2100 Hours

Dr Deuc Endoll found himself coming the final dictation of the day, he sighed deeply as he moved around a few PADDs on his desk to free up some space and rested his elbows on the now cleared desk. “Computer access patient file Miran, Tandaria” as the computer acknowledged his request he lent his weight onto his elbows and interlocked his fingers to wrest his chin upon.  The room was still filled with the subtle scent of sandalwood mingled with the natural scent produced by the young Human Ensign.  One aspect of his heritage was an almost extraordinary sense of smell, he would often recognise people but their scent alone, and if positioned far from an air recycling unit could follow the scent to the person over several hundred metres; should he wish.

 The holographic display in front of him changed from his usual LCARS holding screen to the file of the Ensign.  He verbally navigated until he reached the transcription of his last notes. He scanned them quickly before he lifted his head from resting on his interlaced fingers and pressed the record button “I reviewed Ensign Miran today in my clinic as agreed.  She feels the recent increase in her medication has been of marked benefit in her overall mental state and her engagement with more social activities outside of duty hours has also been of benefit.  She spent time telling me of her new found interest in an ancient Earth game called Dungeons and Dragons which allows her to play a self-created character in fictional fantasy universe governed by procedural rules and dice rolling. I would suggest this fictional universe allows her to explore her ability for social engagement with no potential negative consequences on herself due to the role playing aspect of the activity.  I have encouraged her to continue with the pastime as it also allows for her increased socialisation with others of similar interests.  Of note is that Ensign Miran has yet to under-take my suggested Rational Emotive Behaviour Therapy, but she is aware that this is available to her with Counsellor Kincaed should she wish.  I have no plans on seeing Ensign Miran again, and therefore discharge her back to the care of her primary physician.”

He ended the recording as he saw his words transcribed on the screen.  He brought up her regular prescription and signed it off before recording a message to be sent to her physician “Dear Dr T’Mel, I have discharged Ensign Tandaria Miran back to your care.  Please find attached latest clinic notes as well as current prescription which I would be grateful for you to assume responsibility for.  Should you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to re-refer her” he tapped a few commands and the message would be available to Dr T’Mel the next time they accessed their system. After doing so he lent his head back and rolled it around anti-clockwise feeling his neck ridges click slightly as he did so, one of the few little pleasures he allowed himself at the end of a day of drudgery: Oralius save him from the WWW – walking worried well. Deuc could remember the days when he treated people with mental illnesses, when he had been the faint glimmer of hope during the darkest time in someone’s life.  The times when he had walked the path with someone who was on the precipice of the void, and guided them back to light. Now he was a glorified sounding board. Pushing his chair back he gathered the remaining PADDs and stacked them to one side of the desk for Petty Officer Derri to collect and sort once Deuc had finished for the day.  He stood up and lent forward to turn off LCARS display “Computer turn off lights” as he approached the door it opened to reveal Lieutenant Commander Sawa Al’Najjir.

Her dark brown eyes fixed on his as she held up a PADD, “Do you want to explain this to me?”

Deuc tilted his head slightly, “It’s a PADD”

“Once again your observational skills are second to none” she thrust the PADD out and waited as Deuc read it, “You’re transfer request has been approved” she pulled the PADD back, “The transfer request I had no idea about!” her voice rose slightly, she was clearly angry but trying her best to contain it.

 Deuc rand his fingers through his tousled hair, as he moved his hand back down her saw a stray brown hair caught between his fingers.  Dying his hair light brown from it’s default black was a habit he had picked after his time volunteering in the Bajoran camps as a teenager, he needed a way to differentiate himself from Cardassians, “I didn’t realise I had to inform you” he said as he gestured for her to walk with him. He looked to her as she fell into step beside him, and raised his hand to stop her from responding, “I have made it quite clear that I have not enjoyed my posting her, I want to seek new experiences, I want to explore”

She sighed “You had a moral duty to tell me, I’m the Head Physician on the station” the anger still evident in her voice.

“Morality is quite subjective as your know Sawa” he stopped mid-stride to look at her, “I made the request yesterday, I have not seen you since I made the request, I had expected at-least a few weeks before a response came”

 “I felt so embaressed when the XO came down and said command had approved your transfer request”

“You are Head Physician, I am Head Psychiatrist, please don’t tell me you’ve been under the impression you have been my boss for the last 2 years?” he laughed slightly.

She paused before she responded “Well I am Head Physician, you are a physician”

“I am also a Psychiatrist, and do you equally think you are the superior to GanTor the Head Surgeon?”

“Well no, he’s a surgeon”

“And I am a psychiatrist…”

“I don’t understand what you are getting out”

Deuc rolled his eyes “I don’t really think I have the time, nor the crayons to explain this to you” he resumed his ‘One clue should be the extra solid pip on my collar” he said with a wry smile on his lips, “the other should be that there is not a Chief Medical Officer at the hospital here, but three Heads of Fields” he let out a long breath, “I mean c’mon Sawa both GanTor and I underwent general medical training like you, but then specialised into our fields; which means we can both do your job, but you certainly can’t do ours” as he reached the turbolift he stepped inside, turning around briefly to snatch the PADD out of her hands as the door closed “Catch you around sunshine”.

