Earth Spacedock was a buzz of activity, with Starfleet personnel and civilians crammed cheek by jowl as they navigated the expansive circular corridors. The air was filled with conversations, the hum of machinery, and the whir of anti-grav carts while overhead announcements directed travelers to their gates.

Shops, restaurants, and lounges lined the outer arc, their brightly colored signs and tempting aromas drawing in passersby. Massive picture windows of transparent aluminum stretched along the inner arc, offering panoramic views of docked starships. Their sleek hulls and blinking lights glowed softly through the bustling station.

Órlaith adjusted her duffle on her shoulder and tugged at the collar of her Starfleet uniform, the four silver pips glinting under the station’s artificial light. As a Galadian pushed by her, she wrinkled her nose at the alien’s overpowering body odor. She knew that not every culture valued things like antiperspirants or even had control of their odors, but this was disgusting.

Shaking her head and looking at the Galadian, she stepped to one side to catch her bearings, guiding her three children out of the flowing mass of humanoids. Removing a PADD from her duffle, she powered it on. The device made soft electronic trills as she scrolled through the menus, bringing up a station map.

“I don’t get it; why couldn’t we stay with Grandma?” Mindy Chantry folded her arms and shot her mother a stare, her expression a mix of impatience and frustration. Órlaith caught the familiar teenage scowl tailor-made to test her patience and held back a sigh.

“Because, Mindy,” Órlaith replied, keeping her voice measured, “we’re a family, and your grandma already raised your dad. It’s not her job to raise you and your brother and sister.”

Unbothered by his sister’s complaints, Xander tugged at the hem of his mother’s uniform, his wide eyes alight. “Mom, can I see the ships? Is the Enterprise here?”

“No, sweetie,” Órlaith said, her voice softening as she ruffled Xander’s tow-colored hair, feeling the silky strands thread through her fingers. “But there are plenty of other ships we can see.”

With a small sigh, she returned her attention to the PADD, placing a guiding hand on Xander’s shoulder as she nudged him back into the stream of bustling humanoids, her daughters trailing behind. Maybe I should have left them with their grandmother, she thought, sidestepping a pair of towering Klingon warriors. Klingons were rarely seen on Federation stations these days, especially ones orbiting Earth. Then again, not all diplomatic ties had been severed.

She turned back and saw Elizabeth lagging behind, gawking at one of the restaurants. A Japanese man in a tall red hat and a black chef’s smock worked quickly over the grill, his metal spatula making loud tinks of metal-on-metal as diners watched their meals being prepared before their eyes. The scents of searing meat and steamed rice made Órlaith’s mouth water.

“Mindy, get your sister,” she said, trying not to shout but speaking loud enough to cut through the earbuds crammed into her daughter’s ears, blasting whatever garbage music kids were into these days.

“I think parents used to use leashes for their kids,” Ethan said, appearing out of nowhere.

Órlaith jumped, clenching her fists and closing her eyes, trying to still her beating heart. “Jesus Christ, Ethan, you have to stop doing that!”

He smirked, flashing her one of those disarming smiles. With a casual flick of his thumb, he pushed his Stetson back and gave Elizabeth a playful wink. “Sorry, ma’am, didn’t mean to scare you,” he said to Órlaith.

“Ethan, you are so full of crap, your eyes are brown,” she said, exasperated.

He shrugged, a roguish grin spreading across his face, accompanied by a soft chuckle.

“Uncle Ethan, what are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked, her face lighting up with a smile.

He bent down, scooped her up, and settled her on his hip, plopping his cowboy hat on her head. His grin matched hers; he couldn’t help it. “Well, little partner,” she giggled at that, “I’m going on your next mission.”

Elizabeth’s eyes went wide with excitement, and she beamed. “Does that mean we can go to the holodeck and play cowboys?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ethan said as he fell into step with Órlaith.

As they moved through the crowd, Órlaith gave him side-eye, “Do you ever wear a uniform?”

Ethan glanced down at his duster, western shirt in vertical blue and white stripes, well-worn blue jeans, and scuffed cowboy boots. “As little as humanly possible.”

Órlaith rolled her eyes.

Eventually, they turned off the main concourse’s bustling thoroughfare and entered the quieter section reserved exclusively for Starfleet operations. Ahead of them stood a security checkpoint, and thankfully, there was no line today. Behind a panel of phaser-resistant glass, a gold-uniformed security officer sat, bored, his attention more on the paperback in his hands than the bustling station around him. The worn pages of the book wrapped around the spine as he yawned, stretching before looking up at them.

With a lazy wave, he gestured toward the retinal scanner. Ethan and Órlaith took turns stepping forward, leaning in as the sensor whirred, scanning their eyes with clinical precision. The soft beep of the machine filled the air, followed by a flash of text on the screen, summarizing their Starfleet files and travel orders.

“Have a safe trip, Captain and Commander,” the ensign muttered, clearing them through with a disinterested wave. Before they had even stepped through, he had already reclined back in his stool, his nose buried in the novel once more.

Órlaith raised an eyebrow. Must be a good story, she thought, shaking her head slightly before moving forward.

As they passed through the checkpoint, the chaotic rush of civilians and travelers faded into Starfleet officers’ more organized, almost serene flow. Most were returning to their ships, the weight of duty settling on their shoulders. A few had the unsteady gait of those who’d indulged too much during their liberty, and their fellow officers gently guided them along.

Halfway to the end of the terminal, Ethan gestured with his chin. “There’s our ride. I think you know the captain of the Sojourner?”

Órlaith smirked, playing along. “We’ve met,” she replied dryly, a slight humor playing in her voice. Captain Tarken was someone she knew very well.

You’ve come a long way Órlaith, she told herself. She had a family. A real family—not just her psychotic mother and father, who were, for lack of a better term, evil. Now, she had friends she could rely on too. Kirin had no doubt gone out of her way to pick them up; knowing the Orion woman, there had been no questions asked either.

Smirking, Órlaith suddenly felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, wandering through a strange, bustling world far from home. Did that make Ethan her own version of Glinda? She suppressed a laugh at the thought, grateful for his easygoing companionship.

Herding her kids toward the airlock, she took a deep breath, feeling a sense of purpose with her family and friends by her side. “Off to see the wizard,” she murmured, wondering what new adventures awaited them beyond the next gate steeling herself for the future.