Where No One Has Gone Before Pt. 03

"Yeah, I am, thanks. Kyra helped me out a lot," I told him.

"That's one helluva woman you have there, son," he said. "A real keeper."

"I think so," I replied.

"I never got a chance to tell ya to your face, but I'm damn proud of the way you handled Travers," he said quietly.

"I killed a man, Dad," I said. "I'm not very proud of that."

"I understand, son. You acted in self defense. You saved your life and who knows how many others," Dad said. "Yeah, you killed him, but believe me, Bull Travers was no 'man.' He was a scum-sucking, maggot-infested putrid piece of dog shit. A predator from the word, go."

"So, you knew him?" I asked.

"Yeah, I knew him. He was an asshole back then, too," Dad said. "I never told you this, but he once tried to put the moves on your mother."

"No way," I said.

"Oh yeah. Caught him trying to feel her up at a barbecue my unit was holding. Kicked him in the balls so hard he started puking. He threatened to write me up for striking an officer. I told him, 'go ahead, and then I'll write you up for attempting to rape a subordinate's wife.' He backed off and never messed with me after that. But he did say that one day he would get back at me for that."

"So, you think that's why he went after me the way he did?" I asked.

"Possibly," Dad said. "There's no telling what goes through the mind of an asshole like that. I heard he was close to the end of his career, though. He was going to be retired after his tour on the Armstrong."

"I didn't know that," I said.

"I still have friends in high places," he said. "They keep me informed on the latest scuttlebutt. I may not be the most educated man around, but I do know one thing, though."

"What's that?"

"Any man with the balls to jettison Bull Travers out of an airlock... well, that's an officer I could follow anywhere." He looked at me hard. "Anywhere," he repeated. I looked at my father, shocked. Then I nodded my head.

"Thanks," I said. I realized this was high praise coming from him.

"You're welcome," he said. "By the way, have you heard from Tabitha?"

"No, I haven't seen nor heard from her since her court-martial," I said. "Why?"

"We got a note from her about a year ago. Said she was being given an early release and was wondering where you were. We told her you were on a long-term assignment and weren't available," Dad said. "I spoke to her parents and they said there was some kind of judicial review thing going on and they were releasing a bunch of prisoners. Including her. They wondered if she was coming back, but she told them she already had something lined up."

"But no specifics?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, none," he said. "Her parents said some people came by from Homeland Security asking about her, but no one knew where she was."

"She's not part of my life anymore, so I really don't care," I said. He nodded his head in agreement and we continued talking as we nursed our beer and our cigars. Eventually, Mom and Kyra came out on the back deck.

"Are you two going to stay the whole night out here?" Mom asked.

"Just enjoying a beer and a cigar," Dad said. "We're bonding. It's a father-son thing."

"I didn't know you smoked," Kyra said.

"I normally don't," I said. "In fact, this is the third cigar I've had in my entire life." She grabbed the cigar from my hand and for a moment, I thought she was going to snuff it out. Instead, she took a drag from it, nodded her head and handed it back to me.

"Smooth," she said. Dad started laughing, and Mom joined him.

"She's definitely a keeper, son," he said. "You'd better hang on to that one."

...

That night, Kyra and I lay in the queen-size bed I slept in as a youngster and cuddled after a nice quiet romp. Neither one of us wanted to make too much noise and I was a bit nervous about having sex in the same house as my parents. I think Kyra felt the same way.

"So this is where you slept as a kid," she said.

"Yeah," I said.

"I really like your parents," she said. "They're so nice, down-to-earth."

"They're the best," I said. "I just wish Dad could've been around more when he was in the service, but he always made it up to us when he came home."

"Do you think there'll ever be a time when people have kids on a starship?" she asked.

"Who knows," I said. "Anything's possible."

"I really envy you, Bill," she said. "Perfect parents, a beautiful home in the country. I can tell they really love you."

"I love them, too," I said. "What about you? Didn't you have a happy childhood?"

"Well, we always had lots of stuff. My dad is a big executive for XNN. He runs the Interplanetary Division. Mom's a psychologist and she's written several best-selling books. Always on the talk shows, that sort of thing. They weren't able to spend very much time with me as I grew up, so they had a nanny look after me. It was... different."

"I see," I said.

"To be honest, though, I would have given up all the stuff if it meant we could have been as close as you and your parents," she said sadly. I held her close to me and kissed her.

