The Iroquois dropped out of warp, the XO was coughing up blood as Tris was working the CONN vigorously, “Andrew stay with me, look on the second screen of the tricorder, to the left, what does it say….”

The Iroquois, a Raven class recon ship was attacked by the Breen, severely attacked.

“78 over 104… 102…” he began a coughing fit and then went silent.

It was just Meila and Andrew left, the engines were tethering on death and so was her XO, “Computer, 70CC’s of Diuretics, 20MG’s of Aspirin. We need to calm you down. Right Andrew…” she paused for his sarcastic response nothing… “Andrew?” She turned from the CONN and noticed he was unconcious, “COMPUTER AUTO PILOT, Starbase Bravo. Emergency Warp.”

“The engines are only capable of one hour of Emergency warp, At which point they will not be able to complete your request. Should we proceed at warp 2 we will be closer to completing your request.” The computer replied.

“How long?” she said as she was monitoring Andrew.

“Three days seven hours.” The computer computed.

“Unacceptable. Send out a Distress Call, all bands. Transfer all remaining life support to the shields, and weapons, activate Emergency Holo-Crews, and Keep the bridge sealed off and the only breathable area.”

Moments later several holographic components appeared. “What are your orders?”

“Defend the ship and repair the engines. EMH With me.” Meila commanded. This was beyond her scope, she was a M.D. not a Commander.

As the holocrew began to follow her orders, she and the EMH were working in tandem, it was like the EMH was an extension of her hands.

“Doctor I am detecting low vital signs, sinus rhythm below threshold.” the EMH stated.

“Andrew!” she yelled at him, and punched him in the chest, as he gasped for air.
 

**Flashback**

“C’mon, jump off the cliff with me, it will be fun!” Andrew said to her, trying to coax her into a mission.

“I am not sure. I am happy here, and was offered a position on the Farragut.” Meila replied.

“It is not often someone would be able to have REDACTED on their resumé, let alone right out of the academy.” Andrew smirked.  

“I am a medical officer…” she said reluctantly.

“You are a Doctor, a Pilot, and you have the experience from your previous hosts…. plus everyone looks good in black.” Andrew smirked.

“Pig.”

“C’mon, please, I don’t want some stiff from Starfleet Medical, I want you we will have fun…” Andrew pleaded.
 

***Current Day***

“That worked. I must include that in the medical database.” The EMH Said.

With that the console beeped… “Doctor, keep him alive.” she said as she turned her attention to the science console, that was buried under rubble.

The sensors were damaged, but it picked up a ship warping in… Right ontop of them.

Over the bridge speakers she could hear the static, than it cleared up “This is This is Captain Alan Driverson of the USS Nye, you look badly damaged, can we be of assistance.”

“Hello Captain, I am Doctor Meila Tris of the Iroquois, we got ransacked by the Breen on our way back to Starbase Bravo, the crew except myself and the XO didn’t make it. Currently the XO is severely injured and requires a level 2 medical facility.”

“I am Nova Class Miss Tris, we will do what we can and I will leave that up to you and our Doctor to discuss, is the patient capable of transport?” the Captain asked.

She turned to the EMH who gave a nod. “Yes.”

“Very well, we will transport you both to Nye, you should leave the holocrew on, to enact repairs of what they can.” Captain Driverson suggested.

“Will do.” Dr. Tris complied.

She turned to the Emergency Command Hologram, “You got this.”

“Aye Ma’am.” the ECH replied.

As she opened the tricorder to monitor Andrew, his heartbeat dropped. She rested her hand on his chest and they were transported. The blue shroud showered them, as they arrive in a prestine transporter pad. “Beam us right to sick bay he is coding.” she shouted without even looking up. She dropped the tricorder and began chest compressions.

They rematerialized on an emergency bed. She looked around for the CMO, “I’m here, I’m here! What’s going on?” he asked in an upward inflection. The shocked of seeing CMO being beamed in while doing CPR is shocked and crude, but sometimes your hands gotta get dirty.

“We have no sinus rhythm and no heartbeat, he has been in and out of consciousness for 2 hours and has lost a lot of blood, Blood Type O+ Human, severe lacerations and shrapnel inside. We need to get him to a type 2 facility, which the captain knows.” Tris reported to the LCDR. As the doors shut. It was the Commanding officer who stood back while they worked.
 

***Flashback***

Andrew, dressed as a Breen wasn’t paying attention and walked into a brute. Atleast 8 feet tall, and 2 feet wide.

“Brr brr br brrr brr brr brr” the Breen said.

“He he oopsie?” Andrew said as he went to take a swing and missed horribly, the Breen grabbed Andrew by the throat and lifted him from the ground.

Meila backed up and crouched, she thinks she wasn’t seen, and fired her weapon, as the green plasmoid escaped the weapon, it injected itself into the soldier. Both fell to the ground. She than stormed to Andrew and threw him against the wall. “You better tell me what is going on here. I’ve been attacked on all ends here.”

“Fine. Fine. This is a Security Check up on the Breen if you will. This is a newly discovered facility and we want to make sure there is nothing sinister going on here…”

“Oh but there is…”a voice came from around the corner.

Both Andrew and Meila took off their helmets and peaked around the corner.
 

***Present Day***

She was washing her hands after getting out of the Surgical bay.

“Doctor Tris, we are arriving at Starbase Bravo.” The CO Said, from the galley “You worked well in there. What were you doing on the Iroquois?”

“It’s a Ship right? That was my assignment?” she replied. She was still shell shocked from the attack. Why are the Breen still attacking them and chasing them after all these years. She should try and reach out to Miller maybe he would know more.

“You should be at a medical facility like Starbase Bravo, field medicine at it’s best, infact, I am recommending you to be a physician there. You have some real talent Doctor.” he said as he left the room.

“Dont. Touch. It.” Log hissed through his teeth as he continued to pull cables from the wall console. The small transparent fleshy globe hovered above its antigravity plate on the far side of the lab, spinning slowly as the liquid within rolled with mesmerising currents of silver and gold. Aynesh stood rapt, her nose inches from the mysterious transparent sphere. 

“I wasn’t going to.” She whispered defensively, her already extended index finger retreating to the pockets of her overalls, her eyes fixed on the dancing colours within the orb. 

“You shouldn’t even be in here.”

“You said you needed help didn’t you?” Aynesh turned from the oceanic motion of the tiny metallic nebula within the object as it twisted and bounced against the container, pushed and pulled by an unknown effector. Leaning on a counter as she looked at the young tellerite, a fair chunk of his upper body now lost amongst the cables vomited by the access panel. “You said Aynesh please help me, I can’t possibly do it without you!” She mocked, her voice raising several pitches in jest. 

“I believe what I said was I could use an extra pair of hands.” Log’s head appeared from the snaking cables. 

“And?”

“I’m only seeing one pair of hands over here.” Two small hands appeared from beneath the nest of black station innards and waved in demonstration of their loneliness. “This was exactly what I was hoping to avoid.” His head and hands disappeared back beneath the mountain of woven cables which began shuddering and shaking as he attempted to extricate himself. 

Waving her hand dismissively Aynesh returned her attention to the glowing orb, her nose creeping ever closer once again. “Why should we care about lighting panels when we’ve got this!” Her finger had emerged from the deep pockets once again and slowly crept towards the transparent container and the mysterious dancing liquid it held. “The blue shirts get to play with all the cool stuff.”

“Put that finger away!” Log cried as he fought a piece of black tubing that refused to release his leg.

“I don’t think I appreciate your lack of trust in me.” Aynesh griped, her voluminous bottom lip edging closer to the sphere as it pouted. 

“It’s not a lack of trust, it’s a growing wealth of experience.” Log teased as he pushed the electrical snake from his leg and after a moment of consideration decided to allow himself a moment’s break from a fight he was currently losing. “If you find it all so fascinating then why haven’t you volunteered for the new duty roster?” 

“Because I’m not a scientist. I wouldn’t even know where to start with something like this.” Her face turned downward despondently, her confident demeanour slipping for a moment as she slumped bodily to her knees infront of the sphere; its metallic coloured veins now being drawn deeper into the rolling clouds as dark azure lines began snaking around the micro-nebula. 

“That’s not true.” Log appeared next to her, propping up his chin with branch-like arms as he knelt alongside her. 

“Yes, it is. I’m just a grease monkey.”

“Then start at the beginning.” Log smiled, recollecting a similar education he had received as a new officer with Theta Squad. The young tellerite had called himself a similar thing, Zaya had refused to allow him to belittle himself and had launched into a lesson. “Every investigation starts at the beginning.” He motioned to the orb, now dancing with yellow and blue ribbons of unknown elements. “What do you see?”

Aynesh rolled her eyes audibly as she sighed, self-pity filling her lungs. “You’re not going to turn me into a blue shirt with a few questions.”

“I’m not trying to. It wouldn’t compliment your skin tone.” He poked her shoulder playfully. “What do you see?”

“An orb.”

“And?”

“It’s transparent.”

“And?”

“It’s filled with lots of coloured…” she clenched her jaw in frustration, attempting to reach for a more accurate word, something more scientific. “Stuff” she concluded, unsatisfied with her answer. 

“Gasses?” Log leant back on the nearby tab table, his attention focused on the young engineer rather than the scientific curio hovering above the table. 

“No, they seem too heavy and dense. They look more liquid.” Aynesh was rubbing her chin now, “And different densities, maybe even different molecular structures.”

“What makes you say that?” Log probed, his hands alighting on a nearby padd that contained the research team’s initial findings. He cast a quick glance at the summary data at the top of the page, she was definitely on the right track.

“Well it’s like oil and water, they don’t mix because of their differing densities.” Aynesh furrowed her brow, her eyes drilling deep into the transparent orb. 

Log smiled. “So multiple-“

“-liquids? Probably, and they’re all moving. Normally differing liquids would find a natural balance.” The orb’s contents seemed to smile in recognition of her accuracy, a flash of golden blood arcing across the bottom of the mixture. “Which means something is causing it to keep moving, stirring it up.” Aynesh’s hand hovered over the globe, “I wonder if the stimulus is kinetic or radiant?”

“So did the research team.” Log waved the padd in his hand in Aynesh’s direction, drawing her attention away from the orb. “The computer is currently running an electromagnetic analysis.”

“Is it finished?” Her eyes were wide, the taste of discovery on her lips. 

The tellerite looked to the padd. “In about 10 minutes.” He smiled, “Long enough to fix the lighting panel and be around for when it goes ping?” Aynesh returned his smile, a grin creeping across her face like a child who had just been offered a Jumja stick. “That’s assuming you have time professor?”

She smiled, casting her mind back to the nervous young officer who had been buddied with her only a few months ago, he was swiftly blossoming into a confident young man again. “Message received, maybe there’s a bit of blue in me yet.” 

“You’re literally all blue.” Log gestured up and down to the Bolian woman’s azure skin. 

She smacked his shoulder playfully as they began moving over to the waiting bird’s nest of cabling for round two, Aynesh’s busy mind now churning out possibilities, “Do you think it’s a storage container? What if it’s like suspended anti-matter? Oh! What if it’s super dangerous and explosive? That’d be so cool…”

As the two young officers continued their work, the sound of their hypothesising falling into a pleasant chatter the orb glowed unnoticed as waves of blue and gold rolled through the liquid mixture, twisting and turning as they danced around each other before disappearing into the rainbow maelstrom suspended in the small glass orb. 

The loud huffle and puffle of the crowds didn’t phase her, the shouting, the everyone has urgency, she crossed into the Medical Booth to relieve the other Physician there. A stout man, who’se eyes bugged out on either side, slightly balding. He reminded her of a college professor. 

He began the debrief, and she nodded along, as he put it, tag shake let’em pass. We don’t Check Credentials or anything like that. 

She wasn’t too sure what was going on, all she knew was she was to check for security measures. Something a cadet could do, but she could use the break. 

After the debrief Meila went right to work, “Why?” The man objected. “I am not Starfleet, I am a Federation Citizen, and I demand to know why I am being treated this way.”

“What way?” Meila inquired.

“Like a petty changeling.” he said.

“Because, the security of this Starfleet and Federation Facility demands it. We want to ensure that the majority of the station is secured and that the populace is not in trouble.”

“Well if I was a changeling…”

“I’d be very careful, you see that shiny thing?” she said motioning to the Security Officers gun, “It hurts… and I don’t have time to revive you. So Give me your arm. Or go back where you came from, it is pretty simple.”

She could hear a nurse laugh in the background, and the man murmur when he gave his arm, she did the test and reached under the counter, “Now, this is usually reserved for special patients, like celebrities if you will, but I will share it with you…” she gave him a lollipop and walked away.

Did he get what she was trying to say? Probably insulted a dignitary again, but at least she held back and didn’t shoot him. 

“Doctor you are needed over here.” the nurse said to her. 

Meila, excused herself as someone took over, and proceeded to the Nurse. “Yes?”

“There have been no cases of Changelings, I think we got it down here, if you want, you can take the rest of the day off, or go tend to something else.” the Nurse seemed matronly. 

“You just don’t want me shooting anyone do you?” Meila smirked. 

“Yeah lets not make more work for the Medical Department.” the Nurse smiled. 

“Alright I will be in Chemistry analyzing the samples. Good Luck.” Meila moved away from the Chaos and to the jammed turbolift, how this was different from Iroquois, there was 34 at max on the Iro, now she is with a lot more than that. Moments later she got an Elbow to the chest. “Hey!”

“Got a problem?” a burly voice said from a Nausicaan who stood at least seven foot. 

“Yeah, that flipping hurt.” the 5 foot 4 bottle of attitude said. 

“Oh I am sorry…” the mockingly bowed “Princess….” he waited for a name. 

“What’s with the disrespect? You are on a Federation Installation, I am assuming with a Klingon Counterpart? How about you settle down before you end up in the brig.” She tried to be polite.

He turned around backhanding her in the process. 

She tapped him on the shoulder. 
“Yes, Princess?” the Nausicaan replied, she could smell the bloodwine on him.

“The name is Ben…” she decked him, “and this is Jerry. Learn how to treat a lady.”

The man’s blood alcohol level must’ve been high, because he crumbled like a house of cards. Everyone else just minded their own business. “I’m going to get in trouble for that…”

Straightening her shirt, and making sure there was no blood on her knuckles, she entered into the massive Facility. Nodding at the male nurse who was stationed at the central position, she made her way to check on Andrew, who just got out of another surgery. Checking on the medical headboard, she noted that he was stabilizing. 

She leaned against his bed and let out a sigh of relief. 

Preston approached the biobed, padd in hand, “Doctor,” he nodded politely.  “He was in pretty bad shape when he arrived. Your friend is fortunate you got him to Bravo,” he replied, “we’ve been monitoring his vitals. I’m not sure I would call him stable, but he’s improving.” He padded the Physician, his padd, “The Breen tend not to leave people behind; you both are lucky.”

“We’ve escaped the Breen before….” pausing, “sorry your name is?” she asked reading over the padd. Nodding and listening, “He is very lucky,’ she took a deep breath trying to fight back the tears. “He is probably going to have something with his nerves after this, when that console exploded I thought he was gone for.”

“Preston Roberts,” the Ensign introduced himself. The rank really wasn’t needed. It was clearly noted on his collar. “I can’t imagine, but then I’ve only been out of the academy a very short time.” He paused for a moment.  “I am sure I don’t need to tell you, Doctor, there are several treatments that could help the Commander.  We need to get him healed up first.”

“Agreed. What is your specialty? Mine is Xenobiology and a couple of others… I am concerned with his nerves, mostly his neck. Prolonged non movement could lead to TOS, Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. So tell me Mr. Roberts, what is the best treatment for this?” Mr. Roberts knew how to do it, snap her back into business mode. 

“Your friend, if that is what he has, would be best served with some PT and possibly some anti-inflammatory medication. However, my first choice would be several rounds of PT.” He smiled, “And my specialty is in trauma nursing. Ma’am.”

“Sounds good. Drop the Doctor, only in times where formality dictates, call me Doctor, in relaxed times like this, call me Tris.” she paused for a moment. She heard a beeping console coming from the office. 

“You can take the Cadet out of the Academy, but you can’t take the Academy out of the Cadet,” Robert chuckled. “You’re not the first person here who’s told me to be less formal.” Robert folded his arms. ”A station this size is bound to have a good facility to care for the Commander’s needs. If not, we can put together a nice holodeck program. That, coupled with some rest, he will be just fine.”

She patted the biobed, and turned her attention to the beeping, “Where is that beeping coming from?” she said following it… coming into the office there was a blinking message from Starfleet Medical that there was the medicals due for officers and crewmembers. 

“Looks like our day has been planned out for us, starting with a Lieutenant Beryl Hammond…”

Beryl was just closing his eyes when his desk beeped. He pretended it was quiet, and rolled over. It beeped again. Silently fuming, Beryl threw the sheets off himself and got up. He had just finished a rough night shift in the docking bay control room. It had been a mad house, with an inordinate amount of ships coming and going, compounded by a persistent bug in the the communications relay. When the shift had ended, he’d practically run back to his quarters, taken a quick shower in the dark, and hopped into bed. That had been about 10 seconds ago.

Stabbing his index finger at the desk monitor, he pulled up the alert. Annual physical, due today. Why was this going off right now?! Beryl sleepily raged, before remembering it was actually morning, and his computer was trying to give him his daily schedule. Sighing, Beryl swiped his comm badge off the night stand and called medical.

“Hey good morning doc, this is Lieutenant Hammond. I have a physical this morning, but I just finished a night shift, I need sleep. Also I happen to be a doctor, so how about I just send you my own report and we call it good?” Beryl was about to double tap the comm badge again to end the conversation, when he got a reply.

“Hello Lieutenant Hammond, go ahead with your rest, but do come in your for your physical. Starfleet Medical doesn’t want Physicians to be doing their own Physicals. Atleast without a witness. If I am not here there will be another medical officer on duty who can assist. Thank you.” she tapped on her combadge. 

Preston watched the unfolding communication. It was not uncommon for most Officers to put off doing their physicals; many had to be forced into sickbay kicking and screaming. Typically, it was Captains and command-level Officers, but Preston supposed it wasn’t limited to just that. He turned and started to prep a med bed for the Lieutenant’s arrival.

She noted it in the file that Lt. Hammond would be in later. “They are tools that a physician can use to block services and duty Preston, eventually they will come in for their physicals. But giving people the benefit of the doubt is a good thing.”

Medicals are due every quarter, though it is a relatively busy time, Tris felt the need to keep on schedule with them. 

Meila ran over, “Are you okay Sylvain?”

“I am fine Doctor, stay behind me, this Gorn means business.” He said standing back up, looking around there was nothing he could fashion into a rudimentary weapon. The Gorn suddenly charged, this time it looked like a freight train rushing towards him. Pushing the young doctor out of the way, he braced. Than he noted the gape between the Gorn’s legs. He ducked and quickly zipped through, “AHA!” he said outloud, realizing he had said it outloud… “Hey Doc, I may have a concussion.”

“Here…” Meila said throwing a rock at him,

“That hurt!” he said as it bent his finger back.

“Aww you want me to kiss it better, fight with it!” Meila’s sarcasm dripped from her mouth, like a faucet.

“You should work on your bedside Doctor. Especially if you want to be Chief Medical One Day on this Starbase.” he advised.

“Oh look a bigger one.” she threw it at him, hoping it would connect. “Why’d you pick this for our reunion?”

“Coz you don’t handle… oh no… help.. help.. HELP!” He was being picked up by the Gorn who came from behind during their banter.

“Computer Pause Program.” Meila ordered. “So this can end two ways, it depends on your answer. It’s up to you…” she smiled. 

“…your hair well in battle.” he smirked. 

“Computer delete Gorn.” she ordered and watched as Sylvain rushed to the ground and bounced. “That was a lie.”

“You never used to be so crass.” Sylvain said.

“You’re right, a lot has changed, it is mostly my defense mechanisms. Most develop a thick skin, I developped my sarcasm, it is a talent.”

He grabbed her by the shoulders, “You gotta stop Meila, you want to be a Lieutenant forever? You graduated 7th in the class, you should have your own medical labs, not Tracey Hermnes. C’mon kiddo.”

“Don’t call me kiddo. I’m older than you are, atleast with the Wurm in me.”

Leaving the holodeck she looked at the Chronometer, “I have a lot to do tomorrow including hunting down a doctor… let me know if you get the assignment!” she said hugging her friend. 

“Ah Doctor Tris, nice to see you this morning.” the Receptionist said. 

Take aback by this she looked around the room, it was circular with about 24 seats, 16 of them were full. She walked over to the desk and ran her fingers over it, she was Triage and Hospital 1. 

“I’ll be seeing a lot of you today hope to get to know you better.” she smiled as she made her way to the Nurses station, there was no one there, and no one in the beds. She sat down and put her feet up to relax. As she sipped her tea, the station shook ever so lightly. That was odd. she thought to herself. 

“Medical team to Sector H Turquoise.” Came over the PA. “Medical team to Sector H Turquoise Lab 2.”

“Computer Medical Report?” Tris tapped her combadge.

“10 Injured, unknown consciousness. 1 Severe to 7 mild 2 mediocre… Alerting other Triage staff.”  the computer said. 

