The dark, gloomy night drew in as my family and I lay in the dimly lit tent. The sky was crystal clear, and so was the space around us. At least that’s what we thought… Terrifying sounds began to emanate from the distant treeline. We thought it would be wise to investigate, to make sure that we wouldn’t be in any danger, so together we emerged from our tents and headed in the direction of the noises.

Soon enough, the forest, with massive trees as tall as skyscrapers, grew closer. Deeper and deeper into the forest we delved, the terrifying screeching sound piercing the air every few seconds/minutes. Then silence. An eerie, dangerous silence. We looked at each other, gripping each other’s hands tighter as the ground beneath us began to shake. Stomp. Stomp. STOMP. We couldn’t believe what we were seeing. We’d never seen anything like it before: Its coarse, matted fur covered its body; emerald eyes glared at us; and its long, bushy tail swayed from side to side. My family and I (which consisted of only three of us) slowly approached the mysterious beast. Shaking, beads of sweat dripped from my brow. My parents were terrified, but I tried to be brave. I stepped forward, palm outstretched, speaking to it softly. And just when I thought I was making progress, the beast snapped out and snagged my leg with its dagger-like teeth. My parents grabbed me and fled back towards the tent, the creature screeching behind us, its footsteps slow and heavy. Together, we swiftly packed our belongings and tossed them in the car, then clambered inside. Dad turned the key, but nothing. He turned again. And a third time. And just when we saw the creature emerge from the treeline, the engine finally choked to life, the car hurtling forwards.

Hopefully, this would be the last time we would see this creature.

Hopefully.

“It’s rubbish isn’t it?”

Holding the data PADD firmly in her right hand, Akaria held up her left with its index finger in the air, pausing him for a few moments more as she finished reading. Of all her duties as a Starfleet officer, nothing seemed anywhere near as hard as helping her son with his homework for school. And while Marley was growing in resilience and perseverance, the youngster still needed momma when unsure about things.

When she was finally done, she gently placed the PADD down on the glass table in their family quarters and looked at her son. Marley held his breath until she eventually let out a big smile.

“I love it!” she grinned, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “It’s much better than the first draft you gave me,” she tried to reassure him. And it was true. The first draft had not been good. At all. Thankfully, the advice she’d given him had helped, and she was certain he’d pass his homework this time.

“What do you think is better exactly?” the youngster asked, looking at his mum hopefully.

Akaria picked up the data PADD again and stalled for time, pursing her lips as she re-read the small paragraph. Opening her mouth to talk, she was literally saved by the bell when the comm array rang out.

“Senior staff report to the observation lounge.”

Smiling sheepishly, she passed the PADD back to Marley and gave him a quick hug. “Sorry mate,” she apologised, then swiftly made it to her feet and evacuated her quarters faster than she’d ever responded to an emergency in her life. Death and destruction she could cope with, but giving feedback on her son’s homework was not her speciality. Dammit, she was a scientist, not a teacher!

When the doors to her quarters closed, the Risian let out a sigh of relief and a wry smile to accompany a shake of her head. She felt bad, but she was thankful for whatever situation had arisen, headed for the turbo lift at the end of the hall.

“What do you mean he’s gone?!”

Looking at the sea of shocked faces around the lounge table, Tharia stood at the head of the table and placed her hands on her hips.

“It happened a short while ago, but yes. Fourth Fleet Command has seen fit to transfer Captain Kauhn to a new assignment that requires his… expertise,” she elaborated, hoping to ease the confusion of those around the table. “It’s a new operational mandate; moving forward, Command will be transferring personnel across divisions, squadrons, task forces and the entire fleet itself regularly, as and when the need arises,” she added, then reached out and slid a few data PADDs around the table.

After a few minutes of catch-up reading, the fiery Italian from Ops tossed her PADD onto the table and cursed in her native language. “This is stupid,” she shook her head, “he built this crew, this staff. We’re his team, and now someone else is just going to swan in and take over?!” Safe to say, Ruas was fuming.

