Personal Log Stardate 63525.9

This past weekend my father's brother and my favorite Uncle, Alexander, came for a visit.  Alexander Thrace is the epitome of a Renaissance Man, traveling about and experiencing the various cultures of the Federation without the real aid of Starfleet.  As a young man he never really saw the appeal that it had for so many, particularly men like my father, and he always brushed it off whenever people asked him why he never joined. To me, he always said he would join as soon as they changed their uniforms. For some reason, he liked the garish and shocking fashions of the Bolians and Andorrians, and wore their clothing more than any other. An anthropologist by trade, it was no wonder that he and I got along so well, for he was a bit more scientifically inclined than my otherwise militaristic father. When I received the communique that he was coming I was delighted. My father on the other hand seemed a bit reluctant.


The day of his arrival was rather uneventful. He spent the majority of the trip in true Thrace fashion, hitting on the young female pilot that he had traveled with on the Samarian freighter G'thyk. The young woman had been less than interested, but that had not stopped my aging uncle. Despite the reassurance of a healthy libido in old age, I was pleased to see him in good spirits. He greeted me with a great big bear hug, clapping me on the back several times while he laughed and made a few jokes about my long hair. His hair had thinned somewhat, but he was now sporting a bit of facial growth that was a tad gray.  The younger brother, it was strange to see him looking so much older than my own father. But he had been "out in the wilderness" as he laughingly called the rest of the Alpha Quadrant, and I was sure that some stresses had been placed on him that may have accounted for his haggard look.


I took him to my quarters to meet Father, and to watch the interaction of the brothers. At first I wasn't sure how my father was going to recieve him. Since his diagnosis he had refused to see anyone from our family, even my cousin Meredith when she had offered to come to the station with her husband and children. I had tried to explain all this to Alexander but he had waved me off: He said he was family and he wasn't about to turn tail because his big brother had the flu. Again I tried to explain the overall complexity of the situation, but he would hear none of it. So now here we stood in my living room, three prongs of a precarious tripod that threatened to tip at any moment.  Thankfully I was called away to a situation in the CIC, and I had to leave the dueling brothers for my duties.


I returned several hours later to a messy but empty set of quarters. Apparently they had ate their way through several conversations, and the various plates and cups were everywhere.  I arduously began the task of clean up, but was interrupted when I was summoned by security to The Bucket. My father and uncle were there, and were causing quite a scene. Not wanting to hear the full extent of it over the comms, I hastened to The Bucket to discover what was the matter. When I arrived, I found my father seated at the piano playing some ancient  British and Irish drinking songs, while my uncle wailed away at their respective lyrics. Other than being incredibly loud and incredibly drunk, they were none the worse for wear and the people seemed to be enjoying them. Thanking whatever deities that looked out for my family, I quickly escorted the men back to my quarters where they fell asleep in a heap in the living room. Exhausted myself, I showered and went to bed.

 
For some reason, I could not sleep. I tossed and turned much of the night, and finally at 0230 hours I found myself awake and listening to the slightly muffled conversation going on in the other room.  My father and uncle had awakened some time earlier and were now discussing something that seemed to be of great importance to them. At first I thought of joining them, but when I heard my name I stopped. I was suddenly very interested in what was being said.


"Don't you think it is time you told him?" Alexander asked. His voice was a little raspy, most likely from his earlier singing.


"No. We have done this well all this time, and there is no reason to upset the past. Let's just leave it alone." My father, also sounding quite ragged.


"You have done well? Your relationship has been strained with him for what, the past thirty years? You call that well? And didn't you two go almost ten years without speaking to one another? I think you do both of you a disservice by not being honest with him. He is your son, and he can handle it." Alexander again. He placed something down on the table, and then I heard him stand.


"James, I know all about Irumodic Syndrome. We have seen it happen before. You need to tell him before you are too far gone, before these precious moments you have left are all used up. I know you, and I know that is not something you want weighing you down. Tell him now while you can."


"Have you seen how he is now?" My father began.  "He is great, whole. It has taken a lot for him to get to be that way, and I certainly did nothing to help. In fact, I was the reason for a lot of that damage. But he is his own man now, a strong, intelligent, and capable officer. And our relationship is getting better. We may never have that father/son relationship that I want, that I had always hoped for or that we had with our father, but we have something now. And I am not going to risk losing that." My father's voice wavered for a moment, and I found myself feeling some shame for listening. It was odd to listen to this outpouring from him. And I was even more surprised by the fact that it was about me. But what in blue blazes were they talking about? As much as I didn't want to listen, I couldn't walk away.


"James that is proof enough that he loves you and that he can handle it. Like you said, he is a strong, intelligent officer. He is a good man, or else he wouldn't be where he is today. And despite all that has happened between you two, he still brought you here to live with him. To spend time with you. You want that father/son relationship? Fine, start by telling your son the truth. The whole truth. He can handle it, and you will feel better for it." My uncle's words were followed by a long silence as my father took them in.


"Since when did you become so wise on parenting? Last I checked you had no children." My father finally asked with a chuckle.


"Auch, the life of a consummate bachelor, yes that is me. But hey, I learn a lot in my travels. Besides, I don't travel to Andorr just for the fashion." Alexander replied.


"Could have fooled me," my father retorted. "You look like a giant purple bruise."


"I am glad your candid nature only extends to your son," Alexander snapped back. I heard them both laugh, and then the room settled again.


"Seriously, the Andorrians believe in complete honestly, and the clearing of the conscience that full disclosure brings. Well, with everything other than their military secrets. But I wasn't interested in those. Anthropology has no use for weapons." Alexander grew quiet again, and I knew he was waiting on my father to respond. Presently he did.


"Perhaps you're right. Perhaps I can finally tell Ben all of it, and get it out there. Clear the air, and maybe finally get rid of this bad blood between us. I suppose it was a long time coming." James stated. I heard him rise, and I wondered where he was going.


"Yeah, only took thirty years," Alexander added quietly, but I heard something break shortly thereafter. I could only guess, but I thought my father must have thrown something at him. Realizing the conversation was over, I returned to my bed.  Alexander would be leaving in the morning, and I hoped that I would at least receive a hint as to what their conversation was about.


The morning came loud, and early. I had overslept, and so I was being treated to a rendition of "God Save the Queen" by my Uncle as a result of my late emergence from my room. The Samarian freighter was back, and he would be departing the station in twenty minutes. I was a bit saddened by this, for I had planned to make subtle inquiries over breakfast. Instead, my father and I escorted my uncle to the hangar bay to wait on the ship. Upon its arrival we said our good byes in much the same way we had said hello.  He gripped me tightly in another hug, and told me to keep my nose clean. It was something he had always said to me at the end of his visits when I was little, and I couldn't help but laugh just like I had done all those years ago. I then watched him hug his brother, and I had the distinct impression that during their prolonged embrace Alexander was once again giving him some truth affirming advice. I could do nothing more than wait, and hope that my father took the advice. We watched the freighter depart, and once they were gone from our sight my father and I left the hangar bay.