The shuttlecraft Eliseo settled down onto the deck with a subtle bump. Gale had spent most of his time gazing out of the shuttle as the small craft blurred through space at faster than light speeds in a compressed pocket of real time space. Like a cosmic surfer riding a wave. Now that they’d finally reached Starbase Bravo he was forced back into the present. He waited patiently, opting to wait as the others all undid their restraints and rose to fetch baggage. As the pilots strode out of the shuttle he fetched his own bag now that there was more room to move. He still didn’t trust large crowds. Not after… a cold shiver rippled up his back and he took a deep breath.

This was normal he reminded himself. They said it would take time to get past what happened. He didn’t notice that he’d drawn his arms together across his chest protectively as he stepped off the protection of the shuttle. It’d become like his own suit of armor. He knew the other people within it, and thus, felt safe. Here on Starbase Bravo though? There were so many more people to worry about. So many more potential them‘s. The black vacant eyes. The black spider webbed veins. He could still remember the whispers. At the back of his mind like a crowd of people talking about him just out of earshot. Gale gripped his bag till his knuckles whitened.

He flinched at a hand on his shoulders until he realized it was a chief trying to clear traffic. “Are you ok?”

He smiled, wanting to say yes but shrugged, opting for a half truth. “Not really. It’s been a rough lately. I’m new on assignment here. And appear to lost as well as overwhelmed.”

She smiled, it was reassuring but looked well practiced. He wondered how often she’d had to do this particular bit of song and dance. “Well, the station map is there, and can be downloaded to a padd. And as for the people, it can be a bit much at first. But eventually you’ll get used to it. Do you know who you’re first line leader is? Or you’re to report to?”

Again he shook his head. He felt like an absolute stupid new guy. She shook her head reassuringly again. “No worries. Do you have a copy of your orders?”

“Yeah. Right here.” He called them up on his tablet to show to her. She skimmed it over and then nodded finally. “Ok, Security Division. That would be Lt. Cmdr. Peri Anya. I’ll let them know you’re aboard and to expect you soon. Your orders allow for an extra day of transit. My advice? Use it. Go unpack, settle in and walk the station some. It’s easy to get lost. And if you’re security you’ll probably want to start learning the lay of the land.”

Gale blinked. “The what of the where?”

The chief nodded with a smirk. “Exactly. You go ahead, I’ll send word along. And welcome to SB Bravo.”

Gale offered a thankful smile as he tugged his duffle bag higher up on his shoulder and turned to face the yawning mouth of the shuttlebay exit. The doors constant humming open and closed reminded him of a large metallic titans mouth, chewing up people as the entered its gaping maw. He frowned at the thought, realizing that made him more comfortable to think about than the cold whispers that had clawed at the back of his mind. Imprinted physical and mental trauma they’d called it.

His ring beeped and he swiped up in front it displaying the rings sensor readings showing his deuridium levels. He was just falling out of the green. He’d be fine for a while yet. But checking in with sickbay was on his list. He already knew he’d be a frequent visitor. Maybe he could get some quarters in sickbay instead? Then he wouldn’t have to go as far for his infusions at least. Something to ponder perhaps.

Finally, he slowly made his way for the stations ever devouring maw. As he passed through the doors, the noise of the stations interior washed over him like wave. It was just loud enough he couldn’t hear himself think. So many ambient conversations at various levels about various topics. It was all so harmonious and yet, discordant. No unity. No conformity. A white noise of words. He found comfort in that, surprised that it came at all.

“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.” He let himself muse aloud above a whisper. Check in and relax. He could do that. Gale did what he could to focus on anything but the last few weeks. Most especially that day. Granted, he was pretty certain that would be the case for many his age going forward. Like a massive shared scar. Communal trauma. The new team builder. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He used to have a lot of enthusiasm for starlfeet. But lately it was difficult to admit that joy had been stolen from him. So what now? Carry on and pretend it didn’t happen? Push forward? What was right for him?

He didn’t know. But at least he had the time to find some answers now.

Watching the medical tricorder carefully the Vulcan watched as the bone regrew and knit itself together “like a magic sweater” as an old mentor had once said.  Lieutenant N’Vea did not believe in magic sweaters but the appreciated the insight into human culture that had provided her such a euphemism for something so typical. Humans more than anything wanted to add wonder, excitement, and mystery to the world when a simple factual explanation was available. 

“You are done Ensign. Keep the arm elevated when you can and rest more for the next forty-eight hours,” she said as she filled out the form to discharge him from the medical bay. With another team taking care of  the Borg resolution she was handling all forms of standard medical care. On a Starbase this tended to be more predictable if regular than a starship. The volume was higher, though the staff was larger to help handle that.

At the end of her shift the Vulcan signed out and left. New to the station she had not made much in the way of social connections. While she enjoyed humans she tended to be self-sufficient when it came to social connections anyway. Her career path had been less straight forward than she would have imagined with her last Chief Medical Officer posting only lasting a few weeks before, well all Borg had broken loose. The ship had been decommissioned at least temporarily and she’d taken the next assignment possible here at Starbase Bravo.

Here she kept up her medical credentials and kept in practice. Being a Lieutenant was easy, it was being a doctor of medicine and working on so many divergent Federation species that was hard. Vulcans, Andorians, Humans… even those three seemed similar but their anatomies were so vastly different that keeping current on the medical knowledge needed to treat them in an emergency was a full time job. It was better to work her way through that then hope she retained that knowledge in six or eight months.

Dinner was at a place on the Upper Promenade that was called Downtime. She was not sure if this was some form of human joke, though it had that feel. Humans could get enjoyment out of naming conventions, a trait the Vulcan found pleasant. Humans could enjoy a lot when they wanted to, even what things were called. Eating a simple vegetable soup made with Earth vegetables mainly from North America, N’Vea then went to the gym.

At the gym she spent her regular two hours. Focusing mostly on  exercises and strength training her goal was to improve her endurance. Though she harbored neither athletic nor combat goals, she was a doctor not a soldier, long hours standing and performing her duties were easier when she was in peak physical condition. Thus it was logical to continue with this, working to achieve that in anticipation for shifts when she was not able to sit down for hours on end. Or ended to fighting the Borg with little to no notice, which was not something she’d anticipated until a nurse had tried to phaser her.

Her quarters were small, though more sizable than she was used to on starships. Sparsely decorated she had no mementos from her service years save for a model of her last posting that had been gifted to the senior crew on the USS Aquarius’ decommissioning as a way of making the more emotional members of staff feel valued. A photo of her and her father back when she was ten was the only insight that she had not simply arrived as a Lieutenant out of the ether. 

A magic sweater that knit itself together.

In her quarters she kept the lights at half strength. Dim she changed into her Vulcan robe and meditated for awhile. Next she lay on her bed and read a medical journal article on cybernetic enhancements in Trills and how joined Trills presented unique challenges for such adaptations. It was nothing that she had come across but knowledge was a tool that she got to wield and it was one that N’Vea made us of when she could.

After awhile she set aside the PADD and dimmed the lights. 

The next day she returned to the medical bay to find that a fight had broken out on the promenade and she was tasked with dealing with minor scrapes that had resulted. Nothing serious, just some civilians becoming too unruly and the Starfleet security that had intervened. 

“Endeavor in the future not to be stabbed,” she advised being perhaps a bit deliberately unhelpful, “Though the fleshy bit of the arm is a logical place to direct a wound.”

The civilian grumbled something racist about Vulcans which N’Vea pretended not to hear, or at least refused to acknowledge. Humans had been trying to get a rise out of her since Harvard and this was nothing new. She’d grown up the only daughter of a sanitation expert, she’d been insulted before. 

The cycle repeated. Duty, dinner, and on to the next day. Life repeated, continued. The Vulcan did not ask if the name of Downtime was a joke playfully made of the words for the time off-duty. She read, slept, and worked. Ready for her next challenge that went beyond triaging people who fell down stairs or got stabbed with forks during bar fights. 

Until then she had a new place. As if knit there like a magic sweater.

“You have another review coming due.” Parker stood before her commanding officer’s desk, PADD in both hands.  Another morning had given way to an afternoon where everything moved on the schedule and was scrambling to find a place on the board.  The review of Lieutenant N’Vea had been shifted over several days.  Parker was losing patience moving it and had nearly put her foot down.  She also knew that doing that would have earned her a metaphorical trip out of an airlock, so instead, she had gently reminded Doctor Cassidy Montgomery about it, hoping the memory of the Deputy Director would make the connection.

Cassidy glanced up from her console and adjusted her readers, “I am aware of Lieutenant N’Vea’s overdue review.  She’s next on my list.”  A tap of her console and a message was sent requesting the physician report to the office of the Deputy Director.  “This job may feel like we’re herding malfunctioning shuttles, but there is a method to it.  Sort of.”  She admitted that the large amount of documentation they were fighting was testing both of them.  “We’ll get it handled.  That or I’m going to steal the Enterprise and run away.”  The ensign gave her an odd look.  Cass chuckled, “Spock stole it, Kirk stole it, and Picard stole it.  I’m just trying to add my name to history.  It’s an old joke, Parker.  Let me know when our Vulcan physician arrives.”  Parker smiled weakly and returned to her desk.  Her boss was downright weird sometimes.

Doctor N’Vea watched as the knee reset itself through the imagery of the medical tricorder. Putting it down, she felt it gingerly with her hands, careful not to press too hard on the human’s flesh for fear of undoing her work. Satisfied that everything was in position, both visually and physically, She stepped back from the medial table and then gathered a carbon fiber brace from the drawer and handed it to the nurse.

”The Ensign should wear this on this leg for the next week,“ she said, “I have a meeting to attend. Other than this he should be ready to return to light duty.”

The nurse nodded and returned to the patient as N’vea washed her hands and dried them before entering Doctor Montgomery’s office. Crossing her hands behind her back, she said, “You wished to see me, Doctor Montgomery.”

She knew that this was likely about the outstanding review. Unlike a starship, there was less time for non-medical duties and administrative bookkeeping a fact that had seemed to overwhelm the department. Given that the rest of the crew was not all Vulcans, they simply could not work eleven-hour days. Humans had invented, centuries ago, something called ‘work-life balance’ that they continued to insist on. As a medical professional, N’vea was bound to respect that and at least push for it for her human crew. Even if she did not believe in the need for herself. 

Still, one had to set an example. 

She was silent as she studied the woman. She had not yet formed an opinion either way on Doctor Montgomery as they had both been busy in her short time there. It seemed at least that the woman was competent, which in the Vulcan’s figuring was all that one could ask for from a superior officer. 

Cass glanced up and reminded herself she was dealing with a Vulcan.  Humans and Vulcans had enjoyed a fascinating history since the meeting in Montana.  As settled as it was, that relationship still managed to be unique in the modern age of 2401.  Humanity’s stubbornness and Vulcan’s, well, Vulcanness was something each had to work on when establishing a relationship.  The Deputy Director shifted her mindset slightly as she gestured to the chair, “Have a seat, Doctor.  I haven’t had a chance to meet you since I stepped aboard.  Anything to drink?”  She stood and refilled her coffee mug, appreciating the smell as it filled with steaming goodness.

Taking the offered seat, N’Vea nodded her head in the affirmative, “A water would be welcome. I have to ensure I am well hydrated during my shift.” Human reliance on caffeinated beverages was something she understood on a biological level but to a cultural one. While humans logically avoided most drugs, at least at work, they were quite happy to ingest caffeine. Even some Vulcans did, which N’Vea found fascinating. 

”You have requested to see me,” the Vulcan pointed out.

Montgomery handed over a PADD, “I did.  Your physician review is overdue.”  She tapped at her own PADD, “Your efficiency of care is in the top ten for the station – which is remarkable.  Your diagnosis rates are exceptional.”  She tapped at the PADD, “You can see the patient and doctor interactions is where there’s been…concerns.”  She held up her hand, “I’ve not been here to observe, so I’m just reporting on the data set we have.  I’m curious to hear your thoughts, Doctor.”

The Vulcan Doctor considered her words, wanting to be exact in her reply. Throughout her career, she had often run into the same complaint, though she knew that she was not as cold and distant as the average Vulcan. Though in comparison, she knew that she was not going to meet the standards of a human.

”On a station as large as this, with so many potential patients, I have not had the opportunity to get to know those in my charge over time. Most of the patients are walk-ins, and thus, unlike a starship or a doctor in a community setting planet side, most of my interactions on the starbase tend to be first and last interactions,” she explained, “Thus, few get to know me beyond my pragmatism, and do not bond with me. Other doctors can and likely do make a more positive initial reaction. Many people react as much to racial characteristics upon first meeting, and not venture beyond that until subsequent interactions.”

She meant that most saw the ears and figured she was going to be unpleasant, and so had an unpleasant time. Never bothering to go beyond their first visual impressions of N’Vea because there was too little time to make it worth their while. “I would expect that my scores improve upon subsequent meetings,” she said.

Cassidy chuckled as she tapped at her PADD, “I’ve known my share of Vulcan doctors in my time, Lieutenant.  Once or twice, they’ve seen something I haven’t…or connected with a patient in a way I never imagined.  Each time, I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am.  We often get so wrapped in ourselves and our practices that we forget the universe is full of species with the capacity for care and healing.”  She signed on the PADD, “Five of your cases were reviewed randomly for care, diagnosis, treatment, and follow-up.  All five met the expectations for the review.  This was the final step in the review, Doctor N’Vea.  I’ve signed off on your status, and we’ll do this again in a year.”

N’Vea was quiet, observing the woman. More accustomed to humans than many of her kind she had lived on Earth. First for medical school and then for Starlfeet Academy. Humans, and their at times illogical response to Vulcans was not unknown to her. They were allies and likely the two most closely aligned members of the Federation but they were also in many ways that mattered vastly different. 

Still it seemed that the medical chief was not going to hold N’Vea’s unique Vulcan characteristics against her for now. Instead she was simple providing a sort of warning about a potential weakness. 

“I will endeavor to keep that in mind,” she said bowing her head slightly in acknowledgement.

As the Vulcan woman neared the door, the Deputy Director spoke from her desk, “I’m glad you’re on our team, Doctor N’Vea.  The value you bring to this place is a worthy thing.”  She looked up and met the eyes of the lieutenant, “Welcome to my team.”

Seeing as the appointment seemed to be done she stood and straightened her medical coat which had crumpled in odd ways while seated. An annual review seemed insufficient but then this was a Starbase’s medical facility and not a much smaller starship’s. A quarterly review was likely impossible with so many doctors. Not that N’Vea particularly liked this, but she was just comparing situations between what she had established on her own commands to this one.

”Thank you Doctor Montgomery,” she said, “I appreciate the candor. There is no reason to beat around the bushes as the term goes.”

It was not quite how the term went.

Renu Tol’s office was located at the top of Sector Delta-Yellow with a view that overlooked all of the shipyards. They had been busy with repairs since the end of the Lost Fleet invasion of the Deneb sector, now there were more waiting for repairs from what had happened during Frontier Day. Renu stood by the large window that overlooked everything, seeing officers rushing around trying to keep on schedule in getting repairs completed.

Renu had also been knee-deep working on repairs that after several hours he decided to take a bit of a break. He had reports to file, review, and submit before he returned to getting his hands dirty. Walking to the replicator he ordered a cup of coffee before heading over to where his desk was located. Sitting down he took a sip and began to review the reports in question.

The journey from Sector Hotel-Turquoise to Delta-Yellow was a relatively short one in terms of all the possible, even likely, paths through Starbase Bravo. Complis Libran, who spent most of her time at a well-lit but comparatively small and dull science office, had only visited the shipyards on her initial tour, and she hadn’t been paying the closest attention to her surroundings. Now, she had the good sense to look around, even as officers and crew rushed around her, and she was awed by the views of ships – big ones, too — hanging in space. Those who spend their lives inside of ships never fail to be at least somewhat dumbstruck each time they see them from the outside. 

Libran remembered something from the Academy, a sharp little memory of something called the Overview Effect. It was reportedly a common phenomenon among the first spacefarers of many species. It was the transcendent ego-defying experience of seeing one’s own homeworld from beyond its gravity — of seeing everyone one knows, one’s whole world, one’s home — all anew, all together. Would she have that sensation the next time she departed the station and looked back?

She shook the feeling. She had somewhere to be. She turned a corner to Lieutenant Commander Tol’s office. As one of the fleet’s experts on archival science, she had been called upon to help the more technically-minded departments with cleaning up computer systems, archives, and interfaces after the Frontier Day incident and, crucially, preserving the junk, the corruptions, in locked-down archives, the way scientists keep samples of long-conquered diseases in case a vaccine is ever needed. First, however, she’d have to figure out how a shipyard actually worked.

When Tol called her in, she realized that she recognized him from around the base. A handsome Trill man with a welcoming smile. She smelled coffee. 

“Commander. Good to meet you.” Eyeing the replicator, she pointed sheepishly. “May I?”

“Help yourself,” Renu replied looking at her as he pulled up her file. “So it says here you’re interested in learning what we do here in shipyard operations?” He asked making sure he was reading the information correctly. Not that he didn’t have a problem with it, it was just an unusual request.

“That’s correct, sir,” Libran said before turning to the replicator. Bajorans had a tendency, used as the subject of humor and mockery since time immemorial, to speak in either deeply serene tones or in aggressive bursts. Complis Liran inherited the latter from her mother. 

“Single espresso.” She took the demitasse that materialized and sat down. “Before Starfleet, I had a career in archival science.” She sipped the coffee. “And so, I’ve developed something of a niche in cultural affairs. Which means I’m embarrassingly unpracticed in the more technical aspects of our mission,” she said, sipping again. “I do want to learn what it takes to get people like me safely around the galaxy to study and conduct these exchanges.”

She set the cup on that desk, and her expression sharpened. “But from a technical perspective, sir, I want to ensure our ships’ systems are safe, and crucially, that the systems that proved vulnerable to corruption from the Changeling attacks are saved and kept in a high-security archive. It may help us develop measures to prevent the kinds of attacks we saw on Frontier Day.” She lifted the cup again and took a final sip, draining it. “So, I was hoping to shadow you, as it were, and get your insights to inform our work in the Science division and the recommendations I’ll make moving forward.”

“Currently we are working on ship repairs from the Lost Fleet invasion in the Deneb sector. Those are our highest priority.” Renu explained tapping at his PADD to enter some information into it. “I am currently headed to lunch but we can begin upon my return if that is to your liking?”