Sitting forward in the chair directly opposite Italia, Commander T’Kir responded to the woman’s concern before the XO could. “It is a logical decision,” the Vulcan told her, drawing a glare from the young blonde. Somewhat taken aback, the man sat back, arched a brown, then continued. “Starfleet is short on manpower following the Frontier Day disaster. It is only logical that they transfer personnel based on the needs of the many. If there is a posting somewhere that the Captain is infinitely more qualified for than someone else, it is only logical that he should go,” he explained. To his credit, a few faces seemed to agree with him, but some were still not convinced.

“I guess that’s why I’m here, and not Commander D’orr?” Matheus Ren surmised, the Betazoid looking across at the Andorian, who nodded.

“Commander D’orr has also been reassigned,” Tharia confirmed.

“It says here that this directive isn’t confined to command staff,” Peri spoke from the XO’s left, eventually looking up at the seniormost officer. “It says that they could do this to individuals, or potentially whole teams, indefinitely or for varying time frames. That means they could literally sweep in and send us all to different places at any moment,” the Bajoran looked far from happy at the information.

“Come on Peri,” Maddison sat forward on the other side of the table. “Chances of that happening are slim. We should be proud of the Captain. It means he’s been recognised for his work, and as a result, we have too.”

Before the Bajoran could launch into a counterargument, Tharia held her hands up, palms out, to pause her team. “At the end of the day, we all knew this could happen anyway. We accepted that Starfleet would send us where needed when we joined up, and they’ve never been shy in doing so. This new directive just solidifies the fact that we, as personnel, are more valuable than the ships we occupy. That’s a good thing,” the Andorian raised her eyebrows, trying to assure everyone that the new directive was a good thing and a necessity after the recent travesties.

“Besides,” Counsellor Nuñez shrugged, “I bet no one would be complaining if they decided you were important to a mission on a ship like the Stargazer… or the Enterprise for that matter.”

“They’re not in the Fourth,” Peri frowned at her younger colleague, “so it’s hardly a fair example.”

“None of this addresses the other particularly large elephant in the room,” Maddie chimed in again. “If Kauhn is out, are you stepping up Commander? And if not, who is coming in?”

“For now, Starfleet would like me to continue in my current role,” Tharia shrugged. Even though she felt ready to step up, Starfleet had made it clear that her ongoing rehabilitation made it difficult at the present time, but she’d been reassured that her chance would come sooner rather than later. Where that would take place was more up in the air than ever now.

“I’m told our new commander will be with us by the end of play today, she continued, “and that we should expect some… resistance…”

The air in the room grew stale as Tharia’s words lingered, officers exchanging glances whilst considering the ramifications of the Andorian’s warning.

An awkward silence had filled every pocket of air and space between sh’Elas, Peri and their new commander as they had conducted their tour of the ship. In the thirty minutes he’d been aboard he’d insulted T’Kir’s grey hair, scolded an Ensign on deck six for running and questioned both women on why they thought Kauhn had been reassigned and he’d been drafted in. Needless to say, virtually everything they had been led to believe was wrong, in his eyes anyway. The one consistent truth was that they had encountered the resistance Task Force Command had alluded to, on a grand scale. Captain James Ryan did not want to be there and saw the posting as nothing more than an inconvenience.

“He said that?!” Maddie slammed her drink on the table at the back of the ship’s lounge, as far from other ears as the group could get.

“Mmhmm,” Peri nodded. “He openly admitted that Hypatia was nothing more than a necessary evil on his way to his next assignment,” she told the small gathering.

“His next, more meaningful assignment,” Akaria scoffed, downing what was left of her small beverage. She’d been there, present in sickbay when Tharia had brought the Captain in for introductions and he’d responded by openly criticising the need for dedicated science ships in the current galactic chaos. And then he’d admitted to not wanting to be there at all. A sentiment no doubt shared by everyone who had encountered him so far. No one wanted him there.

“Bloody cheek!” Matheus frowned, receiving a sympathetic tap on the knee from his partner in the process. “Do we even know where he came from?”

“His last posting was the Aeneid,” Peri told the group, “but he moved when she put into dock for significant repairs after the Underspace crisis. Apparently he’d still rather be here than sitting on his ass with his crew.”

