still kids fighting it.

She wrapped her arms around her best friend, and they stood in silence, crying into each other's arms. Nothing else mattered. Nick's reasoning to save Trinity alone was worth prison. Her being Nick's last child made it even more imperative. Nick's mission was now hers, and she would gladly stand before a court-martial if it came down to it.

"Yeah, I'll do it. Trinity is safe. And I'll see if I can't get you and your parents assigned to the fleet."

"No," he replied. His voice was raw and no more than a whisper. "Ryders will fight these fucking bastards until our last breaths. Someone has to stay and tell the Dominion what it means to be human."

"Nick..."

She didn’t finish her thought. He had made up his mind. There was no changing that. This was no longer a visit. It was a living funeral. She was still reeling from Angel’s death, and now she had to bury her best friend before he was even gone.

She gave a broken laugh through her tears. “I’m going to miss you, you jackass.”

"I love you too."

 

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