Libran scanned the readout. List of ships and needed repairs. Plenty of normal library computer repair work, with the potential for some upgrades — and added protections in the organization of encrypted information.

She raised the PADD slightly, looking to Renu. “Thanks. We can reconvene after lunch.” For her, she knew it would be a working lunch.

“Looking forward to it,” he replied as he watched her walk out of his office. Making sure he had the PADD he wanted to have before he walked out and headed down to the promenade to grab some lunch. He had been working nonstop for the last several hours and his stomach was starting to growl at him. 

[Runabout Pasteur]

Doctor N’Vea glanced at the Ensign at the helm, betraying no emotions. Their likely chance of survival had dropped considerable with the past ten minutes, but that was the kind of statistic that she had learned and had been taught that humans did not like to be told in the moment. It was unnerving to have a doctor, even if not one with their hand in your chest, tell you how likely you were to survive had just dropped. Doctor’s fought to keep people alive, often at odds that were illogical. She supposed that a pilot deserved the same chance.

The ion storm had come from now where. On a mission to distribute medical supplies beyond the Paulson Nebula N’Vea had been assigned the young human Ensign as a pilot and what a lieutenant commander in charge of such assignments had called ‘Gofer”. Now her life was in his hands as he ensured they did not crash in the void of space prior to landing.

”Is there anything I can do Mister Solari?” she asked calmly, “I have passed all basic flight control tests during second year at the academy.”

Meaning she could fly the thing but hopefully it would not come to that. She had not flown since year two years ago. The Pasteur rocked back and forth and it was hard to prevent from being thrown from the co-pilot’s seat and onto the floor. The navigational array blinked and went dead.

N’Vea tapped it and then tried to restart it. 

“That is unexpected,” she said as if she’d forgotten to change socks that morning. Not that they had just lost their way to their destination and return home.

“I got this, it’s just a little bad space weather, no problem,” Cam replied, attempting to maintain his cool, despite the unfavorable turbulence. 

He continued, “What’s the unexpected thing, Lieutenant?” 

For a brief moment, N’Vea considered answering that their survival was currently unexpected but this was deemed information that the pilot would either be aware of or not need to know. Thus she kept her mouth shut.

Cam’s gaze shifted toward the Vulcans, but before any response could be given, he noticed the vacant space where the navigational array should have been displayed.

“Fantastic! First, we encounter an Ion storm, and now we’re navigating blindly. Absolutely incredible,” he exclaimed, abandoning any pretense of coolness and launching into a frustrated rant.

“I told him the Pasteur wasn’t ready! but noooo, we had to take it. ‘It’s a fine ship, Solari! Get me a coffee, Solari! I asked for a Raktajino, Solari! I forgot my PADD in my quarters, Solari! Fetch me a new one, Solari!” Cam grumbled. 

Solari’s gaze suddenly met the eyes of the peculiar Vulcan doctor seated in the co-pilot’s chair.

”A-apologies, Lieutenant. It seems today isn’t my day,” he admitted with a hint of shame in his voice.

N’Vea held off on pointing out that her position as a doctor superseded her rank. It was the sort of thing that non-doctors often got wrong, and could only see the rank pips. Still this was not the time to educate him as the Ensign clearly had other priorities.

Abruptly, the ship experienced a jolt reminiscent of a bucking bull. For the next few minutes, they endured sporadic jolts and movements, until Cam managed to stabilize the runabout once more.

“Nevertheless, it seems we find ourselves navigating blindly at the moment. Allow me to navigate through the ion storm, and afterward, we can strategize our next course of action. ” Cam said to the Vulcan

Doctor N’Vea looked out the window, ”There is a mid-sized asteroid. We can land and wait for this weather to pass.”

It was a suggestion, not an order. Flying she was going to leave to him under the hope that he understood their general goal was not to die. 

“It seems we don’t need navigation with your perceptiveness,” Cam said with a nervous smile.

Without delay, he skillfully guided the Runabout through the vast expanse of space, each maneuver calculated with precision as they approached the looming asteroid. In a heart-pounding twist of fate, a smaller asteroid, no larger than a small car, hurtled dangerously close to the vessel, the turbulent vibrations sending shivers down the Cams’ spine as they braced for impact. Miraculously, Cam’s lightning-quick reflexes and expert piloting skills averted disaster, and the smaller asteroid narrowly missed colliding with the Runabout.

With adrenaline still coursing through his veins, Cam continued to deftly maneuver the craft, inching closer to the colossal asteroid that now loomed large in their view. Sweat trickled down his forehead as he carefully adjusted the thrusters, aligning the Runabout for a controlled descent. The tension in the cockpit was palpable as they descended towards the asteroid’s pockmarked surface, the stark contrast between the void of space and the rugged terrain below intensifying the crew’s sense of vulnerability.

Despite the harrowing near-miss and the challenging landing conditions, Cam’s unwavering focus and steady hands prevailed. The Runabout gently touched down on the asteroid’s uneven surface, its landing gear absorbing the shock with a low, reassuring hum. Cam exhaled a sigh of relief, knowing that they just bought themselves some time but they weren’t out of the fray.

N’Vea waited until they had landed before rising from the co-pilot’s seat. Straightening her body she stretched and went to a cabinet and withdrew a medical tricorder from a drawer. Even if she did not feel hurt she felt that it was reassuring to check. A quick scan of herself showed nothing damaged however and so she held it up towards Ensign Solari, “Would you like a scan?”

“Maybe later, Right now, our priority is to ensure the safety and security of our current position.” came the Ensign’s response.

She assumed he would do a self-assessment instead and unless something new hurt would turn her down. Still, it was polite to ask.

”I will set out beacons around the ship, though there is not Starfleet transport expected this way for a week. We have rations, and some of our supplies we were bringing were food and water if it came to that,” she pointed out. So they weren’t going to die, not for awhile at least. 

Left alone she assumed the Ensign would be seeing what the runabout needed to fly again. Certainly bringing their navagation array back online seemed like it was important. Despite the Ensign’s joke she could not visually guide them back to their starbase. 

The runabout’s scanners showed a thin amount of oxygen so she got out an oxygen mask before beaming to the outside of the ship.  There she found an outside storage container with the beacons which she set up in a rectangle around the ship. When properly triangulated they worked with the ship’s own distress beacon to send a powerful alter. Sadly unlikely powerful enough to reach Starbase Bravo. Still it would be enough for when someone flew by.

Once finished she beamed herself back aboard. Removing the oxygen mask she stored it back where she had gotten it so that they could use it later. “Gravity if 0.75 to Earth levels, oxygen is low in the atmosphere so you will feel faint or collapse outside without a mask. Temperature is currently ten degrees but may drop. So far we seem shielded from any debris.”

“I’ve transmitted a distress signal while you were away. I hope it manages to break through the storm’s interference. The Pasteur isn’t a safe option for flight. If only Lieutenant Commander Finch had heeded my advice earlier, we wouldn’t be in this pickle,” Cam informed the Vulcan Doctor.

“By the way, I’d like to take you up on that scan now,” he added.

Doctor N’Vea nodded and picking up a medical tricorder scanned the Ensign. He was in good health, a small series of bruises where he had handed against the control console with this forearm but nothing that would require anything more than a painkiller if he requested. All in all the fact that they were both still alive, and had a serviceable habitat to remain in was a testament to the man’s skills flying. Though able to fly a runabout craft N’Vea was aware that if this had been her she would have crashed in a much more destructive way.

”Do you require pain management,” she asked.

“Well, not exactly, but I thought a brief scan couldn’t hurt. You know, there’s an old Earth saying – ‘It’s better to be safe than sorry!’”

Cam redirected his attention to the consoles, hoping for a stroke of luck that the navigation systems might have miraculously come back online.

”As for Commander Finch and waiting to fly home for rescue I think we should try to get ourselves in condition to try to fly. The storm will pass, this atmospheric effects were not reported by previous Starfleet vessels which suggests their temporary,“ she said, “And while we have food to extend our stay at a certain point we need to leave. Better to work towards it now than when we run out of provisions.”

Standing she want to a crate with Federation markings on them. Unsealing it she removed two frozen dried meal kits meant for where they were headed and passed one to Ensign Solari. Closing up the crate she sat in a chair.

”We also need to keep our strength up,” she said. She did not comment on the quality of the food, the taste or the fact that it was mainly a meat like material and she was a vegetarian. In survival situations one could not be picky. Even so early on.

“Thanks for dinner,” Cam expressed his gratitude.

As the package unfurled, a tantalizing aroma wafted forth, instantly making Cam yearn for a replicator. Nevertheless, he dug in.

“I understand we’ll have to attempt flight again soon. We’ll make it back home; I’ve found myself in similar predicaments before. Actually, more than a few times,” he remarked, trying to offer reassurance. “Once the storm has passed, we can establish contact with Starbase Bravo. They can utilize their long-range sensors to guide us, much like the ancient sailors who navigated the stars. Until then, we’ll have to bide our time.”

The Human Ensign suddenly adopted a lighter tone with the Vulcan M.D.

“So, what’s the story with the hair?”

N’vea was confused, “Would you like me to describe how hair works? Surely they covered follicle growth in intro biology courses. As for my personal choices it varies. I have lived with humans for years, I attended both medical school and the Academy on Earth. I often adopt less Vulcan hair styles. It is personal preference, nothing more. It is difficult to describe why I choose a style. Often it is to humanize me, as it were. Medicine is a field where an interpersonal connection is almost as important as knowing the medicine. If humans do not immediately see my ears, they tend to be more accepting of care.”

It was a sad fact that at least temporarily obscuring that she was a Vulcan helped with care. She would have said it was a failing of humans, but she knew that Vulcans were just as unlikely to be accepting of a human doctor. Though allies for such a long time there were still divisions between them. 

Thinking of potential conversation topics Doctor N’Vea removed her medical tunic and folded it, setting it on the back of the chair. She stretched again and moved a bit just to test everything. Scans had shown that she was fine, but there was something in physical confirmation that the Vulcan found reassuring.

”You are an excellent pilot, of so my limited experience might suggest. Were you a pilot prior to Starfleet or did you find yourself taking that on, as the choices in the Academy required specialization?” she asked. She was alway curious how people decided on specialties. Her own had obviously been picked before the Academy, as she was a medical doctor first and foremost. 

“That sounds like a relic from the 21st century; it’s disheartening to hear it’s still a prevailing issue,” Cam remarked, his voice tinged with disappointment. He then continued, “I appreciate your kind words. I’ve been a pilot for as long as my memory stretches back. My dad used to take me to an old airfield a few clicks away from San Francisco, and we’d glide through the skies in all sorts of vintage aircraft. After that, it was only natural that I gravitated toward shuttles and starships.”

Cam paused briefly, his gaze fixated on the stars beyond the canopy, before resuming. “To be honest, finding myself assigned to ‘air traffic duty’ on a starbase wasn’t exactly part of my envisioned career path. So adventures like this, even when they don’t go as planned, hold a special place for me.”

He shifted the conversation’s focus with a genuine curiosity. “What about you? Have you always had an interest in Xenobiology?”

“These days most medicine is xenobiology to an extent. Humans and Vulcans have differing physologies. Then there’s Andorians and dozens of others and that’s just counting those that are active on Starbase Bravo. A trill, as much as they look human, has some very different internals to a human and then there are joined Trills which add another complication,” she explained, “So xenobiology made sense and Harvard had what humans call ‘a good program’. If why medicine is the fundamental question, then I suppose I wanted to help in ways that I could. I am a Vulcan but I find Vulcans, difficult. As illogical as humans are they are in some ways easier to be around.”

She was quiet, “I suppose the saying is that you ‘wear your hearts on your sleeves’ though that is medically impossible. I do understand the intention of the phrase. Hence I have lived in mostly human environments, both Harvard and then Starfleet. I passed up the opportunity to serve on a mainly Vulcan vessel.”

”Curious,” N’vea observed, “I seem to be telling you things that I have not spoken aloud before. Perhaps a near crash has had a psychological affect on me. Do you mind explaining why Starfleet, I find human decisions facinating.“

“For me, it wasn’t even a question. Growing up in San Francisco, I was constantly surrounded by and captivated by Starfleet. During my younger years, I could spend hours in coffee shops, eagerly absorbing the stories shared by off-duty officers. I can’t recall ever desiring anything else. This passion was further solidified when I discovered that my Great Grandfather had been a Starfleet captain. He sacrificed his life to save his crew from the Klingons, a fact I only learned much later because my Grandfather rarely spoke about it. When I eventually looked him up, I realized that Starfleet was in my blood. And when…” Cam suddenly paused, her previous words echoing in his mind.

“Why is that ‘Curious,’ Doctor?” Cam leaned back in the chair, his fingers drumming lightly on the armrest. “I’ve always been a talkative person, perhaps a bit too much at times.” 

He offered a faint smile as he continued, “Like I said; I’ve spent hours in San Francisco’s coffee shops, absorbing stories from Starfleet officers on leave. It’s just who I am.”

Pausing for a moment, Cam took a deep breath, his eyes drifting towards the distant starscape beyond the window. “But here you are, a Vulcan. I’ve heard and witnessed the stereotypes, you know—cool, composed, and reserved. So, it does make me wonder, Doctor,” he said, his tone thoughtful, “Is this openness a choice for you, or is there something else beneath the surface?”

As Cam continued his conversation, a subtle tension in the Doctor’s features caught his attention. It was in the way the Vulcan’s brow furrowed imperceptibly, and the ever-so-slight hesitation in his responses. Cam’s intuition pricked at him like a faint warning signal, suggesting that there might be more beneath the surface.

The swirling patterns of the ion storm beyond the viewport seemed to mirror the complexity of the situation. Cam couldn’t help but wonder if the Doctor’s uncharacteristic openness had something to do with the intense circumstances they found themselves in. His mind raced with possibilities.

As he mulled over these thoughts, Cam realized that his instincts were guiding him, even though he lacked any formal medical training. He considered himself fortunate to have been stranded alongside a doctor, especially when the situation remained so uncertain.

The Vulcan bent her head to the side and observed the pilot. 

”Are you an armature psychologist now Ensign?” she asked, “I believe in candor and honesty. And it has been a long time that I have spoken to someone in a non-professional capacity. You are neither a superior or a patient. Your opinion of me, good nor bad, has no effect on my career. We are not in the same discipline and it is unlikely that I will ever be in command above you, or you above me. We also have ample  time. So you make a logical sounding board. Also your supposition that all Vulcans are the same, is as offensive as if I had suggested that all humans are illogical brutes. Though perhaps subtle for non-Vulcans we are all different. It might even surprise you that many of us do not agree with one and other.”

N’Vea studied him and asked a more sensitive question, “You are young. May I ask you what your experience was like being a Borg? If this question causes you emotional distress you can tell me to mind my own business.”

Cam’s voice trembled with anxiety, his words stumbling out. He gestured towards the empty space around him, his hands fidgeting nervously.

“I, um… I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” he stammered. His eyes darted around, searching for understanding. “It’s just… you know, space rays, and, uh, those mind-altering viruses… they really freak me out.”

After a deep breath to steady himself, Cam continued, his voice more composed now. “Luckily, I was at Starbase Bravo when the Frontier Day debacle happened.” He paused as if recalling a harrowing memory. “Thankfully, the Arachnid Nebula shielded us from the Borg signal. We made it through unscathed or rather, ‘unassimilated’.”

This was information that the Doctor had been presented with previously, but had slipped her mind in the excitement. For her Fleet Day had been a traumatic experience with her nurses turning on her and subsequently losing her position as a Chief Medial Officer on a starship. For her all Starfleet officers of a certain age now held some menace.

”I had forgotten. This crash was the second time recently I almost died and my survival was beyond my control, it is a most vexing feeling. Perhaps I should speak with a counselor, despite what we suggest us Vulcans need to talk to people too,” she said, “Have you heard of Chu’lak. He was a Vulcan on the USS Grimmson, and the deaths in the Dominion War drove him crazy. I do not yet think I am crazy, but it is healthy to speak of one’s thoughts.”

She was about to ask a follow up question, or at least assure him she was not a murdered secretly working on the Starbase when the asteroid shook, colliding with another rock. A third rock hit the roof of the runabout but thankfully the shields held, though the ship rocked and was pressed deeper into the sediment. The rock rolled off.

”We may not have the luxury of time,” she observed looking up through the windows. Large rocks were getting closer. 

Cam followed N’Vea’s gaze and locked onto the menacing rocks in the distance, each one a looming threat as they closed in on their spacecraft. His heart pounded, and a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. In one fluid motion, he leaped from his seat, the leather squeaking beneath him, and slid into the pilot’s chair, his hands trembling.

His fingers raced across the control panel, their movements erratic, as he initiated the ignition sequence for the impulse engines. The ship responded with a low, reassuring hum that resonated through the metal frame.

With a fierce glint in his eyes, Cam slammed his hand on the flight control panel, knuckles white, and shouted, 

“Brace yourself! This ride is going to be bumpier than a dingy on a stormy sea!”

With a deafening crescendo, the Runabout’s engines roared to life, and the craft surged forward like a bullet. It grazed perilously close to the jagged rocks below, the metallic belly of the ship sending up sparks as it skimmed the surface. Inside the cockpit, the crew’s knuckles whitened as they gripped their seats, feeling the violent jolts and shudders of their vessel’s wild trajectory.

Outside, the view through the cockpit window was sheer chaos. The ion storm raged with an otherworldly fury, a swirling maelstrom of crackling energy and tumbling debris. Their chosen landing spot disintegrated into a cloud of dust and pulverized rock, obliterated by the relentless barrage. It was as if the very universe itself conspired to test their mettle as they hurtled deeper into the heart of the storm, space itself appearing to unravel in the tempest’s grip.

For the second time that day, and the third time recently, Doctor N’Vea felt that events were spinning very much beyond her control. She braced herself in the co-pilot’s seat and strapped herself in but what followed was hardly anything she affected. The world jostled and swayed and even with all her Vulcan training it was hard not to simply yell in fear and frustration. She admired the young pilot who kept his cool, but without a task of her own to occupy her thoughts she was actually quite convinced they were going to die.

Cam’s fingers danced over the control panel, their movements erratic and intense. His hand started to cramp up as he fought to maintain the ship’s stability, each asteroid he evaded sending shivers down his spine. The ship quivered under the relentless assault of ionic blasts, thrusting him off course with every impact.