::2100::

Deuc looked at the three large foot lookers stood on-top of one another in the centre of the living room.  He was sure that his new posting would not have quarters as luxurious as those od DS13, on most starships even the Captain’s quarters would pale in comparison to his current ones.  It wasn’t something he would miss, if anything there was too much space and in the two year he had been there he had managed to fill most of the room with unnecessary clutter:  he had a harp, he couldn’t even play the harp.  In fact he considered himself quite literally tone deaf; excellent olfactory skills but somewhat limited auditory ones. The last 3 hours of methodically going through his possessions and selecting those he felt necessary for this new posting gave him a sense of clarity that he had lacked for a long time.  He placed the wooden recitation mask gently on top of his clothes in the final footlocker and covered it with a deep green robe before closing the lid.  He tapped his communicator “Endoll to transporter control”

“Go ahead Dr Endoll”

“My items are ready for transport over to the runabout”

“Understood…energising”

With those words the three large footlockers demateralised in front of him, leaving no evidence of their ever existing. He looked around the cavernous room, everything else would be packed away by station staff and sent to his family home on Vandora; the USS Venture would be his new start.  He tapped his communicator again, he still would like to officially say goodbye to the CO before he left, but the Captain had made a point of avoiding Endoll at every opportunity she had, likewise the XO.  Endoll was unsure if it was because they had both served in the Dominion War and held a somewhat understandable distrust of people who looked like him, or if they were just scared of psychiatrists.  With the XO he assumed it was both and a third reason.  To call the Bolian officious was an insult to bureaucrats the galaxy over, the man was nothing more than an administrator who enjoyed the power that came with refusing requests, he often spoke of his ‘time on the front’ but a quick scan of his service record showed the closest he had come to any conflict was as a supply officer on Starbase Indira a good 2 months warp away from any major conflict in the past 50 years. Endoll knew what annoyed him was that Endoll was the only member of the crew who didn’t have to call him sir as they held the same rank.  It was something that Endoll made use of the few times he had met the XO, and doubtless why the XO had gone to Sawa with news on the transfer and not directly to Endoll.

Knowing that lingering would serve no purpose, he lifted the small rucksack over his shoulder and walked out of the room that had been his home for the last 2 years, and opn reaching the turbolift at the end of his corridor commanded it to take him to the runabout docking area.

Mason woke up today like he had the past several days, hoping that this whole thing was just some kind of long nightmare that wasn’t real. He hoped that he would somehow wake up from this whole mess, back in his quarters on board the Enforcer and just laugh about how crazy it all was with his friends. But instead, every morning when he opened his eyes, he woke up to the same reality as the day before: his ship was destroyed, wrecked on some asteroid in the middle of nowhere, and his friends were all presumed dead. 

Though the crew of the Enforcer were officially classified as “missing”, Mason knew better than to hold out hope for their safe return. He wanted to believe that they had somehow survived, and that they were out there somewhere, but the scientist in him knew the statistical probability of that possibility was so small it wasn’t even worth considering. Having said that, and though he didn’t want to admit it to himself, there was still a large part of him, buried deeper than he realized, that hoped he would see them all again. 

While on the Venture and taking scans of his former vessel, he was able to determine the escape pods were all still in place; not even one of them was missing. If the crew didn’t die on board when several areas of the vessel were exposed to the vacuum of space, then they were most likely captured by the Gorn. 

The problem is, the Gorn don’t take prisoners. Instead, they would have used their bodies to incubate their young until they were ready to be born… or hatched… or whatever they call it. When their young are ready, they tear through the incubated body, killing the host in the process. There was no way to survive the process, and Mason knew and accepted that. What an incredible way to die, he thought to himself. 

He shook his head, shuttering at the thought of his friends being used in that fashion. He couldn’t believe he was about to think this, but he hoped that they died from being thrown into the vacuum of space when the Enforcer impacted the asteroid. At least it would have been a quick death, much less horrifying that the prospect of reptilians tearing out of you, fighting for their freedom on the way out. 

Mason knew Starfleet wanted answers, he felt the same way. He wanted to know what happened to his friends more than anyone. Never mind about the damn ship, he couldn’t care less what happened to the vessel so long as he found his crew alive. Material things can be replaced, but lives cannot. Starfleet asked over and over why the Gorn would have invaded Federation territory and what the Enforcer was doing in that sector, just repetitive questions that really only served to infuriate Mason because all they asked were clear to read in his reports. 

Mason’s debriefing with Starfleet was nearly over, he estimated he had one more session with them at best, but they were going to get the same answer they have been getting for the past several days. He simply doesn’t know what happened to the rest of his crew. Mason reviewed the Venture’s logs and the tricorder images of the bodies that its crew found on the same ship he was found on, and he was the only one from the Enforcer on board. Starfleet tried to insinuate that maybe he wasn’t as familiar with all of the crew on board the Enforcer as he claimed to be, but Mason slammed his hands on the table and warned them if they ever tried to make that insinuation again they’d regret it. 

He did everything he could think of, but from the time he was knocked unconscious on the bridge to the time when he woke up when the crew of the Venture found him, there’s nothing. He even went to see a counselor to try and possibly access some unconscious memories, but you cannot access what you do not have. The counselor attempted to poke at his survivor’s guilt as well, but overall was largely unsuccessful in breaking down his defenses. Though he was cleared to return to duty, they recommended more sessions to help him live with what happened. Mason considered it for a while, he may seek out additional help, but now wasn’t the best time. 