The doors swooshed open, “Are you ready for site to site, 3 coming in hard, the rest are being stretchered.” asked the receptionist, “I have gone and pulled you from H1 and moved you to Triage Primary. Other Medical Personnel are on their way in Ma’am.”

As she was going to let out a smart quip she looked around there was no one around other than the receptionist Blue lights appeared on the floor, “Remember your medical training? Computer activate Supplement Holographic Medical Staff.”

The man appeared severely burnt and mangled, “What the hell happened down there? Alright folks Triage, priority are the severe. Stabilize and move on let the other doctors take over. Let’s get him onto the bed.”

As the people continued warding in, Meila wondered where the rest of the medical staff was. There was no one there… She looked at the LMH and handed her the tricorder. She wondered around sickbay and looked, there was no one, not even the Chief Medical Officer… 

“Curious.” she headed into the office and began to work the computer, she was not gaining anywhere, than moments later she was denied access. She entered her code, there was no information on the explosion or what she was dealing with particularly if there was any contaminants, radiation or poisoning emanating from what they were studying.  On a whim, “Computer Freeze Program.”

Moments later a Duck Blind appeared, “How am I supposed to assess the new physician if you want play the game?”

“Play the game? What is going on? Who are you?” Meila Asked her hand over her combadge. 

“Now now, do you want others in on this?” asked the voice.

“Who are you?” Meila grew frustrated. 

No response. Moments later, the deck flashed and she was on a Planet with several Cadets, “Where am I?”

La'an looked over to her shelf, where she just put her parents picture. I miss them, but this is my dream, and father always said follow my dreams.

She rose and walked over to the window that her quarters got.  She didn't know the stations current mission, But she will learn soon. Not on shift yet, I have time for the holodeck.

As La'an walked into the holodeck, whe was greeted by the familiar hum of the holographic projectors. She approached the control panel and began to input the parameters for her latest program. He wanted to recreate a typical police briefing room, and she was eager to see how it would turn out. With a few clicks, the program came to life, and the room around her changed. The cool metal walls of the holodeck were replaced by warm wood paneling, and the sterile lighting was replaced by soft, warm bulbs. La'an's uniform began to change as well. Her Starfleet uniform dissolved away, replaced by a LAPD Sports flex shirt with a SWAT logo, tactical cargo pants, and a phaser on her right lower hip holster.

As she continued to fine-tune the program. La'an herself was given the rank of SWAT Commander, a fitting position for the creator of this impressive program. As she looked around the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. This was his creation, and he had poured all of her knowledge and expertise into it. It was a true masterpiece, and she couldn't wait to see how it went. She added two NPCS. 

Sven entered in through the double doors with a whoosh, and what met his eyes was a rendition of a late 20th century police office. The details were amazing, if not a bit lost on him, because he knew very little on the subject. But the designer had gone out of their way to make this creation as real as possible.

He saw Hanes standing there in a uniform that was quite unfamiliar, yet quite fitting and striking.

"Hey, mate."

 "Didn' know that ya programmed. This is some seriously detailed sh..... Stuff." 

He said still gazing about his surroundings.

La'an nodded. Okay little too much NPC. La'an set the program where she was giving the pre-mission breifing

After everyone sat down she began his briefing. She cleared his throat and began. 

"Well we have a Disgruntled Boyfriend who has taken his girlfriend hostage, He's demanded to speak with his father, But he's in a supermax prison 80 miles from here, In Virginia..." She let this set in and continued. 

“Command wants us to get in there and take him out, But Our Main goal is to rescue the girlfriend. We will have to have two teams set up, One for the back, and front.”

A Hologram diagram appears in front of each officer. It was a Two Story house, With two red dots at the back and front doors.

 "Mr.Mackenzie, Your gonna be heading in the back with Mr.Aune and 3 others, Me, Harlow and the rest will take the front, We will have to watch coming up the stairs, its said he's set mirrors up to know where we are so he can take us out, So I am gonna apply smoke grenades and we are gonna hit this at night, Which is in about 10 Mintues, Any questions?"

When La'an finished, Kyan raised his hand... one of those reflexes that was hard to shake. "Ummm so does the "boyfriend" got people helping him?" Kyan figured he was probably one of those sex perverts that kept a bunch of other people around and ran buses on his girlfriends... or maybe he was one of those grups who liked to wear hats with big feathers on them and manage the women that did sex stuff for money. He forgot what they called them. Wimps? No... Something else. 

"OH!" he added    "... are ye after him staying alive or is it ok to shuffle him off tae the Summerlands?"

La'an laughed. "At this moment in time, Intel says no, But we have to be ready just in case. And Our Mission is to Capture him, But Yea, so Far Our intel is saying we might have to take him out, We have no sniper recon teams on Duty so we are gonna be in for a hellva show when we get there. Dose that answer you Question?"

The large man's attention was turned to La'an as he spoke the situation.

Pimp hostage situation, with a girlfriend demanding the release of his imprisoned father. How daft was this guy? When has a hostage situation ever worked out in the favor of the hostage taker? Stupid idiot. That was good and bad. Good in the fact that they were, well, stupid. But bad in the way that stupid people made reckless life threatening choices.

Sven raised his hand.

“Who's in charge of breaching the door, an' clearin'?” 

"I will, Possibly you, Depends on sturdy this door is, Kyan can either kick it in too to just use the ASPR and shatter the glass, The ASPR is the Extendable Baton. We all have on on our duty belts." Dersch then reached around grabbed a long, about 6 inches long black clynder. He then slung his hand to the side, to extend the Baton. 

“Good for Close combat use, and to immobilize Suspects, .” La'an explained

"Any questions about that? Or about this Mission?" La'an asked

Sven nodded, it sounded like a plan. And it was going to be chaotic fun.

"Sounds good t'me." He gave Mackenzie a friendly bro-like tap on the shoulder “Ya ready t'cause some mayhem?”

"Any other questions before We suit up and Move out?" La'an asked, Ready for any other questions that could be possibly asked. She was ready. She loved this holodeck theme fun, Thrilling, Yea you had to wait a bit before a call came. But that's worth the wait.

"Ah think I'm good." Sven said.

10 Minutes Later

The team, dressed in their tactical gear, hastily climbed into the two heavily-armored SWAT Bearcats that were parked nearby, while two unmarked SWAT Tahoes positioned themselves in front and behind the Bearcats. The team members checked their equipment, loaded their weapons, and put on their helmets, preparing for the mission ahead. After a quick and efficient preparation, the convoy took off at a breakneck speed, with the bright lights of the Bearcats shining through the windows and the deafening sound of the sirens filling the air. As they approached the first intersection, the lead car sounded its police horn, signaling all other cars to come to a stop and clear the way for the convoy. Without hesitation, the heavily-armored vehicles raced through the intersection, ready to confront whatever challenges lay ahead.

"All Units, 5 Minutes Out. Stand By" La'an said into the Radio. She looked to the Rest of her team. "You people ready?"

As they approached their destination, La'an felt jittery, as any officer might when going on a high-stakes mission. As they finally came to a stop, the SWAT officers stepped out of the Bearcats and positioned themselves on either side, while others did the same on the Tahoes. La'an signaled everyone to get ready by making the roll-out sign.

The team then switched off the red and blue lights, headlights and even the siren, entering silent mode. They wanted to avoid catching anyone's attention as they moved forward.

Finally, they began to drive down the driveway, carefully maintaining a balance between speed and stealth, so as not to cause any disturbance. La'an and her team were committed to their mission, and they knew they had to get it right.

As they came closer there were multiple people outside...With Assault Rifles who then saw the cops. They began to fire at the Cars. The Convy quickly came to a halt. La'an quickly yelled into the radio. "10-99! Shots fired at SWAT!" She then quickly jumped down and began to open fire at the Suspects.

La'an moved to go behind a SWAT Officer returning fire, But he then collapsed as a bullet hit him in the head, It came from the roof.  DAMN IT!. La'an quickly hid behind a tree. "ALL UNITS WE GOT A SNIPER!" The Front tahoe quickly gunned the throttle and put itself between the shooters and SWAT officers the Second Car did the same. The Bear Cats quickly tried to move where they could help protect the SWAT officers.

Kyan mind went blank almost as the Bullets rocketed off the car. La'an the  yelled 10-99. Good now there should be tons of officers coming their way. Kyan hid behind the First bear cat for cover. Then as he turned to fire at the Suspects. He noticed movement on the roof and was about to say something whtn the officer near La'an dropped and she yelled. "SNIPER" Kyan quickly got into the back of the BEar cat and got up into the Gunner spot. Which had a .50 Cal. Kyan quickly loaded the gun. "Time to lay some hell" Within a few seconds the roof top gunner was no longer a problem as the top where he/she was sitting was splintered into pieces as the bullets shredded the area.

"Aye" he agreed, "Sure am free." A couple of bullets ricochet off the vehicle. His attention was taken by the sniper. A moment later Kyan was climbing up on the Bear Cat, and unleashing 50 caliber rounds.

Sven popped up with is AR rifle nestled into his shoulder and took a couple of controlled shots. He nailed one man in the shoulder, who then fell back

La'an was shocked. Damn! Didn't think she was going to do that.. La'an watched as Sven took another one down, So far they had 5 officers down, but had taken half of the emeny who was now running back into the two story house.

"All Units, Group Back up!" La'an ordered quickly. Within a few minutes they were slowly rolling toward the house behind the cover of the Bearcats. The SWAT teams were in 4 Lines behind the bearcats, Two each side. La'an and Aune were on the right and Kyan was leading his team. La'an was leading hers.

 "All Right listen up, We are going to get as close as possible, We got another SWAT team from Dela County on the way, ETA is 5 minutes, We need to get most of the guys down before they get here, They are here for him as well on a Warrant. So our job is to hopefully get him alive, But this is looking more of a death warrant by the minute." Finally the Bearcats stopped. Signaling that they couldn't go any further.

"Well this is it. Remember our mission and entry ways." La'an nodded to Kyan who then moved with their team while aune and La'an left to hit the front.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Front Of House(Front Door)

As La'an Led the way she handed Aune a smoke gernade launcher. "When I give the signal, Unload the 8 gernades into the house, Then quickly follow in behind me" He then quickly got into position in front of the door. Then signaled to Aune. Now.

The window shattered as the smoke grenade went off. Within seconds both teams were in. La'an quickly found the suspect, cowering in the corner.

“Sir, Hands in the Air, Turn around and kneel on ground then place your hands on your head, interlock fingers and ankles” La'an ordered.

The suspect nodded and complied. Just as La'an went to cuff her alarm beeped. Damn, time for shift.

“Computer Pause program, and save current location in story.” La'an ordered

“acknowledged, Program saved" The Computer replyied

La'an then walked out as the holodeck changed back to Yellow grid lines.

La’an walked into the Holodeck, Only to create a story with all NPCs. “Let’s see how this goes….” She begins to type into panel……

Mission: Baptism By Fire

Location: Gorn Homeworld

As the Resolute would exit Warp, a stolen Federation vessel was drifting and destroyed in space. All comm channels cut off as the Gorn moved to intercept supposed hostile reinforcements. After one of their ships perished they have instantly turned their guns on the Federation.

Disruptors and Torpedoes fired at the Resolute. Unprepared it took a hard blow to it’s shielding the moment it arrived.

Performing evasive maneuvers the Resolute began to fire a spread of phasers in return fire. Only denting shields of their enemy. The Resolute would nose dive diverting shields to back and sides of it’s haul.

Phaser beams and disruptor cannons crossed and intertwined in the space between them. The shields on each would flash with each impact of the disruptors. On the bridge, things were hectic as they had went to red alert, unprepared for an instant fire fight. The ship engaged boldly none the less, instead of turning to retreat.

The lightning storm in space gradually getting more violent around the two different vessels. As the phasers and disruptors crossed one another hitting each other’s shields, both took critical shield hits. The battle had begun, and it was going to be awhile longer before their escort to reach them. Leaving the Centaur Class outmatched in firepower.

Gorn Battleship

The Gorn continued firing at the Resolute, matching their ship projectory. Keeping their disruptor cannons aimed towards the front of the ship. As the shields were being pushed toward the back it left this area more vulnerable.

USS Resolute

The ship continued the dive and attempt a horse shoe Manuever in it’s firing strategy. But as their guns hammered the Gorn ship, so too was the Resolute torn into. Causing a massive explosion close to the bridge area. Causing pieces of the Resolute to go drifting into space along with more Crew. Phasers still firing rapidly, acting as point defenses to stop torpedoes mid travel.

Narada: Nero’s Flagship

As the Gorn ship was destroyed by the Resolute by near sheer luck. A huge black ship exited a massive lightning storm, having come back in time to the TNG era. It came out shooting as it saw a Federation vessel. Tearing the Resolute to shreds with multiple torpedoes and disruptors.

USS Resolute

The USS Resolute lost all power and was drifting towards the planet. Whatever power it had left was being used to manually target torpedoes aiming for life pods and shuttles. Eris however had to stay aboard or her crew would perish. Leaving her to be soon stranded on the Gorn Homeworld.

USS Enterprise

The USS Enterprise finally arrived. Though unprepared it had to immediately evade ship debris, getting the left side of its saucers paint and platting scratched badly. Before torpedoes fired across it’s decks blowing holes in her and her rear left warp coil. The ship began to fire back but power was knocked out toward it’s shielding. Leaving it almost a sitting duck as it was shot up and struggling to avoid incoming debris. Getting knocked into a drift as it took a massive explosion in it’s broadside. USS Resolute debris was all around it, but it fired what guns it hard to protect life pods it could see. Despite the fact they too were drifting and bleeding.

“Part 1 End” Beeped the Computer 

Task Force Guardian, outmatched and outgunned had Resolute and Enterprise drifting and bleeding in the water. Explosions rippled across Enterprise and Resolute crashed down into the Planet. Life pods were fired out along with shuttles. Eris went down with her ship. Only ejecting once she was in atmosphere and crashing through clouds. Stranded.

La’an stood there watching the Holo them movie, So far good. “Lets continue” she begun to type more into system.

The battle seems lost as Enterprise and Resolute have been critically hit. Resolute has crashed into the planet. Enterprise drifting into space debris as small explosions go off on it’s decks. Voyager is seemingly their only hope. a distress beacon was launched from Enterprise before it was fully losing power . But just as things were getting dicey, the Resolute as it was drifting into orbit saw a glimpse of hope.

USS Voyager

Voyager dropped out of orbit on arriving instantly and into the space battle. Commences,
Janeway engages the red alert,to the rescue, shooting and targeting all enemy fire. Janeway continues barking out orders, commanding tactical, and working on sensors, wild dodging sparks of explosions from other consoles surrounding the stations to perform rescue operations to retrieve escape pods. “ everyone let’s save the day by the savior the federation.”

USS Enterprise D Galaxy Class

Captain Data had jumped into orbit of the planet awhile after the beacon. The ancient ship moved into intercept the Narada. Showing up like a battleship pulled from retirement. A familiar voice over the comms. “We heard you might be needing a little reinforcements. As one might say, let’s send this monster back to hell.” Enterprise D flew like it did against the Borg doing some fancy flying as it flew itself over the massive ship. Firing everything it had. Causing a big explosion on the Narada, as Data called aloud. “Janeway I’ve given you an opening, hit them in the jaws of the ship.”

USS Voyager

Meanwhile Janeway paid attention the comcommunication from the other ship, the enterprise D class and /\= acknowledge /\=
Janeway walks over towards the tactical officers’ command station singles to the helm control. “ Get us into position, tactical officer. Blitz out of the four full torpedoes proton with three phasers, two towards Gorn’s flagship as on screen. ” Yes, ma’am, said the officer as the tactical officer began firing up the weapons and marking the mark.

Narada

Nero’s ship took a critical blow and explosion across his decks. They managed to damage the Class D Enterprise and fired everything they had toward the Voyager. Trying to breach it’s haul before it jumped away before warp power was lost. The battle was over, but the road to recovery was just beginning.
 

“Part 2 Ended.” Beeped the Computer 

“Not bad, Lets add more” La’an then started another string events……

USS Resolute

Everything had gone to hell as they exited warp. Their shields were collapsing from the constant impact of Disruptors. Making the ship lights flicker and the room to shake. Eris held onto her chair as she barked out orders in a tone of haste. “Fire photon torpedoes! Divert the shields to the warp core, we’re diving! D-damn it!” She ducked her head as sparks flew from a nearby console. Having had some of the front haul pierced as they would divert shield power in the dive.

Moo, being CTAC or chief Tactical Officer; Was just doing his standard check everything as the ship came out of warp when all hell broke loose… “Aye Aye, Captian, Firing Full spread of torpedoes.” Hitting the commands he executed the standard spread orders in the direction of the only available targets. So much for making peace today. They hit first… He was used to that. He would hit back and hit back hard. “Helm, start the horseshoe maneuver. Captian, firing at their shield generators as we develop a targeting solution.” As the ship would roll to the port, the Phaser arrays on top of the Saucer section would have close to 80% coverage of the target. Moo focused the Phaser array’s fire on the Gorn’s starboard nacelle shield generator. The phaser hit their target, but their shielding still held. As the bow rotated to the starboard, they would only have 60 % coverage. It was better than nothing. “Firing Lower Dorsal Phaser arrays.” They hit and the Green Glow that resisted them was almost gone. This seemed to make the rest of the gorn ships mad because the sheer volume of fire became almost a constant stream of energy from their fleet.

Commander Selk had sat there feeling all the hits that was coming onto the Resolute. Not knowing if they were going to survive. As the Resolute was taking heavy fire, he felt jolts of the firepower hitting the hull of the vessel and it didn’t sound good. The Commander sat there next to his captain and looked at her. Nodding to her that he’s with her all the way. No matter what.

Sommers was in the frontal decks of the ship. But the piercing of the haul blew her out into space. Instantly killing the medical officer along with other crew in that section of the ship.

“Captain. We gotta do something. Seems like the vessel is about to blow. I’ve been getting reports all over the ship. Medical officer has been killed and structural integrity has failed all over the ship except here captain.” He said. “Never thought it would be like this but we might need to evacuate the ship.” The Commander looked over at the captain. “But again it’s your call ma’am.” He added.

Due to the recent massive explosion near the bridge, their shield power was critical. Consoles exploded into sparks and flames, and Eris was thrown from the Captain chair. Rolling across the deck as wires and flames engulfed the left side of the bridge. “Aghh! E-evasive..M-manuevers! W-we need cover damn it!” She crawled toward the barely functioning flight control panel. Pushing off the dead body of their flight crewmember. Trying to manually roll the ship and stop them from blowing the bridge out.

“Captain!” Commander Selk yelled as Eris got thrown out of her chair. Commander Selk then got up and headed to the helms position, however the console started to burn. Commander Selk then got out the area of it and looked at the captain. “Captain. We have got to leave soon. This ship is about to fall apart and we need to go some where that is safe. As a suggestion we must abandon ship captain.” He suggested to Eris.

Moo was still standing, his combat grav boots held him in place. The toque that was generated by his body on his, knees and legs, hips, back, and shoulders would make him feel just peachy tomorrow. Just how does a peach feel? Just who was it that successfully found out what the aforementioned peach was feeling at the time. Humans and their dammed sayings. He would worry about it tomorrow if he lived. Right now nothing mattered except that dammed Gorn Heavy cruiser. He had hit the Starboard nacelle and it was not going into warp anytime soon, if he could hit its containment field, the resulting explosion might just save them… but the other Gorn ships were using their full shields to try to Save the Heavy cruiser. The Gorn Respected strength that was used judiciously, if you held back in any way, they judged you week in their eyes, and therefore worthy of being food. The only thing that kept them alive so far, was the constant weaving of their ships to try to protect their heavy cruiser. Had they stayed in formation, we would be dead already. Wait the only reason the Gorn would do that is if their captain was female. or there were royals onboard.

Moo decided to try PSYOpps as well… “Captian!” He shouted, “If we have Comms, send to Gorn Heavy Cruiser, Gorbeth, [I come for your eggs.]. It might throw them off because that ship has a female captain. That’s why the rest of the ships are protecting it. We just might get it to back off a bit.” Moo still was shooting every few seconds and enough shots were getting through that he was keeping their shields offline and blowing the hell out of their armor. He just needed one good piercing shot in their core or containment fields, and the USS Resolute would be ok.”

Eris slowly was getting back up she looked to Selk and everyone around her. “All hands prepare for evacuation! I’ll have to remain, buy you time. Auto pilots dead, and someone has to..Has….to…T-the hell is that? Life pods! Now!” She watched in horror as from the view screen a massive Romulan ship exited what looked to he a massive lightning storm in space. It was Nero.

Moo saw the lightning storm in space, and was not impressed. He was too busy trying to play offense and defense at the same time to bother with it. Once it turned hostile or we could use it to our advantage, then he would worry about it. Targeting incoming torpedoes kept his left hand busy, and his right hand was still trying to punch a hole in that heavy cruiser. It was a daunting task but he was having fun. Or the left half of his brain was at least. He was getting a sore neck from trying to ignore impacts and focus on the task at hand… He would relax afterwards, and find a duty medical person to fix him up if they survived. He was even considering having Helm use the tractor beams to place debris in front of the incoming torpedoes. That was an excellent idea. He turned left to order that, when the console exploded, killing the Helmsman. Moo hit the com button on his panel, “Relief Helmsman, report to a backup Nav station” Moo yelled.

