Family Business
Posted on Mon Jul 6th, 2026 @ 11:58am by Lieutenant Taras Mikovich
Edited on on Mon Jul 6th, 2026 @ 8:52pm
1,158 words; about a 6 minute read
Mission:
Initial Conditions
Location: Earth | Moldova | Mikovich Family Estate
Glancing up, Taras Mikovich enjoyed the view of Earth’s afternoon sun hanging low over the vineyards of southern Moldova. Naturally, it painted the rolling hills in shades of gold and copper. Rows of grapevines stretched toward the horizon, interrupted only by the occasional stone manor or processing facility bearing the Mikovich family crest. The property belonging to the Mikovich family consumed a lot of real estate, its vineyards stretched across the hills like green waves beneath the setting summer sun.
Taras Mikovich lie upon a chair beneath the stone pergola overlooking the estate with glass of red wine resting comfortably in his hand. It was the sort of scene tourism agencies loved to advertise old-world Earth charm preserved in the modern age, and era where fame and fortune were deemed frivolous, but old money still seeped through in awe and admiration.
"You know," Luka, his cousin on his father’s side, said from across the table, "I do believe most people in your position spend their leave relaxing."
"Yes,” agreed Taras. “I am relaxing" he explained as he gazed at a PADD of information.
"You know that you have already checked your transfer orders six times” Luka asserted.
Taras placed the PADD down and took another sip of wine. "I've checked them twice” he countered.
"Six” corrected Luka.
"Nonsense. It’s been three, maximum” countered Taras.
Luka just snorted. There often was no winning an argument with Taras. He was stubborn, manipulative, and often needed to be correct.
The data PADD ended up resting beside Taras displayed the same orders it had all morning. USS Eventide. Report within the next seven days. Starfleet Command. The whole Starfleet matter still felt strange.
After years in the Merchant Marines, he wasn't entirely convinced anyone had meant to commission him. Yet, they had, and he became part of Starfleet. First, he served a few months aboard the USS Acacallis, and now the USS Eventide was awaiting his arrival. Sooner or later, someone in personnel was bound to realize their mistake in granting his commission.
The distant hum of an approaching transport interrupted his strain of thought.
Luka glanced toward the landing field. "Are we expecting visitors, cousin?"
"No, Luka, we are not” replied Taras with a sigh of frustration. Although, he was curious who was arriving.
The transport settled onto a nearby landing pad, kicking up a cloud of dust and recently mowed grass on the carefully curated lawn.
Taras immediately frowned once he could make out more details of the transport, and the hatch opening up. Visitors rarely brought good news. Especially this kind.
The first figure down the ramp was a Tellarite. He was stereotypically broad shouldered, wearing rather expensive garb, and of course a trademark permanent scowl of irritation etched into his face.
The second figure was a Coridanite. He appeared to be lean, pale-skinned, and dressed in the sort of tailored business attire that practically announced wealth.
The fact they were arriving together suggested one of two possibilities: Either the galaxy was ending or they were about to ruin Taras’ perfectly fine afternoon.
The pair marched directly toward the terrace en route to Taras and Luka Mikovich. "Definitely the latter” Taras muttered.
The Tellarite was the first to reach the cousins though the Cordanite was close behind.
"You are Taras Mikovich” said the Tellarite.
Taras glanced up. “That depends” he replied coyly.
The Coridanite folded his arms. "This was a waste of time” he stated.
The Tellarite immediately rounded on him. "Everything is a waste of time according to you."
"Because Tellarites insist on making simple matters complicated” quipped the Cordinaite.
"Simple?" the Tellarite barked. "You forged commercial records."
The Coridanite looked offended. "I did no such thing. I corrected inaccurate records."
Taras blinked. Records? Were these two here to squabble about records, and if so, why here?
Luka slowly set down his wine. "Oh, this is going to be entertaining."
Neither alien acknowledged Luka. The Tellarite produced a tablet of data and slammed it onto the table. “It is here. All of it” he grunted.
"You worked communications aboard the Mercury Star”
Taras recognized the ship instantly. It was one of his several past assignments as a Merchant Marine. Past being the key word.
When he was aboard, it spent a few months running trade routes between Coridan, Tellar Prime, and several frontier colonies.
"Yeah, I remember the Mercury Star. I served aboard briefly” he carefully answered.
"You intercepted transmissions” the Tellarite stated.
"Hey now. Don’t get any ideas… I managed communications” corrected Taras.
"But you did maintain records” added the Tellarite.
"Among other duties, yes” replied Taras with some suspicion.
The Coridanite stepped forward. “Your uncle happened to broker contracts involving those routes."
There it was. The other shoe had fallen, and Taras sighed. Eventually every conversation found its way back to Uncle Mikhail. Whether Mikhail Mikovich was a respected businessman or a criminal mastermind depended entirely on who was telling the story.
Taras had never been entirely certain himself, but he was very protective of his family regardless of legality of alleged actions. "My uncle brokers many things."
The Coridanite laughed. "An admirably vague answer."
"I learned from professionals” noted Taras Mikovich.
The Tellarite pointed at the tablet of data. “It was five years ago, a shipment of Coridan industrial crystals changed ownership during transit."
The Coridanite immediately interrupted. "It was legally reassigned."
"It was stolen” argued the Tellarite.
"It was purchased” the Coridanite scoffed.
"You mean it vanished” countered the Tellarite.
"No, it was transferred” the Coridanite circled.
Their argument erupted instantly. Each accusing the other of something regarding this shipment. Taras listened for perhaps ten seconds before cutting in.
"Stop!” he interjected.
Both aliens stopped. Not because he was authoritative, but because he sounded exhausted with them both.
"I have a question” Taras said cautiously. "If you're both so convinced you're right, why are you even here?"
Silence. The Coridanite and Tellarite exchanged a glance. That alone told Taras everything he needed to know. Neither of them possessed tangible proof of what happened. Neither could make a concreate case.
Taras leaned back. The smile appearing on his face caused Luka to groan. "Oh No,” said Luka.
"What?” asked Taras.
"I know that smile, cousin" Luka explained.
"What smile?"
Luka shook his head. "The one that means you have already decided to get involved."
The Tellarite looked hopeful. The Coridanite looked worried and Luka just consumed the rest of his wine.
Taras picked up the data tablet and skimmed it. The information was there. The shipment. The disputed communications and of course the involvement of his uncle. He had on a few more days before he was supposed to report aboard a Starfleet vessel.
Plenty of time to get this sorted thought Taras.
Lieutenant Taras Mikovich
Chief Communications Officer
USS Eventide
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