This turbulent ordeal pushed Cam to his limits, but beneath the strain, a subtle grin crept onto his face. He couldn’t deny the rush of exhilaration that surged through him. This may have been one of the most challenging situations he’d ever faced, but he was beginning to savor the thrill of it all.

The doctor was not sure whether it was helpful or not but eventually, to hold onto something, a duty or a chore, she took to calling out the presence of larger pieces of rock. Whether this was helpful she was not sure, but it gave her something to do and at least a placebo sense that she was helping. Eventually a voice came on their communicator.

”Starbase Bravo this is the runabout Pasteur, we are without navigation array and are trapped in an ion storm, can you assist?” Doctor N’Vea asked, the calmness that the answer came in was jarring. She glanced at Ensign Solari, hopefully they could provide that he needed.

Cam’s voice sliced through the thick tension in the cockpit, his words a blend of impatience and annoyance. “Praga, this is Solari,” he snapped, his fingers drumming impatiently on the control panel. “Quit dicking around and guide us through your long-range scanners.” 

The comms crackled with anticipation before a mechanical voice responded, “Affirmative, Ensign Solari. Lifeline protocol initiated.” It was the sound they had both been yearning for, a lifeline in the abyss of uncertainty. Relief washed over the crew, their strained expressions relaxing as they knew they were finally going home.

The Infirmary became silent as everyone waited with bated breath.

“Please state the nature of the medical emergency,” the EMH proudly declared when materializing.

The entire room exploded in cheers, which were quickly quelled by the doctor. “We’re performing surgery on a Bolian female, several skeletal fractures and internal organ damage.”

The EMH quickly scanned the surgical displays while the doctor spoke. “I see that,” he began throwing around commands, sending the rest of the medical workers darting around like bees.

“Oh, the Zimmerman model, that makes sense,” Joshua mused. He slapped Jabir on the back. “Good job!”

He looks at Joshua with a grateful but the same painful look on his face after having the wind knocked out of him. He stood slightly bent over, leaning on his legs, trying not to scream out in pain.

Joshua winced. “Sorry man.”

Taking a deep breath and standing back up, he looks at Joshua and Dawa. “What’s next on the books?”

“Stay here for now. You still need some rest, and Zoff will want to see a familiar face when she wakes up,” Joshua said. “We can’t get any further on the waterways. They’ll have to send a munitions team to sweep the area.” He turned to Dawa. “Should we at least finish up the filtration system? I’d hate for this trip to be for nothing.”

“Sure thing! This time I’ll get right to work on the scanners while you analyze all that sludge in the lab,” said Dawa, hoping she could avoid another outing in galoshes.

“We fixed the scanners!”

That was the joyful announcement that greeted Dawa and Josh in the control room of the water treatment plant. The three technicians present looked frazzled and exhausted, but also incredibly pleased with themselves, and just a little bit like they were waiting for praise.

Dawa did her best not to disappoint. “Well, gosh! Wow! Great job, guys!” she said, hoping it didn’t sound too forced.

She turned to Josh. “I guess that means I’ll be helping you with your sludge!”

“You sure you don’t want to do a victory lap with the technicians? They seem pretty excited about fixing the scanners,” Joshua said with a smirk.

“Nah,” said Dawa. “If I start running right now, I might just keep going. Might as well at least try to make myself useful in the lab!”

“All right then, you’re going to be bored to tears. It’s all sciencey stuff. Hopefully, you still have your Junior Science badge!” Joshua said, walking out of the room.

“I do!” said Dawa playfully as she followed after him. “And by the end of this mission, I’ll have earned another one!”

A few hours passed and Tior was sitting at Zoff’s bedside, waiting for the cadet to wake up, so she had a friendly face to see. Then, moments later, Commander Dawa and Joshua walked into the room.

“Hey commander, how’s things? I’m feeling a lot better and ready to go back to work when you need me. The EMH said Zoff will make a full recovery but will need a bit of time to heal and a bit of physio to get her back to full walking strength.”

“Consider your shift over for the rest of the day, Tior!” said Dawa. “You’ve put in some amazing work today.”

Seconds later Zoff woke up hearing everyone’s voice, asking for some water as she had such a dry throat. Tior turned around, walked over to her bedside, and helped her sit up to take a few small sips of water. Upon drinking the water, Zoff asked what had happened. Looking around at everyone at the same time. Upon returning the glass to the bedside, Tior stood beside Zoff and said, “Well, what is the last thing you remember Zoff?”

Zoff cleared her throat with a small cough and said, “We were at the aqueduct and about to do repairs on the aqueduct’s control system and we had just sorted out the main control panel. I was going for a power calibrator to sort out the power flow. I remember reaching into the toolkit and I lost my balance and fell backward between two boulders. I thought I had put my hand onto another builder. but it was the warhead. After that, it’s all a bit of a fog.”

While Zoff was remembering what she could, Dawa and Joshua joined Tior around her bed listening in on what she had to say. Once Zoff had finished saying what she remembered, Tior filled in the gaps and brought her up to speed with their situation. “In all cases Zoff we both are lucky to be alive, if it was not for my quick thinking and pulling you away. We both would have probably died up there on the hill. Unfortunately, you got the brunt of the explosion and I was not much better. Luckily I was able to repair the EMH so it was able to perform the necessary surgery that you needed.”

“It’s good to see you awake,” Joshua said with a smile. “It was touch and go there for a bit. Luckily Cadet Tior was able to get the EMH working.” He rubbed his eyes, “I think we’re about finished up here. Kinos will have the vaccination records updated shortly, and Dawa and I figured out the filtration system. We can’t work on the waterways until they clear the area. And that’s going to take a while.” He frowned, “It looks like we’re wrapped up here, once Xiran is stable enough for transport.”

“Well, we can’t head back tonight either way,” said Dawa. “And it’s been a long day. I think we’d all better get some shut-eye, as soon as I figure out what our accommodations are.”

She pulled out the communicator given to her by the local quartermaster. “I wonder if Prefect Adelbai will be any more gracious towards us now that some of our party has been blown up in the line of duty…” she muttered.

“That’s some mighty wishful thinking,” Joshua said with a chuckle.

The doors to the Science Lab whooshed opened, and Joshua cheerfully stepped into the lab. “Hey Meilo, how did Frontier Day go?” He said, setting his equipment bag at the station.

“You mean other than the Borg attacking and trying to destroy the Federation?”

“So it went off without a hitch?” Joshua smirked, which resulted in a disgusted look from Meilo. “Did you even get to display the equipment we curated?”

“I curated? And no,” Meilo replied.

Joshua powered up his display, “Let’s see what’s on the docket today…” A reminder chimed, “Oh, my follow-up with Dr. Brooks.” He powered off the console, left the office, and entered a nearby turbolift. Joshua directed it to the Main Infirmary.

Stepping out, he was greeted by a receptionist, “Can you help you?”

“Yes, I’m here to see Dr. Brooks for a follow-up.”

The receptionist looked at her console, “I do have your appointment listed, unfortunately Dr. Brooks is no longer on the starbase. I’ll see who’s available, please have a seat.”

Doctor N’Vea picked up the PADD where Joshua Bryant’s file appeared. She read quickly though his medical history and his basic profile before folding the screen under her left arm and exiting the back of the medical bay. As usual when working she wore her Starfleet uniform with a long coat over top, a signal that she was a doctor and often ended up with various bodily fluids on her. Approaching the reception area she approached the patient.

”Mister Bryant, I’m Doctor N’Vea, I understand you are here for an examination of your ribs. Can you please come with me and I shall perform the examination,” she said gesturing ahead of her with the intention of leading him to the private exam room.

Joshua nodded, “Yeah, okay.” He followed N’Vea through the maze of the Infirmary. “This is a lot less chaotic than last time I was here,” he said looking around. “But, then again, the Borg were on attacking.” Finally, they reached the exam room. “Should I take off my shirt or…?” his voice trailed off.

Doctor N’Vea nodded, not that she was looking for him to remove his top but a physical examination was as useful as a biobed reading. It was a bit old these days but she had learned her medicine on Earth and quite willing to use old methods as long as they were as effective as the newer ones, “Yes, take off your shirt and lay on your back on the bio-bed. I will perform an inspection. Thank you.”

He removed his shirt and laid down on the biobed. “You’re new here,” it was more a statement than a question. “Have you had a chance to partake in the Promenade shops? I can show you around sometime, if you’d like. Although I’ve spend more time off the station than on it,” He chuckled.

“Yes, I am new here,” confirmed the Doctor, “my ship was dry docked following Fleet Day and the crew mainly reassigned. I have little need for personal affects one can buy at the Promenade. However, knowing very few people on this station perhaps you could show me around. I have gotten food at a place there named Downtime, can you explain is that a humorous name for humans?”

“Oh boy,” Joshua chuckled, “that’s quite the first experience.” He thought a moment, “It’s a play on words. Since downtime typically means a relaxing time in between work, most people go to a bar to relax. Though I wouldn’t consider Downtime a relaxing place. Cadets consider it a rite of passage to go there, so they usually get drunk and cause trouble.”

Her hands gently ran down his ribs, as she looked at his chart to see which to pay particular attention to. Feeling something off she slowed and repeated part of the examination before activating the bed to confirm her suspicion. The Vulcan gestured to the screen, “These two ribs are slightly incorrect in how they are healing. The angle is wrong, I will attempt to readjust them but you will want to be careful the next week and not lift anything over fifty pounds.”

Taking a tool out from a cabinet she worked, using a hypo spray to numb the area and then cutting into it. It was delicate work, but well within the capabilities of even a first year doctor. Once the cut had been sealed and healed she nodded, handing him his shirt.

“I’m glad it’s not Dr. Brooks doing my follow-up.” Joshua said, putting his shirt. “I didn’t exactly follow his instructions for light duty and went to Galakail Minor for relief efforts. He seemed like a nice guy, but that would make him angry.”    

”I did not know Doctor Brooks, thus I am not amused by such stories,” N’Vea said, “You do notice I am a Vulcan do you not?”

“The ears gave that away, doctor,” Joshua said with a smirk. “I wasn’t trying to impress you, just making conversation. He shrugged, ”Let me know when you have some free time. I can’t get into Vandorin’s, but certainly somewhere nicer than Downtime. Or I hear they have a nice arboretum on the upper decks. I’ve been meaning to get up there.”

Joshua stood up and moved towards the door, “Do I need to come back for a follow-up? Or are things fine after next week?”

”I see. I am sorry, I had misread the situation. I am free next Thursday after my shift at 18:00, if you are also free book a follow-up, I will scan your ribs again and then we can depart,” she said, “Unless I should wear specialized attire. I will point out that I am a vegetarian, though most places are fine with accommodating that.”

“You got it,” Joshua said. “No, your uniform will be fine. I’ll see you… next Thursday.”

Putting the equipment in the tray she nodded, “It was a pleasure to meet you Mister Bryant.”

“Likewise doctor,” Joshua smiled as he left the room.

“Well, get ready to say your goodbyes to Galadkail,” Dawa said as she checked off items on a PADD. “We’ve been cleared for departure in 10 minutes.”

She glanced up at a small basket of fresh fruit sitting on the console next to her. “Gotta find somewhere to stow that before takeoff. Considering the state of the colony, it’s actually a pretty thoughtful gift. Maybe Prefect Adelbai warmed up to us after all? Or maybe it was her assistant’s idea.”

“Given how mad the Prefect was about the waterways not getting repaired, I’m going to guess her assistant,” Joshua replied. “I’ll put a recommendation to any future goodwill crews to fix them.”

“Good idea.” 

Dawa turned her attention to Cadet Tior as he came aboard. “I’ll have to take the pilot’s seat on the way home given your recent concussion,” she told him.

“I’m not coming with you, I just came to say goodbye and wish you the best of luck on your journey home, guys. Lt Commander Dawa, Joshua, Cadet Kinos and of course Zoff, I am staying here. The USS Gilroy is just about to come into orbit, and they are going to beam me up as soon as I’m ready. It’s been an honor and privilege to serve beside you guys. Maybe when I’m back from the Delta Quadrant we can catch up sometime if you guys are ever free or we are at the same starbase” said Jabir.

“Good luck out there,” Dawa said with a smile. “You’re already a hell of an engineer, and not a bad pilot!”

Joshua nodded, “Of course, look me up when you get back.” He went to shake Tior’s hand, but he was barreled aside by Cadet Zoff.

Zoff hugged Jabir, “Thank you. I owe you my life, literally. I won’t forget what you did for me.”

“Anytime. I hope you would have done the same for me,” said Jabir.

Once Jabir was free of Zoff, Josh continued his farewell. “You’ve been an asset to the team. The Gilroy is lucky.”

With that, Jabir gave everyone a firm handshake goodbye and left the runabout, standing a few meters away to allow the ship room to take off. Next to his gear, he tapped his combadge, and away he went on to his next mission.

Back in the runabout, Dawa turned her attention to Josh and the remaining cadets. “Well, which one of you wants to take the navigation console?”

“I’ll split navigation with Cadet Eager Beaver,” Joshua said to Dawa. “Zoff still needs to take it easy for a while. Should we get underway?”

“Well, we’ve been cleared for takeoff,” said Dawa. “Once you’re all settled, we’ll jet. Oh, and…”

Dawa took the fruit basket off the console and handed it to Josh. “You’re in charge of refreshments again!”

Joshua took the basket with glee. He took a fruit, smelled it, and took a large bite. “Eager Beaver, you’re on navigation!” Joshua said as he sat down and looked through the basket.

Cole exited the airlock and got his first look inside Starbase Bravo. Man. He thought it looked huge outside. It was a lot bigger on the inside. And never mind this being the biggest station he’d ever been on. It was the first. He was blindly walking down the walkway and slowly spinning in circles every few steps in order to look around. 

How does anyone find their way around here? he thought.

He had a schematic on the PADD he carried but the image did not do justice. He looked around for a console that could possibly assist him. He knew he had to locate his quarters and report in to his new Department Head, who he believed to be a one Lieutenant Commander Peri Anya. 

Cole continued to be awe of the amount of space here. Seven hundred decks and a possibility of up to two hundred thousand people at any given time. It was no wonder they required such a massive security force. 

When he first heard about the assignment back in the Academy, there had been roughly fifty people asking for it. There were at least thirty of those people on the transport he had taken here but he wasn’t sure how many had been Security like himself.

He caught glimpse of a station layout on a wall console and made his way over. Entering his information, he discovered that his assigned quarters were on deck four fifty two. It made sense to be there. It wasn’t too far from the Promenade decks that he was quite sure he would spent most of his time being on patrol.

“Right then. And I am currently on deck six seventy five. Thank the Prophets for turbolifts.” he said as he checked the map for the closest lift and made his way to it. It was currently eighteen twenty hours and he was scheduled to report in first thing in the morning. Time to find his bed, shower and crash out until then.

Gale finally wandered into the main medical ward of SB Bravo after spending some time roaming the promenade. The silence of his room had felt oppressively and suffocating so he’d quickly placed his things down and fled to the comfort of the noise. In the station at large he was able to just lose himself in the stream of white noise of conversation, sales being made, and arguments taking place. The was peace in anonymity here. Itself an unusual thought because he’d never expected to enjoy being just another face in a crowd. There was certainly some mental trauma to unpack there. But that would have to be a task for someone better suited than himself.

He held the pad with the details of his people’s needs for deuridium infusions, and the suggestions for how much to keep on hand and so forth. Most of it was medical jargon beyond his own level of comprehension. He just knew he needed it or his cells would begin to deteriorate. A prospect he didn’t find comfort in. He felt like a stranger and clung to the mouth of the bay glancing around awkwardly hoping to be noticed. It was quieter inside. He didn’t like the quiet after them. He took a short moment to mourn the loss of that piece of himself. Replaced by an impulse placed into him by something other. He could remember being quite private. Comfortable in silence and solitude and often times preferring it. Now he was left the near manic need to be near people and noise for reasons he didn’t enjoy.

Ensign Geraldine Parker walked out of the corridor leading to the Deputy Director of General Medicine’s office and searched for her next target.  They had been working through new and old staff with marked precision.  A new name had popped on her curated lists and she’d frowned at the time.  She wasn’t familiar with the Kobliad species and it had taken her a few minutes to do her research on her walk from her desk to this moment.  “Ensign Vantek? Ensign Parker, assistant to the Deputy Director of General Medicine.  I’ll take you to her office.”

It was a short walk down the hall and around a corner to the large doors where Parker tapped the chime. A second later, a voice bid them enter.  She led Vantek into the room, “Deputy Director, Ensign Vantek.”  She stood to attention and departed.

Cassidy gave the young officer a glance, “Welcome aboard Starbase Bravo, Ensign.  Security’s a helluva choice in this madhouse.”

Gale gave Parker a thankful nod and a curious expression as she noted the comment about the madhouse. Perhaps his decision to forgo a ship posting wasn’t as wise as he’d previously thought? Well, he was here now, so no going back. He offered the Deputy Director the pad that held his medical records on them, including the required notation about his affliction with the Borg genetic tampering via the transporters. His case had been described as artificially mild in comparison to others due to his people’s dependency on deuridium. Something about it shielding from genetic tampering or something: he got lost in the medical nonsense of it, but he knew enough to suss out it was the overdose he’d given himself. It’d cost him though. A couple of weeks of mandatory convalescence to recover. But it’d helped save some lives, and that made it worth it. 

“I was told departing my last post that I would need to check in with medical to my…needs.”  Gale hated it, but it had been a silver lining on Frontier Day. Perhaps that was reason enough to cut himself some slack. It’d be no different than if he worked in an aquatic environment. It was just one more thing than most others he needed to function. He fidgeted with his scanner ring on his left index finger. The subdued quiet of the office pressed in on him, the bustling chaos of the station’s interior just beyond reach. Mission first. He could do that. Clear medical, then peace. 

Montgomery appraised the young officer as a thinker – there was plenty going on in his head with very few words coming out.  She accepted the PADD and slid it onto the pile on her desk. Cassidy pushed out from her chair, picked up her medical tricorder, and started her evaluation with a once-over scan, “Your last post was very forthcoming about your needs, Ensign.  We have others in your situation onboard Bravo so supply shouldn’t be too much trouble.  I know in the past it’s been troublesome.”  She reviewed the scans from the tricorder, “For a first scan, not too bad.  Blood pressure is a little high.  Weight and height are normal for your situation.”  She slipped the tricorder onto her belt and pulled down a larger scanning unit from the ceiling, “How do you feel?”

