Subspace Call — “Home on the Line”
Posted on Sun Oct 26th, 2025 @ 3:57am by Lieutenant JG Aubrie Fox
Edited on on Sun Oct 26th, 2025 @ 4:33am
1,473 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission:
Project: Frontier Day
Location: USS Eminence, Docked at Starbase 295
Timeline: Present
The comm terminal in Lieutenant JG Aubrie Fox’s quarters flickered to life, washing the small room in a soft blue light. Outside her viewport, the insides of Starbase 295 were busy as always , still wearing her half-open uniform jacket with her hair tied loosely back. She cradled a cup of replicated tea — jasmine, her mother’s favorite — as she initiated the connection home.
“Computer, open long-range subspace channel to San Diego, Earth. Fox residence.”
The computer chirped in acknowledgment. “Channel open.”
A few seconds later, the image resolved — the familiar, warm glow of the Fox family kitchen appeared, sun pouring through the wide window overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The sound of the waves carried faintly through the comm, mingling with the soft clatter of dinner dishes. Her mother, Jen Fox, turned from the counter, her auburn hair pulled back, her sleeves rolled up. Her father, Bryan Fox, sat at the table with a cup of steaming coffee and a stack of papers — undoubtedly grading his xenolinguistics students’ essays.
“Aubrie!” Jen exclaimed, beaming. “Oh, look at you! Still in uniform, huh?”
Aubrie smiled tiredly, lifting her cup. “Guilty. Just got back from the Fleet Museum — couldn’t resist calling before bed. You’re all up late.”
Her father chuckled. “You know your mother. She pretends she’s doing the dishes, but really she’s waiting to see if you’ll call.”
Jen gave him a playful swat with the towel. “Hush, Bryan. You’d be doing the same if our daughter were halfway across the quadrant.”
“I’m not halfway,” Aubrie laughed. “Just a few lightyears.”
From somewhere off-screen came a sudden crash and a child’s yelp. Jen rolled her eyes. “Speaking of halfway across the quadrant — the younger ones are supposed to be in bed.”
“Mom! Alan stole my stylus!”
A small blur zipped into frame — Alexis, seven years old, her wild curls bouncing as she tried to grab something from Alan, her six-year-old brother, who was holding the stylus above his head and laughing triumphantly.
“Alan!” Jen scolded, pointing sharply. “Give that back or so help me—”
Alan froze when he saw the comm screen. His grin widened. “Aubrie!”
Aubrie burst out laughing. “Hey, you two! Looks like bedtime’s still optional in San Diego.”
Alexis gasped, throwing her arms in the air. “Aubrie! You’re on the ship! Is that space behind you?!”
“It is,” Aubrie said proudly, turning her chair slightly so they could see the stars through her window. “That’s the Athan Prime system. See that faint dot? That’s the Fleet Museum.”
Their eyes went wide with awe.
“Did you see the Enterprise?!” Alan blurted out, bouncing on his heels.
Aubrie grinned. “Which one?”
Alan gasped. “Wait—there’s more than one?!”
“Oh, there’s a lot more than one. I started with the NX-01 — the very first. You should’ve seen her, Alan. No shields, no holodecks, no inertial dampeners. Just steel, determination, and a warp five engine that rattled like thunder when it ran. Captain Archer’s chair is still there, and they kept the scuff marks on the deck where his beagle used to sit.”
Alexis giggled. “They had a dog on a spaceship?”
“They sure did,” Aubrie said warmly. “His name was Porthos. The bravest beagle in Starfleet history.”
Her father leaned forward, visibly pleased. “And did you get to see the A?”
“Oh, the Enterprise-A,” Aubrie sighed dreamily, setting her tea down. “She’s still beautiful, Dad. Every curve polished, every panel gleaming. They even keep her bridge lights dim, like it’s frozen in time — you can almost imagine Kirk sitting in that chair, calling for warp speed. The acoustics in there are perfect; the hum of her systems sounds like she’s still alive.”
Jen smiled softly. “You used to make us watch those old holovids of the Enterprise launches over and over. You’d stand on the coffee table pretending to give orders.”
Aubrie chuckled. “Yeah, and you caught me every time. I’d have made a terrible captain back then — I was bossing around stuffed animals.”
From the hallway behind them came another voice — sharp, a little weary. “Can’t you all keep it down? I’m trying to study.”
