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.