Standing in the centre of the room he had been unceremoniously dumped in, Vasoch Gor couldn’t help but let out a loud sigh as he took in his surroundings. Plush carpet, multiple wall ornaments, Bajoran artefacts. A United Federation of Planets flag. Especially the United Federation of Planets flag. All indicated that this room was far more than a simple private office; this was a workspace of someone proud of their work, and who spent a lot of time in it. Although, not today it seemed. No, today the room’s usual occupier was almost thirty minutes late for the meeting they had scheduled and the Tellarite was growing impatient.

Standing still was not in his nature, so he took a few steps over to the window that looked out beyond the Canopus-class station and into the Lioh system beyond. Whilst any normal person would have been drawn to the sight of the dazzling blue giant star at the system’s center, or one of the enormous gas giants that orbited it, the Tellarite’s gaze fell on some objects a little closer to the station. From the safety of the office he was frequenting, the guest could make out the familiar nacelle styling of a Prometheus-class starship (all four of them in fact) jutting out from beneath his standing place, while just a few hundred feet away, an Intrepid-class ship was in lockstep with the station’s manoeuvring thrusters, giving the illusion she was, in fact, stationary.

“Magnificent view, isn’t it?”

Vasoch spun around at the sudden sound of a familiar voice behind him, moving to take a step away from the window until the approaching owner of the voice gestured for the Tellarite not to worry.

“I’ve passed through this system on numerous occasions in recent months, but until I actually stopped here and took the chance to look beyond the bulkheads of the station, I never realised how beautiful the system is,” Captain Romaes Anjin smiled, sidling up to the shorter man and putting his hands on his hips as he took in a deep breath. “That’s Lioh Three, the largest of the gas giants. Her orbit brings her past my window but twice a year,” the Bajoran nodded towards the planet in the distance, the grin on his face betraying the sheer joy he found in his new surroundings.

“Then I guess I have visited at the right time,” the gruff-voiced Tellarite nodded in response to the Task Force Executive Officer. “I want to thank you for taking the time to see me, Captain. I can’t imagine it was top of your to-do list,” Vasoch smiled, finally walking away from the window to take a chair offered to him by the room’s permanent occupier.

“Don’t be silly,” Romaes frowned, pulling out his high-backed chair and slumping into it. “Captain Kohl and I will always have time for you, Vasoch. But, I will admit that we were surprised to hear from you. Last I heard you were off climbing some mountains on Andoria?” the Bajoran lent back in his chair, clasping his hands in his lap and giving his full focus to the diminutive figure opposite.

“It’s because of that mountain that I’m here,” Vasoch smiled sheepishly, knowing how strange that might sound. “I know it is cliche to say, but climbing those mountains gave me the focus and rejuvenation I needed. Not to mention the epiphany I had at the top,” he continued, somewhat economical with the truth. The epiphany had not been at the top, it had been when he was dangling upside down from the edge of the mountain and had to be rescued by his companion on the climb. Not that he would ever admit to that in front of anyone. Ever.

“Oh?” Romaes sat forward, inching towards the edge of his seat and placed his clasped hands on the surface of the desk. “And what epiphany might that have been?” the blonde, wrinkle-nosed man asked.

“I want to reinstate my commission.”

Secretly, the Captain had hoped that would be the case and the purpose of their conversation, but the experience of events in recent years had taught him to never take things for granted. He feigned surprise with raised eyebrows. “I see! Well, that’s certainly a change from when we last spoke. What changed up there?” the TFXO queried, making reference to the top of the mountain.

Vasoch echoed the Captain’s stance and inched forward. “I realised that not only did I miss Starfleet, but that I needed Starfleet,” the Tellarite confessed. “Starfleet has been my life for as long as I can remember. It’s changed along the way, but so have I. I don’t know how to do anything else. After Tharia’s death, I thought I needed time away from the fleet, maybe never return, but I soon found that, if anything, it proved to me how special the unity of serving with a crew is, and how it feels to be needed by others.”