How did he feel? That felt like such a loaded question lately. “If you’d have asked me a few weeks ago? I’d have said fine. Excited maybe? But now?” Gale shrugged as he trailed off. 

“Now I’m not so sure. Not fine.” He paused, searching for the right word. “I don’t know, troubled maybe? Haunted?” The answer to such a simple query felt elusive and difficult to grasp like trying to grab a fish in the water. It just slid right through his grip. 

“Guess I’m still processing B day.”

Cassidy gave a doctorly nod as he spoke.  There was still much work to be done to clean up the mess created by the events and experiences from Frontier Day.  She had her part, but that was still in the shadows.  She used the more extensive scanning suite to complete a full body sensor run and then tapped a few buttons to send the report to her PADD.  “There are a lot of things to be said for what happened during…and plenty more still to be said for after.”  She offered him the chair that sat before her desk as she slipped her PADD back in hand to review his results, “Your levels are showing normal at the moment.”

She showed him the screen, “What it tells me is that your doses have been on a bit of a rollercoaster in the past month or so.  You are well aware if that rollercoaster goes on longer than it should.”  She leaned up against her desk, looking the Kobliad officer in the eye, “I don’t often concern myself with the officers on this station.  I leave that to my physicians, orderlies, and nurses.  However…”, she tapped at her PADD, “Your situation requires a steady hand.  I’m assigning your medical care to me, Ensign Vantek.  I called it a madhouse because it’s an impossibly large station with lots of moving people and pieces.  I don’t want you or your care to get lost.”

Gale blinked. Then realized she was referring to his stunt during Frontier Day, or in his own opinion, Borg Day. All he could do was offer up a silent nod. Nothing she’d said was wrong. And he had no reason to protest. He’d caught himself up in a precarious dance of avoidance while trying to maintain enough connection to not be completely shut out. The fact is he wasn’t entirely sure he was comfortable with the idea of people because there were bound to be more of them lurking out there. Sleepers waiting to put a phaser in his back, or an admirals chest. Quick thinking and wreckless medical decisions had helped him save lives, but now his own health was bearing the brunt of those choices. It was time to get that much right at least. 

“Uncertain times have called for unusual solutions. But you are right. My health has been a bit of a mess, and it needs to be corrected. Thank you.” He hesitated but forced the next statement out of his lips before he could chew the words into mush. 

“It…might also not be a bad idea to see a therapist. That is, I’m not questioning your own judgment or anything.” He quickly added, not wanting to offend. “It’s just that I’ve been processing a lot lately, and I should probably unload some of this baggage I’m carrying if I don’t want to unravel at the seams.”

Cassidy chuckled, “I’m a doctor, not a psychologist.  I would question my own judgment of offering my services as a therapist. My director would be second in line to ask what I was thinking.  There would be shouting.”  She leaned back on the desk, her eyes searching the ceiling as she remembered the names from the morning report, “Counselors Champney, Musgrave, or Ashfield are at the top of my referral lists.  They also have a Deputy Director of Psychiatry who’s earned a strong track record – Lieutenant Elegy Weld.”  She tapped into her PADD, “I’ll send you their information…look through their profiles and see which one feels like a good fit.”  Montgomery pushed off the desk and walked back to her chair, “The mind – human or alien – is a place that needs minding when there’s a lot going on inside.”  She sat down, “I can mend the literal seams, Ensign Vantek…the metaphorical ones are up to you and the team you select to help you.”

She stood and shook his hand, “I’m glad you’re here with us, Vantek.  Bravo may be a madhouse, but it’s a place with a place for everyone.”  She watched him leave out the door as Parker stepped in, doing the same.

“He’s mighty interesting, don’t you think, Deputy Director?”

Cassidy was about to change the subject but stopped, “What do you mean interesting, Ensign?”  The young woman’s face blushed, and she gave a weak smile.  Her boss stared at her and laughed, “I’ve found your weakness, Parker.”

Geraldine begged, “Don’t tell anyone, Deputy Director.”

Montgomery assured her, “Trust me – anything that knocks you off your focus is my secret to hold until death or a Black Hole takes me.”  She gestured at the PADD her assistant was holding, “Now let’s get on with the reports, shall we?”

Gale left with the list of referrals. Something to study when he had a moment. Now that he was back within the chaotic ambiance of the station? He felt less isolated. He let out a slow deep breath, and went for a walk. There was still plenty of time before he had to report to his first line leader and he wanted to spend that time feeling a little more at ease. 

Cole sat at the console and typed up his report about the Cochran incident while it was still fresh in his mind. It had been by pure luck that he had been near the Workroom while patrolling the shipyards. He felt his response time had been very good. What he wasn’t pleased about was how the hologram had adapted to his fighting skills and had been able to toss him around like a rag doll. He had made a mental note to get his ass back into the gym and train some more.

As he typed, he found himself thinking about the young science officer. He hoped she would be alright. He also was secretly hoping he would see her again.

Complis Libran. He thought to himself.

He slightly shook his head to bring his thoughts back to the business at hand. He needed to get his report done and get back out on patrol. Hopefully, there wouldn’t be any more hologram issues tonight. 

Coffee was life.

Literally.

This morning it might actually be the difference between life and death, especially for the hapless ensign in Mads McGowan’s sight.

She sighed, resisted the urge to throttle Ensign Lane and thought longingly of the espresso that was in her immediate future. An espresso she wasn’t going to get if she throttled said ensign and got thrown in the brig. And, more importantly, if she got herself arrested, her cargo transport schedule would be screwed six ways to Sunday.

“Ensign, can you explain to me why the crates for catering with the real eggs for the fancy cakes for the Admiral’s ball that should have been there before eleven this morning have been delivered to main engineering?”

She somehow managed to keep her voice level as she tapped away on the ever-present padd in her hand, working the transport schedule like a Tetris master. She also managed to limit herself to one baleful glance up at the ensign.

“While I’m sure engineering would have been delighted had the delivery been actual cakes instead of the raw ingredients, they’re not going to be able to do much with five thousand raw eggs. Not unless something significant has changed in engineering or maybe the laws of physics that I was unaware of.”

Ensign Lane squirmed, then managed a smile. He had the sunniest disposition she had ever had the misfortune to come across. One that irritated her daily. Especially today.

“It was the number three, commander.” He nodded offered a brighter smile.

Mads blinked, finger hovering over the padd, ready to commit the changes she’d just made to get the eggs to catering where they belonged, the degreaser engineering needed from medical back to engineering, and then put in a search query to find the two missing crates of medical supplies.

“The number three?” She asked. Perhaps she’d slipped into some kind of alternate reality where all of a sudden words didn’t mean what she thought they meant.

“Yes! Exactly! It wasn’t where it should be.”

“The number three… wasn’t where it should be? Did it move from between two and four?”

The sarcasm was completely lost on Lane, who nodded so hard she thought his head was going to fall off.

“Yes! Well, no—”

Mads bit back a second sigh. This was going to be a long day.

“What I mean is, the shipment for engineering ended four-four-three, and the shipment for catering was four-three-four. The three got put in the wrong way around when the shipments were put into the system.”

Mads stabbed the confirm button on her padd with more venom than usual. She had broken screens before. Today was getting near that level.

“Right… And no one through the various different handling points or the final transport point thought to check the fact the transport crates had ‘fragile organics’ painted on the side were being delivered to eng—“ She cut herself off and shook her head. “No, don’t answer that. The number three, right?”

Brig… no coffee, she told herself. Remember that.

“Yes, ma’am.” Lane looked at her again. “You look stressed, ma’am. Would you like a coffee? I was just about to head down there on my break… I can bring you one back?”

The engineering workroom had none of the charm of the rest of Starbase Bravo’s shipyard. It was eerily similar to the cramped, windowless science labs she’d been excited to leave when she took an assignment to assist with the refits to ships involved in the so-called Lost Fleet incidents. The number of “incidents” occurring across the galaxy seemed to be increasing, and it gave Lieutenant Complis Libran a deep sense of unease. The dark little room did not improve the feeling.

The backup holographic computer core took up most of the room, and as she patched it into Starbase systems, the room seemed to shudder. The lights flickered for the briefest of moments. She shook it off. She knew that the Fourth Fleet’s ships had taken a beating — and she knew the Frontier Day attack had revealed even more vulnerabilities than Starfleet Command was willing to admit. But she was focused on the timeframe of the Deneb action, and as she accessed the computer’s backlog, she noticed alarmingly unusual data.

The ship from which this particular computer core was taken had seen combat, and it was clear that the core had seen some unusual action as well. It had been accessed by ship-to-ship communications systems during that attack, several times. Finding out how, and why, would take time.

What would anyone want with a backup holodeck computer?

“Let’s see if this thing still works,” she said to the empty room. She activated the unit and connected it to a mobile holo-emitter she had brought.

“Computer, show me… Zefram Cochrane.”

The gentle fizzing hum of a forcefield rose for a moment, as the man formed before her. This was Cochrane later in life, maybe around the time of the Warp Five project.

“Ah,” Complis said, “hello.”

“Hello,” he said in a scratchy baritone. He looked around slightly, not frightened, but not comfortable. “What is this place?”

Libran smiled. “Welcome to Starbase Bravo.”

“You’re—” he began, pointing to her nose ridges.

“Bajoran, yes. Or at least half. We’re from the Alpha Quadrant, beyond Terra Nova by several sectors.”

“Beyond…” he marveled. Then he changed, his entire demeanor turning hostile. His body, his expression, his voice, they all changed instantaneously, faster than any flesh-and-blood being ever could. He said nothing more. He lunged at Libran.

She retracted unthinkingly, but the hologram could move at the speed of light. He gripped her arm tightly. Something was wrong, he shouldn’t have been able to apply this much pressure.

“Computer.” It beeped. “End program.” The computer only responded with the high-to-low-pitched chime that meant something like “failure.”

She tried again, as the hologram of one of humanity’s greatest heroes began pushing against her tibia. “Activate safety protocols.” The same negative chime.

He was staring daggers at her with a haunting stillness. She noticed his focus. Acting on it, she whipped her free hand up as quickly as she could to tap her commbadge. After she did, he grabbed both arms and kept squeezing. Libran left out an involuntary cry of pain. “Complis to Security,” she panted, “…need immediate assistance in the ship…yard.”

Only then realizing it was a call for backup, the holographic Cochrane gave her a look of disgust which morphed into a wicked smile. This time the change was gradual and intentional.

The door slid open.

Cole had been “fortunate” enough to draw patrol duty at the shipyards. He was currently in the corridor when a call for assistance over the comms.

“Ensign Shepard to Security. I’m in the area. Do we have a more precise location?”

A few seconds later, the reply came back.

“The call is coming from Workroom 3 Delta.”

Cole had just past the corridor for the Delta wing. He quickly turned around and ran back that way. The doors parted at his approach. He quickly stopped in his tracks as the scene unfolded before his eyes.

“Is that…Zefram Cochrane?” he asked in disbelief before realizing the man had a grip on the scientist’s arms. “Sir. I’m gonna need you to release that officer,” he ordered as he took steps forward.

The hologram retained his smile and turned to the security officer. “You’re gonna need that, are you?” he snarled. He released his grip on Libran with a force that knocked her to the ground.

“He’s a hologram,” she shouted as she rose. She tapped commands into the console as the hologram turned to the door. “I’ve got him within character limits, but the safety protocol’s off.” She knew at least that now the computer would limit itself to exerting the kinds of force that Cochrane himself would have been capable of. “He’s just like a regular man.” She gave the ensign an imploring look. “I think he wants to kill me.”

For his part, the hologram simply glanced over his shoulder a gave Libran a look that suggested he didn’t understand what she was saying, but he didn’t like it. He then turned to Cole with a look of anger and a little eager anticipation. Libran continued to tap away at the console, racing to find a way to override the security codes or stop the program cold.

Then the hologram lurched toward Cole.

Cole still wasn’t quite sure what was happening but he did know an attack when he saw one. The Zefram Cochrane hologram was now solid according to the young scientist and was lunging toward him. His instincts quickly kicked in and he took a stance to prepare. As the other man got closer and reached out, Cole twisted his body sideways and grabbed the attacker’s arm. Using Cochrane’s momentum against him, Cole was able to put a hip into the now solid hologram’s midsection and toss him over his side. This sent Cochrane slamming into the bulkhead.

I’m so glad Mom insisted on those Jiu-jitsu classes. he thought as he turned around.

Cochrane was stunned but it would only be momentarily, which was enough time for Cole to check on the other Officer.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he stepped closer.

She was impressed by Shepard. He moved deftly, confidently.

“Yes,” Libran said, out of breath. She began working at an even faster clip, trying to find a way to force the projection to shut down. “Try to hold him back.” She paused to tap her commbadge again.

“Complis to Commander Tol, sir we have an emergency situation in Workroom 3 Delta. Can you cut power?” In her periphery, the holographic Cochrane was rising from the throw. “Repeat, requesting immediate power cutoff in Workroom 3 Delta.”

Cole turned his attention back to their assailant as he listened to the Lieutenant make the request. He had minored in Engineering but he had also only half-assed his way through the courses just to say he had his requirements.

“He felt so real,” he said without moving his eyes off of Cochrane. “Will cutting the power actually work to stop him?”

The all too life-like hologram had made his way back to his feet and was not looking happy, to say the least.

“Well. If it’s gonna work, I hope whoever you’re calling makes it quick. This guy is pissed.” he said as he took another defensive stance.

“Let’s hope.” Libran turned back to the workstation, running through personality subroutines. It was obvious — this hologram was only coded for aggression. Whatever other personality traits a holoprogram might have assigned had been deleted, like they never existed.

Renu was working on one of the ship’s systems when he got a panicked call from Libran. Raising an eyebrow wondering what the hell was going on. Moved out of what he was working on to get to the system that controlled workroom 3 Delta. Tapping a few controls he was having issues shutting the system down and moving to the manual override which took longer than was necessary. After a few minutes, he was able to shut the system down manually. “System should be down,” he replied as he began to make his way to the workroom to figure out what the heck was going on.

In the workroom, the power suddenly died, leaving the junior officers in total darkness. For a moment, all they could hear was their own heavy breath. The door opened, silhouetting the commander, as light flooded in from the corridor, revealing that Libran and Cole were alone in the room.

Upon arriving Renu Tol saw Complis Libran and what looked to be a young security officer. “Care to explain why I had to manually shut down this workroom?”

Libran hesitated. After a long career in civilian life, she still got itchy in chain-of-command situations. “Sir, I was running diagnostics on the backup holographic computer core from one of the drydocked ships. But someone built,” another hesitation, “some kind of backdoor into the holoprograms, and filtered out all non-aggressive subroutines.”

She cast a glance a Shepard. “Zefram Cochrane just tried to kill me, sir. I was lucky to have Ensign…” she paused, realizing she hadn’t remembered the man’s name.

Cole quickly straightened up after realizing he was still in a defensive stance and listened to the exchange between his two superior officers. It took him a second to notice that the Science Officer was looking at him and was inquiring about his name.

“Oh. Shepard, Ma’am,” he replied. “Ensign Shepard.” 

He must have looked somewhat strange as he stood there slowly closing and opening his eyes in order to adjust them between the sudden darkness of the room and the light that was now coming through the open doorway.  

“Right, I was lucky to have Ensign Shepard nearby.”

Raising an eyebrow having more questions. “Well we need to get to the bottom of this, Ensign Shepard you are free to go,” Renu replied thanking the security officer before turning his attention back to Libran. “If you will follow me,” Renu replied.

Cole nodded at the Trill Commander. “Aye, Sir,” he answered. But before leaving, he gave a glance back at the science officer who asked if she was going to be okay. When no one else spoke, he made his exit and headed out to write his report.

Libran sighed deeply. Solving this mystery might prove even more challenging, she thought, than hand-to-hand combat with a rogue hologram.

Cole had found his quarters with some help from several other officers along the way. They were empty when he arrived so he assumed his roommate had yet to arrive so he took the bed on the left side of the room. He dropped his bag on the bed and began putting everything away before showering and climbing his tired butt into bed.

The next morning, he received the call he was waiting for. It was time to report in. He got dressed and grabbed a cup of coffee for the trip. He pulled up the directions and headed for the lift. A few moments later, he had drank the coffee and disposed of the cup and was now on the Promenade and standing in front of his supervisor’s door. He heard the chime announce his arrival and he waited.

It was only a few seconds, but the silent greeting came in the form of the doors simply parting and revealing access to the security office.

Cole hesitantly entered the office and approached the desk still clutching his PADD with his orders pulled up on the screen.

“Security Officer Ensign Cole Shepard reporting for duty. Ma’am.” he said as he stood at attention.

Standing behind the office desk, Lieutenant Commander Peri was in deep conversation with her divisional yeoman when the young man announced his arrival. A silent nod to her orderly gave the man permission to disappear while she held out her hand for the data PADD the newcomer clutched so eagerly.

“Welcome to Starbase Bravo Ensign,” the Commander smiled.

Cole had stayed at attention and paid no attention to the other man. He simply waited for his supervisor to respond. “Thank you, Ma’am.” Cole replied nervously as he passed over the PADD.

Taking a moment to review the younger man’s data PADD of orders, the Bajoran offered him a seat across from her at the table. “So,” she finally began as she took her own seat, “tell me about yourself.”

Cole took a seat and thought about where to start. He’d learned early on in the Academy that when most people told him to tell them about himself, they were more curious about why such an older man had decided to join Starfleet so much later in life than most. He cleared his throat before starting.

“Yes, Ma’am. I come from a large family where my dad and one brother and one sister also served in Starfleet. I decided at an early age that I would serve as well but some medical issues with my mother kept me home longer than anticipated and that’s why I’m older than your typical Ensign.” he began. “But I feel that that actually helps me in some instances.”

He tried to think more about himself than his Academy time. Anything he could tell her from that period would be in his records and therefore, she would obviously already know it.

“And the enlisted track never took your fancy?” the Commander queried, finally sinking into her chair and putting her full attention on the man. “Starting the Academy much later than most can’t have been easy. Going down the enlisted route would have been far simpler,” she told, regarding him very closely.