Elizabeth, sixteen, stepped into view with a datapad under her arm, wearing a sweatshirt and earbuds dangling from her neck. Her serious expression softened when she saw the comm. “Oh — hey, Aubrie.”
“Hey, Liz,” Aubrie said warmly. “Studying late again?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Midterms. Federation history. You’d think they’d make it interesting, but it’s all just dates and treaties.”
Aubrie raised an eyebrow. “I just walked through a ship where those treaties were signed. Next time I’m there, I’ll take some holo-shots for you. Maybe that’ll spice things up.”
Her sister smiled slightly. “That’d actually help. Thanks.”
Then came a voice from off-screen — deeper, steady. “Is this a family reunion or a subspace broadcast?”
The eldest sibling, Jake Fox, walked into the kitchen still in his Earth Security uniform, his hair damp from a late shower. “Hey, kiddo.”
Aubrie lit up. “Jake! You’re actually home for once?”
“Caught the night shift off,” he said, grabbing a chair. “Figured I’d join before you beam off somewhere else. You look good. A little tired, but good.”
“Comes with the job,” she said with a grin. “You know how it is — the Eminence has been running supplies for the Frontier Day prep. Long shifts, minimal sleep, lots of coffee. But it’s rewarding. Starfleet’s pulling out all the stops. They’ve got the Enterprise-F doing inspections, the Titan is ferrying dignitaries, and Commodore La Forge is overseeing all the museum restoration work himself.”
Jake raised his brows. “You met La Forge?”
“Yep,” she said proudly. “Shook his hand. He even told me a story about the Enterprise-D. Said that serving on her was like living in the heart of exploration itself.”
Her father smiled, his voice soft. “Sounds like he’s still got the spark.”
“Oh, definitely,” Aubrie agreed. “You can see it in his eyes. The museum’s his life’s work — every ship there carries a piece of history. The Excelsior, the Enterprise-B, even a few hull fragments from the C. Walking through it, you feel like you’re surrounded by ghosts — not in a sad way, but in a way that reminds you what Starfleet means. It’s not just exploration. It’s legacy.”
Jen wiped a tear discreetly with her towel. “You sound like your father.”
Bryan chuckled. “She gets it from you, dear. You’re the one who taught her about discipline and wonder.”
Before anyone could respond, Alan climbed onto a chair to get closer to the screen. “Aubrie, when are you coming home?”
She hesitated, glancing briefly at the stars beyond her viewport. “Soon, I hope. Once Frontier Day’s done, maybe I can request some leave. I’ll come home for a few days — we’ll go to the beach, grab tacos from that old stand by the pier.”
Alexis gasped. “Can we build starships in the sand again?!”
“Absolutely,” Aubrie said with a grin. “And Alan can command the USS Sandcastle — if he promises not to fire torpedoes at my ship this time.”
Alan giggled. “No promises!”
Jake leaned forward, his expression softening. “You’re doing great things out there, Bree. Don’t let the work grind you down.”
“I won’t,” she said, smiling. “Sometimes it’s hard — being away. But nights like this remind me why I joined. Starfleet isn’t just about duty. It’s about connection — about people like you.”
Elizabeth gave her a rare, genuine smile. “You sound like a recruitment poster.”
Aubrie laughed. “Maybe I should write one.”
Jen reached out, her voice gentle. “Just… take care of yourself, sweetheart. The stars can wait. Family can’t.”
“I will,” Aubrie promised softly. “I love you all.”
The chorus came together — Jake’s low, warm “Love you, sis,” Elizabeth’s quiet but heartfelt “Love you,” Alexis’s enthusiastic shout, and Alan’s off-key “BYE AUBRIE!” echoing as he waved his toy ship in front of the camera.
Bryan lifted his mug one last time. “To our daughter — and the stars she sails among.”
Aubrie smiled, her voice steady but thick with emotion. “To home — the one that never leaves.”
The comm faded to black, leaving only her reflection in the dark screen and the steady hum of the Eminence. Outside her viewport, the stars shimmered faintly — not as distant as they once seemed.
She took a deep breath, finishing the last of her tea before whispering, “Computer, end transmission.”
The computer chirped. The screen went dark. And for the first time that night, the universe felt perfectly still — alive with the echoes of laughter, love, and home.
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