Uncharted Bonds

Posted on Sat Aug 30th, 2025 @ 9:44am by Captain Mitsu Sato

763 words; about a 4 minute read

The Eclipse still seemed quiet, even more than usual. Mitsu sat in her ready room, reading reports and trying to find sort form of peace and calm to center herself. The Eclipse was still a few days away from arriving at Starbase 24, and a quiet, almost serene, routine had settled throughout the crew. The loss of Rogers and Oku still haunted everyone, but Mitsu had seen the resolve of the crew that simply stated the they were determined to carry on.

"Bridge to the captain," the voice of the duty officer broke through the silence. Mitsu frowned as she glanced up from the Padd she had been reading. "There's a communication from Starfleet JAG addressed to you."

Mitsu's eyes widened, but she set the Padd down. "Put it through to my ready room, please," she said.

The desktop monitor came to life as the comm channel opened with the crisp emblem of Starfleet Command before resolving into the image of Lieutenant Jack Harmon, JAG officer. His expression was neutral, voice carrying the practiced cadence of someone used to delivering unwelcome news with unshakable steadiness.

“Captain Sato,” he began, inclining his head. “Thank you for making time for this transmission. I am contacting you on a matter of a personal nature rather than an official directive.”

Mitsu folded her hands tightly in her lap, masking her unease behind the calm mask of command. “Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

“It concerns your daughter, Naomi.”

The words landed like a phaser blast, though Mitsu’s face betrayed nothing. Harmon went on, consulting the padd in front of him with detached precision.

“As of last week, Naomi has reached the age of majority under Federation law. At eighteen, she is no longer under the foster guardianship of Alexia Nolan. She has expressed a wish to establish contact with you directly. More specifically, she has petitioned to reside aboard the Eclipse for a period of time, if you are amenable. The request has already been approved by Starfleet Command, so the final decision at this time is yours.”

Mitsu’s breath caught for half a second before she forced it steady. “I see,” she replied, the syllables clipped and cool. “Has she stated her reasons for this request?”

“Only that she wishes to connect with you,” Harmon said. “To build a relationship, if possible. Her words, Captain. She was quite earnest when I spoke to her regarding this request.”

The silence that followed stretched long, though Harmon didn’t fidget. Mitsu weighed every possible response, from protocol and duty to the personal minefield she had avoided for so long.

At last, she nodded once before she spoke. “I acknowledge the request. Please inform Naomi that I would be happy to welcome her aboard the Eclipse and into my life. We will be docking at Starbase 24 within the week, if that is acceptable to her schedule."

“Understood,” Harmon replied. He inclined his head again. “I'll inform her immediately and see to it that she is at Starbase 24 inside the week. Good luck, Captain."

The screen blinked to black, leaving only the quiet hum of the Eclipse. Mitsu leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, mostly to fight back the tears that she knew would fall if she didn't. Her daughter hadn't crossed her mind much in recent years, mostly due to the horrible memories of Alexia that came along with the thought of Naomi. But now, her daughter had come of age and left the safety of Alexia’s care, and of all places in the galaxy, she wished to visit her Mitsu, her mother.

The thought, in a way, frightened Mitsu. What was she to Naomi? A uniform. A name on a registry. A mother in title, but not in practice. Mitsu could remember fragments only: Naomi's tiny hand gripping her own, the sound of laughter like sunlight through clouds, the promise of a future that never came to be. Years had taken those away, blurred them into uncertainty.

Now, Naomi was eighteen, a woman in her own right. Mitsu realized that she did not even know the sound of her voice as an adult. She didn't know if her daughter carried anger for her absence, or longing, or both. Yet beneath the fear there was something else. A fragile, dangerous hope. Hope that her daughter was not coming to judge, but to connect. That thought alone made the fears she felt feel worth the risk. Mitsu opened her eyes once more and for the first time in a while, she felt her heart lighten just a little.

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