“Ignore that, get off this ship now! This ship is without power and we are being caught in gravity. I’m staying behind to make sure you make it out of here..I have no choice. We aren’t saving this ship, we can only save what crew we have left.” Eris ordered before taking the Captain’s chair and bracing for atmosphere burn in.

Moo was having a hard time standing. His left leg was hit by something, and he could not feel anything from the knee down. It was easy to ignore something that you didn’t feel. Trying to use the lateral thrusters to control there spiraling course was hard to do with one hand. but while they were still in range to protect transports, he had half of the upper saucer section, the Captain had a third and someone else was making dam fine shots using the rest, he didn’t have time to look to see who it was, but the results were spectacular. His nudging of the course muyst have been going right, because the computer no longer said that there was a 100% chance of total destruction of the ship. It was down to 97%. He would take those odds, but the crew deserved better. Moo kept guessing and taking long shots, it had worked so far. Maybe he was insane after all. Moo started laughing as the computer said the chances of total system destruction were down to 66%.

USS Enterprise

Seven Of Nine was thrown into a roll aa the bridge had explosions and fire engulf some of it. Causing her to fly into a control console. Collapsing on her torso as some rubble landed atop of her. Blood leaking from her bottom lip as the ship was torn into by Nero.

Shaw was flung hard agasint the floor. “Damn it!” Shaw quickly stood up. “ Red Alert! Shields up! Damage report!”

“Captain.” Said Ensign Sidney La Forge said. “Captain. Should I do evasive maneuvers or no?” She asked Captain Shaw as things didn’t go so well.

Seven was slowly pushing off the piece of metal. Using a nearby console for leverage as she looked to the old Enterprise D. Given a smidge of hope she went to check the damage, holding her left side. “Captain we’ve lost all power to shields. One of our warp coils are leaking, decks through fourteen are compromised. We’re dead in the water.”

USS Voyager

Vanessa was sitting in the XO’s chair next to the captain with her legs crossed in an feminine manner. Looking to her captain as they were still in Warp. “Should we raise to yellow alert? I don’t trust the Gorn, you know what they did to me and my fellow cadets all those years ago. I’m one of the few who wasn’t eaten alive..”

Damage control Technician Larry Lamontagne was stuck. Physically, Emotionally, and metaphorically. He was stuck well and good. Larry was using his Hyper spanner to align the coils in the EPI conduit. His Tricorder showed the Alignment to be off by more than 10 millimeters. He could not get leverage to move it once he removed the tension on the adjusting plate. His spanner was great for moving it in and out of where it was supposed to be. His only problem was he could either get it in the center of where it was supposed to be… or tighten it down. No matter how hard he tried, he just could not do both at the same time. This was just not a one-man job. Frustrated he let the spanner fall to the floor. Hitting his comm badge, he asked the computer. +taps+ Computer, Lamontagne, Are there any engineer repair personnel in my vicinity? The computer replied yes one.

Larry blew a raspberry to the computer. He would swear that while in warp, the computer was out to mess with anyone it could. They were annoying sometimes. +taps+ Computer, Lamontagne, Just who is in the vicinity, that is a qualified engineering repair Crewman. You had to be specific because if not you just might have to listen through a list of hundreds of names and try to guess which crewman was the one you need. The computer replied. Engineering Crewman Laforge is in your vicinity and is repair-qualified. Larry said, “Thanks computer!” Larry then hit his comm badge. +taps+ Laforge, Lamontagne, If you are not busy, I am on Deck 7 in Jefferies tube, at the 22A&22D Intersection. I could use a hand with a phase coil alignment. Doing it while at war was the shear volume of energy going through the phase coil did most of the hard work. You still had to contribute a bit of sweat, blood, tears, and sometimes a sacrificial trainee… Brute force, on the other hand, tended to have more documentable results.

Lamontage was still trying to use his weight, what little he had, to get the phase coil unit in the right position. Not that he was a lightweight, which he was, but with the leverage he was using, he should have been ok. He heard the echo of footsteps of someone coming to help him… Hopefully.

La Forge didn’t respond, but she shift her course to come to where her assistance was requested. It didn’t take her long to arrive to where the man was working on the phase coil in question.

Lamontage was still trying to use his weight, what little he had, to get the phase coil unit in the right position. Not that he was a lightweight, which he was, but with the leverage he was using, he should have been ok. He heard the echo of footsteps of someone coming to help him… Hopefully.

“I am La Forge, you have asked for my assistance with that Phase Coil. What is wrong with it?” She asked as her optic sensors started their scan.

Larry said, “YES, thanks, I can adjust it to the correct spot to put it in phase or lock it down, but not both. If you can tighten the bolts once I get it in the correct postion, I would greatly appreatiate it.

Once the second pair of hands arrived, it was quickly put in the correct spot, and then locked down. “Great! Thanks again. That went a lot better with your help. Let me just double-check with my trusty tricorder.” Larry said. After a quick pass with the tricorder, it showed the main coil was in place, and looking good, but now the coupling was two degrees out of phase with the Phase coil. Larry said, “Ok the Phase coil is aligned but now the problem is the coupling. It is two degrees out of phase and causes power loss due to hysteresis which is eddy currents. That amount of power falloff is definitely not efficient. IF you would not mind helping out once more… “

Commodore Janeway was seated in her command chair, observing her brigade of senior officers on the command control deck. Vanessa and Janeway mapped out crucial strategies for their latest central mission, which received the highest assignment from the Admiralty at headquarters.

Janeway briefly checked the mission statuses, current intelligence department reports, and the ship’s control systems.

Then Janeway stood up from their chair and began to address everyone in the room, “Your commander and I have agreed on our plan of action. We will immediately activate Yellow Alert for all ship-wide systems, the entire crew will be ready for any situation. We must remain vigilant, stand by, and keep our wits about us. The decisions we make today could be important in life or death. We’re walking into a hornet’s nest. We don’t know what could happen once we reach our destination coordinates. We must be ready for action. We must act upon instinct. We must get ready to aid and render any support to our comrades among our entire Starfleet comrades of constituents and fellow fleet members.”

“Commander Vanessa, I agree with you. I hope nothing happens to my crew. I vow to protect my crew and their fellow officers on board other ships involved in this fight against the Gorn alien species. The safety of every member of my crew and our lives will not be jeopardized on this mission because I won’t stress this lately. We must work together in order to save the ships that are assigned with us during this mission,” said Janeway.
 

La’an then stopped and saved her work. “That’s enough for today” She then walked out of Holodeck

He straightened his uniform nervously as the turbolift whisked him upwards, headed towards Deck 1, and the bridge. He had been on a bridge before, as long as the holodeck simulations counted, but this would be his first shift at a proper tactical station. He touched the shiny, new pip at his neck, suddenly afraid that it had fallen off. The turbolift slowed to a stop, and the doors whooshed open. The subdued quiet of the bridge was startling after leaving the din of the mess hall. Sensors pinged softly, and before him, the viewscreen danced and flashed as the Ashland warped through space.

“Ensign Giesbrecht, reporting for Duty!” He said, louder than he had intended.

“Take your station, Ensign, and take a breath. It’s alright to be a little nervous on your first bridge shift.” responded the cool, familiar voice of the First Officer, Commander Oliver. He took a deep breath, crossed the bridge to the Tactical Station, and took a seat.

“Report, Mr. Giesbrecht” She said, once he had gotten himself situated.

“Phasers and Torpedoes are looking good, Sir.” Aaron replied at once, “Nothing on scans either.”

“Very good” She replied. Aaron settled in to his shift, giving updates when asked, and carefully monitoring the screen. Most of the shift had gone by, when a voice from across the bridge piped up, “Commander? Our Long Range sensors have picked up a ship.” It was Lieutenant Midas, who was the Navigation Console.

“Elaborate, Lieutenant” Commander Oliver said, curtly.

“It’s a Cardassian ship, Sir, Galor class.” Midas replied. “It’s not moving”

“What the hell is it doing out here?”, she said as she stood up from the center chair. “Check for a distress signal.” The calm was seemingly vacuumed out of the room upon her movement, and her warm, relaxed tone had been replaced with cool, stern confidence.

“None that I can find, Commander,” He replied, “but there are life signs on board.”

“What is their position?” She asked.

“Ahead starboard, Commander. Should I adjust course to intercept?”

“No, Lieutenant, stay the course, We’ll see what they do when we pass. Stay alert, and notify me of any changes to their heading or systems.”

“Aye, Commander” Lieutenant Midas said dutifully, and turned back to his screen.

The next few moments were very tense as we made our way towards the location of the Cardassian ship. The commander, now back in her chair, had her eyes fixed on the viewscreen, and her chin resting on her hand. No one dared make any extra noise, and the silence became deafening, broken only by the pings and beeps of the consoles and sensors.

“Passing the Cardassians now, Commander” Midas said, “and it looks like there is no change in their systems or shields.” Aaron breathed out a silent sigh of relief, hoping his first shift wouldn’t result in actual combat.

“Wait,” came Midas’ voice, shakily, “They’ve powered up engines. They’re coming about.”

“Shields up, Yellow Alert.” The commander said, authoritatively. “Wake the captain”

“Cadet Giesbrecht, please report to Security” came the hollow metallic voice of the Station’s computer. “Cadet Giesbrecht, your shift is starting in ten minutes. Please report to Security for assignment”

“Computer, end program” Aaron said with a sigh.  The bridge of the ship around him melted away from view, and he was left standing alone in the familiar orange and black grid of the holodeck. His ensign uniform was replaced with his cadet one. “Just once, I’d like to get to the end of that” he muttered to himself and he walked through the holodeck door and towards the turbolifts. He had been here for a few weeks now, getting some practical experience while he finished up his fourth year as a cadet, but the size of the station always amazed him, and as often as not, he wound up lost and somewhere he wasn’t meant to be. Once he managed to walk himself into a conference room where there were more rank pips thank years in his life, it seemed, and none of them were happy for the unintended intrusion.  For all his aptitude on the parade field and in tactical situations, he was hopelessly awkward and clumsy. His friends often laughed and jeered when he would have to present in classes, and more than once he was late to afternoon classes due to mishaps in the mess hall.

He made it to the precinct office just in time, sweating slightly and a bit out of breath from the effort of getting here on time, only getting himself lost once….

Shuttlecraft / Dock – 1400

Reade usually was a fan of shuttlecraft, his experience with being thrown across a room into a million pieces with a transporter never really appealed to him, even for a science officer.

He received his new orders a few days before his arrival on Starbase Bravo, although they were limited on what he received and his science ‘senses’ were tingling with the news.

“Underspace Corridors” was the title, shadowing many reports from other sources, the order was clear, artefacts had shown up all across these regions and finally it was his time to be involved with what was going on.

He sensed the area teeming with suspicion, lively curiosity, and a newfound hope for something different to bring to the table for the federation. This was why he joined Starfleet in the first place. However, after being assigned to very mundane, routine ship duties, he was starting to lose his interest.

Reade stepped off the shuttle with a group of science officers into the Commercial Dock.

“Feet back on the ground” he thought to himself

He was guided toward a welcome party where people were lining up to check in and place their orders.

—

Sector H-Turquoise – 1430

Entering the sea of people where everyone was gathering, Reade was anticipating some commotion.

“This doesn’t seem like your average gathering” he thought to himself.

Moving through the crowd he could feel, already, a sense of worry among his kind, not only haver these artifacts appeared but the profound effect it could have on the federation as a whole placing people on edge.

Tobi gasped as he felt the feminine green hands of Felicity grab at his collar and push him against the wall. He laughed as he looked at her. 

“Oh, so this is how you ask me on another date,” he joked with his fellow cadet.

“No Tobi, this is serious,” she murmured to him in a hushed tone. 

Tobias was taken aback. Her normal playful demeanor was gone, and she sounded distressed.

“What’s going on,” he asked her, not resisting how she held his collar.

She finally calmed down and let go. She smoothed down her uniform and looked at him with her jade-colored eyes. 

“I made a big mistake,” she said regretfully. 

Tobi looked concerned and leaned forward. He rested a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes.

“It’s okay Felicity, we went to the academy together, I got your back,” he told her with a confident smile. 

“It’s Rhapax, after you showed me his hidden gambling den I went again and again. I kept borrowing credits to gamble and now he’s asking me to make illicit substances from the medical replicators, he keeps holding it over my head how he could ruin my Starfleet career,” she said looking away ashamed. 

“Felicity, this isn’t good, what were you thinking? You know if you get caught supplying illicit chems to a black market you will for sure be done with. But getting caught gambling? That would have just been a citation and a ban from going back,” he told her with a frown. 

“I know now, but at the time I panicked, and I already handed over his first requested delivery of drugs, I…. I am in too deep and don’t know what to do,” she started crying. 

Tobi wiped her tears away and gave her a reassuring look. 

“I think I have an idea about getting you out of this situation. If we get caught, we both go down, what do you know about card counting,” he asked her.

As Coyote stepped into the room, the door whispered shut behind him. He scanned the office—neatly organized and minimalistic but belonging to a man with a storied career. A set of medals hung in sleek, unobtrusive frames on one wall, while the far corner held a case displaying several commendations and a model of an old-school fighter.

Behind the desk sat Jericho—Lt. Commander Nathaniel Ward—peering at a screen, his sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the terminal. He was older than Coyote expected, with silver streaks cutting through his close-cropped brown hair. His piercing blue eyes flicked over the report in front of him with an intensity that suggested nothing in Coyote’s file was escaping scrutiny. He looked up long enough to register Coyote’s presence before returning to the report.

“McCallister,” Jericho said, voice steady but with a razor-sharp edge. “Stand at attention.”

Coyote snapped to, eyes straight ahead, arms locked stiffly at his sides. A bead of sweat formed on his brow, but he held his composure, his heart thumping steadily in his chest.

The silence stretched. Jericho kept his eyes on the screen, scrolling through Coyote’s service record like a predator studying its prey. Behind him, a tall woman stood at parade rest, hands folded behind her back. Her dark, Betazoid eyes remained fixed ahead as if Coyote wasn’t even there. Her flight suit was pristine, her posture rigid—someone who didn’t accept anything less than perfection.

Jericho finally spoke, not looking up. “Enrolled in Starfleet Academy, 2393. Graduated, 2397.” He tapped at the terminal. “Let’s see, excelled in piloting simulations. That’s a nice way of saying you like flying dangerously close to burning yourself out. Pilots like you think they’re invincible because you can fly a perfect sim.”

Coyote bristled but stayed silent. He had been good, damn good in the sims. But this wasn’t a conversation that called for pride.

Jericho continued. “USS Galveston. First real assignment. Border patrol. Archanis Sector.” He finally looked up, his cold blue eyes locking onto Coyote. “You made quite the impression. What was it? Something about pulling a narrow escape maneuver that nearly took out the entire supply convoy?”

“I saved the convoy, sir,” Coyote said, his voice level. “It would’ve been overrun by—”

Jericho cut him off with a raised hand. “You didn’t follow orders. And that’s why you were transferred to Starbase 341, a backwater outpost near the Tholian border. Quiet. Isolated. Hard to screw up shuttle duty, but you managed. Let’s see, you couldn’t even get along with your commanding officer there.” He shook his head. “Reprimanded. And for what? Insubordination again?”

“I was keeping the convoy safe, sir,” Coyote said, his voice tightening. “They were Tholian raiders—”

“I’m not interested in your excuses.” Jericho’s voice was low now. He slowly stood up, circling the desk with slow, deliberate steps, eyes fixed on Coyote like a hawk. “You think you’re the first hotshot I’ve seen? You think you’re the first one to pull off a few wild moves and think that makes you special?”

Coyote’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. He could feel Jericho circling him now, a presence at his back.

“USS Redstone. Another chance.” Jericho was behind him now, his voice close to Coyote’s ear. “Dera IV system. Pirates. And you know what? I’ll give you credit. You were brave. You were quick. You even got a commendation. But that’s not the part that sticks out, is it?” His tone darkened. “What sticks out is the near court-martial. Unauthorized action. You acted without orders in the middle of combat.”

“I neutralized the threat, sir.”

Jericho stopped circling. “No, you endangered your entire squadron, and nearly got court-martialed for it.”

The weight of the room bore down on Coyote. He didn’t flinch, but inside, he knew where this was headed.

Jericho stepped in front of him, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous rumble. “You’re in my squadron now, McCallister. SB4-Juliet is not a free-for-all. This is a team, and I run it tight. No more lone-wolf antics. No more disregard for orders. You either fly with us, or you don’t fly at all.”

Coyote opened his mouth to speak, but Jericho cut him off with a sharp look. “Whatever little speech you have prepared, stow it. We’re all fighter jocks here, son. We all have the need for speed, the need to dance among the stars…the need to lock torps and let ‘em fly. You’re no different than all the rest of us.

But that means there’s something you need to keep in mind: I know exactly what your addiction is and exactly how bad you need it. So the last thing you want to do is piss me off because I can take it from you like that.” He snapped his fingers. He turned and sat back at his desk, straightening his uniform before turning back to Coyote.

“One week. That’s how long you have to prove you can follow orders. And if you can’t? You’ll be out of Starfleet. No more chances. Are we clear?”

Coyote swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He motioned to the Betazoid woman. “This is Lieutenant Selen. Call sign: Smoke. She’s your section leader, and she’s been with me longer than most of the pilots you’ve ever flown with. If she says you’re not fit to fly with this group, you won’t see the inside of a cockpit again.”

Coyote’s pulse quickened. He’d heard of Smoke’s reputation—one of the best. But if she’d been with Jericho this long, it meant she was also one of the toughest. He could already feel the weight of her silent scrutiny, and it wasn’t reassuring.

“Lt. Selen, brief the ensign on his mission.”

The Betazoid woman stepped forward, handing Coyote a PADD. Her eyes met his for a moment, dark and inscrutable. “We’ve got an Underspace aperture near Mellstoxx III,” she said. “Starfleet science teams are investigating, and we’ll be patrolling the sector. Standard engagement rules. Keep the science teams safe, monitor any unusual activity, and if anything goes wrong, you follow orders. Study the details here and you will receive further instructions at your beginning of shift briefing. Understood?”

Coyote nodded, taking the PADD. “Yes, ma’am.”

Smoke gave a curt nod and returned to her position behind Jericho.

Jericho’s eyes remained fixed on Coyote. “Dismissed.”

Without another word, Coyote turned and exited the room, the weight of the PADD in his hand feeling like a final lifeline. One week. That was all he had to prove he could fly with the team—or he’d be grounded for good.

The pilots gathered in the briefing room, settling into their seats as the hum of quiet conversation faded. Smoke, their Betazoid lieutenant, stood at the front, her calm demeanor belying the intensity in her eyes. Her arms crossed behind her back, she waited for full attention before beginning.

Coyote sat near the back, keeping a low profile, but there was no escaping the side glances or the murmurs. He had seen it all before.

Next to him, a sandy-haired pilot with a faint smile leaned over. His name tag read “Echo,” but his body language was casual. “So you’re Wyatt ‘Coyote’ McCallister, huh? Heard some stories about you. Bold, but kinda reckless.”

Coyote grunted in response, keeping his eyes forward. “Depends who’s telling ‘em.”

Across the room, another pilot, tall and lean with dark features—his name patch reading Ghost—shot a pointed glance their way. He leaned back in his chair, voice low but loud enough to carry. “This isn’t the Redstone, cowboy. If you want to be a solo act, you’ll fly alone. We work as a team here.”

The tension thickened, but before anyone could respond, Smoke cleared her throat, starting the briefing.

“Listen up. We’ve got a straightforward escort mission today, but that doesn’t mean it’s without risk,” she said, her voice sharp. The holo-display lit up, showing a planetary map of Mellstoxx III and several key waypoints. “Science team Alpha is heading to the surface to recover an artifact discovered after an underspace aperture event. You’ll be providing air support.”

The holo switched to show the artifact—a large golden box, ornate with an unknown script, its surface weathered by age. “Federation Intelligence has flagged this as a high-interest find. Two of their officers will accompany the team. Their role is…classified.”

Coyote’s eyes flickered to the two figures standing at the back of the room—rigid, dressed in the black uniforms of Starfleet Intelligence, their faces unreadable.

A murmur went through the room as Smoke’s eyes flicked over the group. “I know how this sounds, but we don’t ask questions about what they’re looking for. We keep them safe, we complete the mission, and we get out. Is that clear?”

Echo raised a hand, his tone light. “What about planetary defenses or hostiles? Anything we should worry about?”

“The local fauna isn’t classified as dangerous,” Smoke replied, “but we maintain standard defensive formations at all times. You will escort the science team’s runabouts down to the surface.”

She looked directly at Coyote, then added, “McCallister, you and Echo will pilot one of the runabouts—Brazos“

Coyote felt the weight of the room’s collective gaze settle on him. Echo, to his credit, nudged him with a reassuring elbow. “It’s a test. Pass this, and maybe you’ll get back in the cockpit of a starfighter.”

Ghost leaned forward, smirking. “If he doesn’t get us all killed first.”

Before Coyote could reply, the holo-display flickered off, and Smoke turned to face the group. “Briefing over. Meet at the hangar in 20. Dismissed.”

—

The group exited the briefing room in a tight cluster, their footsteps echoing through the metallic corridors.