Over the course of his debrief, Starfleet at one point attempted to say it was highly improbable that he didn’t know what happened and that he must remember something… clearly the brass at Starbase 11 doesn’t understand that humans, despite how far they’ve come in the last few centuries, still don’t have the ability to be alert of what’s happening while they’re unconscious. 

The one thing he just didn’t understand was why the Venture was pulled off this assignment when it was when it was clear that Mason was the right person for this job. He knew the situation, he knew his former ship, and most of all, he knew his former crew. If by chance any of his crew did survive, and they were somehow not used as hosts for the Gorn’s incubation process yet, Mason would be the best person to find them. He knew his ship, the frequencies of the systems on board, and most of all he knew his crew. He knew the kinds of strategies they would employ to save themselves, after all he served with these people for years. If he didn’t know them by now, what kind of officer would he be?

The most frustrating thing of all, though, is Starfleet didn’t seem to agree. Even though they haven’t classified the crew as deceased, they have officially given up hope of finding them alive. They would rather pull the Venture off the case because of whatever that situation was with the captain and first officer being detained upon the ships arrival at the starbase, than let him continue his search. Mason shook his head as he thought about it all again, but as frustrated as he was, he sincerely hoped that the Scarborough has better luck in finding some facts than they didn’t.

In the meantime, however, and despite what he has just been through, Starfleet did assign Mason as the temporary commanding officer of the Venture until the new captain arrived. Due to the lack of high ranking officers in the area, and given his experience, they concluded he was the best person to ‘tend the store’ until the new CO arrived. 

He didn’t know who they selected to replace Captain Scott, but Mason fully expected to be relieved of his post upon the new captain’s arrival. After all, a captain usually selects someone they have researched or someone they know for their right hand officer. He just hoped that after command was transferred, he could be allowed to continue the search and perhaps join the Scarborough to help find his friends. 

After leaving his runabout in the docking area Endoll had spent the last few hours walking around the various shops and stalls of the planet-side installation of Starbase 11.  The evening air was warm, warmer than most Human worlds he had been on in his life, and definitely warmer than the standard temperature of federation starships. He let the warm air wash over him as she strolled along a series of small shopfronts.  He had arranged for his footlockers to be transported up when he arrived but had decided that he needed some time to stretch his legs, he had spent 12 days alone in a runabout living on replicated meals; he needed to explore and eat something that wasn’t synthesised from recycled matter. He knew from the information he had been provided on arrival that transporters were currently down for maintenance and it would be an hour or so until he could transport to the ship that would be his new home for…however long the mission lasted. 

As he walked his senses were met with a cacophony of smells, some sweet, some putrid, and some completely new to him.  He reached a stall with a large stand outside, his Klingon was basic, to say the least, but he recognised the word ‘gagh’.  He held down his instinct to heave, and smiled politely at the Klingon chef who was holding a large plate of what looked like the lung of some mammal on a large sliver plate, “No thank you” he said as she briskly moved on.  Ahead he could see a small stall with Bajoran ideograms, with these he was much more familiar, it was serving delicacies ‘fresh from Bajor’ but Endoll knew that even though many years had passed, and he was not Cardassian but Hebitian, the chances of him having a warm welcome there would be slim.  Very few people truly understood what Cardassian meant, it had become the common word for his species, but in reality, many centuries earlier his people had been known as Hebitians and had lived a truly peaceful life, not unlike that of the ancient Bajorans.  It was only when a natural catastrophe happened and scorched their world and destroyed their natural resources did a populist militant group known as Cardassians from one of the southern continents become known and slowly but surely became dominant in society.  The Hebitians were subjugated or killed, those who were lucky hid their Hebitianess and superficially adopted the Cardassian ways until they were able to escape the world.  The Endoll family and others were lucky to escape Cardassia and hoped one day that the Hebitians would return, but he had learnt from experience that telling Bajorans he was just as much a victim of Cardassian imperialism as they were often fell on deaf ears.  

As he walked past the Bajoran shop he didn’t need to turn to feel their eyes burning into him, and he felt the familiar twinge in his neck plates.  It was psychosomatic he knew all too well, but he still felt it.  He reached a Vulcan food stall, knowing this would be a safe bet as Vulcans also refrained from animal products, he ordered a bowl of plomeek soup and looked around the seating area for somewhere to sit.  He scanned the area for a moment ruling out several tables that had spaces until his eyes rested upon a young woman with dark hair and the markings of a Trill in a gold Starfleet uniform, he approached her “Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

“No, be my guest!” The words were out of Kazjra’s mouth before she even looked up from her notebook, but as Endoll took his seat she finally put her pen down to acknowledge him properly. Her slight jolt of surprise transitioned immediately into her adjusting her tinted glasses, hoping to obscure the awkward reflex, but the wide smile that spread across her face was genuine: she hadn’t met many Cardassians, and this was the second Cardassian Starfleet officer she’d encountered in the last month. It made her think back to her secondary school statistics classes: point clusters in random data sets.

