Premium Real Estate

Posted on Sun Nov 3rd, 2024 @ 6:49pm by Ensign Andrea Astor

577 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Spiders of Sarastus VII
Location: Bellwether Station
Timeline: Current

As a very young child, when the crawlspaces of a starship with much bigger and scarier than they seemed now, Andrea Astor loved to explore. Perhaps because there wasn’t much else to do. Anyway, one day she had come across a perfect place to make a hide out. In the hours and days that followed she dragged blankets and toys when the grown ups weren’t looking, even some string and empty cans to make a little alarm in case monsters tried to sneak up on her in the dark.

As an old friend once said, it was premium real estate.

And the first time Andrea Astor dropped down into junction CN5, those same three words came to mind. She even heard it in his voice.

Premium Real Estate.

Having discovered the little sanctuary nestled on the starboard side, it had become her favoured spot. She would crawl through the maze just to spend ten minutes staring out at the stars as she ate a sandwich. Or when off duty she would bring her tools and whatever old equipment she was fixing up and tinker away, free from distractions or complaints as her favourite music blared in her ears.

And it was where she came to read letters from her father or watch messages he had recorded. Times like now.

Dropping down the couple of feet into the junction space, the lighting she had installed activated, illuminating her workspace. “Hey gang,” she offered to a small group of cuddly toys huddled in the corner. They had been a gift from her brother years ago. All of them from a classic tv show he had loved as a kid - the Muppets.

On the small workbench was the partially dismantled communicator she had been restoring, a project held up while she waited on some parts. Placing the PADD on the worktop, she called up the recorded message and hit play.

Message ping pong was the norm between them. He was an admiral with a million responsibilities and an illegitimate daughter serving - by choice - on a backwater station like this was not his proudest moment. Not that he would ever openly say as such. Of course not. But people could say a lot without using actual words.

She listened as he told her of what she had missed, of her step-brother earning a promotion and an aunt she was sure she had never met losing a tooth at a family barbecue. He sent her his love and best wishes, reminding her that she worked on a communication station and so perhaps she may reply? Or better yet, consider taking some leave to return home for a cousin’s wedding.

Andrea could think of nothing worse. A wedding of someone she didn’t really know surrounded by an extended family who she knew disapproved of her and saw her as little more than the daughter of a criminal. To which Andrea used to say ‘and not just any criminal, one time she …’ before launching into a wild tale.

Over time she stopped going to such events. Bored trying to fit in with the picture perfect life most of them seemed to want to have. Or pretend to have. She fitted in as well with them as she probably would in her mother’s world.

Which was fine. Because for now she had the perfect spot right here on Bellwether.

And the food wasn’t too bad either.

 

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