...

The next three weeks in Idaho went fast for us. Dad took us out on Lake Pend O'Reille a couple times and we had a blast. Kyra tried water skiing for the first time and spent more time in the water than on it. But she eventually got the hang of it.

The next time we went out, Dad showed her how to bait a hook and to my surprise, Kyra took right to it, catching a couple of very nice fish that Dad cooked up on the grill later that day. Never once did I hear her complain about touching worms or cleaning the fish.

I took her out for a drive and showed her around the area. We drove south to Coeur d'Alene and spent the day on the boardwalk that went out into the lake. She had such a good time on the lake that she fell asleep on the drive back.

One night, after dinner, Dad pulled out his banjo and began plucking on it.

"You know, we still have a couple of your old guitars sitting around," he said. "You up to a little picking with the old man?"

"Sure," I said. "Where are they?"

"Well, here's one of them," Mom said as she handed me an old Gibson I hadn't played since high school.

"I put new strings on it when I heard you were coming," Dad said with a wink. "The old ones sounded pretty flat." I tuned it up and to my surprise it still sounded as good as it did all those years ago.

"Well, what do you want to play?" I asked.

"How about that old tune we used to play together when you were younger?" he asked.

"Dueling Banjos?" I asked. He smiled wide and his eyes twinkled as he strummed a couple chords on his banjo.

"That's the one," he said. "You still remember that one?"

"I sure do. Let's do it," I said. "You'll love this," I told Kyra. I started with the first three chords of the song, which Dad played on the banjo. We started slow and picked up the tempo as we went, until we were finally going full-bore. Kyra and Mom were clapping along with us and having a great time. Finally, the song ended with a high-five between Dad and I.

"That was great," Kyra exclaimed.

"Thank you," Dad said.

"Do you play anything?" Mom asked Kyra.

"Well, I took piano, flute and violin when I was younger," Kyra said. "I later learned the mountain dulcimer, but it's been years since I've done anything."

"You know, George, I still have Dad's old fiddle," Mom said. "Why don't I bring it out?"

"Sure," Dad said. Mom left and came back a little later with a case she handed to Kyra. She opened the case and looked at the old fiddle.

"How old is this?" she asked.

"Dad said it's from the Civil War," Mom said. "He used to play it all the time. Go ahead, pull it out and tune it up."

"Are you sure?" Kyra asked.

"Absolutely," Mom said. Kyra pulled out the old instrument and tuned it up, then applied some rosin to the bow after tightening it up.

"It's been a long time since I've played anything," Kyra said. "I'll probably make some mistakes."

"That's okay, dear," Dad said. "We're all family here. No one's gonna care. Just have fun with it."

"Well, okay. There's this old song I learned called 'Ashokan Farewell.' It was written by Jay Ungar in 1982, I think," she said.

"I think I've heard that before," Dad said. "Let's hear it."

"Here goes," Kyra said. She put the fiddle under her chin and began playing. I could tell she was nervous at first, but she stuck with it. The song was slow and haunting and sounded like it could have been written back in the Civil War.

As she played, I began accompanying her on the guitar. After a while, Dad began doing the same on the banjo. We followed Kyra's lead, not wanting to put any pressure on her. I could see a tear start to form in her eye as she played. When she finished, we all applauded. Kyra set the instrument down and began sobbing for some reason. Granted, the song was something of a tear-jerker, but I suspected there was something else going on.

"What's the matter?" I asked as I put an arm around her. Mom and Dad came over to her as well. Kyra buried her face in my shirt and sobbed for a few minutes. When she settled down a bit, she looked up at us and wiped tears from her face.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "It's just... I've never played with family before and it made me feel so happy. It's stupid, I know. I'm so embarrassed."

"It's not stupid and there's no need to be embarrassed, dear," Mom said. "That was lovely."

"Thank you," Kyra said. "When I was younger, my parents had me play in recitals all the time, but they never once played anything with me. It was always meant to impress their rich celebrity friends. This was the first time I've ever played anything just for the fun of it."

"You'd better get used to that in this family, sweetheart," Dad said. "Music is supposed to be fun and something shared with those we love, and we play a lot of it in this house. Don't we?" he asked, looking at Mom and I. We both nodded our heads and said, "yes" in response.

"So, what do you play?" Kyra asked Linda.