“If you have room for dessert after that,” Kazjra pointed her pen at his plomeek soup, “The saffir bread with gespar chutney is actually really good! They told me they have a hydroponic garden in the back so the fruit is always fresh, and you can really tell by the taste that it’s not dried or replicated!”

She raised the slice of bread to her mouth but abruptly stopped just before taking a bite. ‘Introductions, right!’ “I’m Kazjra Zel, by the way. Nice to meet you!”

Endoll smiled warmly back at the woman as he set his tray on the table, “It’s a pleasure to meet you” he gently placed his spoon into the soup and tasted it, “Sadly I lack, what is the phrase I am looking for, a sweet tooth”  he replaced his spoon and looked around the table for something to add to the soup to make it more palatable, “I am Endoll” he said offering his hand forward, “It’s not every day you meet a joined Trill this far from…I mean especially in Starfleet” his eyes met hers “Zel is a symbiont name correct?”

“That’s right!” Kazjra took his hand in a vigorous shake that was evidently his reward for being knowledgeable about Trill linguistics. “And ‘Endoll’? My name before joining was Kazjra Endal! I love it, more point clusters.” The fact that she had not articulated her previous thoughts about statistical randomness out loud did not seem to occur to her.

“To your other point, once my ship gets underway we’ll only need to travel for a day before I’m further from Trill than I’ve ever traveled before, by my calculations. Assuming we’re traveling rimward, and it seems likely.” She paused briefly to collect her thoughts and realized she’d skipped some vital information again. “I was assigned to the USS Venture a month ago.”

Endoll smiled, and found something called ‘hot sauce’ and poured a large helping into his soup, he tasted it and it was more palatable, “It’s my family name, it’s traditional amongst my people that given names are only used by immediate family, outside of that we are all known by our family name” he dipped some bread into his soup, “How long have you been joined?”

“Good question!” Her saffir bread, which had been hanging in the air this whole time, was gradually lowered back to the table as she tried to sort through the various joinings in her memory and recall which one was hers. “Ah, 13 years now. Nearly 14. Ha! And did you know the humans consider 13 to be an unlucky number? I read it has something to do with their lunisolar calendars back on Earth.”

“I didn’t,” he said dipping the bread back into his soup. “Human culture had little impact upon me growing up,” he said as he took a bite of the bread, “It must have been quite a life-changing experience suddenly having the memories of others, and then the process of integrating different aspects of the symbiont and other hosts into your own” he paused and dipped the bread into the soup again and “It’s fascinating really” the popped the last of the soup covered bread in his mouth and chewed “What’s your position on the Venture?”

“Oh, I’m the Chief Engineer.” Kazjra’s grin had slowly fizzled as Endoll’s comments on joining made her briefly contemplative, but the grin tentatively returned with the opportunity to talk about her posting. “It will be my first mission as a department head.” Oops, no. ‘Anxiety looming! Think about something else!‘ “What about you? I’m not surprised to see someone so inquisitive wearing science-&-medical blue. Where are you posted?”

Pushing the tray of soup away from him slightly before dabbing at the corner of his lips with the napkin his eyes flashed around the seating area, “Congratulations on your first head of department billet, you must be a very promising officer to be assigned to a Sovereign-class.” He sat back in his chair as he lifted and sipped from a glass of redleaf tea, “I’m the new chief medical officer of the Venture; until just under two weeks ago I was the head of psychiatry on DS13.” 

Kazjra sat up a little straighter. “Well nice to meet you, Doctor Crewmate! Now you know someone who can give you a tour of the ship if you want. Speaking of which,” she said, glancing at the nearest clock. The disappearing minutes made her reevaluate the large piece of saffir bread she still held in her hand, and before she could think better of it she had stuffed the entire piece into her mouth. With no choice left but to commit, she leaned back in her seat and sighed heavily through her nose as she kept on chewing.

“I am sure I will take you up on that,” he said, raising the cup to his lips again and draining the glass, “If you will excuse me, I have some shopping to do before I transport to the ship.” He stood up and nodded at her, “It has been a pleasure to meet you Kazjra Zel.”

She finally swallowed the oversized bite in one large gulp, just in time to respond. “Same here, Dr. Endoll.” 

Kazjra gave him a gentle wave as he left the restaurant, then sat for a moment trying to muster the motivation to do the same instead of taking a food-induced nap right there at the table. She had to check in at Main Engineering soon, but maybe she’d come back to the station afterward. With senior staff filling out surely it wouldn’t be long before they had their command crew, and then they’d set off for the stars at last.

Mike shifted his duffle one last time as he made his way to his new quarters on his new ship. He’d been on the Catamaran for years now. It felt odd to be in new hallways. It felt odd to be in hallways that felt new. The Cat, as much as he loved her, was old and her age was showing. The walls were scuffed and marked at the bottom, and the corridors had the faintest notes of metal and grease in the air. Old systems that had been refitted one too many times worked… but sometimes you got hot cocoa instead of coffee. He’d come to love those quirks. But he had to admit… there was a twinge of guilt that he loved the idea of serving on a more modern ship too. 

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on those helm controls. 

