The Choices We Are Given
Posted on Tue Jan 13th, 2026 @ 4:31pm by Commander Donald ‘Don’ Key
742 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
A Fondness For
Location: USS Albion
Timeline: Present
{Three days later. USS Albion, Bridge}
The tribble is gone.
DON sits at the helm, scanning displays like a man waiting to be blamed by the universe.
DON: Sir… it’s been seventy-two hours since the last inexplicable event.
DICK: Hm, that is alarming.
ANDREWS: Sensors clear. No chronal spikes. No singing weather.
JULIUS: Statistically, we’re overdue for nonsense.
The viewscreen flickers. Stars smear sideways, like reality turned the page wrong.
DON: …Sir?
DICK: Hold position.
DON: Physics has filed for divorce.
Lights dim. A layered hum rolls through the deck.
JULIUS: We’re intersecting multiple probability manifolds.
ANDREWS: Translation?
JULIUS: We’re about to meet our poor life choices.
With a crack of light, three figures appear.
They are all Don Key. Or what looks like Don.
DON: …I need to stop drinking synthehol.
DICK stands.
DICK: Julius?
JULIUS: Not hallucinations.
ANDREWS: Not transporter accidents.
SHEERAASHAA: The universe is showing off.
⸻
The first Don stands tall, immaculate, captain’s pips gleaming.
CAPTAIN DON: Captain Donald Key. USS Valiant. (smiles) This ship is… less polished.
DON: You’re me.
CAPTAIN DON: With better posture and fewer regrets.
The second Don is older, thinner, eyes sharp with fatigue.
DIRECTOR DON: Temporal Research Division (to Dick) You’re late.
DICK: Story of my life.
DIRECTOR DON (to Don): You didn’t take the promotion.
DON: …No?
DIRECTOR DON: Pity. You got very good at saying “I warned you.”
The third Don wears a leather jacket, scarred, armed, wary.
REBEL DON: Still alive. Good for you.
DON: And you’re me if I—
REBEL DON: —stop trusting institutions.
Silence.
DICK: Parallel dimensions?
CAPTAIN DON: Divergent strands.
DIRECTOR DON: One decision point.
REBEL DON: You didn’t duck.
DON: Crystal clear.
JULIUS steps forward.
JULIUS: They’re not intrusions. They’re invited.
DICK: By what?
ALL THREE: You.
They gesture at Don.
DON: …Me?
CAPTAIN DON: You stalled causality.
DIRECTOR DON: The universe is comparing outcomes.
REBEL DON: Auditions.
DON: For what?
The ship shudders.
ANDREWS: Captain—we’re being scanned.
The viewscreen fills with something vast and abstract.
JULIUS: A selection field.
SHEERAASHAA: A crossroads spirit.
DICK: Of course.
A voice resonates.
THE FIELD: One constant. Many paths. Which continues?
DON swallows.
DON: Sir… permission to ask what that means?
DICK: Granted.
DON: What do you mean “which”?
CAPTAIN DON: One of us persists.
DIRECTOR DON: The rest collapse.
REBEL DON: Don’t take it personal.
DON pales.
DICK steps forward.
DICK: No.
THE FIELD pauses.
THE FIELD: The choice is inherent.
DICK: Like hell it is. You don’t prune my crew.
CAPTAIN DON: It’s not hostile.
DIRECTOR DON: It’s efficient.
REBEL DON: It’s stupid.
DON looks at them.
DON: You’re all me. Different calls.
CAPTAIN DON: I commanded.
DIRECTOR DON: I prevented disasters.
REBEL DON: I survived.
DON exhales.
DON: And I fly the ship. I crack jokes. I almost get eaten by metaphors.
DICK: You also talk the universe down from tantrums.
THE FIELD hums. THE FIELD: Decide.
DON studies each version.
DON: You look happy. (to Captain Don)
CAPTAIN DON: Mostly.
DON: Tired. (to Director Don)
DIRECTOR DON: Permanently.
DON: Angry. (to Rebel Don)
REBEL DON: Keeps me alive.
DON closes his eyes.
DON: I don’t think any of you are wrong. But I’m not done being… this.
He gestures at the bridge.
DON: I like being the guy who almost understands. Who survives because someone else has the speech.
The other Dons smile, nod, snort.
DON (to the Field): If someone collapses… let it be the ones who already know how it ends.
Silence.
THE FIELD: Self-awareness selected.
Light flares. The three Dons fade gently.
CAPTAIN DON: Take the chair someday.
DIRECTOR DON: Keep asking questions.
REBEL DON: Duck faster.
They’re gone.
Stars steady. Reality exhales.
⸻
DON sways. DICK steadies him.
DICK: You okay?
DON: …Yeah. I think I just passed a performance review by existence.
JULIUS: Chronal readings stable.
ANDREWS: No anomalies.
SHEERAASHAA: The universe is satisfied.
DON looks at Dick.
DON: That captain version of me… he was impressive.
DICK smiles.
DICK: So are you. You just haven’t noticed yet.
DON grins.
DON: Permission to resume being aggressively normal?
DICK: Granted. Take us home, Don.
The Albion jumps to warp.
Somewhere beyond time, three paths close.
One remains—slightly sarcastic, deeply human, overweight, and exactly where it belongs.
:OFF:
Commander Donald ‘Don’ Key
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Albion
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