“Let’s remember the new directive,” Maddie sat forward and whispered, drawing the other three around the table to lean in also. “If he’s been moved here, maybe that means we’ve got something coming our way? Something less… science-y?” She suggested appealing to their sense of curiosity regarding their situation.

“I don’t care about any of that,” Akaria shook her head a pursed her lips. “Just make sure you look after yourselves. We don’t know him, and we can’t trust him,” the unofficial mother of the crew, the Risian Medical Officer sat back and folded her arms.

“He’s our Captain now. We have to trust him,” Peri countered, drawing side glances from her friends, “or we end up like Lakota and the XO betrays him, then we’re all fucked…”

Proteus, a sea-god of Greek mythology capable of foretelling the future, and a fitting name for one of Starfleet’s newest vessels intended to bring the Fourth Fleet into the 25th century. In the short time that the ship had been in service, it had experienced some of the most challenging times in recent memory. Under a succession of commanding officers, the ship had navigated Underspace corridors and treacherous political landscapes, complete devastation and heartbreaking loss. Now, as she sat among other traffic in orbit of Deep Space 17, an unprecedented gathering of the Task Force’s assets, ship and crew waited for the latest new arrival.

Receiving a new commanding officer was never easy for a crew, especially one that had gone through several horrendous traumas in such a short space of time. A crew needed time to heal, a task that was difficult at the best of times, let alone when a new commander was at the helm. Proteus wasn’t just receiving a new mistress, though; in the last four days dozens of new officers, from the newest crewman to a veteran commander as XO, had arrived to fill vacant chairs and occupy empty berths. A bonding would need to take place, something to unite those who had lived through the tragedies of recent times and those newcomers who had no idea what the ship had been through. This was a crew bonded through loss, and anyone new had to understand that and learn that their integration wouldn’t be easy.

That was why Noli Auru had spent the last hour standing in front of the mirror in her guest quarters on the station, going over her first speech to the crew. Her first speech to her crew. Her first speech as a commanding officer.

In the aftermath of the Nazir trial, with the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, fate had intervened and set her free. A new path, a fresh start, with a new crew the Bajoran had to mould in her image now. They’d lost Captain Quinn and their XO, now it was up to her to rescue them, to bring morale from the brink. And she wouldn’t be doing it alone. She’d been allowed to pick her XO from a list of candidates provided by TF Command, and one obvious name had cropped up.

Commander Onsas D’orr. A brute of a Xelliat, the Commander was a scientist by trade, with a skill set that she hoped would complement her tactical background, creating a dynamic command team capable of anything thrown at them. She knew him from the time she’d been rescued by Captain Kauhn and the Arimathea during Frontier Day. A competent officer, some 10 years her senior, who had been waiting, biding his time until the crimson of command came his way. Until Noli had come his way. Hypatia had arrived at DS17 a day before Noli, so Onsas had jumped right in and got the lay of the land before reporting in over subspace. A great first impression and she was looking forward to seeing him again in person.

Straightening the commbadge on her uniform jacket, the Bajoran turned her attention to the small box on the dressing table in front of her. She’d yet to open the small trinket box, for a variety of reasons if she was being truthful. Trepidation. Fear. Disgust. Self-loathing. Strange emotions to feel about what was widely regarded as the pinnacle of one’s career, but there was more than an element of doubt in her mind. She’d spent hours over several days on the trip over to the station agonising about Starfleet’s decision; about Keziah’s decision. She knew that the moment she opened that box, placed that final silver pip on her collar, that she had to be ready. She had to be unequivocally, self-assuredly ready. There could be, there would be, no turning back.

When the doors to her quarters parted and young Lauren Mitchell found Noli almost paralysed in front of the mirror, she knew something drastic needed to happen.

Mitchell had been on loan aboard Lakota from Proteus during the last few months replacing a much loved member of the crew who had fallen in tragic circumstances, and Noli had jumped at the chance to call her home when the dust had settled from recent events. Noli was happy. Lauren seemed happy. And Henry, Lauren’s older, estranged brother serving Lakota was… happy? If that was the right word anyway.