The gentle pulsing lights along the floor that were leading him toward his quarters finally terminated at a door. He checked the number against his assignment and nodded, tapping the access padd on the doorway and smiling a bit as the unlock chime played and the door slid open. The lights in the room slow lit to full power as he entered, tossing his duffle on the couch. It was small – which he expected, not being a senior officer just yet – but it was nice. The couch didn’t squeak when his bag hit it and the bed linens looked new and spotless. He smiled and breathed in the freshly scrubbed air. 

The ionic storm that battered the Cat was a blessing in disguise. The old girl was finally laid to rest at the fleet museum where she’d get the basic refit and cleanup before being displayed as the longest serving ship in the fleet, and Captain Park had finally accepted the offer from Starfleet to retire. He looked at his wrist watch and grinned. If his estimations were right, Park was enjoying a nice drink on the beaches of Risa by now. 

Mike started a bit as the comm unit in his quarters chirped to life, “Incoming communication from Lieutenant Junior Grade Camilla Sato,” The computer announced in its usual sing-song tones. 

The pilot smiled and called out to the comm unit, “Open the channel.” 

As soon as there was a confirmation chirp, he spoke, “Cammi, how’s the new digs? Did you actually time out my arrival so you could call me right when I got here?” 

“Hey, that’s what chief tactical officers do, ace,” The young Japanese woman replied, giving him a broad smile. “And they are amazing, Ace! I’m on a Century-class, and I love it! How about yours?”

“Well… New, for a start,” Mike replied with a laugh. “It smells like new systems and freshly scrubbed air. Only a few dings on the base of the walls, nothing space taped to the frame, all of the systems are set with the latest updates, and none of them are analogue,” He said, rattling off the big ones he could think of. 

Cammi had been the Chief Tac on the Cat and had been transferred to the USS Martinez as their new Chief Tac. He and Cammi had worked together closely and several missions and had developed a very close relationship. There was nothing romantic to it, but they were close, and he’d go to blows for her. 

“Same over here!” She said, brightly. “I loved the Cat, but man did I forget that Starfleet has nice ships,” She teased. 

“Oooh, don’t let Lieutenant Bowler hear you say that,” Mike replied, laughing.

“Whatever, they put Jimmy on the USS Skyward, one of those big Gagarin-class explorers. Last I heard from him he’s head over heels in spec manuals and feature charts. He’s the happiest CEO in the fleet right now,” Cammi replied, laughing. 

“We all wound up different places, Mike,” She said, her tone turning sad. “They broke up the family.”

“That’s not how family works, Cammi,” Mike replied. “We don’t just stop being who we are to each other because we’re not on the same ship. We don’t. You’re on the line with me right now. And we’ll keep up with each other, and be here, and look out for each other. Just like we always have,” He said.

“I hope so,” Cammi replied, after a moment of contemplation.

“Trust me. I’m the reliable one, remember?” Mike replied, grinning broadly. 

Cammi laughed, “That was Bixby and you know it, Flyboy,” She replied. 

“That’s fair,” Mike replied with a chuckle. “I gotta get settled in, but … ping me? yeah? Stay in touch.” 

“You know I will. Can’t get away from me that easily,” She teased. “Love ya, fleet brother.” 

“Love you too, fleet sister,” He told her with a wink. 

The comm channel died and Mike sighed. The crew getting reassigned from the Cat had hit him harder than he cared to admit. It did feel like tearing his family apart. He knew they’d stay in contact… but he know it wouldn’t be the same either. He sighed heavily and looked around the room. A few minutes earlier, this room felt so warm and welcoming, but now it felt a little empty, and the rest of the ship felt… hollow.

He sighed again and rubbed his hands on his face, shaking his head vigorously. No time for wallowing in self-pity. He had to work do, and a CO to meet. There’d be time to mourn his loss later. Right now, Mike Radford, new Chief Flight Operations Officer to the USS Venture, had a CO to meet and a set of Helm controls to fine tune.The old days were gone… It was time for something new. 

“Wow!” Kazjra let the small duffel bag drop to the desk with a soft thump as she took in the sight of her new office. Of her office. “Wow.”

It was just an empty office right off Main Engineering with a desk, a chair, and a LCARS access point, but it was hers. She’d often imagined what it would be like to be the chief engineering officer aboard a starship, but decorating her office had never been a significant part of those daydreams. Now that she’d finally made it, however, she had the desire to mark her territory. Some of the antique drafting tools and engineering textbooks she kept would surely do the trick. And maybe a plant. ‘Definitely a plant,’ she thought, and that was surely her previous host Janrix shining through.

There was much more to see of the ship beyond the confines of her office, so she made quick work of setting up her paltry knickknacks. Scuttlebutt said they wouldn’t have a commanding officer for another month or so, and Kazjra was more than okay with that. It gave her time to truly familiarise herself with her new ship and engineering crew so that she’d have a proper mental inventory of all the proverbial tools at her disposal. “A whole month to explore the ship.”

As she placed the last book on her desk, her hand slowed and the smile faded from her face. “Oh my gosh, I only have a month to explore the whole ship!”

And with that, she dashed out of her office. 

Intently, Lt. Shepard examined the specimen in the science lab; her readings needed accuracy as much was at stake. “I like to eyeball before I take mah readings,” Mara said to the crowd. A few heads nodded in agreement. “Tech is great and all, but sometimes it can miss the little things.” The Lieutenant stepped away from the specimen, tilting her head. “Aye, there’s a natural green color, but I see some roll in the leaves. That’s not necessarily a bad sign, though.”