Echo fell into step beside Coyote, his tone light. “Don’t worry about Ghost. He’s always like that with the new guys. You’ll be fine. Just keep your head down and fly clean.”

Coyote grunted. “I’ve flown plenty clean before.”

“I know. That’s what they’re afraid of,” Echo said with a chuckle. “Just remember—tight formations, and we’re flying with passengers this time. No room for stunts.”

Ghost, walking a few paces ahead, exchanged a glance with the pilot next to him—Frost, a cold-eyed human woman with white-blonde hair. He kept his voice low, but Coyote caught the words anyway. “What’s Jericho thinking, putting him in a runabout? This whole thing’s a joke.”

Coyote clenched his fists and kept walking.

As they entered the hangar bay, the hum of impulse engines and pre-flight checks filled the air. A line of Valkyrie starfighters gleamed under the bright lights. Coyote’s eyes were drawn to the more utilitarian shapes of the runabouts. Each vessel stood ready, and the Brazos loomed large.

Echo gave a low whistle. “Well, there she is. She’s not as fast as a fighter, but she’ll get us down in one piece. Hopefully.”

Coyote barely acknowledged the joke as he walked up to the ship. His eyes caught a group of passengers approaching—scientists in standard Federation uniforms, flanked by two burly security officers. The two Intelligence officers came behind them, their expressions cool and unreadable.

Before he could move toward the runabout, Smoke approached him, pulling him aside into a quieter corner of the hangar. Her gaze held his firmly. “McCallister, you know what’s at stake here. This is your shot. You screw this up, you’re done. No more chances.”

Coyote squared his shoulders. “I get it.”

“Good,” Smoke’s tone softened slightly, though her eyes didn’t. “Fly this mission by the book. Follow Echo’s lead. You might think you’ve got something to prove, but not today. Today, you prove you can be a part of this team.”

Coyote nodded. “Understood.”

With a final look, Smoke turned away, heading back to her Valkyrie as the rest of the pilots readied their craft.

As the crew settled into the runabout, Coyote ran his hands over the console, familiarizing himself with the ship’s systems. The hum of the engines filled the cockpit as the bay doors began to open. He tapped a button, opening a comm channel to flight control.

“Brazos requesting clearance for departure,” Coyote said, his voice steady, though the anticipation gnawed at him. This was no Valkyrie, but it didn’t matter. He was a damn good pilot and it was time everyone else recognized that- especially Ghost.

A moment passed, and the controller’s voice came through the speakers. “Brazos, you’re cleared for departure. Maintain position until the rest of the squad is airborne, then proceed on vector 331.”

Echo, seated beside him, adjusted the navigation controls and gave a small nod, acknowledging the orders. “All systems green,” he confirmed. “Let’s get out there.”

Smoke’s voice crackled in over the squad frequency. “Juliet Group, sound off.”

“Falcon, ready.”

“Specter, ready.”

“Blitz, locked and loaded.”

One by one, the squad confirmed their readiness. Coyote keyed the comm. “Brazos, ready and standing by.”

“Stay in formation, people,” Smoke ordered. “And keep your eyes open. We’ve got some precious cargo today.”

Coyote exhaled, gripping the controls as the runabout glided out of the hangar, sunlight washing over the hull as they joined the squadron in formation. They had just cleared the station when the mystery of those intelligence officers began to weigh heavier in his mind.

He cast a glance toward the Intelligence officers. They didn’t acknowledge him, their attention focused elsewhere, which only made him more uneasy.

Why were they here?

A pleasant shudder ran down Log’s spine as he dug into his right ear with the tip of a long index finger, reaching to scratch an itch that niggled deep within the narrow passage. His mother had always warned against the nasty habit, lest he puncture an eardrum with his unusually stick-like digits.

“An acceptable risk Mother,” Log sighed, turning the large red ear defenders in his other hand as he made one last stretch for the deep-seated itch. Another shudder ran down his spine as the frustrating irritation disappeared under the assault of his finger. It didn’t pay to have an itch beneath the ear defenders, especially when he wasn’t sure when he would next be able to take them off.  Satisfied the offending patch had been dealt with, at least temporarily, the young Tellarite placed the large red earmuffs over his wide head, prepared himself for the worst and pressed the door entry button.

Inside the office a very grateful Counselor heard the chime over the constant talk from her computer terminal and rushed to the door to release it to someone outside whom she hoped was an Engineer. Seeing a body in a Gold Uniform that was as short as she was and noting the ear defenders, Lieutenant Luna Black came to the conclusion that her request for someone who could ‘keep their ears closed’ had been answered.

“Engineering?” She asked the Tellarite just to be sure.

Log tilted his head in confusion as the young woman over the threshold continued to speak with inaudible words, his stout figure swimming in the silence offered by his ear defenders. The low static of his own body hissing away as Luna repeated herself several times.

Focus Log, Focus. His father’s never-ending encouragement was present even now.

En… Jur…. neer…

A bolt of clarity struck the young man with the sound of crashing drums “Yes! Engineering!” he shouted, his own baritone echoing like a cannon beneath the large red auditory deprivation domes that were slung over his ears. He flourished a hand over his mustard-coloured shoulders by way of confirmation and waved the grey-cased tool kit before announcing himself purposefully, taking care to enunciate each word like teaching a babe the basics of speech. “I. Am. Ensign. Log!”

The somewhat shy Lieutenant recoiled at the shouting, taking a couple of steps back, an expression of alarm on her face. She looked on with curiosity at the mime that confirmed Log was who she thought he was. Meanwhile, a patient’s voice spilled out into the corridor.

“So we’re all standing there and the Commander is giving this briefing and I really really really need to fart…”

Luna’s alarm morphed into concern as her eyes rested on the malfunctioning recorder spewing a very personal story into the room and through into the corridor. She waved Log into the office.

“Like I just couldn’t hold it, so I thought maybe I could let it out real quiet? Like I had no choice and I couldn’t interrupt a Commander…”

“Come in, come in!”

“It’s the console right?” Log announced, taking a step towards the semi-circular desk and pointing at it purposefully. “It’s announcing people’s confidential information?” He looked back towards the lieutenant, seeing her brow furrowed in confused alarm. Assuming her own hearing to be compromised he began to motion with his arms, the kit flailing like a medieval maul in his hands as he waved awkwardly. Her confused look remained, framed by her long black hair. Think Log, when you can’t speak… write! Slinging the kit quickly onto the table Log rifled through his myriad of unorganised equipment. An avalanche of spare isolinear chips tumbling from the open case as hyperspanners and sonic drivers were tossed to the wayside until finally, his hands struck rectangular grey gold.

Lifting the PADD from the case he pressed the small power button, the screen flicking back to the most recent entry, a short missive in glowing orange text, his work order. Proud of his unknowingly unnecessary solution he held the PADD in one hand, his other pointing back and forth between the small rectangle and the console, a wide grin spreading on his face.

“Yes! It’s…” Luna nodded but quickly realised the futility of trying to speak to Ensign Log given the circumstances and instead copied his brainwave, reaching for a PADD on her desk.

“…but it just wasn’t quiet at all, it sounded like a rusty door hinge and everybody just looked at me like it was so obvious it was me, he stopped talking and everyone just stared…”

Careful to remove the notes from the screen about a different patient that the previous counsellor was fairly convinced had Narcissistic Personality Disorder Luna quickly wrote a note on the screen and moved toward Log so she could hold it up for him to see, but camouflaged against the carpet one of Log’s tumble of chips was caught underfoot. Luna froze as it made a loud crack the Tellarite probably hadn’t heard through the ear defenders.

“…so now my entire shift calls me ‘Squealer’. Even the Commander, it’s horrible I think I’m going to have to apply for a transfer…”

Luna’s large eyes only served to amplify the sorrowful look of apology she adopted before carefully toe-ing around the rest of the floor candy and holding the PADD for Log to see.

‘Yes it’s spewing out confidential session recordings and I can’t make it stop.’

Log’s eyes widen in acknowledgement before a quick series of button presses from his pudgy fingers on his own PADD issued another message.

“Someone in archaeology opened a box that said it would ‘reveal the truth’.” Log motioned to the surrounding room and the invisible confessions that filled the airspace before offering a knowing look and returning back to the messaging device. A few seconds later he slid the note across the desk towards Luna, chuckling as he returned his attention to the engineering kit.

“When I left the lab, the Klingon security officer was revealing his secret butterfly tattoo.”

Equipment and parts continued to tumble from the Poppins-esque case as he lifted more tools from their precariously balanced stack until finally, he pulled a long tapered device out with a satisfied smile.

“I call this my magic wand.” He announced loudly to the room, now filled with the teary confessions of the officer who would likely have to travel to the far reaches of the Federation to escape their embarrassment. He flourished it dramatically, imitating a move he had seen Aynesh perform in their fantasy holodeck adventures a hundred times.

Luna took a step back to avoid the enthusiastic flourished whipping of Log’s wand.

Crunch.

“Dammit!” Luna looked down at more cracked pieces of isolinear chip under her feet. “Sorry,” she offered this time verbally, hoping the word was universal enough to be recognised by lip-reading. On the recording, a Counselor was now telling ‘Squealer’ that they should stick with their current post and make this a character-building exercise, an opportunity to learn to laugh at herself. Luna tried to ignore it, praying she never had to meet Squealer, whoever that was, and wrote another message to the coiled-up Ensign who seemed about to spring into action.

‘Please, make it stop’

After she was sure he had seen the plea Luna discarded her PADD on the coffee table adjacent and started picking up bits of Log’s bag-clutter that were now finding new homes in the carpet of her counseling office.

Revealing the base of the console with a flourish that would make both Siegfried and Roy jealous, Log thrust the metallic wand into the geometric circuitry, causing a sudden and unwelcoming screech to emanate from the grey table’s inbuilt speakers. Unphased by the banshee scream thanks to his large red ear defenders Log continued to prob and twist with the probe, rephasing and repatching isolinear circuitry and ODN relays between broken confessions that continued to announce themselves to the room.

“…sounded like a balloon…”

“…made the dogs in veterinary science lab go mental…”

“…the deck officer asked me if I needed a new uniform…”

The screech grew louder with each passing syllable, rattling Luna’s teeth and threatening to slice through the bulkheads before eventually soft silence fell on the room, the air only echoing with the high-pitched scream. Log turned back to the Lieutenant, a wide smile across his face as he presented the now silent desk expectantly.

Log didn’t need to remove his ear defenders to work out that his ministrations had been successful, the look of relief on Luna’s face said it all. She stood from her recovery mission, her fists piled with pieces of paraphernalia. Hoping beyond hope the Recorder never did that again (especially the screeching which her ears were still ringing from) she reached forward with both hands and deposited the small pile of tools and chips and gadgets into Log’s tool bag.

The young Tellerite accepted the shards with a quizzical look before offering the tool kit up to collect the tiny slithers of rainbow, his mind racing through their possible contents. Satisfied that there was nothing he couldn’t replicate again later; he offered a smile, unceremoniously swept the tools into his waiting bag and finally slid the small grey tablet into the kit, closing it with a click that sounded like thunder in this new silence. Turning back to face Luna he offered her a tall thumbs up with his wrinkled thumb as he slung the bag over his shoulder.

“These are great! I didn’t hear a thing!” He shouted loudly as he tapped the large domes over his ears, forgetting they were now wholly unnecessary. “No embarrassing reveals today!”

Luna managed a smile and nod after recoiling from the blast of Tellarite glee.

“Thank you,” she mouthed in an over-accentuated fashion before seeing the Tellarite out of her office, his ear defenders still in place as he moved into the corridor.

The new-found silence of the Counseling suite was stark. Finally free of noise the Counselor crossed to the replicator and replicated a cup of tea which she cosseted in her hands, letting the warmth permeate through her fingers. Taking a seat on one of the couches her gaze crossed the cosy-feeling space and she revelled in her favourite state of being; alone, and in silence.

During a routine escort mission, Lieutenant Cam Solari deftly maneuvered his ship through the vast expanse of space when an unexpected object drifted into view. It resembled a circular stone, its surface dotted with intricate, moving parts that caught the distant starlight, glimmering like a jewel against the dark canvas. Cam’s pulse quickened at the sight, and he had turned to his wingman, ‘Wildcard,’ whose eyes were wide with intrigue.

“Check that out,” Cam said, leaning forward in his seat, his fingers dancing over the controls. The object seemed to beckon them closer, and with a determined nod, he activated the tractor beam. The beam engaged with a low hum, and the object slowly began to glide toward them, casting strange shadows against the cockpit.

Hours later, as they were finalizing the docking procedure at the station, Wildcard’s voice crackled through the comms, breaking Cam’s reverie. “Hey, did you notice that thing glowed while we were towing it?” The words hung in the air, and Cam’s brow furrowed, a knot forming in his stomach. He replayed the moment in his mind, recalling the way the object had shimmered, but the realization had come too late; he had already secured it in a cargo bay tucked away in Sector November-Magenta.

Now, as he stood outside the office of Deputy Director of Shipyard Operations, Renu Tol, the anticipation tightened in his chest. The soft chimes he had triggered echoed through the sterile corridor, merging with the distant hum of machinery—a constant reminder of the bustling operations around him. He shifted his weight, his boots clicking softly against the metallic floor, glancing at the closed door with a mix of curiosity and unease. What awaited him on the other side?

Renu had been spending the last few hours fixing fried parts on a starship that had come in for repairs. He took a break and went to his office to review some reports, leaving his team to continue where he left off. Renu sighed at the sound of the chime, wondering who was bothering him now. ” Enter,” Renu replied with an almost annoyed tone.

As Cam entered the office, introduced by the soft hiss of the doors sliding open. His gaze landed on the Trill seated behind the desk, the overhead light catching the subtle pattern of spots that trailed elegantly down the side of his neck.  Cam’s chest tightened, his breath catching for a moment. He forced himself to move, each step feeling heavier than the last. His fingers curled into his palms, trying to hide the slight tremor in his hands.

“Lieutenant Commander Tol,” Cam said, his voice low but controlled. The words felt heavier than they should as they left his mouth. “We found an object… it might have contaminated the starfighter. Maybe more.”

Renu looked inquisitively toward the young Lieutenant. “What is it?” he asked as he stopped what he was working on, curious about the object. “What do you mean by contaminated?” he then asked.

Cam’s throat tightened as he stepped forward, the PADD cool in his hand. He passed it to Lieutenant Commander Tol, his fingers brushing against the hard surface a moment longer than necessary.

“It’s all here,” Cam said, his voice low but firm, though a slight tremor betrayed his nerves. His gaze drifted for a moment before snapping back to Tol’s eyes. “We found an object—looked dormant—just floating out there. Sensors didn’t pick up anything unusual when we brought it in.” He hesitated, his jaw clenching before he continued. “But my wingman… he saw it glow when we reeled it in.” A pause hung between them. “I didn’t hear about it until after we’d stored it on the station.”

Taking the PADD, he looked over it, still confused about what it could be. “Did you see it for yourself?” He asked, looking back at him.

“I should have confirmed it with my own eyes, sir. That’s on me,” Cam admitted, his voice tight with a mix of regret and responsibility.

“Where is it?” Tol asked, looking at him, unsure why he was so nervous around him, but shrugged it off.

“Cargo Bay Twelve,” Cam muttered, the words barely escaping his lips as if meant more for himself than anyone nearby. He hesitated, the tension lingering in his voice before he added, “Sector November-Magenta.”

“Very well, I’ll go check it out. If there isn’t anything else, you’re dismissed.” Tol replied

Cam nodded, releasing a breath of relief as he pivoted on his heel and headed toward the exit. The sleek, metal sliding doors glided open with a soft hiss, sending a refreshing rush of cool air that rustled the leaves of the potted plant on the desk behind him. Stepping into the bustling hallway, he was enveloped by the murmur of voices and the rhythmic tap of shoes against the polished floor.

Linha Varen had been so busy with her classes and spending hours studying for an upcoming exam when her computer beeped, letting her know her shift in the infirmary was about to begin. She had a few scheduled physicals on her schedule that were fellow cadets. Shutting off the PADDs she had sprawled on her desk, she got up and went to the infirmary. After she left her shared quarters, she made her way to where the infirmary was located and walked in, reporting to her superior before going to where she needed to be and waiting on her first patient.

“Sorry I’m late, Sir,” Aaron puffed as he hurried through the door to the Promenade Security office. “I got lost again, but only a little bit this time.”

“You’re right on time,” she replied to him with a smirk, “no admiral’s meetings this time?”

“Haha, no, not this time, but now I know where engineering is.”

“You call that a little lost?” she said, letting out a small laugh. “Well, you don’t have an assignment today. You have a physical.” She spoke more formally this time, slipping out of her role as his friend and into her role as his superior. “Please report to medical. This is a good thing, you know. You’re getting close to graduating, and this can help you get a better posting than this place.”

“Maybe I’ll get less lost on a ship. They’ve only got a few decks,” he joked as he turned around and headed for medical. The promenade was the most daunting part of the Starbase, in Aaron’s opinion. It was large and noisy, with a lot of people milling about, making it harder to keep track of destinations. After a few failed attempts, he made his way to medical. “I was told to report here for my physical evaluation” Aaron said as he sat down in a waiting area chair.

A few minutes later, another cadet walked out of the infirmary, escorted by a quite lovely Trill, and she motioned for him to follow her inside.

“Please follow me,” Linha replied with a soft smile. I promise this will not hurt one bit,” she said with a small chuckle, trying to keep the mood light and airy. Are you new here?” she asked out of curiosity, as she hadn’t seen him here before, but she had also seen a lot of officers and cadets.

He got up and followed her into the infirmary. “I hope not,” he said, returning his smile. “Although I’m no stranger to the hospital. I’ve had a few sports-related injuries treated before.” He paused for a moment as they went through the door.  “Yeah, I’ve only been here for a few weeks, and I’m lost more often than found here. The place is so big, I can’t bear my bearings.” At this point, they had reached the bed, and he reflexively hopped up onto it. ” How about you? How long have you been here?”

“About a few months,” Linha replied as she had him sit on the biobed and took out her scanner to begin his physical. “You will eventually get used to where things are. This place is huge,” she commented.

“Well, hopefully, I’ll get a commission after I graduate, and then I’ll be able to travel on a starship,” Aaron said. I can’t wait to get out into space. I’ve only got a few weeks left.”

“That’s good, and an early congratulations,” she replied with a smile, as she still had some time left with the Academy and everything else required to become a fully-fledged doctor. “Anything new since your last physical that you like to share?” She asked her next question as she finished her scan before walking over to the computer close by to review.

“Not that I can think of,” he said thoughtfully. I thought I had Andorian Shingles a couple of months ago; it turns out I was just tired.” He laughed as he sat up on the edge of the biobed. Well, what’s the word, Doc? Am I going to make it?”

“Everything checks out,” she replied with a smile. “If you don’t have anything else to report, I think we are good,” she added, looking at him.

Aaron hopped down off the biobed and straightened his uniform. “Nothing further to report on that front.” he said, “but if you ever get bored, you can always give me a call. I’m usually up for hanging out, or getting lost somewhere on the ship. It’s always an adventure!” He smiled back, and then turned to leave. As he headed back to security, his smile never faded, and he did hope they would meet again.

Lieutenant Commander Nuni Irric stood in the cold, sterile light of Holding Area One, his eyes locked on the object floating in the shimmering forcefield. The pyramid gleamed, its metallic surface catching the light in sharp glints. Tiny switches dotted its sides, some half-flicked, others locked in place, and dials etched with symbols that seemed to pulse faintly.

His gaze traced the smooth lines of the artifact, then paused on a single deep engraving—a series of strange markings that seemed to shift subtly when he wasn’t looking directly at them. The pyramid wasn’t large, no bigger than his hand, but its presence in the room felt immense, as if the air thickened around it, pressing at the edges of the forcefield.

Irric’s lips tightened. The hum of the field vibrated against his skin, but the room was otherwise still.

The report had been thin. A routine scan, a routine crate, and then this—a sliver of silver metal tucked between supply manifests, no record, no signature. It had slipped through undetected until one of Irric’s people found it.

His fingers hovered near the edge of the console. He wasn’t the type to believe in coincidences. Not out here. So he requested a Security Officer to keep an eye on it, whatever it was.

La’an had just arrived for shift when the investigation section leader asked for a security officer, La’an sent a small message and headed that way.

La’an entered and noitced an officer near what seemed to be an old relic of sorts. “Lt Hanes, reporting“

Irric’s body remained as still as stone, his eyes drawn to the object with an intensity that seemed to absorb every detail. The faintest flicker of light reflected in his unblinking gaze, his breath barely perceptible, as though he feared disturbing whatever lay before him.

After a short silence, his lips parted, the words slipping out, “Fascinating, isn’t it, Lieutenant?” His voice carried a quiet reverence, as if the object itself demanded silence.

“It dose, Where did it come from?” La’an asked as she moved closer and up next to the Commander. She pushed a lock of blond hair out of her eyes.

Irric glanced at the Lieutenant. Her blonde hair caught the low light, and her blue eyes flickered with a brief spark of curiosity before her expression returned to a cool, practiced calm. She stood tall, exuding a quiet confidence that seemed to demand attention without effort.