Romaes nodded in all the right places as he took in the words of the man opposite. He struggled to empathise with him on the death of his captain, having been fortunate enough to never find himself in that situation. He could see from the expression on the elder male’s face just how much he needed this. The conversation went on for several minutes until the TFXO reached into the drawer of his desk, and the Captain pulled out a small box. “If I return these to you, I need to know that you’re not going to be handing them back in a few weeks because you have changed your mind,” his words probably came across a little harsher than intended, but the message had to be clear. “It would be unfair to any crew to put them in that position.”

“I assure you, sir, I’m here to stay,” the Tellarite smiled a tooth-filled grin, appreciating the candid nature of the conversation.

Romaes tossed the small box across the tabletop. “Then these belong to you,” he smiled, watching as the Tellarite opened the red, velvet box.

At first, the Tellarite’s smile shone through his beard, but the grin soon dissipated, to be replaced with one of confusion. “There has to be some mistake?” he asked, looking over the desk at the Bajoran.

“No, no mistake,” Romaes clarified, reaching out to the edge of his desk and sliding a data PADD across the surface. “Task Force Command had approved your promotion the very morning you took your hiatus. Congratulations Captain,” the grin stretched from ear to ear as Romaes rose to his feet.

Stunned silence was not an attribute ever previously associated with Vasoch, but this was a special occasion after all. When he finally closed the box and rose to his feet, he shook his superior’s proffered hand. “After forty years I’d almost given up hope of getting the fourth,” he smiled wistfully. A lifelong pursuit which he thought had evaporated without a trace had not only been renewed but achieved with little more than a conversation with a colleague.

“So I guess the next question is where am I sending you?” the Bajoran shrugged, slapping his hands down against his thighs. “Come this way,” he jerked his head to the very same window they had looked out of a little earlier.

Dutifully falling in behind his superior, Gor joined the taller man at the window. Deep down, he hoped for the Intrepid he had seen orbiting the station earlier. It was much smaller than anything he had served on before, but it matched his desire for Starfleet more than a battlecruiser like the Prometheus.

“Normally we’d start a new commanding officer on something smaller. A Reliant, Rhode Island, or even an Intrepid for example. But out of deference to your loyal service and years of experience, Command has seen fit to break from tradition and give you something a little… bigger,” the Bajoran’s smirk and raised eyebrows looked past the Tellarite, urging the newly minted Captain to turn and look behind him.

Emerging from beyond the outer bulkhead of the slow-moving station and into view with all the grace of a swan on a calm millpond, the elegant, streamlined spaceframe of a Sovereign-class starship appeared and caught the Captain entirely by surprise.

“I know she’s not quite the Ulysses,” Romaes dropped his tone a little while they stared at the ship beyond the viewport, “but I’m told that the Proxima is a fine ship. And most importantly, she’s yours if you want her.” Turning his body from the window, the Bajoran glared at the Tellarite until a silent nod from the mesmerised Captain gave him the confirmation he needed.

“Good, but there are two conditions to this offer,” the Bajoran told, returning to his seat and the formalities of their business.

“Conditions?” Vasoch queried, rounding the desk and returning to his seat.

“Conditions,” the TFXO confirmed. “One; we’ve got a Commander Giarvar Kauhn outside that we want to keep in the Task Force. He’s a talented and respected officer, and we want him aboard Proxima as your first officer,” he told, sliding a second data PADD across the table.

“As you wish,” Vasoch confirmed, taking possession of the data PADD and noting the contents – the personnel file for this new executive officer of his.

“And two,” Romaes sat back in his chair, “I know you’ll be wanting to recruit several of your former colleagues. We’ve preempted this and granted you authorisation, but a number of them are out of our jurisdiction and thus, out of the question. Their names are included in a file on that data PADD. We also feel it would be wise not to make wholesale changes to the ship’s crew. Many have gone through the recent refit process and will be key to navigating new systems and equipment.”