“Yes, Ma’am. I did have several others offer that same advice, but I didn’t join Starfleet to take the easy route. I knew from a young age this was what I wanted so I stuck to my guns.” Cole replied as he sat forward in his seat. “If I’m honest, I think that some of my life lessons were actually a plus for me. It gave me some insights the younger group may not have had.”

Peri nodded along as she listened to the newcomer’s words. He seemed to know exactly what to say, and when to say it, an almost A* response for a new officer wanting to prove themselves worthy of the job. Only Peri wasn’t looking for A* on paper. She wanted A* in the field. “If you were in my shoes, Ensign, would you give this job to yourself, or to someone younger, at the start of their adult life?” she enquired, eager to see what his response would be to a tough line of questioning.

“If I can be completely honest, Ma’am,” Cole began to reply. “I’ve just recently spent time with those younger, just starting their adult life people at the Academy. I’ve seen what they’re into. Some still want to party and socialize and hang out. Me? I’ve sown all my wild oats already. I’m here. Focused and ready to work.”

“I’m glad,” the Commander smirked and shook her head slowly at the man’s blunt honesty. It was to be commended. She tapped at the controls and transferred her signature to the data PADD he had offered her earlier. “You can join security team bravo as of tomorrow. They’re responsible for patrolling various cargo bays and promenade locations,” she told him, passing the PADD back.

Bravo team. Cole thought. He’d have to look it up and find out who the team leader was. He reached across the desk and retrieved the PADD as Commander Peri returned it. “Yes. Ma’am. I’ll be there and ready to work.” he assured her.

“Very well,” she nodded, “I expect good reports Ensign. You’re dismissed.” And with that, the Commander politely gestured for the door behind him. She wasn’t one for lengthy meetings if she could avoid them, especially when much more could be achieved elsewhere. She also had an update to receive regarding her project with the Borg DNA Removal Team, and she couldn’t be late for that.

With the dismissal, Cole stood and made his way to the door. Once in the corridor, he finally released a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been aware that he was holding. He wasn’t exactly sure why he was holding. The “interview” hadn’t been anything dramatic. He had no reason to be nervous. If anything, he should be excited to finally get to work. Even if it is on this big ass station. he thought with a grin as he reached the lift. 

Cam’s footsteps echoed through the bustling corridors of Starbase Bravo, a labyrinthine structure filled with secrets waiting to be uncovered. Once more, Cam found himself summoned to the security office in Sector I-Navy. As he continued to reside within the colossal space edifice, each passing day brought him closer to uncovering the station’s enigmatic secrets. While the massive construction itself remained unaltered, Cam’s perception of the Starbase seemed to be evolving. What was once an imposing behemoth now felt like a gradually diminishing entity. What had recently felt like an arduous trek now resembled a brisk stroll through its corridors.

Some time ago, his relentless pursuit of potential changeling infiltrators had led him to an unexpected discovery: a covert Ferengi smuggling ring thriving within the heart of the Starbase. Driven to halt the unlawful operation, Cam had relayed his discoveries to Director Peri. Now it had come to his attention that Director Peri had subsequently entrusted the oversight of the investigation to the recently appointed Ensign. This Ensign, Shepard, was no ordinary newcomer; besides his advanced age for his rank, rumors of his impressive reputation had circulated throughout the Starbase.

Arriving at the security office situated along the bustling Promenade, Cam’s keen eyes locked onto a figure that bore the aura of Ensign Shepard. Determined not to waste a moment, he maneuvered past the unsuspecting office clerk he remembered from his previous visit. 

Cam approached Shepard with a confident stride, extending his hand in a gesture of camaraderie, his expression a mix of curiosity and readiness. “You must be Ensign Shepard! I heard you requested my assistance,” he declared. “I’m Ensign Cam Solari, here to assist in any way I can.”

Cole had completed his patrol duty from the night before and had retired for the night. When he awoke the next morning, there was a message on his PADD to report to the Security Office for the beginning of his shift. He had plenty of time, so he showered and got some chow before going in. He spent the whole time wondering what was important enough to get his detail schedule changed.

He arrived at the office and found another message that outlined the details of his next assignment. An Ensign in the Flight Department had stumbled across a Ferengi smuggling ring and had helped in taking it down. This led to another investigation, and it was handed over to Cole to follow up on.

Cole had read over Ensign Solari’s reports and had to admit that he was impressed with the Flight Officer’s intuition and persistence. Cole decided to bring the young man in own his investigation as well and had sent the request out right away. It didn’t take long for the officer to show up. Cole stood and took the proffered hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Ensign. Please have a seat.” Cole offered. 

The two men sat down, and Cole got right to business. “I’ve been tasked with following up on the smuggling ring you busted up a few weeks back. It led to a full-blown inventory, and it was discovered that there was quite a bit of equipment missing from several departments. Whoever is taking it is being very smart about it. They’re only taking a small quantity so that the missing items aren’t easily noticed. With your insights into the previous issue, I’ve asked the higher ups if you could come on board and assist. What do you say? Can a couple of Ensigns see what kind of trouble they can cause while busting more smugglers?”

Cam’s eyes widened with surprise, and his voice wavered as he began, “Well, I, uh, sort of stumbled upon it during my research.” He fidgeted with his PADD nervously before quickly adding, “Although, if you ask me, those crooks might be underestimating what Starfleet Ensigns like us can do.”

A spark of excitement lit up in Cam’s eyes as if a puzzle piece had fallen into place.”So,” Cam said, leaning in closer, “where do you think we should start piecing this together?”

Cole liked Cam’s enthusiasm. “I was wondering how the Ferengis got their hands on the items. And then the other smugglers as well. None of them are Starfleet so someone has to be getting it for them. I went back six weeks, before your adventure, and pulled all the logs from the twelve departments that reported missing equipment. We need to read through them and see if we can come across a link. Maybe something like the same person, someone that doesn’t belong, entering each department.”

Cam briefly considered Cole’s working theory and couldn’t resist voicing his thoughts. “Pardon me, Security may not be my expertise but isn’t that a bit too obvious?” he mused aloud. “I mean, they would have been apprehended by now…”

Cam paused, rephrasing his question. “Perhaps it involves multiple individuals, or maybe they’ve managed to enlist some members of the crew or employ a more clandestine approach?” he pondered further. “Do we have a record of the specific items that have gone missing?”

“I understand the obvious part, and yes, according to the reports, everyone was investigated. However,” Cole continued as he leaned forward and placed his arms on the desk. “no one was arrested from any of the departments. But that was another officer. I feel I wouldn’t be doing everything I can if I didn’t just start my own investigation, from the beginning.”

Cam narrowed his eyes, deep in thought. “That’s a valid point, I think you’re right to start over.”

“I have a hunch someone from the Flight Office might be involved as well,” he remarked, his words carrying a hint of suspicion. “How else could they manage to transport such a significant quantity of items off the station without raising suspicion?”

“That’s very possible.” said Cole. He had actually had the same thought himself along with a couple of others. “I think we need to start with the Space Traffic Control and Hanger Ops. They’re the ones that bring in and load the ships. But I don’t want to just focus on them. I want to check all rosters from all departments for that time frame.”

Cam admired Cole’s tenacity, and as they delved deeper into their conversation, a spark of realization ignited within him. He swiftly plunged into his PADD, fingers dancing across the interface as he meticulously sifted through a maze of files. Each tap and swipe felt like a secret code only he could decipher. Classified project data was not meant to be tampered with, but because it would save them so much time, Cam couldn’t resist.

His eyes darted across the screen, scrutinizing the information he had subtly tweaked to leave out the subject of the secret project. It was as if he were an artist, carefully perfecting his masterpiece. His pulse quickened with each clandestine edit.

Cole sat by and watched silently with the occasional eyebrow arch as Cam’s fingers danced across his PADD.

At the end of this covert operation, a distinct chime echoed from Cole’s PADD. Cam looked up from his own device, a conspiratorial glint in his eye as he remarked, “Ah, there you have it. I just remembered I’ve already delved into that data for, well, let’s just call it ‘another project.’ It should save you quite a bit of time when it comes to compiling the information yourself.” Cam’s voice held a hint of mystery, as though he were sharing a secret code only the two of them could understand.

Finally, Cole’s own PADD chimed and he picked it up as Cam spoke. 

“This is great.” remarked Cole. It will definitely saved a hell of a lot of time.” He read over the information for another brief moment before looking at the young man across from him. “”Another project”. huh? Listen. I don’t care how you got the information. Thank you. This will help a lot.”

Cam leaned in closer, his eyes locked with Cole’s, and his lips curved into a sly, conspiratorial grin. He lowered his voice to a barely audible whisper, “Let’s keep this between us, no need to mention this to Director Peri.”

Rising from his chair, Cam extended his hand toward Cole with a confident yet amiable demeanor. As they shook hands, a genuine sparkle of excitement glinted in Cam’s eyes. “I’m genuinely looking forward to our collaboration,” he said, the words laced with anticipation. “Now, I’ll head back to Flight Ops and see if I can unearth a few more breadcrumbs.”

With an air of secrecy and excitement, Cam left the security office, leaving behind the promise of an intriguing investigation yet to unfold.

The Apsara-class bomber dropped out of warp on final approach to Starbase Bravo. Dawa was piloting still; their simple training exercise had become much more than they had bargained for, and she wanted to give the ensign time to decompress on their way home.

Well, that was part of it. The truth was that she was frazzled as well, and she needed the pilot’s seat to re-center herself. When it came right down to it, being a pilot–even in the depths of a gas giant’s atmosphere–was easy. Being a superior officer and mentor was far more difficult.

“Commander Vlček, B728 is cleared for docking in Golf-One-Cyan 330-Gamma.”

“Copy that,” said Dawa, and though she was meticulous and careful as ever in the maneuver, she was still able to keep one eye on Cam as they returned to the hangar.

Cam’s eyes remained fixed on the ever-shifting panorama beyond the canopy. Minutes stretched into an eternity as he contemplated the day’s events. The vivid memories played out before him like a movie, each frame etching itself into his consciousness with remarkable clarity.

Flying again had been a euphoric rush. The thrill of piloting the spacecraft, the sensation of freedom had flooded his senses. With every maneuver, he felt the adrenaline surge through his veins, coursing with precision during the intense target practice that followed.

Later, the mood darkened like a storm cloud. Moments after they saved the cadets one of them had died before Cam’s disbelieving eyes. The memory of that lifeless figure haunted him, its haunting presence lingering in the depths of his mind. Helplessness and despair had gripped him tightly, squeezing the breath from his chest. It was a moment that already etched itself into his soul, a moment where hope seemed all but lost.

Against the odds, Stinsfor had appeared on the horizon like a beacon of salvation. Swift, unwavering efforts from the medical team had resuscitated the fallen cadet, defying the grim specter of death. In that stark contrast between despair and hope, Cam found himself forever changed, hardened.

This day would not fade easily from Cam’s memory. He would relive it in his dreams and his waking hours. He couldn’t wait to share this extraordinary tale with Ozzy, his younger brother who, in his childhood, had endlessly bored Cam with his scientific obsessions. He chuckled as he imagined Ozzy’s eyes widening in amazement at the story he would recount.

Suddenly, Cam snapped back to the present as the landscape outside shifted once more. They were on the cusp of returning home, greeted by the familiar hanger doors and the cold hues of the force field. Despite the day’s turbulent events, Cam felt a sense of disappointment as it drew to a close. The tranquility that now enveloped them was a stark departure from the day’s chaos, but deep down, he found himself reluctant for it to end. He knew that he would soon return to the routine of air traffic duty, a prospect that didn’t quite match the exhilaration he had experienced today.

Cam’s shoulders slumped, his breath escaping in a long, heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of his soul, conveying the depth of his emotions without words.

Dawa covertly noted the roller-coaster of emotions playing through Cam’s body language, but she remained silent as she landed and powered down the bomber. When she did turn to face him, she merely gestured towards the hatch and waited until he was halfway down the ladder to follow him out.

Finally, when they were both on the hangar floor, Dawa reached over and gave Cam a gentle pat on the back. “Well, Cam, I’m sorry our training session got so out of hand, but you handled yourself exceptionally well today. I think tradition says I owe you a drink the next time we’re both off duty.”

“Another thing,” she said more quietly. “It’s bad form to poach another department’s crew their first week on the job, but I’ve got my eyes on you, so you keep your nose to the grindstone and your record clean. You copy?”

A faint, conspiratorial smile crept onto Cam’s lips as he raised his hand in a sharp salute to Dawa. He held the Commander’s gaze for a moment before punctuating the salute with a subtle but playful wink.

“Well, Commander, as of this moment, I’m officially off duty. Maybe we can delve into the finer points of how I can continue to keep my record spotless?” Cam’s tone suggested a willingness to engage in a subtle dance of negotiation.

Dawa nodded, broadly and theatrically. “I think now would be a perfect time to uphold tradition, then!”

“Follow me, though,” she added, as she led them towards the turbolift. “You haven’t been here long enough to know where the good bars are at.”

Another day unfurled in the rhythm of Cam’s life at Starbase Bravo, each step a choreography of routine etched into his very being. The muted hum of a docking starship gently nudged him awake. He rose from his bunk and ambled down the corridor, drawn by the rich, aromatic allure of a fresh cup of coffee. The warmth of the cup cradled in his palms felt like a comforting embrace, and the conversations he shared with Ryke Ashfield held a camaraderie that transcended words.

Their daily coffee rendezvous provided a moment of solace in the midst of their bustling world. Ryke’s voice, punctuating the soothing hum of the base, was a melody of shared experiences and unspoken understanding. Cam savored each sip, feeling the caffeine invigorate him, as well as the bonds of friendship fortify.

Post-coffee, Cam retraced his steps to his quarters, a haven of personal respite amidst the starbase’s expanse. The sonic shower’s cleansing cascade enveloped him, banishing the remnants of sleep. It was a sensory symphony, the pulsing soundwaves reverberating against his skin, rejuvenating both body and spirit.

With his uniform adorned – a symbol of his unwavering commitment to duty – Cam proceeded to his station. There, the exchange with Ensign Moralez spoke volumes. A nod, a knowing smile – unspoken tokens of their shared routine, a tacit acknowledgment of the daily grind they faced together. As Cam settled into his role, he and Lieutenant Praga meticulously reviewed the schedule, the documents, and screens displaying the day’s operations.

However, just as the mundane rhythms of the day lulled him into a sense of predictability, the melody of his routine was disrupted by the abrupt chirping of his commbadge. Commander Carter’s voice, an authoritative symphony of command, echoed through the communicator, interrupting the tranquil baseline of the base.

“Carter to Solari,” the Commander’s voice resonated, a crescendo of curiosity.

“Yes, Commander?” Cam replied, his curiosity now fully awakened. He wondered what unpredictable note was about to be introduced into their well-orchestrated daily routine.

“I need you to report to Deputy Director McGowan in Sector Sector Charlie-Gold; she requires transportation assistance,” Commander Carter conveyed, his words introducing a new, mysterious refrain into the composition of the day.

“Of course, on my way, sir!” Cam responded his readiness to serve evident in his brisk departure. However, beneath his dutiful facade, a silent thought resonated: ‘Why can’t that man, just for once, let someone else be the soloist in these out-of-the-ordinary tasks?’

Mads strode along the corridor, ever present padd in hand as she tried to figure out how she was going to make a square peg fit into a round hole. Or… in today’s case… manage to transport over three day’s worth of supplies in twelve hours. Especially since catering had decided that the supplies for the functions on the VIP level… could not now be transported.

Could. Not. Be. Transported.

In case a changeling hid in the broccoli.

So Mad’s eyeroll game was strong as she worked the problem. The quickest way to get the damn stuff from the ship currently sitting off the port side of the base—because, of course, the eejits aboard hadn’t actually gotten all their paperwork in order to dock—was to go and fetch it.

And she wasn’t a pilot, which meant she needed one. Her fingernail almost punched through the screen as she put in the request and headed to find some coffee.

Navigating the intricate web of Sector Charlie-Gold, Cam felt like an adventurer in an alien city. Following Commander Carter’s directive, he sought out Deputy Director McGowan. To pinpoint her location, Cam approached a passing Lieutenant, his eyes a beacon of hope in the labyrinthine passages.

With a subtle nod, a discreet gesture, and an added ‘Good luck’, the Lieutenant pointed Cam toward a bustling area filled with replicators. Amidst the activity, Deputy Director McGowan was a singular figure, an embodiment of unwavering purpose. She seemed sustained by a diet of caffeine and efficiency, her every move orchestrated like a well-rehearsed symphony. Fingers danced across her PADD, manipulating a multitude of projects as though she commanded an army of digital minions.

As Cam approached her booth, he couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in her meticulously ordered world. His voice emerged with a hint of hesitation, respectful of the intensity that surrounded her. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he began, the words dripping with courtesy, his eyes carefully observing her reaction.

Deputy Director McGowan’s response was an eloquent blend of annoyance and exasperation. She regarded Cam with an arched eyebrow, her demeanor conveying the sense that he had single-handedly disrupted the delicate balance of her multitasking symphony. Undaunted by her displeasure, Cam pushed forward, determination underlining his words. “I’m Ensign Cam Solari,” he declared, “Commander Carter sent me your way.”

“You’re my pilot?” Mads demanded, looking up. She hadn’t yet managed to grab her coffee, the mug still sitting on the plate of the replicator, because yet another problem had manifested itself. They were like bunny rabbits, every time she looked, there were more and more of them.

“Pilot, Traffic Controller, and, on occasion, researcher,” Cam quipped, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. “My parents might as well have named me ‘Gofer,’” he added, the sour undertone palpable in his words.

“Excellent!” she replied, tucking her padd under her arm and grabbing her coffee. “Then you can help me research why my catering supplies are still on their incoming supply ship and where two crates of medical supplies have disappeared to. Follow me.”

Operational standards were almost normal, and people resumed their daily duties. However, the bitter taste of what had happened recently was still sinking its teeth into the emotions of every single member of Starbase Bravo. The medical department had its hands full to get every junior officer cleared from the infected Borg DNA alternation as Security kept everything in check. But one department was deeper into the rabbit hole than any other. The counselors were working to get people, from civilians to officers, back on their feet to process the traumatic experience. 