He placed the PADD in her hand, his fingers lingering a moment before pulling away. “It’s all in there,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with something unsaid, he then continued, “The freighter was just another routine stop—until we uncovered this.”

“They are all normal, Till this happens” She responded

As she shifted her gaze to the PADD, Irric continued. “The captain, shifty as they come, swore he bought it off a Ferengi. Said it was just a trade for latinum.” Irric paused, his brow creasing as the air thickened between them. “But something’s not right. The origins… they don’t add up. It feels like there’s a piece missing.”

“Want me to run through historical databases?” She asked.

“Your primary role is to stand guard and watch the item, Lieutenant,” Irric said, his voice sharp and unwavering as he fixed the officer with a steady gaze. He leaned slightly forward, the corners of his mouth tightening.

“However,” he continued, a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes, “if you have a genuine interest in this kind of work, consider this your unofficial application to join my section. Feel free to use the terminal in the corner.” He gestured subtly toward the dimly lit area, where the soft hum of machinery provided a backdrop to his offer.

“Just remember, discretion is paramount.”

“Yes Sir, Will be quiet” She then turned to begin the search, She was also thinking about the offer. It was something she was interested in.

Irric nodded, then said, “If you need anything, Lieutenant, just say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

“Understood” La’an replied.

Luna was starting to get the hang of things at Starbase Bravo, or so she thought. There were now a few appointments under her belt that had gone reasonably well and the increasing familiarity of her surroundings was starting to abate her ever-present anxiety a little. She didn’t really have any friends there yet, but that was par for the course for Luna. The counselor was a loner, and while she loved helping people at work, social relationships tended only to bring pain, and more often than not an uncomfortable reminder of the things about herself she didn’t like, or more on point, was ashamed of. It was a hard habit to break, but the walls were up and built of Tritanium. Books were much more comfortable. Books didn’t make fun of the reader. Not generally, anyway.

As she sat in the comfortable and cosy surroundings of her Counseling office in sector hotel turquoise, Luna earmarked that particular realisation of self-shame as something to unpack later on. Right now, she had work to do. She was expecting a patient any time and his record had been an interesting read. Initially a Cadet at Starfleet Academy, Elias Barrington had become a non-com after leaving Officer training due to an incident during an exercise. Luna couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what he would want to speak about, or if it would be something else. Either way his career path was unique.

Elias was precisely on time. That was to say he was precisely five minutes early. He had long ago adopted the stance that to be early was to be on time, and to be on time was actually to be late. Given that the counselor’s office door was shut, and he seemed to be the only one here, he took a seat in the waiting room, a padd held in his hands as he ran through his work list for the day after this appointment.

He was lost in lists for a couple of minutes, but then a soft chime interrupted him, and he closed the files he was working on, noting mentally that he needed to chase at least three deputy heads of minor departments for missing TC-014’s and stood. Crossing the corridor, he waited for the chime to announce to the counselor that he had arrived for his appointment.

“C…come in?” Luna called from the other side of the door. Seeing Elias enter she stood from her position behind her desk, moving into the center of the space. The Counselling office wasn’t huge, being just the right size to house two couches facing one-another with a rectangular coffee table in between and two chairs at each end of the coffee table with three feet or so of space around the whole setup. Beyond the seating was a small office space in the single room marked off by a desk propping up a computer terminal. To the left of the desk as one sat at it was a replicator. There were a couple of large plants in corners which Luna had now determined were definitely fake and had left alone, and the councillor had strewn around some throws and cushions to try to make patients more comfortable and the room more relaxing.

“Yeoman Barrington?” She asked.

The counsellor was tiny, looking lost in the middle of the small office. He only spared their surroundings a small look before focusing on her.

“I am indeed,” he said, allowing a small, rare smile to soften his somewhat harsh features as he offered his hand. “I take it you are Counsellor Black? It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

She was young, he realised, and obviously very early in her career. That was fine… he’d been seeing counsellor’s for a very long time, courtesy of an old promise, so he knew the routine.

The counselor confirmed her identity, shook the offered hand and bade Elias sit. She then offered him a drink from the replicator before their session started, and all without stammering once. Not bad for a new acquaintance, or so she thought. Ma’am was a term she still wasn’t used to, such was her self esteem or lack thereof, to her the moniker seemed more suited to someone else more important.

Elias accepted a drink, a simple glass of water. Normally he didn’t, but then, normally they assigned him to a grizzled old counsellor, one who took one look at his long counselling file and realised he was a no-hoper. That kind of counsellor knew the steps of the dance between them and people like him and he didn’t give them any softness. No breaks. Not even the couple of seconds respite while he took a sip from a glass of water.

“So, Counsellor…” He sat back in the chair, not relaxed exactly, but with his body language more softened than normal. “I’m sure you’ve read my file. Where would you suggest we begin?”

Luna gave the question some thought. She had indeed read his file and it was long and interesting if perhaps somewhat unfortunate. Survivor’s guild had developed into obsessive compulsive behaviour and control issues. Luna resolved to start there. But first…

“Um, well um, I normally start just with new p… patients by mentioning my stammer, it’ll go away in time just um, ignore it? Oh and please try not to finish my sentences for me if I get stuck.” She added a slight smile to signal this was something difficult, but she was on top of it and, largely, she was. Luna was a changed person from when she first arrived on Earth. It was  sweet smile, too. She was pretty, but many found her submissive personality awkward at best and infuriating at worst. But Elias hadn’t come to talk about her.

“I see you um, your previous counsellor diagnosed you with O.C.D.,” she continued, reaching for the second glass of water she had replicated for herself. “H… how have your symptoms b.. been recently?”

“Understood.” He nodded. “And I will make sure not to do so.”

Tilting his head back slightly, he frowned as he thought. For some reason he wanted to be honest with her, which was new, so he had to think on that for a moment as well.

“Mostly under control,” he said eventually. “I haven’t been aboard the station long, and a change of environment or routine makes them worse, but they have, for the most part, levelled out again.”

He didn’t mention the fact that he’d developed at least three new standard operating procedures this week and only one of them was for work. Folding his uniform pants to put them away in his closet for example…

“Exercise helps,” he offered. Luna nodded and returned the glass to its coaster after taking a drink.

“I… I’m glad it’s levelled out, um…” Luna struggled a little on what to say next, but a little ray of a thought punctuated through. She was new there too and actually in this case just a little speaking about herself might help build trust.

“I’ve found that too… I… transferred here a few weeks ago and um, it’s a lot after a Starship, so many new people which um, as you can guess I d… don’t always do well with?” She offered him another slightly hesitant smile. “But I found my exercises helped a lot, um, C.B.T., mindfulness of my thoughts, do you have any techniques you use or were asked to try for difficult situations? E.R.P. maybe?”

Cognitive behavioural therapy and exposure and response prevention were fairly standard practices for trying to treat obsessive and compulsive behaviour. Luna hoped there might be some particular go-to favourites Elias had that he found useful or comforting.

“I have tried both, over the years,” he confirmed, making sure to keep his body language relaxed. “Neither seemed to help.”

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure whether that was down to the therapists involved trying to make him relive events he’d rather forget, than him. He leaned forward, taking a sip of water to break his focus on those thoughts.

“Mindfulness seems to be the most effective. I find peace in situations where I can focus. Exercise, the range, even my job.”

Luna listened, mind going to various different places of where the session could go next. It was tempting to look at the mechanics of the situation and focus on Elias’ obsessions and compulsive behaviors, but Elias had said about C.B.T. and E.R.P. that neither seemed to help. Given the root cause of the problems to begin with Luna couldn’t help but wonder if Elias really wanted to be cured, or if experiencing these symptoms were some kind of punishment. Finding how to broach these subjects was her next challenge.

“I… the um, I um, read your file of course, um, your past counselors used some quite technical language, I um, I wonder, and know it’s hard with a traumatic basis but um, would you be okay to tell me in your own words what your obsession or obsessions is or are and what your compulsive behaviors are as a result? I um, not that you necessarily do but um, if…. if you do feel any shame about it j… just know I’m not p… p… perfect at all, as you can hear…” Luna smiled. “We’re working through some problems. So I um, no technical talk just… I want to try to help if I can.”

Eloquent, Luna, very eloquent, she thought.

Elias managed not to look like a rabbit in the headlights at the phrases ‘traumatic experience’ and ‘in your own words’, but then, he had had a lot of experience with this scenario. He paused for a moment, torn between sliding a practiced smile across his face and giving her a slick answer or really answering.

Most of the counsellors he’d seen over the years saw him as the problem child, the one on the list who would be a coup if they could cure him. Or at the very least, get him off the books. But this one… he eyed her intently. But he got the feeling she actually wanted to help. Even if it turned out she couldn’t, at least with him, she’d get an insight into what happened when things went bad.

“I’m a long way removed from the traumatic incident,” he said honestly, sitting forward and resting his forearms on his thighs. “Over twenty-five years is a long time. Means I can talk about it. Mostly.”

He shrugged, looking at his steepled fingers. “I made a mistake, didn’t check something. People got hurt. People died. It was my fault.” There was no emotion in his voice as he spoke, his voice and speech patterns becoming more clipped. “Since then, I need to check everything. Be in control. When I’m not…”

He shrugged again and sat back.

“I can only imagine what you’ve been through,” Luna told him. She had plenty of her own trauma, she was still working out how to open up after years of bullying and suppression. But nothing she experienced killed anyone.

“P… please correct me if I’m wrong but it sounds like because of what happened, your obsession… It’s not a nice word but it’s a technical word that I have to use here, your obsession is that the same doesn’t happen again so you’re compulsive behaviour is to check and double check everything, be meticulous, leave nothing unattended, is… that right?”

He nodded. There was no use denying it. His record was… well, on record.

“I am aware that a misfiled report is unlikely to kill anyone,” he added. “But the double-checking isn’t something I can control. Mostly it’s down to double checking now, rather than triple-checking—“ And returning to the office late at night to make sure.

“Attention to detail in the first place makes a difference. But,” he frowned. “I guess that could be considered as moving the problem elsewhere. Most people tend to groan when they see me coming.”

The admission was a little softer, then he smiled. Only slightly. A quirk of his lips that had nothing to do with amusement. “They call me worse than an auditor. I’m very popular at work parties, as you can imagine.”

Luna couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t one of her weak, timid affairs, a proper one that showed her large and rather cute front teeth.

“S… sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s funny because… I know exactly how you feel, I mean, um, I don’t have, um, I’m… not very popular at parties either… scintillating conversation with L…L..L… Luna (this was a fake stammer she put on for effect). I’m awful in a crowd, I’d rather be in my quarters… with a book. But um, that’s a whole different… anyway, um… Attention to detail. Yes. It’s a good thing. And…” her manner and speech became more confident here, as she was speaking from a place of psychiatric authority, “…O.C.D. is often less rational. E.R.P. works because you can expose yourself to a fear without large consequence because it is so irrational, and retrain your brain to see there are no consequences from your fear. But in your case, it’s rational. The compulsions are an extension of good practice, but taken further, and ensuring the safety of colleagues is paramount, so it’s hard to simply face them. And you’ve made some good progress too, eliminating the triple check. So that’s good.”

Too many ‘good’s, Luna, the Counselor thought. She became quieter and more professionally intimate when she spoke next.

“Do you have any goals you’d like to hit with your compulsions? C… could you maybe get down to a single check? Would you want to?” She asked.

“I like to read.” It was a personal confession, not one he’d meant to make, but that smile had surprised him. But he was pleased that she seemed to be more comfortable and confident with him now.

“You mean such things as being able to put my pants on in the morning without double-checking they’re the right colour?” He returned the smile. “I’m joking. I’m not sure that I’d be able to get the checks down more than that. With my work, they are an integral part of my process.”

He tilted his head as he thought. He had to give her something. That was how he’d observed counseling to work. It was a back-and-forth. “I am not… impulsive, shall we say? Perhaps that is something to work on.”

Luna considered this from her spot on one of the couches. A compulsion to double check things and be meticulous went hand in hand with a lack of impulsivity. It could be a start in helping Elias train his brain to deal with discomfort in a way his O.C.D. might not normally let him. But how to start?

“Alright,” she replied after her mind had reached a conclusion. “Can you give me a for instance? How would being more impulsive help you to live in a way you want to live as opposed to how things are now?”

He had to think about that for a moment, his expression setting a little. “Perhaps walking a different way to work? I have a set route that, at pre-defined times depending on my duty shift, takes a specific amount of time. Sometimes… I could take the scenic route?”

“It would be a start,” Luna admitted. “Perhaps you could leave a chunk of extra time for your journey and pick the route on the spur of the moment? Or is that too much for one step?” It didn’t seem like that much, but Luna didn’t want to push Elias and lose trust.

He inclined his head, automatically trying to work out the timings on all the different routes he could think of as a cold chill washed over his skin.

“That… might be step two,” he admitted in a low voice, moving to settle the shoulders of his uniform jacket more comfortable. It felt too tight all of a sudden. “I’m aware this must seem ridiculous to you. A grown man not able to change a routine to take a simple walk.”

Luna smiled a lip-closed smile, and shook her head gently, looking at the coffee table rather than at Elias. She couldn’t meet his gaze and say what she wanted to.

“At the Academy, in between my first year training, I had to p…practice getting a distress call off in um, stressful situations. B… because if I get stressed, or s… scared I lose the ability to talk p… a-properly. They wouldn’t let me graduate from the first year until i could go into a random dangerous holodeck scenario and um, deal with whatever I saw and still send an intelligible message.”

Luna looked up at Elias to gauge his reaction. “What I’m trying to say is… N… No it doesn’t seem ridiculous.”

She was stammering. Instantly Elias softened his body language, sitting back and relaxing. “My apologies. My frustration is in no way aimed at you, counsellor. I appreciate your efforts to help me.”

He waited until she looked up at him again. “The first few years at the academy can be tough, can’t they?”

Luna sighed.

“I appreciate the sentiment, b… but… I didn’t think your frustration was aimed at.me. Respectfully, B… Barrington,” Luna used his last name on purpose to add some weight to what she was saying, “you d… don’t understand the pathology of my s… s… stammer so please just ignore it l… like I asked. Can you do that?”

In his concern, he’d misstepped. Elias nodded in answer. “Of course, ma’am. My apologies.”

Taking a breath, he frowned.

“Carving out extra time might be possible,” he conceded, even though it felt like every muscle in his body tightened just at the idea.

Luna detected from his mode of response this might not be ideal as far as Elias was concerned but they had to start somewhere.

“Okay, um, then your assignment f… from Lieutenant Black,” she told him brightly, leaning forward “…is to take a different route to work… is once a week too much? And let me know how you get on the n… next time I see you.”

“Once a week.” He nodded. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. He could do that.

Taking her cue, he stood and offered his hand to shake. “Thank you for your time, ma’am.”

Luna stood too and offered a small but expertly manicured hand with pretty two-tone purple nails to shake his.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Yeoman.” She paused. It was a stammer pause. “I’m always about if you want support.”

”Thank you, and the pleasure was all mine,” he smiled, letting go of her hand. “Pretty colour, it suits you.”

With that, he inclined his head by way of goodbye and left the office. And for once, his shoulders were less tight as he walked.

It was a rare event when Lieutenant Luna Black swore. A choice ‘dammit’ was her general curse du jour, a tame but unmistakable utterance of annoyance that wouldn’t ruffle the feathers of a particularly prudish Peacock let alone most people. But she was annoyed now, both with the computer and herself for not being able to work out what was wrong with it.

“Shit!”

Luna clapped her hands over her mouth. The other people in the room chided her for her unladylike conduct. She looked around her Counselling office. Nobody looked back, for she was alone.

You can swear if you want, Luna she told herself. But even if she could, she wouldn’t. ‘Ladies don’t swear‘, she’d been told as a child. Her brothers were allowed to swear. It was a nasty and suppressive double standard, one of the many that had led to her leaving Setlik II eight years previously. But that was a far cry from Starbase Bravo, and now, freed from the hypocrisy of her family she had other problems, namely how to get this report to submit.

“Computer analyse report EB73240110 Alpha and explain why I can’t submit it?” She pleaded.

“Unknown,” the computer confessed.

“Oh…”

Shit? 

“…Dammit.”

Wuss.

Fresh from this round of personal chastisement Luna transferred her report to a PADD and went in search of aid.

There were quite a few counselling offices about, this was the primary counselling suite for Star Base Bravo adjacent to the medical facility in sector hotel turquoise. Luna scanned the doors for an open one and made her way over, smiling to a waiting patient who watched her go. She loitered at the door and after a brief moment stammered a greeting to the man inside.

“Um, excuse me?”

Ryke looked up from his notes and smiled, vaguely recognising the young woman in the doorway. She’d joined the counseling staff not long ago, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk yet.

“Hey there. It’s Luna, isn’t it?” Putting his padd on the small coffee table between the two couches in the room, he stood and headed over, offering a hand in greeting. “I’m Ryke. It’s good to finally meet you.”

“Um…”

People being friendly was hard. In an odd kind of way, and rather tragically given her past life Luna would have preferred he stay in his seat and wave her in or something. As it was, six foot and an inch of (probably very agreeable) man who probably weighed not far from double what she did had strode over and held out his hand and Luna being Luna fell apart, just slightly. Her large, Lemur eyes widened a bit and her features became reminiscent of brittle herbivores in the proverbial headlights.

“Y… yes. Luna Black.” Luna managed to take the large hand and offer some sort of shake. “P… p… p…”

Shit.

“Good to meet you… um…” Luna had no idea who this man was  which made her shame spiral spike as he clearly knew who she was. Internal lambasting occurred as Luna regretted the missed opportunity of getting ahead of her own awkwardness by properly researching her colleagues.

Interesting. Ryke didn’t let his internal thoughts show on his face as she let go of his hand like he’d burned her and instead kept the smile in place.

“Sorry I haven’t managed to pop my head around your door before now,” he stepped back, perching on the high edge of the couch. It put him on the same level as her, almost, which he knew from experience made him far less intimidating.

“The schedule has been utter chaos recently.” He shook his head and nodded to his padd on the table. “Fair few still struggling with the aftermath of Frontier day.”

Luna had seen a fair few patients already with symptoms relating to or exacerbated by Frontier Day. She decided she could agree with… whoever this was on that.

“Um, yes! Yes, unfortunately. B… but we do what we can.”

We do what we can? Ugh, try to say something less banal, Luna…

She looked at her colleague who was thankfully now nearly at eye level.

“I… um…”

Come on Luna, ice breaker.

“Um…”

SAY SOMETHING

“I’m sorry too… straight into work. I sh… should have come and said hello but um…”

I have crippling social anxiety and a really embarrassing stammer.

“…that crazy schedule! Anyway  I… I’m sorry. Um, what’s your name?” Luna managed the question which was a little forward for her  but the prospect of having the conversation and still not coming away with a name was potentially more embarrassing.

“I’m Ryke Ashfield.”

She was young as hell. He didn’t think he’d ever been that young… which was ridiculous, of course he had—but his life had hardened him up well before he’d left his teens. She also seemed skittish, and he was a little concerned that she’d bolt at any moment.

“I’m another of the counselors aboard. And you’re saying hello now,” he pointed out gently. “So it’s all good. Are you on a break now? I have a gap if you’re looking to grab a coffee or something?”

Actually, she was. But Luna needed this report submitting. His kindness was calming her down a little. Socialising, while scary, was probably a good idea when it came to colleagues. Luna didn’t want to be out in the dark again like she was growing up. New assignment, new opportunities to take a step or three forward.

“Um, yes, th… thank you that’d be… I’d like that. B… b… b…

Shiiiiiiiii…

“…a-but first um, c… could you help me out with this report? Please?” Luna waved the PADD gently. “Um… I can’t get it to submit? I’m not sure what’s wrong.”

“Absolutely. They can be a little tricky when you’re not used to the system.” Ryke held his hand out for the padd and quickly checked over the report. Surprise washed over his face when he saw the name, and he looked up at her quickly. “Bloody hell, they gave you Barrington? That guy’s been on the patient list for years!”

Luna grimaced, looking slightly concerned. So Barrington had a rep amongst the Counseling department. Luna’s confidence she may be able to help the yeoman dropped a good few percentage points.

“Yes, I um…” She considered what to say about Elias. Ryke was cleared for everything and clearly knew the Patient, or knew of him. Luna stayed diplomatic, for now.

“…I hope I can help him,” she responded with a genuine endearment.

Ryke frowned as he scanned the report quickly, mostly noting the time the appointment had taken. “You actually got him to stay in the room… and talk as well? I’m impressed. He walked right out on James, and just ignored me for an hour.”

Luna looked surprised, perhaps she shouldn’t have been. For better or worse the effect of her rather vulnerable and unthreatening façade was that people tended to open up to her easily. Luna knew this was the case, she had been told so many times and C.B.T. dictated that therefore it was probably true. There was a flip-side to this, as with most things in life, best not thought about. It certainly made the more violent or manipulative patients a severe challenge too.

“Yes, I um, we’ll see if he manages to adjust his behaviours at all,” she said, sounding quite professional for a moment. “I hoped we’d get to talking about whether he wants to change based on his levels of guilt or if he’s punishing himself but he shut me down fairly fast when I mentioned it.”

Ryke frowned as he looked at the settings on the report. “Ah, yes, I know what’s wrong with it. Do you see this setting here? That needs switching over and it should submit.”