“Fair enough,” the new commander of the Proxima nodded, listening intently. It was natural he would want to recruit some of those people he was most comfortable serving with, but he could understand the need to balance it with people who knew his ship. His ship. Oh, how good it felt to say that, even in one’s head.

“Well, in that case, congratulations on your new command, Captain. Be on the lookout for orders coming in the next few days. For now, I’ll leave you to get your team sorted,” Romaes rose to his feet and offered the stout man his hand. “I look forward to working with you properly Vasoch,” he concluded.

“And I, you, sir. Thank you,” Vasoch grinned from ear to ear, echoing his superior’s sentiment.

And with that, the meeting between two like-minded individuals came to a close. Vasoch left the office of the Task Force Executive Officer and made his way to the guest quarters he had been assigned upon arrival a day earlier. Once there, the commanding officer of Proxima used his time wisely: reviewing the personnel list from the TFXO; reading up about his ship’s refit; a stop at the station’s barber to get a trim of his bushy beard and scraggly hair; and lastly, a visit to the tailor to requisition a number of new uniforms appropriate to his station.

Standing in front of the mirror in the tailor’s dressing room, Vasoch looked on with pride as he twisted and aligned his new commbadge on his chest, and attached the four silver insignia pops to his black collar.

He was back in the habit and ready to go.

“What do you know about the new Captain?”

Dropping the data PADD upon the ready room desk, Commander Giarvar Kauhn exhaled loudly and raised his eyebrows. “Not a lot really,” the Trill confessed, looking across at Lieutenant Tuca, a grey-skinned, blue-eyed, bald Alzek strategist.

“Well I do,” Tuca revealed, standing from his chair on the opposite side of the ready room desk, walking around it to stand beside the Commander, tapping on the computer console. “He’s a forty-year veteran; served throughout some of the most delicate and dangerous situations in Starfleet’s history. Highly decorated for his service during the Dominion War, he’s spent the last ten years as an executive officer on four different commands,” the strategist revealed, taking a step back and folding his arms across his chest. Knowledge was power, and the sharing of knowledge was his business.

“And the unofficial stuff?” Kauhn queried with a cheeky smile as he looked up at his grey-skinned colleague.

Tuca’s arms dropped to his side, his tone dropping. “Rumour has it he was hit hard by the loss of Captain sh’Elas and he took leave,” the blue-eyed alien shrugged, “but who wouldn’t be in those circumstances?”

Using his hands to propel himself to his feet, Kauhn gestured to the door. “How goes the installation of the new strategic ops suite?” the Trill asked as they made their way onto the brightly lit bridge.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” Tuca frowned, no easy task for a species without eyebrows. Thankfully, his larger-than-normal ears were a giveaway as they flapped a little. “They’ve had some issues linking up the computer systems to all of the required departments and getting a live uplink to Starfleet Intelligence hasn’t been easy. It looks fabulous. Gor will love it,” the grey man smiled.

“He’ll get to see it sooner, rather than later Lieutenant,” an approaching voice called from the back of the bridge, the owner making a beeline for the two officers. The voice belonged to Lieutenant Bellurr, the officer currently assigned to tactical.

“What do you mean?” Giarvar asked, almost afraid of the answer he expected.

“Transporter room one has had confirmation of an unscheduled priority transport,” the Klingon-Terran hybrid officer elaborated, coming to a halt near the two red shirts.

“That’s got to be him. You don’t get priority transports like that unless it’s something or someone, big,” the strategist surmised. “If it was anything else, there is a very good chance I’d know,” he added since intelligence was literally part of his job.

“When?” Kauhn asked, hands on his hips.

Bellurr knew the Commander wasn’t going to like her answer. “Five minutes time,” she replied.

“Frak me,” Giarvar frowned angrily, making his way diagonally across the bridge and headed for the turbo lift. “Gather anyone and everyone in the mess hall. If he’s anything like previous commanders, he’ll want to parade himself in front of his new crew and proclaim great things,” the Trill was seething as the doors to the turbolift shut around him.