And here she was, waiting for her Captain so they could both head over to their (new) home. But Noli wasn’t moving. She hadn’t even acknowledged the younger blonde’s presence. Mitchell quickly deduced the cause of Noli’s malaise (thanks to only three silver cylinders on her superior’s collar) and let out a gentle smile.

“You deserve that more than anyone I’ve met, Lauren told honestly, cocking her head and looking in the mirror. “Everyone we know knows it. Nazir knew it. And I think, deep down, you know it,” she told reassured, finally drawing a response from her friend.

Noli lifted her head and looked at her friend through the mirror. “If I put this on, I have the same responsibilities Keziah did. Look how it affected her, how it affected the crew,” Noli answered back.

Taking the small jewellery box in her hand, Mitchell opened it and showed it to the Bajoran. “You’re not Nazir. You do things differently. Starfleet thinks you are ready for that chair. All you have to do is take it,” she presented the box to the Captain and urged her to take it.

Looking into the box, the tiny, silver pip glistened in the light of the dressing table lamp. It sparkled and gleamed. And in that moment, as Noli looked at it for the first time, all of the doubt faded away, as if by magic. Reaching in with her index finger and thumb, she retrieved the item and looked at the mirror, clipping it to her collar.

“Congratulations,” Lauren grinned, “…Captain.”

With a deep breath and a tug of her uniform jacket, Noli Auru finally felt worthy of that very honorific.

Captain.

Having a starship without a Captain was like a sailing ship without a rudder – no ability to steer its way in any direction and left at a standstill. That had been the fate of Lakota ever since her commanding officer had resigned and her executive had been promoted elsewhere. Commander Vashara Zail had been brought in by Captain Nazir less than a month ago to serve as Strategic Operations officer for the whole squadron but had now found herself unofficially the acting captain of the flagship since Starfleet had made the unusual step to not appoint an interim commanding officer following Nazir’s departure. She’d done her best to answer questions and keep the proverbial wolves at bay, but with every day that passed, the uncertainty among the crew grew, and that wasn’t good for any ship, least of all one as large as Lakota.

Thankfully, as dawn crept over the horizon and Zail enjoyed her breakfast with the rest of the senior staff in the officer’s mess, news reached them that a new commanding officer had finally been appointed and would be with them that very morning. To say it was a relief was probably an understatement. It meant that not only would they finally have some direction, but they’d also be free to leave Deep Space 11 and head off on a new adventure. Respite at DS11 had been long hoped for, but the Nazir tribunal had left a bitter taste in the mouths of so many that they just wanted to leave and put the whole debacle behind them. A new commanding officer meant that was now a probability rather than a possibility. With the news digesting alongside their assortment of vibrant, flavoursome foods, Zail had requested the available senior officers spend the rest of the morning getting their departments in order, then report to the transporter room for the new commanding officer’s arrival when the time was confirmed. Prida, Henry and Voran would ensure all systems were functioning within normal parameters. Orax was still getting to grips with the tactical department after his arrival and drills were the order of the morning there. Meanwhile, the ‘Blue Shirts’ were involved in a remote medical conference from Bolarus, and would be out of commission for anything but the Captain’s arrival.

At precisely 11.59am, with less than sixty seconds of the morning left, two transporter beams began to materialise on the pad of transporter room two, the senior staff assembling at the shortest of notice. Malhotra, the new science chief, had been last to arrive after giving his thoughts on the transmissibility of a virus on Bolarus’ fourth moon, but he’d arrived just in time for the swirling particles to begin the reformation process. When they recombined to show two figures on the platform, an audible gasp from Prida, a knowing, excited nod of approval from Nikti and a ’Nice one!’ from Henry caused some of the newer faces to look on with added confusion.

Standing immediately before them, looking resplendent in his crimson uniform, Captain Giarvar Kauhn grinned, nodding in thanks for the warm reception from a few of the faces at least. He searched the faces before him and clocked the strategist standing to the left of the group.

“Commander Zail. I’m Captain Giarvar Kauhn,” the Trill nodded at the green-skinned woman, “permission to come aboard?”

Stepping forward, the Commander nodded her acknowledgement and held out a hand to the newcomer. “Welcome to Lakota, Captain. Please,” she then gestured for the Captain to step off the transporter pad and take his place on his new ship.