He smiled as he handed her the padd back.

“From what I remember of the Barrington file, my suspicion was that he’s punishing himself, but if you got some conversation out of him that’s more than any of us. You said ‘adjust his behaviours’? So he actually agreed to something as well?”

“Th… thank you!” Luna took the PADD and peered at the setting. It meant nothing to her, but she knew it needed checking now for submission. Problem sorted.

“He agreed to change his route to work once a week,” Luna explained, locking the screen on the PADD and clutching it to her navel in crossed hands. It was a defensive sort of body language that she was generally aware she did but wasn’t always aware of in the moment. It suggested her being anxious or threatened. But only generally to people who could read it or the more observational. “He said E.R.P. Hasn’t worked for him but if I can get him to do that… maybe it’s a starting point?”

“That would definitely be a good starting point,” Ryke agreed. “I would need to read the file again, but I’m assuming you’re going for a graded E.R.P. approach rather than the flooding method?”

Ryke didn’t think Barrington was a danger, not at all, but from what he remembered, the initial incident was traumatic and he didn’t know how Barrington was likely to react if he was exposed again to that level. But, he reminded himself, Luna was just as qualified a therapist as he was, and, more to the point, she’d actually gotten the patient to open up and talk.

Luna nodded Emphatically.

“Yes.” she stated, her stammer gone as she was speaking psychiatry had had the courage of her convictions behind her. “With a traumatic base and one not at all entirely irrational, flooding would be really dangerous. At least, I think it would. He totally switched off when he spoke about the base trauma, it was mechanical, almost like a brush off. I’m n… not going anywhere near that yet.”

She paused a moment, considering Elias’ past.

“I don’t think he’ll ever get past it. I know… I know I wouldn’t in the same situation. B… but I want to try to help.”

Ryke nodded. “Then I believe that he is in the best hands. At this point, with how resistant he’s been, what you’ve accomplished is a break-through. Keep me in the loop though? I’d be fascinated to know how you get on with his treatment.”

Luna nodded quickly like a daughter being told by her father to be careful on a night out.

“I… I will. Th… thanks for your help.” She gave Ryke a small smile. She wanted to follow up about the offer of coffee, but in the moment Luna found herself too scared.

Ryke stood, making sure to grab his padd as well. “I’m headed for coffee. You joining? I absolutely need some caffeine before dealing with—“ He checked his patient list and took a deep breath. “Mabel Sinclair.”

Luna gave Ryke that same nod again.

“Y… yes, thanks. I’d like that.” She smiled, not one of her nervous ones, but in a moment of feeling like she was succeeding a shaft of happiness managed to break through the clouds of nervousness and it showed, It was a sweet smile.

“Perfect! Come on then, I know just the place,” Ryke said, sweeping out an arm toward the door, and together, they headed out.

Beryl was stressed. When he’d first put in for the lateral transfer from medical to command, he’d been excited. New adventure! New challenges! He’d dived head first into his new career, and it had been rewarding. The challenge of leading others, often directing tasks he had no experience with himself, was great for personal growth.

As the months had gone by, however, doubt had started to creep in. Was he throwing away his years of medical training? Was he doing it for a good reason? Beryl thought these were good questions to ask, but he wasn’t sure how to answer them… Which is why he was sitting in his quarters, fiddling with the pips on his collar while counting down the minutes before his counseling session. Beryl wasn’t averse to counseling – any good doctor knows mental health is just as important as physical health – but he’d never been before.

When the antique analog clock on his wall finally ticked to 1355, he stood, forced his hands to his sides, and walked out the door. Beryl made his way down to the medical deck, and after asking a passing yeoman for directions, managed to locate the office of Luna Black. Smoothing his uniform jacket one last time, he pressed the door chime and waited.

Lieutenant Luna Black had not long been aboard the base, fresh from a transfer from a Nebula class ship. If one of the largest ships in the fleet hadn’t been imposing enough for the young and rather shy Counselor, the Star base and its associated facilities were huge and on an as-yet unexperienced scale. She was attempting to organise but so far her ducks were more like cats. In a row they were not. Still, her first appointment had arrived. Flutters of anticipation flew from her chest to her lips, her stammer stealing the word ‘come’ from her mouth. She crossed to the door and with a quick look in the adjacent mirror pressed the release manually.

“L… Lieutenant Hammond?” She asked.

Beryl dropped his gaze slightly to meet the eyes of the young counselor in front of him. He didn’t recognize her, but then again, the starbase was basically a city. It would be foolish to expect to know every face one passes in the hallway.

“Yes, that’s me. I know I’m in uniform, but Beryl is fine. Unless it’s not fine? Because I’m a patient? I defer to your judgement in the matter.” Beryl suddenly felt foolish for not knowing the protocol here. “May I come in?”

Luna managed a nod before she could get the words out. “Yes, please come in,” she said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile and moved into the space giving Beryl space to come inside. “I’m Luna, or Lieutenant Black, or Counselor, I suggest we call each other whatever you’re most comfortable with.”

The Counseling office wasn’t huge, being just the right size to house two couches facing one-another with a rectangular coffee table in between and two chairs at each end of the coffee table with three feet or so of space around the whole setup. Beyond the seating was a small office space in the single room marked off by a desk propping up a computer terminal. To the left of the desk as one sat at it was a replicator. There were a couple of large (and probably fake) plants in corners, but otherwise things we’re currently a tad spartan.

Beryl stepped inside the office, taking a look around. Looking to the counselor, he gestured towards one of the chairs with a questioning glance, then took a seat.

“Well. This is my first time seeing a counselor. I think I know what I want to discuss, but where do I begin?” Beryl watched Lieutenant Black’s face, hoping for some guidance.

She sat on one of the couches, not opposite him, but not next to him either. Opposite would create an unconscious suggestion of adversary while next-to would be too familiar, not giving Beryl space. Luna clutched the P.A.D.D. she held to her knee and, scooping her hair over one ear nervously considered the question.

“B…. before we begin,” she started, “can I um, can I just take a second to cover the elephant in the room, otherwise I think it’ll be distracting. I will stammer? A bit? Um, just ignore it, it’ll go away in… … in… in time. Just please try not to finish a sentence for me if I get stuck.” Luna smiled slightly, trying to indicate that she didn’t feel insecure about this or anything else by making light of it, which of course was absolutely untrue. She did, that was part of the source of the stammer, but her patients didn’t need to know that. “As for where to begin, um, I usually ask what it was that prompted you to make an appointment with a counselor? C… can you tell me what took what it is you want to talk about from being something you are happy to deal with on your own to something you want to talk about? Oh and um, would you like a drink?”

Dammit. She should have asked about the drink first. Luna chastised herself inside for the error and hoped it wouldn’t detract from Beryl’s exposition.

Beryl nodded curtly when the counselor mentioned the stammer. “Of course. With regards to the drink, I’m fine thank you.” He took a moment to then consider her other question. “I do normally prefer to resolve personal matters myself, but in this case, I find myself second guessing myself. Wow that was a lot of ‘myself’s.” Beryl rolled his eyes.

“I’m sure you saw in my file that I recently hung up my medical frock in exchange for a red uniform. At the time, I made the decision because I wanted to pursue a new challenge, and explore new frontiers, so to speak. The thing is, while I enjoy medicine and healing, it was never truly my passion. Not the way it was for my parents. I was good at it, but it wasn’t… enough, I guess.” Beryl frowned. Saying that out loud made him feel a bit ashamed, for some reason.

Luna shifted slightly in her seat. Her P.A.D.D. ended up clutched around her midriff, it was a mannerism often conducted with cushions and it was subconsciously a defence, a literal covering of the more sensitive parts of her body from attack. It showed she was nervous. Luna put the P.A.D.D. down on the coffee table to stop herself from doing it. She needed to give off open body language.

“I um, I don’t want to sound like I’m giving false praise because you are concerned, but genuinely being able to pinpoint that your vocation was not your passion and having the courage to change your path after being on a certain road for a while is… is admirable.”

“Well, as much as I do enjoy my new career track, I’ve been starting to question my decision. Was it the right one? Was it wrong of me to basically throw away all the work I put into medical school? After all, let’s be honest, I’m not currently changing any lives by running shifts in the cargo bay. At least as a doctor, I was literally saving lives.”

Luna nodded, it was something she tried not to do too much. It was easy to nod along with a patient and get a bad neck after a few sessions.

“Um, okay that’s true, you were,” Luna confirmed. “Being a medic or… or a doctor is the most immediate way of helping someone I can think of. I think um, there are a few different ways that your situation can be looked at? But b… before we get to that, can you put your finger on why you might be challenging your decision? Are there any outside influences, did someone, a friend family or colleague comment on it? Any particular events that caused you to reflect on your change of career?”

Beryl unclenched his hands. Apparently, saying the words out loud was making him tense. “Well, become a doctor was my parents’ dream for me. So, maybe that thought has been popping up as sort of leave it behind? I mean I don’t plan on abandoning medicine. I’ll keep up to date on techniques, perform my check procedures…” Beryl stopped, as that wasn’t the point. “Maybe it’s a combination of that, and the fact that the fleet just went through a major crisis. And what did I do? I oversaw the industrial replicators making supplies. I changed careers to pursue a passion, but then when the shit hit the fan – sorry – when it was time to make a difference, I wasn’t in a position to do anything meaningful.”

Luna’s large, blue eyes blinked a couple of times as she considered Beryl’s testament.

“I can see how you’d arrive there given what’s happened, it’s an understandable response,” she started. She could attempt to argue that rebuilding was as important as helping the injured and that Beryl was still contributing something important, but he seemed too clever to buy that just because someone else said it, especially someone like her. Luna’s own disrespect for herself meant she figured Beryl wouldn’t respect her opinion either, regardless of how true or untrue that might be. If she had to characterise what she thought Beryl was feeling it was guilt. She went back into her training and considered the stages of getting over guilt and rooted out what may be applicable to Beryl in this situation. She decided to go for the low-hanging fruit first, hopefully that’d build trust for the next part of the session.

“You mentioned that your p… p…” skip onto the P, Luna “…a-parents are doctors, have you asked them what they think of your change of career?”

Beryl sighed. He knew he’d have to field a question about his parents the moment he mentioned them, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I cannot. They passed a few years back.” Beryl stifled a bitter chuckle. “It was literally right before I was supposed to get my first post as a Starfleet officer. I took a leave of absence and went home to care for my sister. How’s that for a classic sob story?” Beryl shook his head at himself. He didn’t want to be ‘that guy.’

“I’m sorry, I can’t imagine how that feels,” Luna responded truthfully. “I… I would ask if you got on well but I think that would be a tangent that’s maybe not relevant here?”

“I suspect, if they were still around, they’d generally support me, but semi-regularly pester me about getting back to medicine. Still though, I’ve considered this a lot, and I don’t think it’s a matter of letting them down. Can’t be that easy, can it? I dunno. What do you think, doc?” Beryl looked up at the counselor expectantly. This was way more heart-to-heart than he was used to, but this is what he came for. A guide to help him navigate the emotions that were keeping him up at night.

“Um, there’s a few things I think could be contributing?” Luna started. She was acutely aware of being called ‘Doc’, which is something she wasn’t, technically speaking. She’d het to that once she’d (hopefully) gained some of Beryl’s confidence by proving she knew something about psychiatry and counseling. She looked at him as intently as she could, although she did find prolonged facial contact difficult.

“I… think… you probably feel the weight of their expectations, and, um, not knowing what they would say b… b… b…”

Dammit

Luna stopped, took a breath and hopped onto the B.

“…uhbecause you can’t ask them makes pinpointing the exact reason tricky but, I think it’s as much related to the crisis you said the fleet went through. I’m new here I’m not sure exactly which one you’re referring to. But that might escalate your feelings of uncertainty. I don’t want to put words in your mouth so… so tell me what you think of this. Is it possible that because of this crisis you feel guilty? There’s a chance you might blame yourself for part of what happened because you chose to leave a profession that could have helped people in an immediately tangible way in the aftermath.”

Luna took another breath, a momentary pause before continuing.

“It may be scary to think that our own choices can’t fully protect us from bad things happening. By believing that things would have been better if we’d done something different, we gain a sense of power over unwanted outcomes, which makes us feel secure. That and um, the uncertainty of what your parents would have thought of your new profession, of your turning away from what they wanted for you, it’s understandable you’d have doubts. We always want our parents approval even if it’s not aligned with what we want as individuals.”

Even me, she thought, and I can’t stand my parents.

Luna shifted on the couch, getting more nervous about what Beryl would say to this. He seemed quite self assured.

“Does that sound plausible?” She asked.

To be continued

Beryl sat silently for a while. He wanted to consider the counselor’s words carefully; to fully understand her ideas. He almost hated the idea of craving his parent’s approval more than having second thoughts about his change in career. Still, there was no reason the source of his troubles had to be complicated. He was, after all, still human.

“It does sound plausible.” Beryl finally spoke. “Yes, the convolution of multiple sources of anxiety seems even likely. Before I came to see you, I had considered that maybe this was all about needing my parents’ approval. I had dismissed that, because our relationship was decent. They never disapproved of my choices, just… made their desires very clear. Still, their desire probably still lingers in my mind. Add that to the events of late…” Beryl nodded, not feeling like he needed to finish the sentence. She understood.

Beryl shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “How do I know if that’s it? And what do I do about it, if it is?”

Luna swallowed, considering the question. She didn’t have a crystal ball or all of the answers, all she could do was hope that the things she did know would be of help.

“Okay, um, first, um, it’ll take some time? To be sure. Um, imagine an equation with two variables. And in this equation because there are two variables, the equation can’t be solved without more information. So it’s impossible to know the answer right now, however much it goes round and round in your head. I think it might come as a result of living your life and gathering experiences related to the salient points, so around working, maybe reflecting on your parents, remembering a certain event from your past you had forgotten, speaking to some other family of you have any, something like that that reveals one of the variables. I know it’s difficult and annoying not to know the answer right now. We… we tend to want to quantify things, to get a simple answer, to get an answer and not to leave questions especially questions about ourselves open and unanswered in our heads. But it’s okay not to know, it’s okay to take time to work it out. You an just acknowledge the question exists and it’s unanswered and that you’re just working on it and be okay with that. Just acknowledging it helps. Th… there are some exercises I can send you on mindfulness that can sometimes help too? One thing is that why questions have a habit of frustrating us. Try not to dwell on why questions of you can, why do I feel this way? The answer is I don’t know and that’s frustrating. Try to make them what questions. What makes me uncomfortable, what makes me think that way, what am I afraid of et cetera.”

Luna took a breath.

“What specifically to do about it we can cover more in a minute but, I’d um, well, um, does that all make sense?”

“Well you got that right, I do like to overanalyze everything until there are no questions left. I’ll be honest, I’m going to struggle with accepting a slow progression. I’m definitely going to have a hard time with accepting the why questions. But,” Beryl said slowly, “I will work on it. Exercises will probably help, thank you.”

Beryl sat a moment, stewing over how he was going to manage his day-to-day without going crazy, before realizing he hadn’t actually answered the counselor’s questions. “It makes sense in theory. I mean, yes, I understand what you’re saying. I accept it, I just don’t like it. I’m a doctor and a scientist, I love figuring out why things happen. I know the human brain, and mental trauma, emotion – all that – is not a computer program with binary bits that can simply be quantified, though, so I’m going to work on what you’re suggesting. I figure the hard part was taking the first step, yeah?”

“Possibly,” she responded. “I’d like to ask you a few things about your work and um, maybe see if we can get you some answers.”

Luna kicked herself a bit inside, she should possibly have started with this direction.

“Leaving your parents wishes aside for a moment, you said earlier something like… ‘I’m not helping anyone by running shifts in the cargo bay’. I’d like you to think about that for a moment. And when you answer, be really honest, try not to be diplomatic or give any weight to what you think I will think of your answer. I won’t judge your opinion, just listen to it. So a what question for you,” Luna said with a slight smile, “what thoughts and or experiences did you have that led you to that conclusion?”

Beryl bit his tongue to stop him from blurting out an answer, as the counselor had anticipated. Why had he devalued that job? Clearly Starfleet found it important. And, Beryl admitted,they had been making relief supplies for various colonies in need during the crisis. Yeah, he wasn’t in surgery, repairing a heart, or on the bridge of a starship, defeating the Borg or whoever… But Beryl forced himself to admit there was clear value in that task.

“I suppose I was comparing it to medical work. As you mentioned, as a doctor, one’s contributions are immediate and obvious. As a deck officer, specifically in the instance I had been referring to, I wasn’t even doing any hands-on work. I was supervising others. My biggest contribution that shift was training a cadet on leadership.” Beryl realized that probably counted as making a difference too. “However. As I sit here and consider it, I realize that task was indeed making a difference to people’s lives. We were mass-replicating relief supplies. Honestly, we couldn’t have been any closer to physically helping others unless we’d been delivering them. That being said… it didn’t feel as good. It felt mundane.”

Luna nodded, but she was a little confused and asked Beryl for clarification.

“Um, earlier you said you left Medicine to pursue a passion, and you also said running cargo bays and replicating relief supplies felt mundane. Does that mean you’ve not found your passion yet?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fair. I think commanding a starship someday… or even just serving on a starship in some capacity beyond being the doctor is my calling. I want to explore, solve mysteries, meet new races… But, nobody gets to the captain’s chair without experience. So for the time being, I’m working my way through command training, and getting some experience. I’ll probably apply for a transfer to a ship sometime in the next year or so, but I don’t want to be incompetent.” Beryl paused, pensively. “I mean, sure, there are some Starfleet doctors – mainly from the various Enterprises – who have documented a lot of famous away missions and accomplishments. But I think that’s more of an exception than a rule. I want – I need – to be more involved than patching up the crew when they come back from some strange new world.”

Luna nodded. So the Cargo bay was a means to an end, for Beryl to get command experience in pursuit of an ambition. It occurred to Luna that maybe these frontier doctors weren’t as far removed from the action as Beryl thought, but there was certainly some merit to what he was saying. A good doctor was often protected from the sharp end of the action, unless the action was a disease or organism of some kind. The question was, did the end justify the means? Luna put this to Beryl.

“So to achieve your passion you need to excel in your current post and move on up? But the work itself right now isn’t as rewarding as doctoring, does that sum it up?” She asked, glad of getting through some sentences finally without ‘um’ing or stammering.

Beryl considered her summation of his issues. They were accurate, though he felt a little shame as he realized he was being a little self-important about his job. “Yes, I suppose that’s correct. I know every job is important, we’re all cogs in the giant machine that is Starfleet… But yeah. It’s not very rewarding at the moment. Maybe I need to actively work on picturing the, uh, big picture.” Beryl winced at his less-than-poetic prose.

“I am confident I’ll get there, some day. At the very least, I’ll get to a starship. I think I can make it to XO, as well. CO, that’s a whole ‘nother beast, you know? But it’s in my sights. Just gotta keep my eye on the prize, and work at it. In the meantime, I will work on taking pride in what I do here. I want to do well for the sake of doing well, not just to move up, but being depressed about it isn’t helping.” Beryl surprised himself there. Was he depressed? He didn’t think so… But maybe. “Where’s the line between depression and just, I dunno, being unsatisfied for the moment, counselor?”

Things seemed to be going well, from Luna’s point of view and therefore, happily her stammer was largely gone as was the pervasive nervousness that caused it. He had used the term ‘depression’, which gave Luna an ‘in’ for some proper shop-talk.

“Well, um,” she started, “Depression is a particular thing, it’s um, maybe a word that’s used a bit too much? Depression is a mood disorder that can affect how you feel, think, and act,” she said, remembering her educational texts from the Academy. “Depression is characterized by persistent sadness and loss of interest in life that lasts for weeks or months. Depression has symptoms, feeling hopeless, thought spirals, self-derision, lack of energy, changes in sleep or appetite, thoughts of death or suicide… does that sound familiar? If not I think maybe it’s just dissatisfaction with your day to day, which would be understandable if that’s the case. Oh and um, while we’re talking technical,” she added, “you called me Doc? Before? I’m not a doctor. Just um, j… just a Counselor.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘just.’ But I understand, Counselor. Based on the clinical definition, then no, I’d say I’m probably not depressed – though I’ll leave the official diagnosing to you. None of those descriptors currently fit my mood or state of mind. Despite what I’ve been describing, I do actually enjoy what I’m doing, and I look forward to where it’s going. I guess it’s just… when I stop and think about the bigger picture… that’s when the doubt and second-guessing creeps in.”

Beryl stood up and started to pace a little bit. This seemed like some good progress, though he wasn’t exactly an expert on mental health, so what did he know? Still, the counselor’s words so far had reassured him considerably. It wasn’t exactly a quick fix, like mending a broken bone, or regenerating a cut; more like an initial inoculation in an immunization series. Something to start the process and build upon.

Luna was a little surprised by his rising to pace a bit, but she went with it, her eyes moving from one side to the other, tracking her patient as he stepped to and fro thoughtfully.