Whispers maneuvered through the crowd, with some officers in agreement with the CSO while others shook their heads in bewilderment. Lt. Shepard then scanned the specimen with her tricorder, reading aloud the data as it came. “Specimen two is 4.5 days old, healthy, optimal soil, and 97.54 centimeters.”

The crowd moved forward, hanging on Shepard’s following words. “And specimen one was 97.83 centimeters, so Ensign Ewik has won the bamboo growing contest. Yay!”

Many hands patted the Bajoran ensign on the shoulder for her victory as Mara bestowed a few chocolate ration bars that were the prize. “Congratulations, Ewik. It was close but good going.”

Ensign Ch’Rhihlon shook his head, tending to his potted bamboo. “I don’t understand it. I did everything right. Fertilizer, sunlight, regular pruning, and I watered it five times a week.”

“Five times a week, ye say?” Mara shook her head. “Bamboo needs ta drink, but it’s not a Scottish engineer. So four times a week is enough.”

The Andorian nodded, a lesson learned.

“Lieutenant?” began the Bajoran ensign, “I only have four bars of chocolate rations. I thought the prize was five bars.”

“Oh, feck. I think I ate one. I’ll go get ye another.” Mara raced out of the science office and into the corridor, bound for the mess.

Inevitably, word of her contest would reach the acting captain, Commander Henry, and she’d be reprimanded. Again. But without direction, at no fault to the provisional CO, Mara felt her duty was to lift her staff’s morale. And a plant-growing contest was harmless and far safer than the Klingon bloodwine mixer she initially had in mind.

Nearly to her destination, Mara turned the corner in the corridor.

“Hey! Hi! Up here!”

The head of barely-contained curly hair that popped out of the ceiling waited until Mara had spotted her before continuing. “Hello! Could you do me a kindness and spot me while I crawl out of this conduit? I’m not as fit or as graceful as I used to be and I’m afraid of accidentally kicking some poor passerby in the face.”

Upon hearing the voice, Shepard looked up to see the woman’s head sticking out of the access conduit. “Sure,” she said, placing herself on the opposite wall to aid the engineer. “There’s no traffic, so yer fine to come one down.” She watched as the woman descended the Jefferies tube, guiding her as requested. “Yer fine. Come on. Nobody’s – wait.” Two servicemen rounded the corner just as Mara did previously. “Okay. They’re gone,” said Mara offering a hand to help the engineer down. “I think yer all right to make it the rest of the way.”

Watching as Zel stepped into the corridor, Mara gave the woman a nod. “There ye go, Lieutenant. Yer safe and sound and no casualties.” Lt. Shepard chuckled. “We should have signal lights in these corridors before someone is run over,” she added. “Or maybe put mirrors up?” She shrugged and gave the curly-haired trill a nod. “Good luck to ye,” Mara said and started off again.

“Oh, wait!” Kazjra dashed after Mara. “I’ll follow you! I’m giving myself a tour of the ship, but it’s been mostly Jeffries tubes so far. I could do with some fresh air and some company. Where are you headed to? Is this even deck three? I’m Kazjra Zel, by the way, nice to meet you!”

Mara stopped in her tracks as the trill caught up with her. The CSO wasn’t in any hurry, so she could spare the time and listen to the energetic woman. “Yer touring the ship are ye? She’s a big girl, Lt. Zel. I’m Mara Shepard. It’s nice to meet ye too.” The redhead extended her hand, and Kazjra shook it with enthusiasm. “I’m heading to the mess, but I’ll do my best to not bore ye,” Shepard chuckled and waved the Trill to follow, making her way to the turbo lift.

“I need to fetch another chocolate ration. Ye see, stuck at Starbase 11 as we’ve been, things have been a might slow, so I initiated a bamboo growing contest and the winner received five bars of chocolate rations, only I ate one of them. So, I need to find another.” She giggled, entering the lift. “Mess hall,” she said, and they were on their way. “So, yer new to the Venture?”

“Indeed I am!” Kazjra beamed as if this information were as vital and exciting to everyone else as it was to her. “Just arrived at the Starbase yesterday. But hey, bamboo! Did you get the idea from that one garden on the Starbase? Did you see the little mushroom people there?”

“No, we research plants in the lab,” replied Mara as she leaned against the wall and tilted her head. “Mushroom people?” The Lieutenant laughed. “The last time I saw mushroom people, I was stumbling out of Reidy’s bar, but I can’t say I’ve seen any on the ship.” Shepard gave Kazjra a little side eye, but who was to say she was wrong? On her scientific expeditions, Mara met rock, pig, bird, and cat people. So mushroom people were not out of the realm of possibility.

“Welcome to the Venture, Lt. Zel. I’m sure ye’ll like it here.”

The lift opened, and Mara stepped out, waiting on the Trill. “Deck three, where you’ll find the mess, the recreation room, and a few offices. I haven’t seen the entire ship either, and I’ve been on board for months.” The CSO made her way toward the mess at a fair pace. “So, tell me about these mushroom people.”