"I play an autoharp," Mom said. "Dad and I play together several times a week in fact."

"Can we hear you play?" Kyra asked her.

"Of course," she said, getting up out of her chair. She came back a few minutes later and sat down with her autoharp.

"Rosin the Bow?" Dad asked her.

"You know it, George," she said.

"Alright, here goes. You kids jump in when you feel like it," Dad said. They started playing together and I started playing along on the guitar. After a few moments, Kyra picked up the old fiddle and played as well. Before long, she was smiling from ear to ear as she watched Mom and Dad play together. We all applauded when the song was over. I looked at Kyra.

"Are you feeling better now?" I asked.

"You know it," she said. We played a couple more songs before calling it a night. I held my wife close to me after we made love.

"You never told me any of that about your parents," I said.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It's a part of my life I hate to think about."

"I can understand that," I said.

"Just wait till you meet them. Then you'll know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Did you have fun tonight?" I asked her.

"I did," she said. "I think that's the first time I've ever had fun playing music."

"Well, you'd better practice, because I think they're gonna want to hear you play again."

"I will, promise," she said.

It was a tearful farewell as Dad prepared to take us to the airport. Mom hugged us both and made us promise to stop by as soon as we could. I hated telling her it could be a few years before we could get back.

When we got to the airport, Dad wrapped his arms around Kyra and gave her a fatherly kiss on the cheek.

"Welcome to the family, Kyra," he said. "Keep in touch and I hope to see you soon. Take care of my boy, alright?"

"I will, Pop, I promise," she said. As he turned to me, I pulled something out of my carry-on bag and handed it to him. It was a mission patch from the Enterprise.

"I want you to have this, Dad," I said as I handed it to him. A tear formed in his eye as he looked at the patch.

"I can't take this," he said.

"Of course you can, Dad. You helped design that ship, remember?" He nodded his head, then gave me a manly bear hug.

"I'm so damn proud of you son," he said. "I love you. Never forget that." With that, he kissed me on the cheek.

"I love you too, Dad," I said. "Stay in touch, alright? I don't know when we'll be able to get back."

"Just get back as soon as you can. And you take care of this woman, you hear me?"

"I will, Dad." After saying our goodbyes, we got on the plane and jetted south to the Los Angeles-San Diego Metroplex.

"I'm going to miss your folks so much," Kyra said sadly.

"Me too," I said. "We'll see them again though."

"I certainly hope so," she said.

"Just so you know, Bill, my parents are quite different from yours," Kyra said. "They're very stiff, formal, controlling and not as friendly as yours. I just wanted to warn you."

"Thanks for that," I said.

We landed a couple hours later, got off the plane and collected our luggage. We were on our way to rent a car when Kyra saw a man in a chauffeur's uniform holding a sign that read, "Jones."

"I think that's for us," she said.

"A chauffeur? Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, well, I told you my parents are rich," she said. "Can't have their daughter riding around in a rented sedan, you know."

"Well, let's go check it out," I told her. We went to the man and identified ourselves.

"Ah yes, Mr. and Dr. Williams sent me to collect you," he said in perfect English. I began to wonder if maybe he was sent to school for that. "I'll get your luggage." He took the two rolling luggage carriers and placed them inside the trunk of a long black limousine. I opened the back door and he rushed up to close it behind us after we entered the car.

I took in the interior of the vehicle. It had a well-stocked bar and the seats were the most luxurious I had ever experienced inside a car. There was also a large monitor -- tuned to XNN Interplantary, of course -- and a nice stereo sound system.

"Very nice," I said.

"Yes, it is," Kyra responded. After a while, we were in Beverly Hills and the driver pulled up to a large iron gate that opened when he pressed a button on the dashboard. An armed security guard waved us through. I wondered why they would need such tight security.

"What's with the armed guard?" I asked the driver.

"Mr. Williams is often a target of extremists, sir," the driver said.

"I see," I responded.

"Not everyone is a fan of XNN," Kyra told me.

"Apparently not," I said. We pulled in front of a very large house and I wondered why two people would want something this large and gaudy. When the car stopped, I opened the door and escorted Kyra out. The chauffeur pulled our luggage from the trunk. I offered to take something but he refused, carrying the heavy bags up the steps to the front door where an older woman waited.

When we got there, Kyra and the woman, who I now assumed was her mother, exchanged a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"It's good to see you mother," Kyra said.

