The First Lesson

Posted on Sat Dec 21st, 2024 @ 5:08am by Chief Petty Officer Aryx Thorne

928 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Lost Out Here in the Stars
Location: Between Montana, Earth (In the Past) and Main Engineering, USS William Dawes (In the Present)
Timeline: Between the Present and 28 years in the Past

Main Engineering was quiet save Thorne tinkering with the broken computer console in front of him. It blinked at him stubbornly, its error lights taunting him with their persistent, rhythmic flash. He frowned, tapping a few keys and muttering under his breath.

“Diagnostics are fine, wiring checks out, power’s stable. What the hell is your problem?”

He leaned back, crossing his arms as if glaring at the machine might intimidate it into compliance.

A memory began to seep into his subconscious. He let it flood.

————

Earth, 2344.

The workshop was a symphony of organized chaos. Tools were scattered across every surface, some in neatly labeled bins, others strewn haphazardly next to half-disassembled machines. The air smelled of oil and heated metal, with a faint undercurrent of dust that tickled the back of Aryx’s throat. He was eight years old, barely tall enough to see over the workbench, but he stood on a wobbly stool, peering down at the jumble of parts in front of him.

His mother, Marina Thorne, was crouched beside him, her dark hair pulled back into a messy braid. She held a soldering iron in one hand and a half-repaired motor in the other. Her fingers were calloused, her nails perpetually stained with grease, but they moved with the precision of someone who had spent a lifetime fixing things.

Aryx glanced at her, his small hands clutching a wrench. “I don’t get it,” he muttered, frowning at the mess of gears and wires. “How am I supposed to put this back together? It doesn’t make sense.”

Marina didn’t look up, her focus on the motor. “It doesn’t have to make sense right away,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “You figure it out by doing. Piece by piece. You don’t wait for someone to come along and hand you the solution.”

Aryx frowned deeper, shifting the wrench in his hands. “But what if I can’t do it? What if I mess it up?”

Marina set the soldering iron down and turned to him, her brown eyes sharp and unwavering. “Then you mess it up. And you fix it again. That’s how you learn.”

She straightened, brushing her hands on her worn coveralls before reaching out to tilt his chin up. “Listen, Aryx. Machines don’t care if you’re tired or frustrated. They don’t care if you’re scared of getting it wrong. They just sit there, waiting for someone to make them work. You want to know the secret?”

He blinked at her, unsure. “What?”

“You’re that someone,” she said, her voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “No one’s going to swoop in and save you when things break down. You have to do it yourself.”

The lesson had started with the broken replicator in their small home, a worn-out model that had been on its last legs for years. Marina had declared it a “teachable moment” and dragged Aryx into the workshop, her determination evident despite the tired lines on her face.

“Why don’t we just get a new one?” Aryx had asked, his tone more curious than argumentative.

Marina had laughed, though there was no humor in it. “And how exactly are we paying for that, huh? With all the latinum or credits I’ve got stashed under my pillow?”

Aryx looked down, resigned. Marina had caught the flicker of understanding in his expression and softened. “It’s not just about money, kid. It’s about knowing how to take care of things yourself. You can’t always rely on someone else to fix your problems.”

Aryx had nodded, though he didn’t fully grasp the weight of her words at the time.

He looked up at her, his small face earnest. “Is that why Dad left? Because you couldn’t fix it?”

The question hung in the air like an exposed wire, raw and dangerous. Marina’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Aryx thought she might snap at him. But then she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she crouched down to his level.

“Your dad didn’t leave because of me,” she said, her voice low but firm. “He left because he didn’t know how to deal with his own problems. And instead of facing them, he ran. That’s on him, not us.”

She placed a hand on Aryx’s shoulder, her grip steady. “But that’s why I’m teaching you this. Because I don’t ever want you to feel like running is the only option. Life’s going to throw a lot of broken things at you, Aryx. Machines, relationships, even yourself sometimes. And when it does, you fix it. You do the best you can with what you’ve got, and you don’t rely on someone else to save you.”

Aryx swallowed hard, her words settling into the deepest corners of his mind. He didn’t fully understand them yet, but he felt their weight all the same.

“Now,” Marina said, standing and gesturing to the mess of parts on the bench, “let’s try this again. Take it piece by piece. Start with what you know.”

Over the next hour, Aryx worked in fits and starts, his small hands clumsy but determined. Marina guided him when he needed it but never took over. She let him struggle, let him figure things out, and celebrated his small victories with quiet pride.

————

Back to the present.

Aryx knew what he had to do. Everything but not give up.

 

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