“Well,” said Kazjra, sticking close to Mara’s side, “They’re fairly short and they don’t speak, so I didn’t really get to converse with them, but they seem friendly enough! A staff member said they’ve been living there since the 23rd century when their home planet was destroyed. Hey, since things are slow here, maybe you’d like to come with me to the base to meet them? You might be able to make more sense of them; biology’s not really my strong suit.”

All Mara could do was try. “Okay,” she said and made her way to the galley. “Have ye been here yet? The food’s not bad, but don’t order a drop to nip on. The whiskey here is pure shite. It’s that synthehol stuff, y’know.”

“It usually is,” said Kazjra, sighing wistfully. She busied herself by scrolling through the nearest menu panel to see what sort of dishes they had pre-programmed on the ship.

The scientist reached the replicator and programmed a chocolate ration bar into the machine. She watched as the lights swirled into the form of the chocolate treat. “I guess I could have replicated it in main science, but after eating a couple, I needed the exercise.”

Done with the galley, Mara guided Kazjra to the transporter. She looked at the chocolate bar in her hand. “I can get this anywhere. Do you want a piece?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Kazjra beamed with delight as she accepted the chocolate. “Thank you! Chocolate really is one of the finest things to come from Earth,” she said, just as the transporter activated and beamed them down.

The base was busy as ever, with swarms of officers, dignitaries, enlisted personnel, cadets, and civilians going about their day. “Ye ever wonder where everyone is going? I know the station is big, but I bet they hire people to walk around and make the place look busy. But, of course, I’m probably wrong.” She sighed and kept walking until they reached the gardens Lt. Zel mentioned. “It’s a good thing I minored in botany.”

“Excellent!” said Kazjra, as if it were the best thing she’d ever heard. She stuck close to Mara, peering over her shoulder at whatever caught the CSO’s attention.

Mara began to scan the flora with her tricorder, noting various plant species. “That pink one, moving over there. The flower looks kind of like a pink hand. It’s a Terrestrius manus, a carnivorous plant that purrs when it likes you.”

Kazjra gasped in delight.

She pointed to a second flower. “It’s a Chameleon rose. It changes color depending on yer mood. If ye stand next to it too long or put it in a vase.”

“Ooooh,” said Kazjra, leaning in and gently prodding its petals.

Mara began to scan again, this time localizing on the mushroom people. “There,” she pointed and read from her tricorder. “They are fungi but with a bipedal form. Hmmm.” She scratched her head. “I’m reading a toxin in their system.” She glanced at the trill. “Noting dangerous, but don’t get too close, or ye might go warp factor ten without a starship.”

“Ha! That’s the last thing I need today. Although, that would explain why they were keeping their distance last time.”

Kazjra crouched in place and waved at the nearest fungal figure, smiling broadly when it waved back. 

The scene was cute, but Mara kept an eye on Zel just in case. The Venture didn’t need a Chief Engineer flying higher than a kite for several hours. The CSO watched as the industrious little beings worked with nearby foliage to create … something. Mara wasn’t sure what they were making, but they didn’t seem hostile or territorial.

“They remind me of the Aes sídhe or daoine sídhe or what you’d call fairies,” Mara stated. For a moment she wondered if the tales of the wee folk held more truth than fiction. Could the Aes sídhe have been from another planet?

“Fairies, huh?” Kazjra watched for a full minute before they stopped, and one of the mushroom people ran up to within half a meter of her and Mara, dropped something on the ground, and ran back to its cohorts. Looking closely, they appeared to have dropped two small wreaths.

“Oh!” said Kazjra, and she pointed. “I think those might be for us! Are they safe to touch?” 

The Lieutenant knelt and scanned the little treasures. As she suspected, the tiny gifts were made from leaves and twigs surrounding the little beings and bore no signs of harmful toxins. “They’re safe,” declared the science officer and plucked each wreath from the ground, offering one to Kazjra.

Kazjra tried her best not to squeal in delight, out of fear of frightening the mushroom people away with the shrill noise.

“Go raibh maith agaibh,” Mara said to the little mushroom people after excepting their gift. She placed the wreath on her middle finger and leaned toward Lt. Zel. “That means thank you in Irish Gaelic.” The redhead smiled. “Thank ye, Lt. Zel. This has been a welcome diversion.”

Kazjra stood up and turned to face Mara. “Guru maha guth…” She attempted to echo Mara’s words. “Guh ruh maagg- I think I’ll need to practice that. Thank you for accompanying me on this diversion! It was nice getting to spend some time getting to know one of my new crewmates! And I even got a little souvenir! I just need to decide if I want to keep it in my office or my quarters…”

Mara couldn’t help but chuckle as Kazjra tried to emulate the Irish Gaelic. “Ye’ll get it with enough practice.” The CSO admired her wreath wrapped around her ring finger. She’d have to find a fitting place to display the prize. “Maybe I can wear it as a very tiny hat?” Mara joked.

“You should, it suits you!” said Kazjra with a wink.

“It was nice meeting ye, Kazjra, but I should get that ration bar and return to the ship. Thank ye for the pleasant diversion.” Lt. Shepard escorted the Trill out of the gardens. “We’ll have to do this again sometime,” the Lieutenant said, nearing the transporter. She gifted Zel with a simple smile and a polite nod, before parting, headed for the station’s galley.

Kazjra veered off in the other direction. Her tour of the ship would continue after she preserved her wreath and hung it up in her brand new office.