“All passengers from the USS Alaska, please make a line and keep your ID prepared. We will do our best to get you processed and grand your entrance as soon as possible. Thank you for being so cooperative” A security officer announced while walking before the counters addressing the large amount of new visitors. One of the visitors wore a traditional pink and yellow cloth over her head, and her long brown hair reached to her shoulders. The woman wore a teal jacket with the Starfleet symbol on her chest. The security officer stopped her. “Ma’am, please use the officer line” He waved to a shorter line as the woman nodded and walked to it carrying a duffle bag.

Waiting for the next was not taking as long as the civilian line. The woman moved forward and placed her ID on the counter. “Lieutenant Arwa el-Imam reporting for duty” She smiled at the security officer at the counter and waited as the man checked her ID.

“Lieutenant el-Imam, what brings you to Starbase Bravo?” 

“Reassignment” She answered with a soft nod placing her hands over each other while looking at the officer.

“What was your previous assignment?” 

“Counselor of Eos Outpost and interim Executive Officer” She shrugged a bit seeing the facial expression change “No need to pity me, Lieutenant. I chose that assignment myself” 

The man nodded at her and looked back at her credentials. “You are assigned to Starbase Bravo as the new Deputy Director of Counseling. No criminal records, no legal issues, and your luggage has been approved. Welcome to Starbase Bravo. You can find your office and working space at Sector Hotel-Turquoise. That is the main operational area for Medical personnel. Your clearance is updated on the computer mainframe. If you have a question, please get in touch with Command Aid or your direct supervisor” He slides the ID back to Arwa and smiled at her. 

Taking back the ID, Arwa gave a soft smile back at him. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I look forward to getting to know the base and help where possible. That also counts for you, of course. Feel free to enter the office of the counseling and we will gladly help you” 

The security officer nodded. “I will keep that in mind, please do enter” He waved to the entrance of the Starbase as Arwa took the directive and walked into the Starbase. The man glared over his shoulder seeing Arwa enter the base and then looked in front of him. “Next”

Sector Hotel-Turquoise

It took some guidance and pointing in the right direction, but Arwa wanted to get to her office immediately to see her working space. She had found it and gave a soft nod to people who had passed her. Doctors alike, people that were helping where and when possible. Her new adventure would be here on this starbase, taking her methods to new levels and gaining knowledge. Her experience from the USS Kennedy and Eos Outpost was difficult but an experience she would treasure today. 

Walking into the counseling area, she stopped and saw many people walking around. A main desk was right before her with some enlisted personnel sitting there. Walking to the desk, she smiled at the young woman “I am looking for the mmm office area for the counseling?” 

The petty officer looked up from her paper and smiled at her. “The office area for our department is on your left side” Pointing at her left side. “Is there anything I will be able to assist you with? Do you have an appointment with someone in the office or are you seeking a guiding session from one of our counselors? I can check our agenda?” 

Arwa shook her head. “No need. I am here to report for duty. My name is Lieutenant el-Imam, the new Deputy Director of Counseling. But I appreciate your assistance in guiding me” She looked toward the office. “Is the director present?”

“Oh my sincere apologies, I was not informed of your arrival, Lieutenant. Welcome to Starbase Bravo and the Counseling Department. I can say in my co-workers’ name that we look forward to working with you” The petty officer smiled calmly. “The director is not in now, but feel free to visit your office. It is straight to the last door on the right. Your name tag should be already on it ma’am” 

Nodding to her “Thank you for your welcome and information. I will go now and not keep you away from your duties” Arwa gave her a soft nod of appreciation and moved toward where the petty officer sent her. So this would be her new home, her new place to help people. Her first impression was already good, and she liked it quite a bit. Stopping for a second and looking at everyone working, this place was quite different from what she was used to at Eos Outpost. But change is good, and this new adventure was much needed. 

Mads set off at a fast pace, heading for the shuttle bays. ”We’re going to need something big enough to carry at least eight pallets,” she added as he hurried to catch up.

Cam’s momentary attempt at humor had backfired, and he felt an instant pang of regret. He froze for a fleeting second, apprehension gripping him as he contemplated the consequences of his ill-timed jest. However, he swiftly regained his composure, realizing he couldn’t afford to dwell on his misstep. 

He hurried to catch up to the Deputy Director, responding to her statement with an inquiry of his own. “What about relying on a good old-fashioned transporter or utilizing a tractor beam?”

She slid the tall ensign a sideways glance. Handsome, but perhaps not playing with a full bag of marbles.

“If I have called for a pilot, do you think that either are an option?” she asked, eyebrow raised slightly. Then she relented a little.

“The powers that be do not want these catering supplies transported. I believe someone has a bee in their bonnets about the possibility of a changeling hiding in the eggs, or something.” She shrugged. “Which means we get to go handball the damn stuff. I hope you had porridge for breakfast.”

Cam sensed that he had ventured into the unfamiliar, unforgiving territory of the unknown, akin to taking his first tentative steps into the formidable world beyond. It loomed ominously, threatening to engulf him if he failed to tread carefully. Then, in a moment of inspiration, a solution presented itself.

“I have an idea, ma’am” Cam suggested, his voice laced with a spark of ingenuity. “What if we retrofit a cargo shuttle with a force field emitter? By doing so, we could create a controlled climate within the cargo deck, allowing us to safely transport up to eight pallets without risking spoilage or freezing. Oh, and no, no porridge, madam Deputy Director.”

“Hmmm,” Mads thought about it for a moment, still moving at a fast pace. Perhaps this one was a tad more intelligent than most. “That’s a sensible suggestion. We’ll do that.”

They reached the turbolift and she ordered the shuttlebays, padd already back in one hand as she scrolled through it with her thumb, coffee held in the other. “Okay, I have a departure slot booked, but we’re going to need to move fast to complete the retrofit.” She looked up. “These catering supplies are already overdue for some function up top.”

“I’m not particularly acquainted with the engineers on the station,” Cam confessed. He paused briefly before adding, “But I’m confident we can find ourselves one. They seem to be scattered all over, always in the midst of something.”

“It’s a large station,” she replied, looking at him and finally seeing him, rather than just an ensign. 

“Have you been aboard long?” she asked, tapping in a request for an engineer to meet them in the shuttle bays.

Cam noticed an abrupt change in her demeanor, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a newfound sincerity in her tone. 

He responded, “Not too long, ma’am. I arrived here directly from the Academy just before Frontier Day, so it’s been a matter of a couple of months.”

“You get used to it,” she offered. “Being around so many people I mean, and not really knowing any of them. Most people aboard tend to form a group of friends or work colleagues.”

The confirmation ping from her padd that an engineer had accepted the assignment went un-noted for a moment. “My step-son is an ensign,” she added. “He just left for his first posting.” 

“You must be thrilled for him,” Cam remarked, his words laden with a genuine curiosity. He found himself completely unaware of their location within the sprawling station and was merely trailing behind the energetic woman, her pace guided by caffeine-fueled determination.

“I am! He got a good assignment, the one he really wanted. And his fathers are both in the same squadron.” She smiled, perhaps the first genuine smile all morning. “So he’ll be well looked after.”

“It must be quite a challenge to gather the family together for Christmas,” Cam commented.

“Ha!” She actually did laugh at that, unknown for Mads on duty. “You have no idea.”

Which was no more or less than the truth since she’d never met her step-son’s other father, and her husband himself hadn’t see him in person for years. “Usually it’s just the three of us. How about you? Family?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cam stammered, his eyes widening as the unexpected question washed over him. He watched as the Caffeinated ice queen’s demeanor slowly transformed. Her distant exterior began to crack, revealing more and more hints of warmth beneath.

Cam’s gaze drifted to the ceiling as he started to speak, almost lost in the memories that surged to the surface. “Well, you see, my parents and grandfather, reside in a cozy Victorian house nestled in the heart of San Francisco. You can practically smell the history in those old walls, and they live just a stone’s throw away from the majestic Golden Gate Park. It’s a magical place, and every time I think about it, it brings a smile to my face.”

He paused, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “And my brother, the real professor in the family, is a Cadet at Starfleet Academy. Currently, he’s off on some special research aboard the USS Blythe. I can’t help but imagine the vastness of space he’s exploring out there.”

Cam’s eyes sparkled as he reminisced. “We’re not just a family; we’re more like a crew on a grand voyage. Closer than you can imagine. I find myself talking to them several times a week, and each conversation is like a chapter in an epic story. Even though we might be light-years apart, those moments keep us connected, no matter what the universe throws our way.” 

Cam realized that he had opened up to Mads, perhaps more than he typically did with most people.

She smiled. “That’s what family is all about. Connections. And it’s important to keep making those calls. They’ll mean more than you realise.”

They reached the shuttlebay and she checked her padd. “Okay, we’re over on Eleven-alpha-foxtrot. Looks like the engineer got here ahead of us.”

Approaching the bustling dock, a cacophony of discontent emerged from beneath the cargo shuttle. The words were muffled, but the voice’s sharp intonation conveyed unmistakable frustration.

As they drew nearer, it was clear the source of the commotion was unmistakenly their assigned engineer. A hyperspanner flew out from under the shuttle, its trajectory uncomfortably close to their feet before landing in the shuttle bay with a metallic clank.

Finally reaching the shuttle, they had a clear view of the engineer, sprawled beneath the craft. His voice was laced with irritation and exasperation. “Who in their right mind came up with the idea of mounting a force field generator on a cargo shuttle? Idiots! Some of the folks on this station… If you swap the cables of a warp core, do you get a replicator?”

Cam shared a glance with Mads, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He responded nonchalantly, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “Well, I don’t believe that’s how replicators are made… And speaking of the genius behind this idea, that would be me, Chief.”

Engineers were all the same. Mads allowed his diatribe to wash over her as she checked her padd again. Her nails clicked slightly on the screen as she adjusted a few things in the main transport schedule. One of the big cargo transporters had just gone down, which wasn’t a surprise. That one had been glitchy for weeks.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you, Caruthers,” she commented mildly. “If only to prove me wrong. Ensign Solari and I were just discussing the impossibility of getting this done in time to hit our collection slot with the supply ship. He says you can do it… I’m not so convinced.”

“We didn’t…” Cam began, but then a sudden epiphany swept across his features, prompting a swift course correction in his sentence. “We didn’t forget to place a bet on it either.”

For a fleeting moment, Cam exchanged a meaningful glance with Mads, their silent camaraderie forging an unspoken agreement between them. He then redirected his attention to the engineer, his voice now carrying an earnest tone. “I even upped the stakes and boldly proclaimed you could complete it in half an hour, tops,” he asserted, pausing for dramatic effect. “She just laughed at that and the whole cargo bay was practically fixated on us.”

Cam took a deep breath, trying to inject an extra layer of seriousness into his words. “And, Caruthers…”

Barely able to contain a mischievous grin, he let out a conspiratorial wink to Mads, conveying more than words could. “You’re well aware,” he added in a hushed tone, “she’s not exactly renowned for her bouts of laughter.”

Oh, this one was definitely quick on the uptake. Mads allowed a slight quirk of her lips as he took the opening and ran with it.

“Half an hour! Half an hour! You must be mad!” Caruthers exclaimed, a hint of a scottish burr entering his voice. Then… “How much was the bet?”

Mads shrugged, seemingly intent on her padd. “I bet him a bottle of scotch direct from Earth.”

“You know, Caruthers, the thing is, I would have gladly poured you a glass…” Cam began, but by this point, the engineer’s gaze remained locked on him, a poker-faced display of contemplation. 

Cam persisted, his tone laced with a hint of regret. “However, it seems we’ve already lost five minutes, so I suppose that whiskey offer is now off the table.”

Cam’s list had narrowed down the suspect pool to just eleven people that had access to all the locations that had lost property and were actually on duty at the time. The first five had had air tight alibis and witnesses that could vouch for their whereabouts. After a quick lunch, Cole and Cam had decided to go ahead and talk to the ensign that was next on their list. That was proving harder then they expected as he took off in a sprint the moment they walked in. Apparently, word had gotten out about their interrogations.

“Where the hell does he think he’s gonna go? We’re on a damn station.” Cole called out as he and Cam gave chase.

Cam vaulted over some crates with medical supplies and landed with a thud. He looked at Cole with a puzzled expression and said, “I’m utterly lost on this one.” His breath quickened as he continued, “We’ve got the whole file on him, you know, name, rank, family, even the hobbies.”

Mid-sprint, Cam grimaced as his muscles protested the sudden exertion. It became painfully clear that his infrequent visits to the gym needed some serious attention.

Cole was thankful that he did cardio but his lungs were telling him he needed to do more. It took him several attempts to catch his breath, while still running, just enough to yell at their quarry.

“Ensign Miller! Starfleet Security!” he gasped out while sucking in another lung full of air. “We just want to talk!”

He wasn’t sure if the last part was heard by Miller or not as the fleeing man quickly turned a corner.

Cam’s ears caught the echo of Cole’s voice, a strained shout that pierced the chaos around them. His own attempt at a response was a futile struggle against the mounting exhaustion, a battle to form coherent words in the midst of panting.

As he turned the corner, Cam pushed his body beyond its limits. His strides were more akin to a laborious, hurried walk than a proper run. Casting a sidelong glance at Cole, he couldn’t help but admire the man’s seemingly boundless endurance, the way he pressed on with unwavering determination.

Deep in his chest, a sharp, persistent pain pulsed with each breath. Cam’s voice emerged in ragged gasps, “We…” He struggled for air, “Just want…” His words were punctuated by the rhythmic panting of his breath, “to…” His chest heaved, “talk.”

Cam and Cole turned the corner shortly after Miller and the Ensign was no where to be seen. Cole came to a sudden stop and looked around. “You’ve got be kidding me.” he said between labored breathes.

Cole took a few more steps forward before stopping again. “Screw this.” he said as he reached for his comm badge. “Shepard to Security.”

“Security. Go ahead.”

“Can you get a lock on Ensign Joseph Miller?” he asked while still breathing heavily.

“Got him.” came back the reply.

Cole looked over at Cam and grinned. “Beam his ass to a holding cell. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” he said to whomever was on the other end as he stepped back toward Cam. “Would you care to join me for a cold, refreshing drink?” he asked with a gesture back toward the Promenade.

Cam’s breaths came in heavy gasps as he cast a weary glance at Cole, a grin struggling to form amidst his panting. “I thought you’d ask…,” he finally managed to wheeze.

Amid the bustling throngs of the promenade, the two ensigns weaved their way toward the nearest cantina. Cam’s body ached with the reminder that he’d have to reclaim his lost stamina soon. His desk job at Starfleet had taken its toll far quicker than he’d anticipated.

Upon entering the cantina, he leaned toward Cole. “So, about that transport option… Was it on the table all along?”

Cole held up two fingers to the bartender and waited for their drinks. 

“I gotta tell ya.” he began with a smile. “I really wasn’t expecting him to bolt like that.” The drinks arrived and he lifted his glass and took a big gulp. “Or to be that damn fast.”

They stood there a few moments, nursing their drinks, and laughing and discussing the young man that now found himself suddenly in a holding cell.

“So you ready to go hear his story?” Cole asked as he placed his now empty glass back on the counter.

After some time, the two ensigns entered their familiar workspace, a room affectionately known as their ‘Lair’ within the bustling confines of the Main Security Office in Sector I-Navy. Cam shot a sidelong glance at Cole, his lips curving into a wry smile, and let slip, “You know, there are days I wonder if I’m in the middle of a security internship.”

A momentary pause hung in the air, filled with curiosity, before he ventured further, “About this upcoming interrogation, does it unfold like those classic ‘Good Cop Bad Cop’ scenarios that run on the holodeck?”

Cole couldn’t help but to grin at Cam’s comments. The drinks they had stopped for and the time they took to get to the brig had been good for Cole. It had given him time to cool off. The whole chase scene thing had actually pissed him off at Ensign Miller. 

The thought of the whole ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ thing sounded pretty good. “That’s good. Let’s go with that. Maybe t will put him on edge and we’ll get a confession out of him.” Cole replied as they approached the Interrogation Room they had gotten the suspect moved to before their arrival. “As you’re the guest here, I’ll let you pick your role first.”

Cam and Cole exchanged a subtle nod before slipping into the dimly lit interrogation chamber. The room’s stark, clinical aura seemed to amplify the tension that hung in the air like an invisible shroud. Ensign Miller, seated at the steel table, looked as though he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. His brow glistened with perspiration, betraying his anxiety despite the chilly room. It was clear, beneath the surface, that a storm was brewing, and Cam knew it was their solemn responsibility to unearth its tempestuous core.

The chairs creaked softly as they settled across from Miller. Cole’s gaze, unwavering and almost glacial, pierced through the gloom, leaving an unsettling chill in its wake.

“You certainly led us on a merry chase, Miller,” Cam observed, his voice cutting through the room’s silence like a surgeon’s scalpel.

Miller’s face flushed a deeper shade of crimson, his eyes locked onto the grain of the table.

Cam, sensing the palpable tension, extended an olive branch. “Thirsty? Maybe some water to ease your nerves?” he offered.

A shaky shake of the head was Miller’s only reply, but before he could elaborate, Cam pressed on, his voice low and probing. “Our main query revolves around the ‘why.’ You see, my colleague here possesses an intimate knowledge of your past.”

Mentioning this seemed to twist Miller’s face into an even tighter knot of distress. His jaw clenched with such force that Cam couldn’t help but wonder if he was on the brink of fracturing his own teeth.

Cole leaned forward and glared at Miller with eyes that could shot daggers into the other mans sole.

“Just cut through the crap and give us the names of the others that were helping you!” Cole demanded. 

“Wha….wha….what others?” stammered miller. “Helped me with what?”

“Can you believe this guy” Cole asked with a glance at Cam. “First he wants to make us chase him through half the station and then wants to play innocent. The stolen equipment, Egghead.” Cole said as he stood and got in Miller’s face.

“E…Equipment… S… St… Stolen?” Miller stammered again, struggling to articulate the words.

Cam’s eyes locked onto Miller’s face, searching for any hint of recognition. He couldn’t recall ever witnessing such profound confusion etched into someone’s features. Miller’s furrowed brow, the way his lips hesitated mid-sentence, and the perplexed furrow in his eyes all spoke volumes.

Cam leaned in closer to Cole and whispered, “I think it’s time for us to help him remember.”

Cole tapped a few fingers on the PADD he was holding and finally laid it on the table, in front of Miller. “This is a list of all the missing items that you helped steal.”