Stepping down, the Trill took the offered hand and shook it firmly.

Standing at attention, the Commander tugged on the hem of her uniform jacket and began the formalities.

“Attention to Orders,” she instructed those in the room. Then, she began reciting the formalities from memory, having made it her task over the last few days to make the process as seamless as possible. “Captain Giarvar Kauhn, USS Hypatia. As of Stardate 240110.12, you are hereby requested and required to relinquish command of your vessel, thus assuming the role of Commanding Officer, USS Lakota. Signed, Commodore Uzoma Ekwueme.”

As Giarvar listened to the change of orders so ably recited by Zail, he made eye contact with a grinning Prida and gave her a coy wink.

Nodding slowly, Zail gave the Trill another smile. “Computer,” she called out, “transfer all command codes to Captain Giarvar Kauhn. Voice authorisation, Zail Alpha-Three-Seven-Tango.”

Almost instantly, the computer beeped. “Transfer complete. USS Lakota now under command of Captain Giarvar Kauhn.”

Giarvar smiled gladly and offered his hand more formally. “I relieve you, Commander.”

With a laugh and a wry smile, the Orion took his hand and shook it emphatically. “I stand incredibly happy to be relieved, Captain.”

A ripple of laughter travelled around the assembled group before Giarvar quickly turned his attention to Prida. “Come on in, you,” he grinned.

Holding his arms out wide, Prida, like a giddy school child, slipped into his grasp and wrapped her arms around him. “I prayed to the prophets that it would be you,” she whispered to him as they embraced. “If ever we’ve needed you back, it’s now.”

For a second, he held her just a fraction tighter, letting her know that he acknowledged her and that he was relieved he could answer her prayer, even if he didn’t believe in religion in the same way she did. When he eventually let go, he shared a typically manly hug with Henry, accompanied by loud pats on the back, and then a warm hug and smile with Nikti, congratulating her on a well-deserved promotion to the senior staff as Doctor Zinn’s replacement. Zail then took a few moments to introduce the Captain to those senior staff he’d never met before: Voran, the Vulcan at Ops; Tactical Chief Orax, the Denobulan; Viviene, or Viv, the Counsellor; and Commander Malhotra, Lakota’s newest science officer.

It was during this exchange that Prida and Henry finally made eye contact with the second officer who had beamed aboard, their expressions souring upon a stark realisation hitting them like a phaser blast to the chest. They knew this woman, and they had never wanted to see her again, let alone welcome her aboard their ship.

Giarvar noticed the looks from his friends and purposefully stepped between them and the woman on the transporter pad. Holding out a hand, and with a smile, he waved her onto the deck. “Folks,” he smiled, looking around the group, “this is Commander Kerina Martens.”

“Good afternoon everyone,” she nodded around the group, hands clasped tight behind her back. While her face remained cold and grey, her hands almost turned white with the pressure of the grip she held them in.

“Commander?” Prida asked, folding her arms across her chest. “I thought it was Captain?”

“My promotion to Captain was for the purpose of the tribunal only,” Martens explained matter of factly, “since it would have been unseemly to have a Fleet Captain prosecuted by a Commander.” Her words were said with a particular sting.

“Commander Marten will be joining us as our executive officer,” Giarvar told, his words being met with looks of incredulity. Before anyone else could say anything, he quickly highlighted his expectation that the crew would treat her with the same respect as they would their previous XO, or even him.

“Understood, Commander?” he looked at Prida, with raised eyebrows until she nodded in agreement.

“Excellent!” he rubbed his hands together and then looked at Henry. “Right Lieutenant, how about you show us around whilst the rest of the team gets back to their work? I want us to be ready for mission operations at the drop of a hat.”

With a glance at the Cardassian who would now be serving as XO, Flyboy let out a forced smile. “As you wish, Captain,” he agreed, stepping ahead of the group and leading the two newcomers onto their tour of the ship.

At the back of the group and watching the new XO leave, the Bajassian engineer scowled. This was something she’d definitely have to tell Noli in their next catch-up.