When he eventually arrived in the transporter room four minutes and thirty-five seconds later, the Commander was already late. The transport process was in the final stage of completion with the last blue embers of the transporter beam dissipating as he slid to a halt.

“Welcome aboard Proxima Captain,” the Trill wheezed, “apologies for my tardiness, but Command neglected to inform me of your arrival,” Giarvar explained, watching as the Tellarite marched down from the transporter pad.

The tension in the air was palpable as the Captain glared at the much taller man in front of him. Tardiness was unforgivable in the Tellarite’s eyes. ”Effective immediately, I’m to assume command and begin recruiting operations. This data PADD contains a list of personnel I want aboard this ship by fourteen hundred. They’re all in the area, so it shouldn’t be a problem for a man as… talented… as you,” the Tellarite huffed, before wandering away and out of the transporter room.

Giarvar stood in awe, or was it shock? Either way, he stood motionless, watching the Tellarite leave, hand grasping the PADD that had been shoved in his direction.

“Are you coming or not? Don’t be late again, Commander…” the stout man’s voice called from behind the bulkhead, gradually fading.

Exchanging a look with the transporter chief, the Trill simply held up a finger that said all it needed to. “Computer,” he called out, “transfer all command codes to Captain Vasoch Gor. Voice authorization: Kauhn-Alpha-Three-Six.” Then, for the second time today, and without waiting for the response of the computer, Giarvar found himself running along deck four.

As the door closed, the computer spoke to the only remaining occupant. “Transfer complete. Starship Proxima now under command of Captain Vasoch Gor.“

“I think he knows that, computer…” the transporter chief laughed, shaking his head and returning to his work.

Approaching the turbo lift at the end of the hall, the Commander finally caught up with the new commanding officer. “I’ve summoned all of the available staff to the messhall for the change of command ceremony, Captain. Would you like to head there now?” the Trill asked, hoping to endear himself more than he had so far. In vain, it transpired.

“Ugh! No thanks. I’d much rather those people get to work and do what’s needed. Those that don’t know me by now will eventually. And those that do?” Vasoch paused as they entered the lift, “well, they best be working their backsides off already or they’ll be getting your boot up them. Understood?”

Giarvar smirked as he followed the Captain into the turbo lift and stood behind his new commanding officer. Tellarites were known for their attitudes, stubbornness and their penchant for argument. Gor was already proving every stereotype true. And Giarvar was loving every second of it, in a sick, sadistic kind of way. Captain Vasoch Gor was certainly no Captain T’Prynn, but perhaps, just perhaps, Gor was what this lacklustre crew needed to get them back in shape.

Giarvar Kauhn had been hard at work since the arrival of the new captain, reviewing the personnel list Gor had provided and ensuring that his requests were followed to the letter. Nothing about the new captain suggested he would accept deviation or free thinking from his XO… yet. That trust and relationship had to be built, and so Kauhn had done as requested. Orders had been transmitted to the starships Intrepid and Prometheus for certain individuals to report aboard Proxima no later than thirteen thirty, and so it was. Thirteen-twenty-nine and the last of the three shuttles hit the deck plating in the main shuttlebay. Two had come from the Prometheus, whilst the last was from the Intrepid orbiting just several hundred meters from Proxima.

Appearing at the door of the first shuttle, several officers from the Intrepid landed on the decking, each relieved to see their former executive officer, but each confused as to why they had been summoned to Proxima. Conversations were hushed until the emergence of several officers from the second of the shuttles. Suddenly, the decibel count in the shuttlebay rose by triple digits, officers and crewmen alike darting over to one another, sharing warm embraces and overdue pleasantries.

Giarvar’s attention drifted to two distinctive females; both Bajoran, but one had striking blonde hair, whilst the other had grey, mottled skin and neck ridges usually associated with another Alpha Quadrant species. He’d heard enough from Henry to be able to instantly identify both.

“Henry said you two would be stuck together like glue,” he told, approaching the two women and offering a hand to the blonde. She truly was as beautiful as Mitchell had suggested. “My name is Giarvar Kauhn, executive officer,” he added.

