A New Muskteer

Posted on 27 Dec 2010 @ 4:10am by

861 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: M7: Shore Leave - Mercer Colony
Location: Jecques Bernard's Quarters
Timeline: -Present-

Jacques Bernard stepped out of the shower now billowing with steam like a 19th century locomotive. He pulled on a fresh green uniform and dragged his hand across the mirror which had accumulated much fog. He peered through the mirror at his self-made porthole and saw the young Frenchman staring back at him, his dark brown hair plastered to his forehead. A bead of water made a perilous jump from a loose strand of hair onto his arched nose. The little droplet survived the seemingly suicidal fall and began its journey. Jacques’s chiseled face provided a system of roads which the drop followed racing down his lower cheekbone. Suddenly the bead of water’s journey was snuffed by a quick dab with the marine’s towel.

Jacques wandered out into the main living area of his huge new quarters. At the far end of the room sat a large metal box that Jacques deduced had been brought in during his shower. The box looked lonely in the empty room, like a lone bead on an otherwise naked bracelet. He touched the yellow button on its lid and the package chirped, clicked, and then slowly whispered open.

Inside were several things but the Jacques reached down and plucked the thing intended to be found first from it home and let it slide into the palm of his palm. He closely examined the little blue holochip which was meant to be played on a view screen. Jacques strolled to his desk to do just that. He slid the holochip into the port at the top of the screen and the viewer immediately lit up. The screen occupied by the face of a man. The man was bald with a thin black mustache and warm features, as if perpetually warm. Jacques recognized his father right away.

“Greetings son, It gives me great pride to know that this will be delivers upon your arrival on the USS Achilles. I always knew you would become a great man as soon as I received word you were accepted into Officer Cadet School. I am sorry I was not able to be present at the graduation ceremony for your mother has taken ill and requires constant care. Do not fret, however, for it is nothing worth your fretting and she should be recovering in a few weeks. When I first left to join the Marine Corps, your grandfather gave me a letter of recommendation and a family heirloom to take with me on my journey. This was exactly what your eight times great grandfather did with your seven times great grandfather when he joined the kings royal musketeers. I cannot explain to you how proud I was when I heard you were one of the Marine captains, a department head at that! Anyway, it is also tradition for a son to try to best his father whenever possible to further better the family. You have already done this so I believe I must hold up my end of the bargain by doing one better than my father. There are two heirlooms of great importance to our family in that package… Best of luck in Starfleet Jacques. Uphold your position with honor, for tonight, a new musketeer is born!â€

The message ended as abruptly as it had begun. Jacques nearly laughed out loud at his father’s heavy French accent. After two years of voice and diction practice Jacques’s was all but forgotten. He worried for his mother’s health for she was a fragile woman. The simplest of diseases would batter her like a leaf in the wind. He trusted his father, however, and knew if he said there was nothing to worry about it must be true.

Jacques now moved back to the open chest intrigued by his father’s talk of heirlooms and peered to the bottom. First he removed a necklace with a chain of ancient gold. From the end of this necklace hung, what at first would be taken to be a medallion but upon closer inspection one would discover it is in fact a rusted gold crown, (ancient French currency). Jacques recalled that his father had often worn this amulet especially on missions for he claimed it delivered good luck. Although he did not believe in such things as luck but he appreciated and strung the gift around his neck and tucked it under his tunic all the same.

From the bottom of the chest Jacques delicately removed a long sword. The French rapier shone in the artificially light of the room. In the silver hilt a intricate floral design strung over the handle. The beautiful sword felt to be of perfect weight and length for Jacques who swung it aimlessly a bit.

As he practiced his swordplay around the room the parting words of his father bounced in his head. ‘Uphold your position with honor, for tonight.’ Jacques flamboyantly twirled the rapier in the air and listened to the whistle as it sliced through the air. He brought it down so that it stood straight in front of him lined up perfectly with his nose.

‘A new musketeer in born!’

 

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