Emerging onto the bridge from the aft turbo lift and leading an ensemble of senior staff, the newly crowned commander of Venture instantly made her way towards the command chair. She hadn’t even allowed the team to take the time to return to their quarters and get out of their dress uniforms, each member of the team wearing their pristine dress whites, which surprisingly complimented the decor of the command center.

Mason emerged from the turbolift right behind Captain T’Prynn, walking behind her as she made her way towards her seat. He couldn’t believe he was again living this nightmare that seemed to never go away. First, the Enforcer, and now the Scarborough… they had to find them. He had to find them, especially if he was ever going to find any peace from all of this. 

As more of the crew came out of the lifts and took their stations, Mason started giving orders, “Helm, lay in a course for the Scarborough‘s last known position, warp nine.” He looked towards the captain, ensuring she approved of the orders before engaging.

A nod from the Vulcan provided the approval he needed.

Lt. Mike Radford made his way out of the turbolift and toward his station at the Helm. A mad shuffle of postings had left him in the Chief Flight Operations Officer spot aboard the Venture and he couldn’t be happier, in spite of the mission at hand. 

He was taking his seat as the XO began giving orders. “Laying in a course,” Mike replied from his station, his hands dancing over the console with practised speed. “Course laid in, warp nine,” He replied, looking back at the CO for the go-ahead. 

Before she could reply, a voice piped in over comms. “Lt. Zel to the bridge: Captain, the warp core’s not warmed up yet! I’m rerouting the deuterium and warming her up right now; I can give you warp nine in five minutes, or I can give you warp five in sixty seconds and keep pumping the fuel as we accelerate. So to speak.”

“Let us warm up the engines,” T’Prynn responded over the comm, “warp five in sixty seconds and then cycle through,” she confirmed, a nod towards the helmsman indicating her adjustment of his orders.

“Yes, ma’am,” Mike replied, “Course laid in, adjusting speed to Warp 5,” The pilot announced, his fingers making a quick run across the console again. “On your order, ma’am,” He said, turning back to the captain and giving her a grin.

“Hal-tor saris,” the Vulcan instructed in her sultry mother tongue, her clearest indication that the helmsman should ‘engage’ at his leisure.

Mike’s Vulcan was a little rusty, but he remembered enough to follow that one, “Yes, ma’am. Engaging.” He smiled as he slid the warp speed indicator up to 5 and watched the stars stretch out in front of him.

Mara sat at the science station, still tugging at her collar. The whiskey from the celebration was welcome, and the Lieutenant could hold her own, but she was a little self-conscious about her breath. She smelled like a distillery and was surprised no one had noticed or was polite enough not to say anything. Once Shepard prepped and checked the console, she was ready. “Science is online, Captain. We’re ready when ye give the word.” 

Oliver stood at his station, looking over the tactical systems and ensuring that all systems were green. “Captain,” he spoke awaiting a response. “All weapons are green. If we would need to attack then we are prepared,” he stated plainly to the Vulcan.

“Prudent,” she nodded in response, “but let us hope we do not require them.” Turning slightly to her first officer, the Vulcan gave her next orders. “Commander Henry, access the LCARS database and obtain any records and mission logs pertaining to the Scarborough mission.”

Mason nodded, acknowledging the captain’s orders and started away at his console to find the appropriate information. A few seconds went by before the reports came across his screen, “U.S.S. Scarborough; primary mission, salvage operations for U.S.S. Enforcer. Last known location is the Mutara Remnant.”

He then turned towards the captain and continued, speaking not as loudly now and only to T’Prynn, “The Scarborough is a California-class ship, not much firepower there. If they encountered a tactical situation involving the Gorn, they would’ve been even more outgunned than the Enforcer was and a highly tempting target for another raid.”

T’Prynn remained silent, still, as she listened to the concern of her first officer. Perhaps she would have been wise to remove him from his position, given his attachment to his previous command, but that would insinuate he was incapable of carrying out his duties professionally.

“Venture will continue to the Mutara Remnant at yellow alert,” she called out, to any who were listening. “It is my intention to resolve this situation today. The Gorn can no longer be allowed to terrorise the borders of Federation space,” her voice cracking a little as she spoke. A hint of emotion to her words, perhaps?

A moment later, Kazjra shot through the turbo lift doors and made a beeline for the engineering station. Her persistent cheerfulness had been transmuted into determined energy. 

“We should be hitting warp nine right about now?” It sounded like a question, but she didn’t wait for an answer. “The deuterium is flowing and the dilithium matrix is stable; we can push it all the way up to nine point nine-five for the next twenty-four hours at least.”

“Lieutenant Radford,” the Vulcan looked to be ignoring the exuberant presence of the engineer, apart from the reference she made next. “Warp 9?”

“Aye, Captain. Warp 9,” Mike replied, sliding up the throttle indicator with a grin. 

As the USS Venture, majestic and pristine, stood poised at the edge of the vast unknown, its hull gleaming with the promise of new horizons, the ship’s crew prepared to embark on a new adventure, unaware of the impending challenges that awaited them in the uncharted regions of space.

Together, they would unravel the mysteries of this new frontier, reaffirming their place in the vast tapestry of the cosmos. But first, they had a ship to find…