“But I didn’t steal anything,” Miller argued. He had apparently gotten his speech under control.

“He didn’t steal anything,” Cole repeated at Cam. “How many innocent people do you know that run from Security?” he asked rhetorically.

Cam’s eyes squinted, narrowing as he fixed his gaze on Miller’s face. This marked Cam’s first foray into the world of interrogations, but something deep within him stirred a gut feeling that whispered that Miller was not being deceptive – even though Miller hadn’t spilled a single word.

Miller’s face, however, painted a vivid picture of sheer terror. It was the kind of fear that might be expected when sitting on the wrong side of the table, but there was an unspoken layer to it. His lips remained sealed, and his watery eyes teetered on the brink of releasing tears.

Cam shifted his attention to Cole, his words measured, “I believe we should give him a chance to speak.” 

Then, his gaze bore into Miller’s soul as he added with a stern edge, “I presume you have a valid reason for your desperate attempt to escape, but keep in mind, you’re only inches away from the brig.”

“I thought….I thought….” Miller was back to his nervous stuttering and if Cole was seeing things correctly, the man was turning the darkest shade of red that a man of his coloring could possibly turn.

“Spit it out, man. I’m tired of wasting time on you. If it wasn’t for my partner here, I’d have your ass in the brig already.” Cole said. “We have better things to do with our time.”

Miller’s eyes began shifting around the room. “I thought you were after me for the…..the…” he lowered his voice. “The Ferengi holoporns I was helping to smuggle in.”

“Holoporn??!” exclaimed Cole as he stood up. “You think this is about porn?”

Cole began pacing the room. “We’ve been in here to almost three hours. You could have saved all of us some time if you had just come clean to begin with.”

Cole turned to another officer that was manning a console near by. “Throw him in a security cell until I figure out what to do with him, will you?”

“Porn.” he said to Cam as he watched Miller being escorted off. “Guess it’s time to move on down the list. You ready?”

The Infirmary doors opened with a swoosh and Joshua stepped through them. He looked around the near-full lobby with surprise. This place was a lot busier than the last time he’d been here. Walking up to the reception desk, he gave his name and sat in a chair.

Doctor N’Vea walked to the waiting area holding a PADD with the next patient’s name on it. She read it out clearly upon reaching the waiting area of the Medical Bay, “Doctor Bryant, I am looking for a Doctor Joshua Bryant.”

Clearly, he was some other kind of doctor, not a medical one. Still, she was going to use his full name and title, unless he indicated another preference. There were only so many names, and there statistically could be more than one Joshua Bryant waiting to be seen. It was unlikely there were two with advanced degrees, and if there were well then the Vulcan would have to figure out another way of clearing up the mix-up.

Joshua jumped up out of his chair. “Doctor N’Vea, it’s always a pleasure.” He smiled as she led him into the exam room. Joshua removed his duty jacket and laid it in the nearby chair. “Well doctor, I’ve been taking it easy. I’ve been buried in reports this last week. That’s the thing about reports: they’ll always wait on you.” He sighed and frowned, “Seemed pretty busy in there,” he thumbed towards the waiting room. “I guess people have been skittish since Frontier Day. Do you need to reschedule tonight?”

“Reports are inanimate objects, I would expect them to ’wait on you’,” N’Vea affirmed. She eyes the man confused, what did he mean by asking if she wished to reschedule tonight? How would Frontier Day have affected that at this point? They were still dealing with the fallout but not to the degree that it was affecting schedules to her knowledge.

Joshua chuckled, “Yeah I suppose they do.” He rubbed his chin, “Although sometimes I wish they would grow legs and walk away.”

Shaking her head she said, “I do not see why we can not do your exam now. Do you have any specific complaints or issues we should look into?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he shrugged. “Things have felt good, actually,” he rubbed his ribs. “Resetting my ribs seems to have done the trick. Are you still able to get out of here at 1700 or should I wait around?”

N’Vea inclined her head, “I see. Yes, that would be fine, my attendance beyond the end of my shift is not a requirement, I can leave at 17:00. I am glad that your ribs are healing after treatment, let us run a scan on them and then we may go.” 

“That’s good to hear. My ‘patients’ aren’t human, so I don’t mind making them wait. I know people can get fussy though.” Joshua smiled, “I have some fun things planned and I’d hate to have to cancel them.”

N’Vea nodded, ”I am often working additional hours. I would suggest that as the saying goes ‘they owe me’.“ 

A quick scan of his rib cage later revealed that everything was healing quite as she had hoped, and that no additional medical intervention was required. Once she was finished with that she bid him to wait outside and three minutes later met Joshua in the hallway, wearing her Starfleet uniform but not the long medical jacket that she often donned during her shift.

“I am ready to accompany you on your tour,” she said.

“Great! You’re in for a treat,” Joshua said. They walked mostly in silence until they arrived at their destination on the Promenade. “I present to you, The Gate Inn,” Joshua said, revealing the tavern like a game show model. “It’s a bit gaudy, but I figure you’d had enough with the bare bones of Downtime.” The tavern had a good crowd, but not busy. Joshua and N’Vea sat at a nearby table. “So what do you think?”

Doctor N’Vea blinked, trying to take in what was before them, “It is very human.”

“But you have to admit, it has character,” Joshua said, handing her a menu. “They do have vegetarian options, or most can be modified to be vegetarian. You don’t mind if I eat meat, do you? I know it can upset people.”

“I do not mind if others eat meat,” the Vulcan said, “my dietary practices should not affect your choices.”

Had she, or any Vulcan, ever got unduly upset with the eating habits of other Federation species there would be no time left for logic, as they would have always been getting angry. Still even in the days when most food was replicated and artificial there was a health benefit to eating a vegetarian diet that she subscribed to. As a doctor, she would have recommended it to the man, but she also knew that part of being a doctor was knowing when to pick your battles. 

A woman dressed as an Old English handmaid approached the table. “What kin I get fo’ ya?” Joshua started to speak and she put up her hand. “Ladies first, my dearest.”

Trusting that ‘Ye Olde Caesar Salad’ was a play on words and not simply an old salad N’Veal gestured with her finger to it, “I will have the Caesar salad.”

“Very good choice ma’am,” the woman said, making note of it on her PADD. “And for you lad?”

Joshua looked over the menu, “I’ll have the lamb stew and an ale.”

“A fine choice,” She made a note on her PADD. “I’ll have it out shortly.”

“Oh neat, they have music,” Joshua observed as the maid walked away. On the tavern’s small stage was a man holding a lute. He made a few adjustments and began to play. It wasn’t loud, but enough to provide nice background music.

Joshua turned to N’Vea, “So tell me about yourself. What brought you to Starbase Bravo?”

Doctor N‘Vea said, “I was assigned by Starfleet. My last ship lost too many crew during the Borg incident during Fleet Day and has been temporarily shuttered. The remaining crew was reassigned and this was the position that was open for a medical officer. I assume from your question that your being here was more of an active choice.”

“That’s where you’d be wrong,” Joshua replied. “I was assigned here shortly after the Century Storm crisis.” He frowned, “I think it was due to it wreaking havoc across the Paulson Nebula colonies. The Frontier Day disaster has put those missions on hold, but I have been studying the various situations. It’s proving difficult collaborating with their scientists over comms.”

The handmaid returned with the order and set it on the table. “Would there be anything else, dearies?”

Joshua shook his head, “This looks great, thank you.”

The Vulcan eyed her dish and did not comment other than providing a curt nod of acknowledgment. The food looked just as she had anticipated and thus needed no editorializing from her on its suitability. She knew that humans liked, being able to discuss their food, but for most of her kind, it was simple nutrition and not a source of entertainment or a topic of conversation.

The handmaid nodded, “Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“We will, thank you,” the doctor nodded, trying to be polite but not wanting to encourage the woman to talk more. She did not anticipate any further need of the server and while she did not wish to be rude she also had not come here to be friends with the wait staff.

”Query what is a dearie and why would she call us that? Surely we are not dear to her, she does not even know us,” N’Vea asked.

“It’s a term of endearment,” Joshua explained. “It’s her way of being polite.” He chuckled, “I think she’s leaning into the aesthetics of the place a little too much.”

“Why is collaboration more difficult over comms these days?” N’Vea mostly worked with people in her field, and close by so it was not something that she did herself very often. It was interesting, and she wondered if this was also affecting the medical field.

Joshua took a drink of ale, “I suppose it’s a personal thing for me. It’s easy for me to read reports and run simulations, but I have to feel the earth. There’s a difference between reading a moisture report and the feeling of a plant crumbling in your hands. The tactility of it creates an intimate connection with my work.” He chuckled and waved away how ridiculous it sounded out loud, “I’m sorry, I tend to romanticize my work sometimes.”

The Doctor nodded, “It is a fascinating concept, making a simple task seem romantic. I do not have that problem, not cutting into someone’s chest, for example, is preferable. If I can manage to do the same work without surgery both myself and the patient benefit. Even the simplest procedure has risks.“

”Is there much else you ‘romanticize’ besides your work? Or is this emotion confined to plants?”

“Of course!” Joshua chuckled, “Life itself should be romanticized. Every day should be considered a gift.” The cheerfulness left his face, “But, yeah, right now it’s mostly confined to plants. Actually,” he looked at the chronometer on the wall, “finish your salad, there’s something I want to show you.” 

N’Vea wondered if Joshua got mad at people for eating planets and that was why he assumed that she would be upset for his eating of meat. Humans and their emotions were hard to understand for her, even after all her years on Earth and trying quite hard to relate and ‘be more human’. She finished about half of the salad and set it aside, it was mostly croutons and dressing anyway. Much too fancy for its own good.

“I am ready Joshua,” she said using his first name, a change to a more informal stance for the Vulcan.

“Great! Let’s go,” he said, standing up and heading for the door. Walking through the Promenade with N’Vea, he found a nearby turbolift and took it to Sector Bravo-Orange. The doors opened to the Arboretum, flooding them with various plant and tree scents.

“Let’s see,” Joshua quickly scanned through the automated directory. “There! We’re not too late,” he excitedly said. “Come on, it’s not far.” Quickly moving through the winding paths of plants and trees, Joshua finally stopped. In front of them was a cluster of red flower buds.

Doctor N’Vea followed, “Are we meeting an admiral? Your concern for promptness is clearly heightened.”

“Wait for it…” Joshua said intently. He quickly glanced at the chronometer. “Three, two, one…” he ended in a near whisper. Almost on cue, the buds began to slowly bloom, as if awakening from a slumber. It flooded the immediate area with its sweet scent. “I present to you, Zaluzianskya capensis,” Joshua motioned to the now white pinwheel-shaped flowers. “How can you not romanticize that?” Joshua spoke barely above a whisper.

”You can understand the biological reasons behind the flower’s behaviours and the necessity in evolution for them to behave in such a way,” N’Vea remarked but then nodded, “but as you say it is quite aesthetically pleasing.”

“I…,” He smiled and waved away the thought. “You know what? I’ll take it. I’m glad you like the surprise.”

The door to her office opened, and Cassidy Montgomery glanced up to find her assistant, Ensign Geraldine Parker, standing at attention with a broad smile.  She either needed something or had discovered something exciting for her, and she needed to share.  “What can I do for you, Ensign Parker?”  She continued working on her piles of PADDs.

Parker nearly squealed excitedly, “We finally have a Deputy Director of Counseling.”  She handed the PADD to an intrigued Deputy Director of General Medicine.

Montgomery started to read, “The Kennedy—and EOS station.  I know about the latter.  The place was rough all over when they stepped onboard.  From what I hear, there’s stuff in sickbay that still isn’t working.  Looks like she managed to get the counseling department into a respectable place, at least.”  She paused, a quiet smile on her lips, “It seems it is partly why she’s landed here.  I’ll take competence over stupidity any day of the week.”  Parker remained standing in front of the desk.  Cass glanced up.  She was about to ask her why she was still standing there when she made the connection, “You think I should meet with her, don’t you?”  A vigorous nod was her answer from Parker.  “I suppose it would be good to establish cross-departmental cooperation… considering we do our share of referrals to them and psychiatry.”  She stared at the neat piles of PADDS, “Schedule a meeting… preferably within the hour.  I need a break from this madness.”

Walking into the General Medicine office a few hours later, Arwa stopped at the assistant desk. “Good day. I have an appointment with Deputy Director Montgomery. I am Lieutenant el-Imam, the new Deputy Director of Counseling.” She looked at Parker with a soft smile, holding her hands crossed over each other. 

Parker smiled in return, “Welcome to the general medicine department.  I’ll walk you in.”  She stood and led el-Imam through the door, introducing the two women to each other before returning to her desk.

Montgomery offered the replicator, “Drinks are available if you have a need, Lieutenant,” she then gestured to the chairs across the desk, “Welcome to Starbase Bravo.  You worked with an old friend of mine on Eos. Doctor Longfellow worked with me early in my career.”

Giving a soft shake for the offer for a drink after sitting down “Yes Doctor Longfellow was a wonderful colleague to work with at Eos Outpost. I have not heard from him since my departure from Eos Station sadly enough” Arwa remembered her old co-works at Eos and shared many times their conversations and consults.

Cass chuckled, “He’s as constant as a star or a sun.  I hear from him every so often.  You’ll be happy to hear he’s made Chief Medical Officer on an Excelsior II class.  I don’t know if he shares that happiness, but it’s somewhere underneath the crust.”

“That does sound like the Doctor I know. He always had a thing for a good old challenge. He might get rusty on that ship. Speaking out of personal interactions, it will not take long for Doctor Longfellow to get the desired transfer if he really puts the effort into it” Arwa took a deep breath. “So, how is Starbase Bravo doing from your general medicine perspective on the counseling state? I am still catching up on all the data” 

Cass replied, “Well, we’ve not had a consistent hand in the counseling command department as of late, so I wanted to meet the new boss.  We make plenty of referrals your way.  Making sure I wouldn’t hate you was my first step.”  She smiled, “So far, so good.”

Nodding to Cass, “I am glad to hear that. Time will tell on how counseling will operate and how effective it will be.” She thinks for a second “Not hating me is an emotional option, Commander. But my goal is to please everyone as best as I can in my field of work. So I call it a win if you do not hate me” 

Cass mused, What is with everyone suddenly talking like a Vulcan around here?, and returned to her simmering black tea, waiting for the officer’s next offering.

“So, could you give me an update on the current status of the crew’s mental and physical health concerning recent events?” Arwa was well aware that Frontier Day was a sensitive topic, but a topic that shouldn’t be avoided. It should be discussed and spoken out.

She dug one of the spare PADDs out of the pile, accessed the file she could show her, and handed the device over, “A task group has recently found a solution to the problem and is in the process of rolling it out station-wide with treatment plans.  We’re working on physical health, but mental health is something else entirely.”

Arwa placed her hands on each other on her lap and said, “It is good that there is medical improvement but before my arrival. I did some digging and worried about the crew members who did not express their emotions well enough. Do you have people reporting with sleeping problems or having headaches?” 

Montgomery tapped at the console on her desk, and the holo screen next to them lit up as she played with the data, “That’s an interesting question, Lieutenant el-Imam.  We’ve seen an uptick in those symptoms after Frontier Day and even much longer after it.  I’m a doctor, not a counselor – you might be able to get more from the data with your expertise.”

“I have seen reports of counselors speaking of people feeling disconnected, the need to be in crowded areas to feel calm.” She crossed her legs and looked at the data with Cass. “However, the mental symptoms of being disconnected from the hive is somewhat….strange.” Arwa took a deep breath. “Former Borg patients that experience this were part of the hive for years…study never was conclusive on the impact of the transformation period it takes to experience the mental drawback of it.”

Cass was thinking as Arwa was speaking.  They hadn’t examined that element of the situation – so worried about the cure and race to find the result, they’d not considered elements of the Borg that may have remained, disconnection and destruction from the hive as symptoms would find ways to display.  She responded, “Fascinating.”

“Not everything can be seen on a scanner, so I am planning to set up a signals list for your department.” Arwa looked back at her. “These signals can clarify for your doctors to conclude whether a person needs a counseling session if they have sleepless nights, anxiety in empty rooms, or headaches.” Looking back at the data and points at data, “The increase of exhausting crew members have increased since Frontier Day.” Lowering her hand and taking a deep breath. “It can mean, of course, trauma because of what they have seen, but if we can filter out those registered to have Borg nano, then a treatment can be pulled together.”

Montgomery remained fascinated by the data and the hypothesis from the Deputy Director of Counseling.  She stood from her chair, “Coordinate with my assistant and myself – let’s get this working as soon as possible.  Thank you for seeing this.  It seems you arrived right on time, Dr. el-Imam.”  She extended her hand, “Welcome aboard Bravo.  You make an impressive first impression.”

Giving a nod as she stood up “I shall get my personnel working on the data Doctor Montgomery” Arwa smiled at her. “If anything else comes up in the future do contact me again, so we can work together to better the health of our people” she shook her hand. “Thank you for welcoming me. We will honestly speak to each other soon enough I expect” With that said, she let go of her hand and gave a soft nod while walking out of Cass office. 

Luna stared down at the PADD in her hand.  She'd been notified of a message for her on the long-range system they'd made out in the Delta Quadrant.  However, this couldn't be the message.  It'd come in so garbled that it read like a bomb threat.  The sender's signal indicated it should be from a childhood friend, Karteth.  He was so far out that even if he sent a bomb it'd never arrive in her lifetime.

In fact, the message had apparently been received almost a month ago.  It just took the Federation officials a while to verify whether a bomb threat was real or not.  Then the whole fiasco with the Borg happened, and this letter fell to the bottom of the priority list.  

Looking again at the letter, she noticed something in the data.  Not recognizing the string of code, she got up from her bunk and headed to the door.  She might not know what this is, but she'd bet her commission that Gary would.

Gary was, as ever, hidden away behind a panel of wiring.  Luna swore he didn't even sleep in his quarters, just behind some wiring somewhere.  It took him all of five minutes to decode the glitched message.  Turns out it was a message asking if she was coming back, and that it had been sent almost ten years ago, close to just after the Calypso had left his system.  She had a copy of it already in her library, which she had received at the time.