“I can’t tell you what I think you should do, but if you were to keep your eye on the prize as you said, I’d advise to do exactly what you suggested. Find the value in what you do now. Maybe try to find some different angles to look at it from, maybe speak to some people, if that’ll help. Maybe one of your team thinks your amazing because you’re great to work for or because their old Lieutenant was a nightmare. Maybe you can research the impact of what you do on the base and on the fleet? Maybe speak to your department head or whoever you report to to gain a bigger picture? Think about what happens if your job isn’t done or is done badly. And even though we get to do what we like and love a lot of the time in Starfleet, all Starfleet is service. We’re in service to the Federation, we protect them, whether we are in sickbay, cargo bay or a counseling office. There’s no weak link in the fleet, there’s no task that’s unworthy or less than… At least… th… that’s what I like to think.”

Luna offered Beryl a reassuring smile.

Beryl stopped pacing, and smiled back. “It’s funny how the big picture might simultaneously be the source of the problem and the solution, isn’t it? Temporary disappointment in my own current situation in relation to what Starfleet does, and yet, trying to keep in mind that my tasking is helping Starfleet to accomplish everything it does. Everyone’s tasking makes it happen.” Beryl nodded again, taking comfort with the thought, and holding onto it. “You know, ha, my first day as a deck officer was wild. The officer who was supposed to train me was arrested five minutes into the shift, and then some cadet showed up for his training, so I had to help him while helping myself direct a crew making and packing relief supplies! Anyway, I mention it because maybe I should look that cadet up. See how he’s doing. Maybe I helped him out after all.”

Luna nodded enthusiastically.

“Maybe,” she replied in a confirmational tone. “I wonder, did they know it was your first shift?”

“Oh yes,” Beryl confirmed enthusiastically. “I told him in the interest of transparency, and then had to talk him out of running away. We got through it together after reaching an understanding, but it was touch and go for a moment. I suppose mentoring cadets is another, perfectly valid method of contributing to Starfleet. Maybe I’ll make it known I’m open to hosting cadets on my shifts, or something like that.”

“Good idea,” Luna observed, “and that m… might make things a little less mundane in the immediate, help you get to that prize line? It… might even help with command experience?”

“Gah, fine.” Beryl spat out, but he wasn’t really mad. “Right on all counts, I imagine. Although if this just leads to an Academy posting, I’ll be sad. Teaching seems like the opposite of the final frontier. Still though, on an individual level, helping these cadets individually will be gratifying, and yeah, from a more selfish point of view, help me reach my own goals. Is that selfish?”

Luna considered this for a moment. She already knew what she thought having been asked a similar question before by other patients, but giving the appearance of further consideration would add weight to what she said, or so she thought. She believed the answer was important to Beryl.

“No. Of course we go where we are posted… but Starfleet doesn’t generally railroad officers into careers they don’t want. C… can you imagine me in security?” She asked with a smile. “Um… I think you’ll be able to get the relevant experience and if your superiors trying to push you in a certain direction be honest about what it is that you want. We… serve in Starfleet but that doesn’t mean Starfleet gets to dictate how we serve. If if people weren’t able to do what they love they would leave… wouldn’t they?”

“Hey I’m sure you’d sure you could be a pro with a phaser rifle in no time,” Beryl smiled. “But I hear you. I guess what I really meant was, is it ok to have that selfish thought when helping others? Since helping others should really be about them?” Beryl tilted his head side to side, mirroring his thoughts bouncing back and forth in his head.

“Actually, counselor, before you answer, let me elaborate just a little. I do want to help cadets for their own sake. I just… I just feel like it’s probably important for me to recognize and maybe explore the fact that I would also be doing it to help myself. My life’s calling isn’t to teach, but I’m happy to do it along the way. I dunno, I’m just trying to make sure that isn’t doing a disservice to the cadets.”

Luna took all of this in. It seemed to her that Beryl was over-thinking this a little. Any remotely selfish thought seemed to be an area of concern for him. Further, there were many people going about their days in Starfleet who didn’t have half the self-awareness and self-analysis skills he did. Purity of selflessness seemed to be the goal for him and a complete lack of hypocrisy or concealment. In some ways it was refreshing, but Luna I had to try to do what was best for him and that seemed to be enabling him to understand an element of selfishness and be okay with it.

“Um, I wonder what you think about Admiral Picard,” she started slowly, making sure her metophor was entirely germaine, “helping the Romulans after the destruction of their world? D… did he do it purely for them or was it to try to assuage his own guilt and anguish as well? Does that assuagement invalidate all the good things he has done since? We can help others while helping ourselves, I think. I’m not sure true selflessness exists in most people. There will always be an element of self-aid, even if it’s just the good feeling we get from having helped someone. I admire… y… your high standards, but… I think most people in Starfleet would want you to be happy with what you’re doing as well. Even if it’s just for optimising efficiency and outcome. Happy people are more productive and dedicated and produce better results, and this has been tested time and time again over the centuries. Therefore you I probably doing your best work when you are working as or towards something really important to you. It’s good that you recognise what’s going on, your levels of inner self-awareness are extremely high. But you can allow yourself to have a dual motive in what you do. You can be a little selfish.”

Beryl stopped his pacing and sat back down. “I probably have too much time to sit and think, ha. Still working on building a group of friends here on the starbase. But with regards to the admiral, that’s a good point. Whatever his personal feelings were, I can’t imagine ever holding it against him. He went to great lengths to help the Romulan people. That’s what counts. I suppose I should give myself a bit of a break.”

Luna nodded in agreement.

“I think so,” she said with a smile. “In… in fact that’s what I’d like you to work on between now and our next session. S… some home work, if you will? Trying not to over-analyse your own motives and accepting doing what it is you want to do within Starfleet as being okay. I want you to try to think, if you have doubts about what you are doing, that you told me b.. being a doctor didn’t make you happy and b… being a starship Captain will and someone who is happy in their role will be more effective and helpful than someone who isn’t happy. Remember that you trusted yourself enough to take the step of changing careers, and if you trust yourself, you should listen to yourself.”

Beryl took a deep breath as he heard and listened to the counselor. His first instinct was to immediately hate the idea of homework. But, he had to admit that the concepts of trusting oneself and not over-analyzing weren’t exactly essays. Beryl finally nodded, accepting the assignment.

“I will work on it. I can do this. We’ve discussed a lot today, I think. Plenty for me to draw on for guidance.” Beryl looked up to meet the counselor’s eyes. “I appreciate your help. I don’t know what I thought would happen, when I scheduled our meeting, so it’s not like I had negative expectations… I just… didn’t know. Anyway, thank you.”

Luna managed to hold his gaze for a moment before shyness overtook her and she looked away.

“Um, well, I hope it’s been helpful,” she said as brightly as she could muster. I don’t know what I thought would happen, when I scheduled our meeting… despite Beryl’s qualifications on this point Luna still identified this phrase as one she would read too much meaning into and over-analyse later on. She just hoped the identification of that would help limit the impact. “I’ll um, leave it with you to book a follow-up if… you d… decide you want one.”

“Will do, counselor. I’ll book another soon. I’ll take a few days to let all this sink in, and try to actualize it. I don’t want to come back with nothing to report!” Beryl rolled his eyes at himself as walked towards the door, cringing at comparing his self-improvement to an away mission. He turned back towards Luna before exiting.

“Thank you again. Have a good day, counselor.” Beryl smiled and left, already feeling confident and better equipped to get a handle on his feelings.

After working a double overnight shift, an interesting week of births, and life generally rearing its ugly head. Hilea retreated to her quarters. A few weeks of decorating had made it a relaxing space. Natural fabrics, throws, and soft furniture were in the living spaces. Plants with natural accents added scent and sight to help the senses decompress. She loved the modern conveniences but sometimes life should be softer than it was. Hilea had had to be hard everywhere else for nearly seven decades.

Her transition into Starfleet itself was not without the pain of a rebirth of sorts. Humans had been so alien during her initial encounters. During her time in the Dominion War, she had even met a few but of course, had not had time for any pleasantries.  Waking up in the late afternoon, she walked to the replicator, “Scottish black tea, sweet with a splash of cream. Half liter in an insulated mug, temperature, eighty Celcius.

Inhaling the steam from the hot beverage, she allowed it to help wake up her lungs as well as her mind. Taking a tentative sip. it was hot. Perfection. Moving to the spare room. Hileas started tending to plants. Picking a few choice strawberries from a lighted growth chamber, she set the fruit aside and tended to the rest of the plants, as she snacked.

A few minutes later, she sat in on a heavily cushioned mat in the clear center of the room. A holographic fireplace display crackled lightly nearby as Hilea started to meditate. Her mind unwinds the events of the day. the nearby now cooler tea, a drinkable temperature.

Ten minutes into the session, the walls of the room started to reverberate. She could hear unfamiliar stringed instruments and rhythm throughout the room, the conduits acting like an echo chamber. Strangely it wasn’t immediately annoying. Sipping her tea, she allowed the song to finish, the person playing the instrument clearly talented, even through the wall distortion.

As the player launched into the solo, Hilea got up. Realizing the moment was over for meditation, she changed into line dark blue Karate Gi, she liked the warmth, freedom of movement, and warmth it provided. Picking up a tricorder, she used it to make sure her senses were accurate enough that she would be pinging the right door for the disturbance.

Getting to the door, she stabbed the chime. Probably a bit too hard.

After Beryl’s enlightening session with Counselor Black, he’d decided some regular distraction might be in order. Too much time to brood was not going to help him out of his blues. A second realization came to Beryl: he hadn’t been lifting in months! He’d been so engrossed in his new career path that his usual exercise routine had been left by the wayside. Maybe that was why his uniform was feeling a little tighter than usual…

Changing into some workout clothing, Beryl decided he wasn’t ready to be seen in a Starbase gym. Maybe it had been more than a few months… Patting his belly, he turned away from the door to his room and returned to the bench in the corner of his living room. “Computer, give me some music… I’m thinking Dire Straights. Randomize the playlist, but make sure it’s upbeat.”

The computer chimed in acknowledgement of the request and began blasting a driving guitar riff. Beryl nodded, pleased the computer still remembered he liked volume. Excess volume? No, ridiculous. Just enough to fill the space.

Beryl only got about 2 sets in before he was sweating profusely. 3 sets in, he was considering calling it quits. Not seriously, of course, but man, he needed to build that stamina back up. Fortunately for him, the door chimed. Beryl racked the bar and walked to the door, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. The door slid open to reveal a face Beryl didn’t recognize. His first guess would’ve been Vulcan, but a hint of irritation on her face made Beryl think again.

“Ah, hello. Good evening, I mean. How can I help you?” Beryl shouted, then immediately winced as he realized what the problem likely was.

Hilea was about to speak when it occurred to her that the volume inside the human’s quarters wasn’t as high as she initially thought the volume was excessive, but her brow furrowed ever so slightly as her head tilted slightly in curiosity. The music was loud, but it should have been several decibels louder to get into her adjoining room.

She allowed a disarming smile to cross her face. The human reaction to realization seemed as universal as her own. “Jolan Tru, I am your neighbor Hilea. May I come in? I have questions, and now, we have a mystery to solve.  I would like to check something if nothing is on your side of the wall between our respective rooms. The volume levels between our side of the same wall are louder than should be.”

“Plus I would like to know the name of that musician or group playing through the walls.” She added, waiting to be let in.

Beryl tapped the wall console near the door to lower the volume to background noise, then stepped to the side. “Please, come in. I’m Beryl, and I love a good mystery.”

Beryl gestured towards the ‘living room.’ It wasn’t much, as he was only a Lieutenant, but it was better than the quarters he had been sharing as an Ensign. “Feel free to take a seat, or investigate away! Oh, and I’m listening to a 20th century band called Dire Straits. Got anything like them on… Romulus?” It wasn’t too risky a guess, given the pointy ears and her greeting, but Beryl still didn’t like to assume.

She found that if the person she greeted actually used their brain matter for something other than bipedal loc0motion, they didn’t just assume, and Hilea offered a  genuine. “Thank you. ” then added. I would say that that Rihannsu music is a bit more, technical, much of the time.

Walking in,  Hilea got her bearing and stepped into the center of the room. She wasn’t going to just barge into someone’s room.

“I can’t say I listen to anything modern, actually. My mother listened to an old genre called ‘rock and roll’ when I was young and impressionable, so it stuck with me. Sometimes I dabble in jazz from the same century as well. I like to dabble on the piano sometimes.” At the second use of the word ‘dabble’ in two sentences, Beryl realized he was babbling and closed his mouth. “Oh, ah, sorry about the workout gear in the way. I didn’t expect anyone to come knocking.”

A smile that time. “Dabble.” The word was unfamiliar and the UT had an odd congruent of lightly mashing paint on paper, but she got the intent. “Then perhaps we should play together, I do play keyboards as you call them. Please escort me to the room in question.” Hilea added.

The music now at a normal volume and listenable, Hilea was impressed as the human artist launched into a tune called Expresso Love. The complexity of the stringing techniques thwarted her efforts to decipher them, so she decided to simply enjoy the music. The electric guitar was loud yet undistorted, an impressive achievement.

“Well, if your quarters are just aft of mine, I guess we’re headed to the bathroom.” Beryl lifted an arm, gesturing towards the closed door to his left. “I believe the sonic shower unit is up against the adjoining wall. Maybe maintenance forgot to reinstall something?” Beryl wondered out loud, chuckling at the thought of maintenance just walking off with a panel of sound isolation without realizing where it came from.

When Hilea just stared at him, Beryl dropped his arm and led the way. As the bathroom door slid open, Beryl let out a quiet sigh of relief. He was generally a tidy individual, though if he were being honest, his standards had loosened slightly since moving into his own quarters. Still, the room was clean. He’d been caught pre-shower, so his grooming kit was still neatly stowed in the drawer, instead of being strewn about the countertop. Beryl remained in the doorway, so as not to crowd the tiny room while his next-door neighbor performed her inspection.

Feeling along the wall in a practiced manner, she reached in, loosening the panel, removing the inner seal making the bathroom water-tight. It was empty. “I will log the repair. At least it’s an easy fix.” She replaced the parts, making sure the seal was intact. Setting the panel to the side, Hilea said, “Mystery solved. Happens more than you think.”

Hilea walked back to the main room, as it was only polite. She listened to the complex rhythms the artist was making on the electric Stratocaster. Being exposed to some music, she knew the difficulty it took to play like that. It was almost banjo-like, loud and distortion-free. But the feel was very much a blues tune. Incongruent to her, but the tune impressed, not an easy fete.

“Perhaps since you are more versed, something complex like this but less about love?” Hilea asked. “Romance isn’t something I have time for at the moment anyway. Perhaps something different?”

Beryl shuffled through his mental library of rock and roll tracks. “Well, if you don’t mind changing artists, how about this one… Computer, play Locomotive Breath by Jethro Tull.” After the computer beeped acknowledgement, Beryl looked at Hilea again. “It’s another blues. Which is about as simple of a musical form as it gets, but the flute soloist plays some very cool riffs in the middle.”

The piano intro passed, and the lyrics began. Then Beryl turned a little red. “Oh, I guess there is that throwaway line about his woman and his best friend,” Beryl admitted sheepishly. “But it’s one line. Clearly not a love song. Here’s the solo. Let me know what you think.”

Hilea walked around until she found the acoustic center as the song start slow Building in tempo, it was a lively and interesting tune. She also had not expected the rock flute solo. “An excellent choice. With all the music in the database and sometimes the selections chosen to display human talent can be so shallow.”  She observed.

“For example. One of the songs chosen was by the musical group REM called ‘The one I love.’ Universally the worst song of the entire album considering songs like ‘Welcome to the Occupation’ and ‘It’s the end of the world as we know it.’   Yet humans choose it far more on average.” Hilea commented.

“Ha, yeah. I would guess the fact that you’re a musician biases your opinion of the quality of music. There’s just too much music on the market now to do this, but back when this song was released, there were ‘charts’ on which songs were rated by the general public. The public had a strong tendency to just rate songs based on stuff like catchiness. Artists who were more interested in making money than making quality music figured out there were certain chord progressions, for example, that the public tended to gravitate towards, and popular music would often just follow these very simple formulae to stay at the top of the chart. Anyway, what I’m trying to say with all my rambling is that maybe the computer’s selection-bias has to do with general human bias. We want to hear some complexities, but maybe the majority of listeners are asking the computer for some basic I-vi-IV-V progression with catchy lyrics?” Beryl caught his breath after ending his monologue.

“That helps more than you know. I can filter out some of the love songs.” Hilea thanked him as algorithms popped into her head. She involuntarily shuddered for a split second thinking about the music. “Popular music charts suggest alternative sides exist. Interesting.”

“Maybe there are some Romulan tunes you could introduce me to?” Beryl questioned. “I admit I’ve never even considered checking out Romulan music, but I’m open to it.”

Hilea laughed at that. “Oh, I don’t think I want any parade marches today. Music that doesn’t support the state?” Her head twisted, “I shall be right back.” She walked out with purpose. A minute later she had her instrument. A meter long and slightly thicker than a double-wide guitar neck, Hilea took a seat. “I am not quite ready for my recital. This will have to do until I get something more inspiring.” 

She starts playing “Ghost Riders in the Sky”

Beryl watched and listened as his new neighbor started jamming out. He started bobbing his head a bit with the beat. Not wanting to interrupt her playing, he waited for the song to finish before speaking up. “Nice playing! Also, good song choice. I’ll have to dust off the ivories and maybe we can play together sometime. Although, fair warning, don’t ask me to sing unless you develop a sudden urge to claw your ears out.” Beryl grinned. “It’s funny, I feel like most musicians develop at least some vocal abilities, but I just can’t sing to save my life.”

Hilea nodded adding a thin smile. “Perhaps I will expand my musical inventory. The ivories, as you call them, can be more intricate, but the aptitude to play at more than an amateur level requires dedication and practice. There was much I had to relearn during an enforced hiatus from access to any keyboards. As for the voice, thanks for the forewarning. Will I need noise-cancelling headphones?” She said with a rare wry smile.

“Have you taken sustenance? As a neighbor, Mnhei’sah demands I look after my neighbors, and I would be remiss if we didn’t at least attempt to share a meal. Perhaps one attuned to the kind of food one serves before the concert?” She asked with genuine interest.

Beryl nodded his head, excited about food, then realized his mistake. “I mean no, I haven’t eaten, I nodded because the mention of food suddenly made me very hungry. I’d be happy to get a pre-concert meal, haha. Let me think…” Beryl tapped his chin. “Well if I were going to a Dire Straits gig, I’d probably get something simple like a hot dog, and pair it with something my dad called ‘captain ‘n’ diet.’ It’s rum and a soft drink, if you aren’t familiar. Let me just change my shirt real quick…”

Emerging from his bedroom with less-sweaty attire than he had entered, Beryl clapped his hands together. “Alright, shall we find a galley? Or would you like to eat here?”

Hilea thought about the question, then countered. “An interesting idea. I accept. At the risk of being overly familiar, using the small galley in my quarters would be easier, and I do not need to change clothing.”

“Fine by me, lead the way.”

Walking back to her quarters, Beryl followed. Walking in the heat was welcoming, but she knew it would be too hot for Beryl. “Computer, lower the temperature by five degrees Celsius and increase ventilation by twenty percent.  Welcome to my House, as it were.”  In one of the corners, Hilea looked up various hot dog variations, and how things were traditionally prepared. Seeing the sheer number of choices, she asked, “Perhaps some assistance? I can cook them, but let me get us something appropriate to accompany them.”

A small refrigerator gave up a large pitcher of lemonade with a few jalapeno slices. Retrieving two large tumblers, she rimmed the glass with a sugar-salt mix, added ice, and then pulled out a half-empty blue bottle. Pouring two fingers of the blue fluid into each, she added the lemonade, turning the whole mixture slightly green.

Handing one to Beryl, she apologized, “I am sorry the vintage of ale isn’t spectacular. Getting harder and harder to find anything drinkable.” She said, then raising her glass,  “Ale, like love and politics burn, but life would be cold without them.”

Beryl raised both eyebrows. He liked that toast, and raised his glass in kind. “To ale.” With a grin and a chuckle, Beryl took a sip. He rolled the liquid over his tongue, appreciating it, before swallowing. Then took another.

“So, I think grilling is the best option for hot dogs. I’m not convinced the grill marks actually do anything flavor-wise, but I like how they look. Presentation is important. My father used to host little grilling competitions when I was young. He’d haul an old, gas-powered contraption out of the shed, spend three hours cleaning it, then spend the next few hours drinking and ‘manning the grill,’ as he called it. I think it was an excuse to just be alone with his thoughts, which I can appreciate now that I’m older. Hopefully a little wiser.” Beryl paused a moment. “I don’t know what that last bit has to do with grilling hot dogs. Old memory resurfacing, I guess.”

The brain can be triggered by so many responses, that sometimes I think it doesn’t happen often enough.” Hilea said. She sipped the spicy green lemonade, the sour and sweet going back and forth as the heat left seconds after swallowing. Walking back to the kitchenette, she changed out the small tile on top to a ridged cast iron plate and turned it on. A light glowed red nearby. Setting the grill to medium-high, Hilea placed three pairs of hot dogs on the grill. One beef natural casing. Something called a Coney, it was also natural casing but was white. Lastly, something called a bratwurst. The meat sizzled on the grill-plate.

Hilea commented, “I will need to visit the training room today. Especially if these ‘dogs’ are as succulent as they smell.” The small filter unit above the grill removed the toxic fumes, leaving a lingering scent that tempted her tastebuds. She saw Beryl retrieving some items from the replicator.