Sharing a knowing look, a smile plastered over each of their faces, both women shook their heads. “Trust flyboy to talk about us while we’re not here,” the blonde bombshell replied, taking the man’s hand. “Commander Noli Auru, USS Prometheus. This is my colleague, Lieutenant Prida Rala, Chief Engineer.”

Giarvar smiled, nodding respectfully as he shook Prida’s hand. More pleasantries ensued as further arrivals disembarked from the various shuttles. Akaria Okan and her now husband Matheus; half human, half Klingon Mayr Bellurr and her Orion friend from engineering; even the entire medical team from Intrepid consisting of Doctor Torres, Lieutenant Iddar and Nurse Li. 

Once the introductions and euphoria of seeing each other again had settled down, the crowd seemed to have gathered around Proxima‘s XO. Noli looked at Giarvar. “Alright Commander – you’ve got us all over here, for what? What is this all about?” she asked, hands on her hips as she looked at him with an accusatory look.

“Opportunity…” a voice called from behind the crowd. As the people at the back quickly figured out just who it was that had caught them off guard, the group parted like the red sea, clearing a path for the man to reach the two officers. “An opportunity to get the band back together Commander,” Gor grinned, a very toothy expression of joy.

Noli, like many others around the circle, looked more than a little surprised to see her old colleague standing before her again. Given the fact he’d given up the uniform the last time they had seen each other, she was justified in that surprise. “I had no idea you’d come back?” she quizzed, sharing a hearty handshake with the Captain.

“As of five hours ago, I hadn’t,” the Tellarite smirked, a glint in his eye as he released the woman’s hand. Memories of good times resurfaced for a moment, but they were fleeting. Soon replaced by those of recent trauma. Pulling his hand to his side, the Captain turned to the assembled crew.

“I’ve summoned you all here for a reason. Intrepid is to be decommissioned, whilst Prometheus is to be repurposed. You’re in need of new assignments, and new places to call home,” he paused, looking around the group of nearly thirty officers. Faces, both familiar and new, looked back at him with mixed emotions. “Many of you have served with me before. We’ve gone into battle and won. We’ve also suffered great losses. But we formed a fellowship that neither distance nor time can break. You’re here because I need you,” he told honestly, taking steps around the circle, kind gestures here, a touch of the shoulder there.

“Those of you I have not met before, I don’t need you,” he told, to everyone’s surprise. He continued. “You’re here because I want you. I want you to join my crew. I want you to join my fellowship. I want you to join this family.” The relief on some of their faces brought joy to his fragile heart. “I won’t promise to be perfect; I’ll make mistakes. We’ll all make mistakes. But together, we can turn this ship into a force for good, return her to prominence, and take a lead out there,” he pointed towards the hangar doors that had yet to close, and the void of space behind them.

“I don’t know what awaits us out there, but we can all face it together…”

Minutes later, Vasoch and several members of the group were on a turbo lift headed for the main bridge. A resounding cheer and slaps on the back was the affirmation that he needed and gave many of the crew he had summoned the chance to start fresh. For others, it was almost like a chance to come home.

Emerging from the lift at the back of Proxima’s command center, Vasoch took two steps across the threshold and held his arms out. “My friends, the bridge…”

Leading the gathering from behind the diminutive Gor, Commander Noli and Lieutenant Or’uil had to be practically shoved aside to allow the others to enter the room. All shared the same look of awe and excitement that Gor had displayed the first time he had seen the pristine bridge just hours before. A stunning blue carpet with gold trim perfectly accentuated the silver and grey of the bulkheads and duty stations. Oh, and the duty stations! If they weren’t around the perimeter of the room, they were beautifully angled to go with the flow and design of the command area.

At the heart of the room, an exquisitely crafted United Federation of Planets logo drew the eye of anyone who had served briefly on the Santa Fe.