"Likewise, dear," the older woman said.

"Mother, this is my husband," Kyra began.

"Yes, I know. Commander Jones, is that correct?" She extended a hand and I accepted.

"Yes, ma'am, but please call me Bill," I told her.

"Very well, Bill. You can call me Dr. Williams, or ma'am, if you wish," she said coldly. "Please, come inside."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, shooting a look at Kyra, who shrugged her shoulders. We followed her up the stairs to a room that I assumed had once been Kyra's. I was shocked, however, to see there were bunk beds in the room. Kyra turned on her mother.

"Bunk beds mother? Really?" she asked. "What's wrong with my old room?"

"Well, nothing," the older woman said. "I assumed you would be sleeping there. Your husband can stay here."

"No, mother," Kyra said. "Unlike you, I LIKE to sleep with my husband. He can stay in my room, with me." Her mother sighed heavily, then nodded her head.

"Very well," she said. "Take their luggage to Kyra's old room," she told the chauffeur.

"Yes, ma'am," the young man said, carting our bags to another room. Kyra's mother turned to us before speaking.

"Lunch will be served in 15 minutes. I expect to see you both there, on time," she said curtly before turning away. This was going to be fun, I thought. Or not. I followed Kyra to her old room and thanked the chauffeur after he put our luggage on the king-sized bed.

"I don't believe her," Kyra spit.

"What's her problem?" I asked.

"Mom's just being a controlling bitch," Kyra said. "She's always been like that."

"Don't your parents sleep together?"

"No, they haven't for years," Kyra said. "Mom's a big believer in this whole female-led marriage thing. They have a... unique... relationship."

"And your father puts up with it?"

"He's madly in love with her, but don't ask me why. Besides divorce in California is a real bitch. Neither one of them would come out ahead in the long run, so he just puts on a happy face and deals with it the best he can," she said. No wonder Kyra was so submissive when I first met her, I thought.

"I guess we'd better get down to lunch before your mother sends out the National Guard," I said. She chuckled at that.

"I guess you're right," she said.

"Listen, if you'd rather, we can always get a hotel room," I said.

"Not right now," Kyra said. "But we can keep that option open if it gets too bad." I gave her a kiss and we headed downstairs to the dining room. When we got there, I saw a very long dining table. Kyra's mother was at one end and a man I assumed was her father was at the other. A man in a butler's uniform had just put plates down on the table and I noticed they had placed Kyra and I across from each other. The man saw us enter and stood.

"Kyra, my God, girl, it's been so long. Come here and give your father a hug. I say, you look absolutely stunning. I see those five years on Enterprise have done you well," he said with a wide smile.

"Daddy, it's good to see you as well," Kyra said, giving her father a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He turned to her mother.

"Gloria, don't you think Kyra looks better than ever?" he asked.

"Hmmph," her mother grunted as she rolled her eyes. He turned to me and extended a hand.

"Commander Jones, is it? It's a pleasure to meet you, young man," he said, still smiling.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Williams," I told him, shaking his hand. "And please, call me Bill."

"Well Bill, please call me Tom. I take it you've already met Gloria."

"Yes, I've met Dr. Williams," I said.

"Dr. Williams?" he asked. "She expects you to call her Dr. Williams?"

"Well, she did say I could call her 'ma'am' if I wanted," I told him.

"Nonsense," Tom said. "You honestly expect our new son-in-law to call you Dr. Williams? Really, Gloria?"

"Well, it only shows respect, Tom. Surely you can understand my feelings about that," Gloria said.

"I understand, but he's family, not one of your students or one of your subordinates, Gloria. Besides, respect is earned, not dictated. Wouldn't you agree, Bill?"

"Actually, I do agree, Tom," I said.

"There, it's settled," Tom said. "Please have a seat. I think you'll enjoy your shrimp salad. I know I always do."

"Thank you, Tom," I said. I pulled out Kyra's chair and seated her, then went around the table to my place and sat down.

"I understand your parents live in Idaho, Bill," Gloria said as we began to eat.

"Yes, they do," I said.

"They have such a wonderful place up there in the mountains, Mom," Kyra said. "It's so beautiful up there. We had a great time."

"So, what do your parents do up there, Bill? Grow potatoes?" Gloria asked. I hated it when people automatically assumed everyone in Idaho grows potatoes.