Beryl returned to the kitchenette with an armful of small bowl. Setting them on the counter, he arranged them in a line. “So here are some typical condiments. There are no required toppings for a hot dog – it’s all personal preference. I believe, centuries ago, some classic hot dog arrangements had specific names, but I couldn’t tell you what they were.”

Beryl proceeded to load up a bun, explaining as he went. “So I put some mustard along the bottom, with onions. I think putting them underneath the dog helps maintain its structural integrity.” Beryl chuckled to himself, then shuddered at the thought of all the condiments spilling out. “I admit it’s a little neurotic, but I absolutely hate when sandwich components fall out while I eat. Anyway, the options I have laid out are ketchup, mustard, onions, pickles, and relish. Feel free to experiment, but again, no requirements.”

She duplicated what Beryl had done but added the topping last. Ketchup was far too sweet.  The mustard was pungent and tasty, adding a few fresh dill pickles spears to her plate. “In my case, I can opt to change the toppings. ”  After the long shift, Hilea inhaled the beef natural skin hotdog. The snap of the casing, no matter whether the item was replicated, was satisfying.

The next one was called a Coney, the white hotdog picking up nice grilled marks. This time she added relish. Pungent but interesting, she finished half before putting it down and adding mustard. “So far, I am a convert. Nice choice.”

Beryl nodded while chewing, his mouth full of Louisiana hot-link. He swallowed quickly. “I’m glad you approve. It’s embarrassing to recommend a favorite food to someone, only to see a look of disgust on their face as they take a bite.” Then he had a thought. Should he brush up on Romulan cuisine? He certainly didn’t want to be a source of Hilea’s disappointment for their next meal.

“I do think, however, this food was fairly polarizing back in the day. People either loved ’em or hated ’em. Also, they were often served alongside burgers, and were typically an ‘either-or’ situation.” Beryl thought on his own little historical tidbit for a moment, as he took another bite. “Of course, I could be sensationalizing them a bit. For some reason, history books don’t seem particularly heavy on the topic of hot dogs.” Beryl smirked.

“The snap of that Coney is particularly satisfying.  Perhaps nex…” Hilea offered before being interrupted by the comm system. “Rodrigues to t”Rehu. Missus Noisago is dilated to 7.1 centimeters.”

Tapping her commbadge, Hilea offcred. “I will be there shortly. Thank you, Anna. t’Rehu out.” Turning to Beryl, she asked, “Will you tidy up here while I change? I would be grateful.”

Beryl gulped down the last bite and nodded. “Of course! Do what you need to do.” He began stacking a few plates to bring to the replicator.

Walking into the next room, she shed the Karate Gi she was wearing, slipping on a thin base layer of silk thermals. Her immaculate teal uniform went on next, then black socks. Finally her boots. It only took a few moments to brush out her hair, pull it into a teal ponytail, and added a pop of red lipstick.

Hilea moved with purpose, walking out of the bedroom and sealing it. At the other side of the room, she popped open the spare room. It was an eclectic mix of warm woods, soft and hard furniture, several large floor-to-ceiling plant chambers, and her instrument collection in front of the wall display. An acoustic guitar, keyboards, a steel guitar, and two that were alien.

“Feel free to play around in here, this might take twenty minutes, or it could hours. I can share of bit of this, I remember how small some of those quarters can be.”

Beryl gawked at the collection, almost spilling the food remains onto the carpet. “Wow, nice gear. Maybe I’ll take a pluck or two at the steel guitar after I clean this up.” He fed the plates in, watching the replicator reclaim them with a twinkle of light. “And thank you.”

“Instruments unplayed are just pretty rocks.” She said.

After Hilea had left, Beryl cleaned up the kitchenette to the best of his ability, hoping it would be satisfactory to his newfound neighbor. He strode over to the instruments then, stopping to admire the pair of unfamiliar, alien devices. Reaching out, Beryl barely brushed his fingers against one, before he thought better of it.

“Probably shouldn’t break something while she’s away.” Beryl said to the empty room. Abruptly, he decided it was time to leave, and exited her quarters. He took Hilea at her word that he was welcome to stay and play some music, but he still felt awkward hanging around here without her. Maybe that was a human reluctance that Romulans didn’t share. At any rate, Beryl had enjoyed hanging out. He’d be back.

For the admittedly insular Luna Black her quarters were a haven of refuge. This was the one place on the gargantuan Star Base Bravo she could be largely assured of being left alone, and adjusting to life on the station had her reaching for her safe space fairly regularly. But there was one problem, her quarters didn’t have a window. It happened on ships and bases alike, not all of the small suites especially those used for more junior officers could have one. She’d made the best of it, giving her space a comfy and cosy vibe, setting up lighting pre-sets that were cossetting, laying out warm textiles such as blankets, throws and cushions, arranging her many, many books to create a sort of library and reading nook with a supremely comfortable chair in a corner by the desk. It was cute, but at certain times and in certain moods she felt a little boxed-in. After a replicated dinner of Penne with a Pancetta and Pea cream sauce followed by a nice sour apple she scooped up a book, a bottle of water, a P.A.D.D. and a banket into a black messenger bag and set off to do some more exploring.

The buzz of the recreational areas was vibrant and joyous, but to the painfully shy Luna this was uncomfortable and set her on edge. Still she appreciated the intrepid feelings of exploration, letting her curiosity carry her to wherever seemed an interesting place to go. She noted various facilities, cafes, eateries, bars for future reference and, as was typical, went largely unnoticed by the many crew and civilians who bustled about their evening as she moved between groups of chatters and bodies coming the other way. After around half an hour of peering here and there Luna spied a small area that piqued her interest. It was a little section of transitional space between the edge of some facilities and the start of a section of crew quarters that contained some semi-private spaces either for work or modest congregation, constructed in little squares of upholstered seating with small convenient tables adjacent for P.A.D.D.s and drinks and other paraphernalia. Best of all, the two squares furthest away gave up two sides, one for entrance and one composed of a large floor-to-ceiling window affording a great view of the planet below.

It was perfect.

Luna took in the planet for a few minutes, watching cloud formations slowly rotating in a mesmeric show of scale. Placing her bag down she carefully slid off her boots and popped them neatly under the adjacent table. Bottle positioned nearby with the cap removed and a blanket slid over her legs she nestled up against the edge of the seat, tracking the trajectory of an outgoing shuttle for thirty seconds or so as it caught her eye before gratefully slipping into the world of her book, Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott.

After a trying double shift in Sickbay, Hilea was physically fine, but mentally scattered. The Rodrigues twins had been very difficult but mother and babies now resting comfortably. An hour long work out and soak in the gym’s hot tub did little to improve her mood.

A set of cotton sweatshirt, pants, and sneakers, Hilea started chores in her quarters. Getting restless she walked into the other room. Filled with her bonsai and other botanical creations, the room was a pop of green, color, and scent.

Looking over at the now-meter-high flowering apple tree, it needed a new home. A nearby simple cart she kept for such occasions was loaded with the offering, she grabbed her tools, headphones, and some chocolate bars she made then headed out to find a temporary home for the apple tree. It was a large base and a few plants she found improved the space to her eyes and psyche.

A few minutes later she came across a spot she thought was very suitable. A nice view. It would be attractive to the contrast of the stars.  The young woman in the corner was reading a book. Hilea asked her, “Do you mind if I add this tree over near the tables? The counterpoint against space on the other side of the room adds an interesting element. Though it needs a bit more light.”

“Um…” Luna scrambled to sit upright, for no real reason at all, as if a parent might chastise her for slobbing around reading a book. The sudden stress and startle stole the Counselor’s words from her. It didn’t help the word she was trying began with a P. P was her nemesis.

“P… p…”

Change of tactic.

“Yes, of course,” she managed. “I think that’d look nice.”

Nice? Nice. Great word, Luna. Does she care what you think? Oh she’s a Vulcan, oh gosh, she must think I’m so illogical. Way to represent humanity, Luna, she thought, as if that job fell on her and not the other thousands to millions of humans in Starfleet.

“I was hoping for inventive or spectacular, but nice will do.” the tall woman said.

“Um…” Great start, Luna thought, though this was nothing new for her. She could psych herself out of any first meeting so that she didn’t even give herself a chance to be anything other than mediocre at social interaction. The problem was that Luna didn’t trust her ability to assess what the plant was, from an aesthetic point of view.

“I… would never have thought to put a plant there, so… yes investive,” she admitted.

Adjusting the lighting to suit the plant, Hilea set the cycles so that the plant would get the light it needed. Satisfied with the results after some tweaking, she turned and greeted the woman.

“Hilea t’Rehu.” She said, Pronouncing the Rihannsu name properly. “Recently transferred from starship duty.”

Noticing the book, she remembered it had been talked about by non-humans. She hadn’t read it yet. Recently she had been introduced to a human custom called movie night. Over the past few months, it had expanded her understanding of humans, though there was still much to learn. Instead she inquired, “What is the book about?”

Two questions. Luna fumbled over her brain trying to work out which one to answer first, her confusion over Hilea’s two names adding a whole new level of addle to the situation.

“Um, it’s about four women, young women. Sisters. In the nineteenth century on Earth. Semi-autobiographical? Um…” Luna considered some more words to explain it, without ruining the story should Hilea wish to read it.

“It’s about work, and love, domesticity… it’s considered a classic…” she addeded, looking the book over, rather unable to look Hilea in the face. But she had to briefly to introduce herself.

Come on Luna, you can do this.

“L… Luna Black, she said, looking up and accidentally meeting the other woman’s gaze, her words escaping her as the unexpected Amber hue of her eyes completely derailed what confidence she did have.

“Um….”

Come ON, Luna, she implored herself in her mind. Say something, build a rapport. But what? Oh! The ship!

“I… recently transferred here from a ship too,” she offered, her features not having received the memo of relief from her mind over coming up with something to say and still looking just slightly petrified.

Why she intimidated the human she didn’t know, but humans weren’t the masters of body language and inflection. Giving the woman an out she offered, “Interesting. A classic. Is there a screen adaptation you consider accurate?” Hilea paused, setting aside the now empty cart and sitting down headphones in hand. “Movie night is getting quite popular. I have to confess that it has allowed me to learn about Federation culture in unexpected ways.”

Luna looked mildly less timid, but only mildly.

“Um, I don’t really… watch… Um… I prefer to read,” she responded.

Come on Luna, that’s a closed-personality response. 

“D… do you like to read?”

Hilea chuckled once, and even a slight smile could be noticed. “If reading was something to be avoided, then medicine was the wrong choice. Ever since my Medical credentials were reinstated, any free hours are typically spent in either research, lab work, or extra hours in the clinic or surgery.”

Luna couldn’t help wondering why Medical credentials had to be reinstated. Was Hilea in some trouble?

Reaching into her pocket, Hilea took out two chocolate bars. “Would like some dark chocolate. It will keep me from eating both bars at least. However, my knowledge of human literature was in the too-short Officer’s Exchange program. Though I am not the usual selection. I was told an hour before my shuttle left. Most candidates get a month to prepare.”

Luna’s question was answered. She made a mental note that this would be a good follow-up topic. Being a counselor, she could use her work knowledge to overcome her shyness and this woman seemed pleasant and open. Luna continued to listen.

“To be honest, I am looking for musical selections, but I would be glad of any suggested readings, Luna.  Curling up with a thick blanket, perhaps some Vulcan brandy, though Ale is superior, though now a rarity, is a special counter to the coldness of life.”

Luna opened her mouth to give an instant response in the negative as far as chocolate was concerned, but she managed to reign that in and made a different calculation in her head. Were she counseling someone on loneliness, how to make friends and me charismatic, what would she advise? She would say be open, say yes to offers and say thank you. No is a very finalistic word.

“Um… y… y… y…”

Dammit.

“…thank you,” she managed, and took the offered bar, looking it over. It seemed a type she wasn’t familiar with.

Good, she mentioned curling up with blankets, you can relate to that. You can do this, Luna counseled herself.

“Um… yes! Um… I like to curl up with a blanket and read too.”

Why? Share.

“…but my quarters don’t have a window… so… so I came here.”

Next level. Share a feeling. Open up.

“Feels…” Claustrophobic? No, that was an over-used technical term and she didn’t have that phobia. “…feels sort of closed in? A bit?” Luna congratulated herself inside. If she were her own counselor she’d have been proud. She fumbled a little inexpertly with the chocolate wrapping, but gained entry in any case and took in the aroma. It smelt wonderful.

Hilea nodded in agreement. “Something of a problem for many of us. There are ways to trick the eyes—mirrors to make a space look larger. I have even considered adding a flat panel display of one of the more pleasant views outside the station. ” Pausing, she took a bite of the dark chocolate. Melting in her mouth as she chewed, the rich, smooth,  dark chocolate, had a hint of orange flavor at the finish.

“Perhaps, that is why we are both not in our quarters. What do the humans call it? Room fever?” Hilea asked.

“Ummmmmmm, Cabin Fever?” Luna suggested. She liked the idea of the display, but if she got the illusion correct then she’d never leave her room. Little did she know there was already a system in place in her quarters for this, a holographic window display. But she’d never activated it. The Counselor in her informed her that a screen was a bad idea and being out and about meeting people was good. But the Luna in her disagreed. Still, this Hilea seemed pleasant enough. She hadn’t said anything mean yet. Luna copied her and tried some of the chocolate. Her already large eyes widened with the immense taste of it.

“CABIN fever, thank you,” Hilea said in response. The chocolate had a more immediate effect on Hilea. “Sometimes just to have a moment to savor the good things in life.” She took another bite, letting it melt and smooth out in her mouth before swallowing.

Hilea replied. “So what brings you here, Luna? I’m one of the surgical staff.”

“Um, I’m a counselor,” she explained after swallowing the chocolate. The sweet orange fragranced her mouth with an almost festive richness. “My C… Captain said I wasn’t going to get the experience I needed on my old ship… so um… when he promoted me I was assigned here… lots of people on Starbase Bravo, um… new patient every day sort of thing.”

And now you need to ask her.

“What about you?” Luna added quickly and took another perfumed bite of chocolate. It was too tempting.

“Surgery, clinic hours, time to dabble in the lab when it is quiet,” Hilea said. “Too bad good Ale is memory. Perhaps an interesting counterpoint to the chocolate.”

Savoring the flavoring, Hilea turned back on the conversation. “Counselor.” She repeated more to herself.  Then added. “No doubt I am on your list somewhere. ”

“Oh… well…” Luna took a moment to compose phrasing in her head.

“Often we p… pair counselors with patients of the same race together, that’s not to say that counselors can’t counsel people of other races, b… but… for example… a Vulcan Counselor would probably be of more help to a Vulcan… so if there’s one on staff… so um… maybe not on my list? I don’t know,” she replied weakly.

Hilea chewed on half of the remaining chocolate while she thought about Luna’s answer. “So, since I am not your patient, I can count on complete honesty, good.”  She paused. “Perhaps, being my friend instead of my counselor would be an acceptable option.” Hilea said geniunely.

Luna found this troubling. She didn’t know this person who may or may not be a Vulcan. Already she was talking of friendship, something Luna found to be a difficult concept. Letting people in often resulted in pain. She wasn’t immediately sure how to respond. The only viable answer she could come up with was derailment.

“Um, well, I’d say maybe that you might get more honesty from a counselor? I can’t be a good c… counselor without being honest b… but friends could lie to one-another to be kind?…”

“Interesting that Mnhei’Sahe would require an falsehood.” The UT clearly translating the word as honor and ruling passion. Seeing the furrowing brow on the clearly uncomfortable woman. “I apologize, if I have made you anxious. I tend to ramble. It has been a complicated day.” Hilea said, getting up and retrieving the cart, and her headphones.

Something in Luna was sorry she was going. Despite her slightly uncomfortable forwardness, she had been kind and open and had given Luna chocolate without a moment’s hesitation. And Luna did want this new posting to be successful and part of that was actually having some proper friends rather than being an also-ran. Luna had never had what she would have classified as a proper friend. Someone who was just as into being friends as she was, who built anything more than surface acquaintance. She hoped that could change. And this Hilea seemed willing. She was new to Star Base Bravo, maybe she needed a friend too? It occurred to Luna this really wasn’t just about her. If Hilea was being so open and kind, even to a stranger, looking for places to put plants maybe she was wanting to meet people as well? Maybe her interesting heritage was as Luna’s anxiety and a bit of a bump in the road to socialising.

“Wait, um…” Luna said quickly, sitting forward. “I… ‘m sort of pretty anxious anyway, it’s n… not you. Um, please stay, if you want? I may not… you might not be one of my patients but… you could tell me about your day…? If you wanted to…?” She offered Hilea a smile. It was one of her better and more convincing efforts and showed her rather prominent front teeth.

Hilea stopped. Turning around she saw the genuine smile from the young woman, the innocent eyes. Hilea had had to make herself fit others ideas of what she should be to survive. Perhaps like herself, this one needed a second chance.

Sitting back down, she looked at her headphones. “Perhaps a topic change. What do you consider good music? ” Hilea added with her own small smile.

“Oh! Um…” Luna didn’t really think of herself as a music person, but when she did listen it was calming. This would be a surprise to nobody.

“I um… On Setlik two… where I’m from… in my town there I was this big round meeting Hall, like a big theatre? Used as a cinema and theatre and meeting area and spiritual place… there was this choir they had there… people in my town who used to like to sing… I always went to listen, it was beautiful… just voices, no instruments. The sound… would reverberate around the top of the hall… I’d always go listen to get away from people. It was peaceful. So now I listen to that kind of thing, sometimes, to relax after work?”

Hilea nodded. “Most people who sing do not understand that playing the instrument can be just as engaging as being able to vocally reprocess the sounds. It helps me unpack the stress of the day, usually.”

“Oh um, what do you play?” Luna enquired. It seemed the logical next question.

Mostly a Rihannsu instrument similar to guitar but played flat. I have a few in my quarters. Though it has been a  while since I have had any audience.” Hilea said geniunely. “I would be very interested in learning any human styles I might be able to mimic or merely enjoy.”

Rihannsu. Luna recognised the word. So that was it, she was a Romulan. Hilea’s mention of an Officer Exchange suddenly made sense. The U.T.’s spicy translations did also. Luna looked at the woman again with a different lens. It was a little odd to be sat sharing chocolate and conversation with a Romulan. It was a lot less odd than it might have been twenty years before but Romulans still weren’t a common site on Federation facilities.

“I think there’s a kind of human guitar played on the lap? I’m not sure really…” Luna replied  not really knowing what else to say. Her parents had never taken much of an interest in a musical education for their daughter and as her natural tendency was not towards musicality she’d never learned and was far too shy to try, lest she be expected to perform.

Hilea nodded. She got up and retrieved her things. “Thank you for the conversation. Perhaps we shall meet again. She started to leave then turned asking. “What do you like to add to chocolate? I need ideas for my next batch. The replicator version is underperforming. I had to get into the lab and fix it.”

Truth be told Luna didn’t eat much chocolate. But when she did…

“Um, caramel?” She offered, hoping it would be taken as a good suggestion.

“Burnt Sugar?” Hilea asked. The UT did not quite have a Rihannan counterpart for the word. It had spat out a complex formula and some to her incongruent words. Her head had taken on an odd tilt.

“Um, not burnt but kinda brown?” Luna tried to explain. “It’s… very sweet but um, well I like it.”

“I believe I understand.” Hilea’s head righted again but if anything, she looked more in thought. “Something I haven’t made yet. Do you have experience in cooking it? There is a small galley in my quarters. Enough to make a few small confections. Life is cold and hard enough without a bit of something for self. As a counselor, would you agree?”

Luna thought back to her Childhood on Setlik II and the menial work she had had to do being pigeonholed by her gender. Part of that was cooking and baking.

“Um… yes. Everyone… needs a few treats now and then?” She replied. “I’ve not made it… not f… for a few years b… but um, I could make it. It’s not hard, a bit messy maybe?”

Hilea seemed unworried. “That is a typical event. But your assistance would make the time pass easier. Installation of a small kitchenette, if I remember the term correctly, was needed. However, I initially did it to be curious about food without prying eyes. Now it can be a stabilizing force.” Hilea stopped almost abruptly. “Please tell me if I am oversharing.”

Luna shook her head emphatically.

“No, no. I um, I haven’t really cooked anything since I left Setlik two. I um, I didn’t really want to honestly. I had to do a lot there. Wasn’t allowed to do much else. B… but it’s fine.”

“It’s fine you want to do it, or it’s fine you will do it but would prefer another task? I would prefer the company. Listening to the computer for music and interaction gets stale.” Hilea ask Luna honestly.

“Oh, um… I can show you how to m… make it?” Luna offered, trying to be bright and friendly. Hilea was kind of intimidating and she was getting her trains of thought in a big muddle. She closed her book and stood, collecting the blanket. “If um… if you want?”

Hilea smiled warmly. Even Luna would be able to tell it was genuine. “I am…grateful.” She said pausing. “For some reason, I don’t make friends easily. Shall we go?”

Luna nodded.

“Oh um, me neither.”

Luna followed as Hilea led the way. Apparently she was going to make caramel for a Romulan now. Luna from an hour ago would never have believed it. But she’d been assigned to Starbase Bravo to broaden her horizons, and she was certainly doing that.