“It isn’t for purely decorative purposes,” the XO spoke out, taking steps from the crowd and into the command pit, “the seal actually serves as a holo-communications platform, making the most of up-to-date communications technology and is capable of displaying holo-projections from lightyears away.”

“Nice…” Prida grinned, arms folded across her chest and a nod of approval.

“Well look who showed up,” Henry Mitchell joked from the CONN, having spun around to face the newcomers.

“Flyboy,” the Risian science chief nodded in the man’s direction, eliciting a smile from the youngest of the senior officers.

“Ops is down there, Lieutenant Or’uil. Noli, you’ve got tactical there, and Akaria, that’s science for you,” Vasoch told, pointing in various directions. He then walked to the chair to the left of his, tapping the headrest. “Miss Chiera, if you’d do me the honour?”

Vittoria took a deep breath and looked at the Captain anxiously. Even as a Betazoid used to sensing the feelings of those around her, she’d struggled with how she’d feel about taking her place on the bridge of a starship again. She’d not sat on a bridge since before the death of their previous captain, and while she knew the time would come again, she wasn’t sure she was ready to be the one at Gor’s side, offering advice that he needed.

Siddling up to their friend, Prida placed a gentle arm around Vittoria’s waist from the right, whilst Akaria approached her from the left. “It’s okay Tori,” Prida soothed, rubbing her friend’s back gently, “she’d want you here, with us.”

Taking a breath, Vittoria exchanged glances with her colleagues, her friends. Noli, Prida, Akaria, Flyboy. It was the look from the Tellarite that told her it was alright. Not just alright to take the chair, but it was alright to still feel the immeasurable loss. And that was what she needed to know in order to take her chair at the heart of the bridge again.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” she joked upon taking her place in the comfortable, leather seat, almost merging with it to become one entity, and eliciting a chuckle from her friends.“Anyone any objections to getting back out there?” Vasoch queried, making his way around the Counsellor and standing in front of his command chair. “Deep Space Seventeen is wonderful and all, but there is an expanse out there with our name on it, just waiting to be explored…”

Glances were exchanged across the bridge at the suggestion of the Captain. Were they ready to be back among the stars together? An almost instantaneous burst of movement said yes, as officers in a variety of uniform colours took their positions across the command center.

Prida manoeuvred across to the MSD and got an instant update from main engineering.  Noli gently slapped her friend on the back and made for the tactical operations station, whilst Akaria and Or’uil moved to the port side of the bridge and took over their own stations from their relief officers. Henry let out a smile as he spun on his chair and turned to face the front of the bridge.

“Main engineering reports all systems a go,” Prida called out from the back of the bridge.

“Deep Space Seventeen has cleared all station traffic. Space lanes in and out of the system are clear,” Or’uil barked through the voice synthesizer on his chest.

“Clear the station, one-quarter impulse power,” Commander Kauhn instructed upon resuming his seat to the Captain’s right. “Commander Noli; transmit to Task Force Command that Proxima is alive and kicking,” he added, glancing to his right.

“And tell them we’ll be off doing our thing until they need us,” Gor called out, without so much as a look in the woman’s direction.

The Captain’s remark brought a long overdue smile to her face. “Aye sir,” the tactician nodded, getting to work on composing the message for transmission.

“She’s answering her helm,” Henry informed from the CONN, “we’ll be clear of the station in five… four… three…”

“Lay in a course; heading four-one-mark-one-eight-zero, warp five,” Gor instructed, tapping at the controls on the arm of his chair.

“Aye Captain,” the flyboy responded, “course laid in. Board shows green for warp speeds.”

“With permission Captain, I’ll be in engineering,” Prida called out, not waiting for a response before disappearing into the very turbo lift they had all emerged from minutes earlier.

“Engage Mister Mitchell.”

With Deep Space 17 slowly but surely falling behind the lengthy nacelles of the Proxima, the warp engines began to glow momentarily, the ship streaking into warp at the touch of a button on the CONN. 

Proxima, and her crew, were once again doing their thing; exploring the stars.