Ad Astra :: Star Trek Fanfiction Archive ^{Beam me up, Scotty.}

Chapter Text

The Star Beagle Adventures                                                
Episode 2: Astral Traveller
Scene 11: 12, 13, 14

2.11
12, 13, 14

“FOURTEEN!!!!” 

A small, slim, bald man in his late-50’s, wearing a business suit, was standing on the Deep Space 9 promenade next to an older man who was quite clearly his father - their look and build was so similar. The older man wore the uniform of a Star Fleet admiral. His son, who had shouted, took off running as if he were a teenager. 

Captain Skip Howard turned around and his face lit up like the morning sun. “THIRTEEN!!!” He broke into a run, slowing just enough that he didn’t bowl himself and his father over in the middle of the DS9 promenade. Their boisterous tackle-hug made them the center of attention as Admiral Ronald Howard XII walked up to join them, slowly shaking his bald head.

“So much undignified drama from my descendants,” Admiral Howard intoned in a mock dramatic soliloquy, shaking his head. “Where did I go wrong?” The admiral gathered his grandson into a rough, athletic hug, then held him at arm’s length and looked at him. “Janet Carter had some very high praise for you. She told me what you went through - the people you lost. You seem to be holding together well.”

Skip Howard looked pensive for a moment. “Except for this rather grim ceremony where I will accept their severed body parts to enrich the soil of my ship’s arboretum.”

The admiral patted his grandson’s shoulders, then stepped back slightly. “Don’t ever let them hear you say it like that, son. It’s a big point of pride and honor thing for them.”

“What are you planting?” asked the middle Howard.

Skip Howard turned toward his father, smiled easily. “Hands and hydrangeas. I felt it was important if they’re hand-feeding a plant, that it should be a terrestrial species.”

“Tall, noble, colorful…” Ronald Howard XIII ruminated. “A rich history with Imperial Japan and the way of the samurai... conveying at once sorrow and gratitude…”

“And they’re inedible,” Admiral Howard observed.

Captain Howard snapped his fingers and pointed. “And it’s grandpa for the win!”

Three generations of Howards shared a laugh. 

“So both of you have already seen the Beagle,” Captain Howard said. “Fly fishing on Bajor?”

“Actually, I’ve been engaged to represent the interests of some trill miners that you recently brought back from ferengi space,” said the middle Howard.

Skip Howard flexed his entire body and made a triumphal motion with both fists. “Yes! Dad to the rescue! So do you have some time for lunch? There’s a ferengi who has hired some high quality chefs…”

“Actually, the three of us have a date with the station commander and a few other notables in the banquet room,” said Admiral Howard. “Call it a brass quintet,” he added, tapping each of the four pips on his grandson’s uniform. “Your fellow captains, and Vice Admiral Ho.”

“VICE Admiral?” Skip Howard asked.

2.11