Men of a Bygone Era

Posted on Sat Mar 28th, 2026 @ 6:27pm by Captain William Abernathy & Lieutenant Commander Oscar McDonald MD

1,537 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: Forgotten Wounds
Location: USS Arcadia | Captain's Quarters

Captain William Abernathy’s quarters were modest but warm with small kitchenette tucked neatly against the bulkhead humming with low heat. Steam lazily curled from a covered dish set atop the counter. The aroma was simple and comforting with roasted chicken seaned with lemon, thyme, and cracked pepper, buttered carrots, and a dish of creamy mashed turnips finished with a hint of sharp cheddar. A loaf of crusty brown bread rested beside a small pot of clam chowder, thick and unmistakably home cooked, very little of the ingredients were replicated.

Bill adjusted the cuffs of his uniform and glanced at the table. It was set for two with real cutlery, not standard-issue messware. He preferred meals that felt grounded and familiar, especially aboard a starship that rarely allowed such pauses. Typically, he would be enjoying such a meal with his wife.

The Culinary Specialist, Petty Officer Graham, gave a final approving nod as they placed a modest apple crumble at the center. “Nothing too fancy, sir. Just honest food like you specified."

“Thank you” Abernathy replied before the door chime sounded.

Graham stepped aside smoothly, offering a respectful nod as they exited and acknowledged the guest, the second party. "Dr. McDonald" Graham said with a polite nod, scurrying down the corridor.

Perhaps as unexpected as an invitation to dinner was to be immediately greeted by a stranger almost the instant he pressed the door chime. He had barely time to muster a response before the much younger officer was hurrying off into the distance with a somewhat peculiar and distinctive fast paced walk. How strange… shaking it off, he entered the Captain’s quarters carrying his contribution for the evening.

“Captain. I brought some single malt and, for your personal store in case of absolute emergency, some Grappa. Courtesy of our former Comms Chief,” the physician offered. He had spent more time on his choice of whisky than his attire, ultimately choosing to stay largely in uniform but swapping out the tunic for a sweater Rho had bought for him last Christmas. Around the time she had started trying to coax him back into life on a Starship again.

"To the left of the replicator" Abernathy said gesturing to a small cabinet. "Whiskey shifters are on the bottom shelf. Pour us. We've certainly deserved it" added Bill. He stood by the food and shook his head. "How have you managed? A starship practically crewed by children, Doctor."

With practiced ease he poured them each a glass, not quite certain as to why he was here. After all he had agreed to stay, albeit temporarily. He was much more accustomed to being allowed to keep to himself. “There is a reason I’m not an Admiral in Starfleet medical by now,” he offered by way of reply, handing Abernathy a glass.

Bill took the glass and sipped a bit of the single malt. "I know the feeling. Between us? I just gave an Admiral a little reminder its my ass in the Captain's chair, not him. Retirement is on the horizon, but until then, I am going to need your support."

“Admirals need that reminder now and then,” McDonald mused, “they quickly forget what it is actually like serving on a starship. Which is why I like to clutter their desks with paperwork. Well, them and over zealous XOs. So what is it you need. Beyond my abundance of charm and surgical skills?”

Captain Abernathy scoffed. "Charm? Aren't you few ex marriages past that?” Abernathy smirked. "If I may...Oscar?" He was not one to be too casual, not without consent to do so. "I need you here. I need you on Arcadia, not because anyone else isn't as good, but because when I envision this crew, the missions ahead, I want the best Ship's Physician the fleet can provide. Doctor Piper is currently on a deep space assignment, M'Benga is with the Enterprise. We're likely going to be doing more with the Klingons and I need someone on this ship familiar with them, that has met them in battle."

“To be fair, if there was no charm there would be no ex-wives. Four. Technically three and a half,” Oscar pointed out. “And Piper? The stories I have …”

He sighed, studying his glass. “The last time I faced Klingons, we were at war. I was knee deep in blood trying to keep kids alive long enough for Starfleet to suit them up and send them back out to the slaughter.”

"I need a war Doctor right now, Oscar. The Federation and the Klingons are working towards peace, but we both know all too well the fragility this peace is built upon. We have kids six feet deep, soil freshly soaked in blood from the war...and they want to erect monuments of peace atop of those shallow graves."

Bill took another malt swallow, the burn felt good. "I am worried. Deeply troubled to be frank. That the Federation is so blindly in pursuit of peace to get in bed with the Klingons, they dont expect the d'k tahg plunged into their back."

“They think everyone plays by our rules - half of them would probably send the Klingons a gift basket thanking them for taking the time out of their schedules to try and kill thrm.”

"And we know better, we fought them. In war, a terrible war. Its foolhardy to believe peace will come about overnight" replied Abernathy. "Which is why I want you here on Arcadia. Derailing your retirement plans or whatever you had in mind is not what I want to do, but it is what I need to advocate for. Your expertise is unmatched. If its not the Klingons, its the Gorn, and if neither or them? The Federation has an ever expanding list of foes."

McDonald downed another long sip of whisky at mention of the Gorn. “I’m just a doctor,” he pointed out. “We will never tire of enemies who disagree with the Federations ideals or just straight up want territory and be damned who gets in there way. Eventually we need to draw a line.”

Bill nodded. "I agree. I carved my career advising Admirals on regional awareness, knowing what was going on in which theatre, schmoozing with dignitaries when necessary. I did my best work on the front lines in war, breaking blockages and liberating trade routes. Lines do need to be drawn, Doctor, but they are best when drawn together."

“Schmoozing is not something I partake in,” McDonald pointed out. “And if I ever do, I will throw myself out the nearest airlock.”

"You may leave the schmoozing to me. I will handle the delegates, dignitaries, and the disenfranchised" Bill replied. He smiled as he thought about how to break news to MacDonald. "Aside from me needing you here, Oscar. Starfleet also is not finished with you. The political landscape out there is" he said glancing out at space. "Its changing. We need to change a long with it."

Bill sat his drink down momentarily. "The seventh fleet is assembling a task group, one aimed with providing protection to our colony worlds and distant worlds as well as providing humanitarian relief to worlds plundered during the war. Arcadia has been floated as spearheading the efforts, which is partially why I need a frontier medicine man.... you."

The Captain picked up his glass and slung back a good bit of the alcohol. "I can be the sword and shield, but someone's going to have to help coordinate relief efforts. I'm looking at him. Starfleet Command agrees. Starfleet Medical agrees. So, old man... join me and let's make a difference out there."

McDonald laughed. “Starfleet Medical will agree to anything that keeps me out of their hair,” he pointed out. “And in making all of these grand plans, I doubt anyone considered that perhaps I would not agree? My tour of duty is done, many times over. I have no obligation to keep going out there, when there are doctors just as qualified to take my place. When I can try to be a better grandfather than I ever was a father. I cannot do that out on the frontier.”

"No," Bill replied. "You cannot, but I am not willing to roll over and accept defeat. You have more to offer. I understand the wanting to be there for your grand kids though."

“I said I would stay aboard to help rescue the civilians,” McDonald sighed, “and if nothing else, I am a man of my word.”

Captain Abernathy nodded. "And I am a man of my word. Once we rescue those civilians and get back to Federation space. If you want to retire, resign, or what have you, Ill push the paperwork through. I just ask you give this opportunity some thought in the meantime."

“That I can do,” he conceded, “just be prepared to dislike it when the answer doesn’t change.”

Bill Abernathy laughed. "No, Oscar. It will Starfleet that won't be pleased." The Captain raised his glass. "To your retirement then. I will be happy that you get to do this on your own terms when you're ready."

“I can drink to that,” Oscar agreed.

OFF

 

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