Finding Purpose Again

Captain Robert Steele had just returned from his wife's funeral. His suit was torn and wrinkled, the fabric scuffed and stained from the long, disheveled trek back to his apartment. He stood alone on the balcony, facing the expanse before him. Though distant, the stars shimmered like scattered memories, and the city lights below gleamed with activity. The skyscrapers and condos towered so high that it seemed as though they were stretching toward the stars themselves.

At 47 years of age, Steele’s contract with Blue Star, the defense command of the Unified Federation of Star Systems, was nearing its conclusion.

With the loss of his wife, life became devoid of meaning and the world seemed colorless. His scruffy beard clung to his face, greasy and unkempt, tangled with the stale smell of alcohol. Each bottle was a fleeting attempt to numb the gnawing emptiness inside him. He leaned dangerously close to the edge of the balcony, careless to any sense of safety.

The doorbell chimed, breaking the spell of the moment.

Steele brought himself back from the balcony and went to answer. Opening the door, he was taken aback to find Rear Admiral Jonathan Thorne standing before him.

“Good evening, Robert.”

Thorne greeted Steele with a warm smile. Suspiciously, he was holding a long-folded piece of paper in his hands.

“I’m in mourning, sir.”

“I understand, I apologize coming unannounced. But I have something very important to share with you. May I come in?”

Steele allowed Thorne to enter his apartment.

Thorne couldn't hide his disgust: The atmosphere reeked of sorrow: uncleaned dishes piled high in the sink, clothes left carelessly across the floor, and furniture placed randomly with no purpose. The entire apartment was a mess.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Robert.”

Steele didn’t respond. He turned his back to Thorne and stared blankly into space, his gaze distant, as if he had drifted somewhere unreachable.

“Robert, I’m here not as your superior, but as a friend. Please, feel free to speak your mind.”

Steele turned to Thorne, a flicker of irritation shadowing his face.

“What are you doing here? What is so important that you had to see me now?”

Thorne finally handed Steele the long-folded piece of paper.

“What is this?”

“Unfold it.”

Steele placed the paper on the kitchen counter and slowly unfolded it, revealing a spaceship design template unlike any he had ever seen before.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Thorne launched into his explanation with the practiced enthusiasm of a seasoned salesperson, laying out every detail about the ship's purpose.

“The USS Serenity, an Eminence-class heavy cruiser, is set to become the new flagship of Blue Star. It will incorporate the latest technology, including advanced scanners, state-of-the-art weaponry, top-tier facilities, next-generation thrusters, and high-quality jump drive. These features will make it the most valuable asset in Blue Star history!”

Steele shot Thorne a skeptical look.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Thorne straightened, his posture and demeanor snapping back to the strict authority befitting an admiral.

“You’re not retiring, Robert. You’re taking command of this ship.”

Steele felt a surge of anger.

“I have no obligation to keep serving Blue Star. I’ve given enough of my life already. I want is to retire in peace. You're very cruel for demanded something like this during my time of mourning!”

“Think of the countless opportunities, Steele. Do not take this offer lightly.”

Steele was a career officer, highly decorated for his exemplary service and extensive experience—qualities rare and nearly unmatched in his field. He was truly one of a kind, and his departure would deal a significant blow to Blue Star’s capabilities.

“You’d become a legend—a fabled name in Blue Star history! You’re the most qualified captain for this position. You are needed.”

Steele had enough. His grief twisted into fury.

“I said no!”

Steele shoved Thorne, sending him falling onto his back. A look of disappointment crossed Thorne's face as he hit the floor.

“Get out!”

Before Steele could do anything more, Thorne pulled a wrinkled letter from his pocket, the fall having creased it further.

“It’s from your wife.”

Steele's anger subsided, replaced by shock as a new thought struck him—could his wife have left him something he did not know about?

Impatiently, Steele tore the letter open and pulled out a sheet of paper, his eyes landing on the familiar handwriting of his wife. After spending what felt like an eternity reading, Steele felt a fleeting warmth, as if his wife were with him once more, her words offering him comfort one last time.

“She proposed it. She dreamed of you doing what she couldn’t—exploring the unknown, leading the charge. She wanted you to find purpose again, not to waste away in your apartment.”

“Why didn’t she leave me this letter herself?”

“I’m not so sure myself, Robert. But that doesn’t change anything. Is that not her handwriting?”

Robert began to sob, overwhelmed by the realization that his wife had given him purpose once more. He understood what he had to do.

Thorne stood up and comforted Steele.

“So, what will it be?”

Steele paused to gather his thoughts before stepping out onto the balcony, where he found himself mesmerized by the stars. Once again, he could see the vibrant colors and beauty shining from above, each star rekindling a forgotten warmth within him. In that moment, his world became colorful once more.

He turned to Thorne with confidence.

“I’ll do it. I’ll take command of the USS Serenity. I’ll fulfill my wife’s final wish with the time I have left.”

"I’m glad you reconsidered, Captain. The ship will need about a year to complete its final construction, operational testing, and audits. In the meantime, you'll undergo intensive training to understand every detail of its systems. Report to me a week from now. We’ll complete the paperwork and officially get you back into the fleet. Also, get a haircut.”

“Aye, sir.”

Thorne extended his hand to Steele with a firm handshake before leaving his apartment. Once he was at a safe distance, Thorne tapped his communicator, establishing a connection with a high-ranking officer on the other end.

"Good evening, sir. Steele is fully on board. He didn't catch on about the fake letter."

"Excellent work, Rear Admiral. Are you confident he didn't suspect anything?"

"Yes, sir. I’m confident he believes it was his wife who wrote it. He might have been too drunk to notice."

“This remains between us—until our deaths, understood? I wouldn’t want to see what Steele would do if he found out the truth.”