Serving as a physician in Star Fleet had always been a dream of Mandrake, a tightly kept secret he failed to disclose to his wife, who did not want him to join. How he was still married at this point was a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. He just wanted to live in the moment. Today was the day his dream became a reality. He was onboard Star Base Bravo, the headquarters of the fourth fleet. He was standing in his quarters that he would soon share with his wife. The room was bathed in the soft, bluish glow of the artificial lighting, although it lacked that home feeling that he hoped Laura would bring with her. Jacob couldn’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

With the dawn of a new day, he decided to begin it in a disciplined manner. The smell of freshly replicated coffee filled the air as he prepared his breakfast. The aroma of the rich, Earth-blend coffee was a comforting and refreshing way to start the day. A plate of fluffy eggs, a piece of toast, and a small serving of fruit completed his meal.

Sitting at the small dining table, he activated his personal pad. He sipped his coffee and scrolled through the latest news updates. How interesting it all was, the importance of what they all did to make the galaxy a better place for all its inhabitants. Graduating from Star Fleet Academy has been a challenging but rewarding experience. His mentors and instructors had prepared him for this moment, and he was determined to make them proud.

With his thoughts racing, he finished his breakfast and went to the viewport in his quarters. The star base was bustling with activity. Starships of various designs were coming and going. Just beyond the viewport was a breathtaking view of the cosmos that seemed to have no end. Jacob couldn’t help but smile as he admired the vastness of space. It was a reminder of the boundless opportunities that lay ahead of him. As he collected his thoughts, he took a deep breath and reminded himself of his mission to help those in need no matter what.

As now Ensign Jacob Mandrake of Starfleet, he left his quarters, his crisp Starfleet uniform fitting perfectly, he felt a surge of anticipation. He double-checked that his medical tricorder was securely fastened to his belt. He took one last glance around his room before he stepped out of his quarters. The corridors of Star Base Bravo were a hive of activity. Crewmembers of various uniforms hurried about their duties, and the gentle hum of the star base systems filled the air. Jacob navigated the passageway, his heart pounding with excitement, and an ever-growing hint of nervousness that had doubled since he awoke.

He began his journey early so he could take in some of the sights. His path took him through several decks and past a few turbo lifts before he arrived at the entrance of the medical complex. The sliding doors parted, granting him access to a well-lit, clean, and efficient space. The complex was a testament to the advanced technology of the Starfleet engineers.

Jacob approached the reception area, where a young ensign was performing her duties; she looked up at him, and smiled. “How can I help you,” she asked.

“I am… uh, my name is Jaco…, Ensign Mandrake , Jacob. Reporting in for duty.”

She looked through her notes, “do you know who you are here to see?”

“Oh, forgive me,” He quickly handed her the data pad containing his orders.

The receptionist looked over the information and walked from behind her desk. “Follow me,” she called out. He followed her down a corridor, until they came to a waiting area with another receptionist; she passed along his pad to Ensign Parker, then left the room. Jacob stood outside the door for the deputy director, waiting for the Ensign to tell him it was okay to enter.

Vantek paced nervously in the corridor. He’d committed to doing this but was having second thoughts and last minute jitters. But he knew he didn’t like who he was right now. What he’d become. In order to get better though, he needed to face this. He couldn’t do that on his own. 

“Right. Stop stalling and just do it.”

He pressed the page button next to the door and waited. The urge to press himself flush against the wall like a changeling trying to become the wall screamed loudly and he shook in opposition. The quiet meant that it was easier to hear the whispers. He knew it was just the memory of what it was like having them in his head. But his discomfort with the quiet now had to be dealt with, and the underlying problem of his trauma. It was the only way he was going to be able to move forward.

As the door opened, Arwa appeared and looked in the corridor seeing Vantek “Ensign, I believe you have an appointment with me. Please do enter and take a seat” Arwa let him enter and followed him “Anything you like to drink? You seem nervous?” She walked to the replicator getting some mint water. “Just keep in mind that you are in a safe place and I am here to help you with any kind of problem” 

Vantek frowned with a nod, stepping in side and trying to keep his body language from broadcasting how tense he was. He took the offered set and glanced back at the door a few times. Perhaps contemplating running for it, or hiding from it. 

“Yeah.” He said hesitantly. “The quiet makes me uncomfortable. I tried to stay in noisy places or stay busy, but when it’s quiet I can still hear them in the back of my mind. Sort of.”

”It is a common problem that people of your age are experiencing at this moment after the traumatic event that took place.” Arwa placed a glass of water in front of him ”So tell me Ensign. How do you get out of your bed? What is your routine and how much has it changed since that fateful day?” Arwa took a sip from her drink while sitting down. 

His brows furrowed and he glanced up confused. His knee jerk reaction was to reply with something dry and sarcastic but thinking on it? It was a valid question. “Slowly. I haven’t been sleeping the best. It takes a long time to fall asleep eventually and my alarm comes way too fast. Usually I’ll take a shower, get dressed, have some breakfast and leave for duty. As for how its changed? Well, now I spend more time in crowds and noisy places. It’s had a negative impact on being able to go where the ambient volume isn’t above a dull roar. And sometimes I catch myself jumping at shadows.”

Arwa looked at him. “Have you considered the other way around, Ensign?” She took a sip of her drink. “Most victims that are undergoing the transformation of Borg and being connected to the hive, experiencing loneliness, emptiness, sleepless nights because it is quiet.” Arwa placed the glass down. “So your unconscious mind seeks crowded areas to fill the holes that are now quiet in your head, fill it with noise to make you feel at ease.” 

Taking a moment to think about it, “I do have to say that studies in such degree are still unclear to whom it affects in what period because such symptoms are only shown with former Borg that have been part of the hive for years.” She tapped the side of the table “Do you experience anxiety when being alone?”

He frowned thinking on it for a moment. “I guess? It tends to be quieter when I’m alone. It never used to bother me though.” He leaned forward trying to focus recent episodes. “Yeah, usually when I’m in large noisy crowds I feel a little more at ease. The noise helps drown out the whispers.” He tried to repress a shudder unsuccessfully. 

Giving him a nod “Well, that is progress. What about working with other people? How is that experience for you?” Arwa observed his behavior closely without changing her facial expression “Is it okay? Do you tend to be more irritable? Do you get calmer in the presence of others or maybe you feel more exhausted?”

Vantek shifted in his seat, giving the question some thought. “As well as normal I guess. Probably more calmer in bigger crowds, but maybe a little anxious alone.” He knew his language sounded passive and unsure, but he couldn’t force himself to stronger more certain language. At the moment felt like he was standing in thick mud. Difficult to move in. “I’ve had issues sleeping too. And my room is kind of empty because I don’t spend much time in it.”

“Interesting.” She took a sip of her drink and closed her eyes to enjoy the flavor for a second or two, then opened up and looked at him. “Just one last question, do you experience a form of panic when you are in a group and nothing is discussed? For example, standing in a turbolift?”Arwa placed the cup down. 

Vantek’s arms cinched a hair tighter around his torso making it look like his casually folded arms had been tied now just a little too tightly. He shrugged, but the gesture was muted and barely noticeable. He shifted slightly uncomfortable at the admission. “Yeah, I guess so. The quiet…it’s heavy. Like being jovian gravity or something.”

Giving a soft nod in his direction and smiles. “I think we can conclude this talk Ensign. The recent events have left scars on everyone in different forms, and yours is something I have concluded to match with Sedatephobia” She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “When you were part of the hive even if for a brief moment your brain had to process a lot”

She thought briefly before Arwa continued, “Which is a logical reaction that when it stopped, it was still spinning in your head. A gear was added without a function.” She leaned forward. “So, to briefly explain what it is, Sedatephobia is a form of inability to process silence. You need noise, you need people talking. That is why you are sleeping so badly, you can’t stay in your quarters. That is why you are agitated and unable to focus”

“I will advise you to continue counseling sessions with us, try to get into the lessons of Yoga or Meditation to calm your mind. But for now, get some rest, put on a radio with music in your room so there is noise.” Arwa smiled in his direction. “Any questions?”

He rose feeling a little awkward and shook his head. He shouldn’t need this kinda stuff. And yet he did. That alone was enough to mess with his head. Still, he’d committed to the life. May as well see it through. Regardless of how it panned out for him. “Thanks. I think I’m good for now.” He made his way to the door and flinched in the corridor. The emptyness and deafening quiet pressed in on him for a beat until he released a quiet deep breath and forced himself into the corridor, one foot at a time, humming a soft tune to try and crack into the sound void. He had some patrols to walk soon, maybe he’d grab an ear piece and listen to some books. He nodded, rather liking the idea. 

Irric’s attention was drawn away from his PADD by the resonating chimes, their metallic notes rippling through the room. Annoyance welled up within him as he recognized the specific individuals waiting patiently on the other side of the door. He decided to keep them waiting for a moment longer.

Only a short time before, word had reached him about the investigation underway, spearheaded by two Ensigns. When he had initially granted Ensign Shepard permission to delve into the suspicious activities reported by Ensign Solari, he had expected a controlled and organized inquiry, not the disarray that seemed to be unfolding.

Complicating matters further, Irric had recently received a formal complaint from Ensign Miller, who alleged mistreatment during an interrogation conducted by the two Ensigns, an interrogation for which Irric had not granted authorization. His frustration grew with each passing second, mingling with his growing concern.

With a voice filled with a blend of frustration and apprehension, he finally uttered, “Enter.”

Cole and Cam had been tracking down their next suspect when they received a comm that called them to the office of Commander Nuni Irric, Investigations Section Leader. Previously, Cole had done most of his reporting to Commander Peri Anya but he had learned that this investigation would fall under the jurisdiction of Nuni. And now he found himself getting ready to walk into the man’s office. 

The call to enter came and the doors parted. They stepped forward and Cole spoke up first.

“Ensign Cole Shepard, reporting as ordered, Sir.”

Cam’s footsteps echoed as he quietly followed Cole into the office. Inside, the Bajoran senior officer maintained an air of authority as Cole respectfully reported. 

Cam, his voice quivering, added hesitantly, “Ensign Cam Solari.”

Irric observed the two ensigns with a scrutinizing gaze. His eyes flitted from one to the other before gesturing discreetly toward the chairs positioned before his meticulously organized desk. Both ensigns, their apprehension visible, took their seats, the chairs emitting a soft creak as they settled in.

Irric leaned back in his chair, his facial expression revealing a mixture of curiosity and thinly veiled irritation. 

“Ensigns Shepard and Solari,” he began, his voice even but laced with skepticism, “you seem to share more than your rank. I’ve noticed that both your given names commence with a ‘C’, and both of your surnames start with an ‘S.’”

A heavy silence engulfed the room, the tension nearly palpable. Irric continued to study the ensigns, his gaze penetrating, almost piercing. 

“And you both,” he continued, his voice raising in volume, “appear to be a considerable source of vexation for me.”

Cam shifted uneasily in his chair, Irric’s intense scrutiny weighing on him. 

Cole wasn’t sure how to react to this guy. He sat there and listened to what seemed to be an ass chewing for himself and Cam.

After a brief pause, Irric continued, “I’ve been serving as a Lead Investigator for well over a decade, with almost three years of that time dedicated to this very station.”

Irric’s fingers lightly tapped on his PADD as he leaned forward, his eyes shifting between the Ensigns. 

“By the Prophets,” he continued, his mounting frustration evident in his gestures, “I’ve never been inundated with such a torrent of complaints related to a single investigation!”

Cam’s heart raced, and his stammered response couldn’t conceal his apprehension. “M-M-Many… C-C-Complaints?” His face drained of color, and he felt a chill as though his blood had left his head.

Irric nodded, his tone resolute. “Many might even be an understatement, Ensign Solari.” 

He held up his PADD, the screen filled with a litany of allegations, each more disconcerting than the last. “Could you both kindly clarify why my PADD is overflowing with records of pursuit, a multitude of reports regarding harassment and intimidation, and, to my surprise, a formal complaint about an unauthorized interrogation conducted by a Security Officer and a–” 

Irric grit his teeth and with yet a new level of palpable irritation he finished his sentence  “Flight Control Officer!”

Cole took a deep sigh and took a moment to collect himself. There was no way this guy was speaking to them this way. There had been nothing wrong with the way they had handled things. He knew one of the complaints had to be Miller. But everything that had been by the book. Besides, Miller may not have been the smuggler but he was guilty of something.

“Sir.” Cole began. “I, I mean, we, are unaware of any of these complaints. We were given permission to pursue an investigation and that’s exactly what we did. No one was injured. Nothing was destroyed and while we haven’t found the smuggler, we did stop Miller’s…….um, side hustle.”

Irric’s stern demeanor eased, and the corner of his lips curled upward for the first time since the Ensigns had crossed his threshold. “What’s the implication here, Ensign Shepard?” he asked, his tone more curious than confrontational. 

“Are you seeking commendation because, despite your lack of progress in the primary investigation, you’ve unearthed Ensign Miller’s proclivity for clandestine rendezvous with Ferengi Lobe holograms?”

Cole sat back in his chair and took another deep breath. He was starting to wonder if Nuni was trying to provoke him for some reason. 

“No, Sir.” he finally answered. “I’m not looking for any ”Atta boys” or anything else. The Miller issue was just something we happened upon and isn’t even a drop in the bucket compared to the stolen equipment. But I also don’t feel we deserve a dressing down either. We done everything by the book. We’ve investigated and followed the leads where they took us and will continue to do so, unless you or Commander Peri decide to remove us from the case.”

Cam’s gaze roamed restlessly, his eyes flitting between the Lieutenant Commander seated across the table, Cole at his side, and the intricate patterns in the metallic floor beneath him. The polished surface held his attention, capturing his thoughts as he wrestled with his emotions.

Irric’s voice, tinged with genuine surprise, cut through the tension in the room. “A dressing down?” he said with a weary sigh, his expression hinting at hidden concerns. “I’m not out to sabotage you or snatch away this opportunity, Ensign.”

He turned his attention to the two ensigns, his eyes searching for answers. “I just want you to be cautious. Frankly, I’m still puzzled by why a Flight Ops Ensign is taking on the role of a seasoned investigator.” He locked eyes with Ensign Solari, silently seeking an explanation.

“You can’t say tha..” Cam tried to respond but he was cut short by the Bajoran.

“But your work has been nothing short of meticulous,” Irric continued, his voice now holding a note of admiration. 

“Now, it’s time to refine those skills.” He directed his gaze toward Cole, his tone indicating a challenge. “I want you to reach a level where your results match or even surpass the current standards, all without the need to fill up a PADD with complaints.”

Cam turned his gaze towards the Commander, a perplexed expression etching itself across his face. Shifting his gaze to Cole, he sought a reassuring connection, hoping to uncover a shared sense of confusion between them.

Cole turned to Cam and was glad to see that they shared the confusion. Cole had been all set to jump to Cam’s defense. Without the Flight Control officer, Cole wouldn’t have been nearly as far as they were in the investigation. He just knew the Commander was going to remove came from helping him. At the least. Remove them both at the most. Now they were being told to continue with what Cole would call, a little more professionalism.

“We understand, Commander. And thank you for not removing Ensign Solari, Sir. He’s been instrumental with his assistance. We’ve only got a few more suspects. Hopefully, we’ll have answers soon.”

Irric’s face lit up with a reassuring smile as he shifted his focus to Cam. “Although I’m not particularly thrilled about partnering on security investigations with personnel from other departments,” he began, “I must admit your contribution has proven indispensable.”

With a glance at both ensigns, he continued, “Given the circumstances, it falls to me to pass along orders to Ensign Solari. He’s to make his way to Commander Carter at Flight Ops right away.” Irric paused, his tone heavy with unspoken implications. “As for what awaits his contributions to this investigation in the future, that remains uncertain, but I can pledge that if an opportunity arises, I won’t stand in its way.”

Cam offered a nod of respect to the Lieutenant Commander seated before him, silently conveying his appreciation. He turned to Cole, his eyes holding a promise as he said, “We’ll be in touch.” 

With that, he exited the office, his departure marked by a purposeful stride and a sense of anticipation.

Cole gave Cam a nod of appreciation and watched as his comrade exited the office and then turned back to the Commander.

“I only have a few more suspects, Commander. With your permission, I’ll get on to checking them out.” Cole said.

The Commander gave him a nod and he was dismissed. He made his way down to the Security Office and began getting everything together to move forward with his investigation.

The door to the office parted and Crewman Simpkins wandered into the room, sidling up to the desk with a sheepish look on her face. “Sorry to bother you sir,” she smiled, “but there is a Romaes Anjin here to see you. He doesn’t have an appointment,” she concluded.

Ryke looked up from his notes, pen held lightly between his fingers. While he’d have to type everything up later, he preferred to put his thoughts down on paper. It helped him think.

“Of course, thank you, Simpkins,” Ryke said with a smile, closing his notebook and standing. “Can you list meeting room three as in use? I’ll take him through there.”

The crewman nodded and disappeared back through the door. Ryke collected a PADD to add to the growing collection in the crook of his arm and headed out.

The man in the waiting room turned. Ryke smiled, walking forward to offer his hand. “Mr. Romaes? I’m Ryke Ashfield… you wanted to see me?”

Rising to his feet, the visitor to the Counsellor’s office today offered a hand to Ryke. “Thank you for agreeing to see me, Counsellor. I know this is out of the ordinary, but I need to talk to someone…” the Bajoran smiled.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Ryke replied, shaking Romaes’ hand. “I’ve snagged us the good meeting room, the one with the snacks… If you’d like to follow me?”

He swept an arm out to indicate the corridor off the reception area, and they headed that way. The meeting room was only the second door on the right, a pleasant space with comfortable seating, a counter with a small replicator, and the promised snacks.

“Please, make yourself comfortable. Can I get you a drink?” Ryke asked, his easy smile hiding the fact that he was assessing Romaes as they spoke. The Bajoran moved well, with confidence, so Ryke was betting he was an officer, and relatively high level as well.

Taking one of the comfortable chairs around a small coffee table, the Bajoran visitor looked across at the Counsellor and nodded slowly. “I’d love a raktajino please, extra sweet.”

“Coming right up.” Ryke set the little stack in his arm down on the low table between the chairs and ordered the drinks. 

Setting his visitor’s raktajino down in front of him, Ryke settled himself into the seat opposite and smiled. “So… a question I always ask at the beginning of a session like this. Would you like me to listen, or are you looking for advice?” he asked in a calm voice. “Either is good.”

Smiling in appreciation of the beverage, Romaes relaxed into his chair. “Advice, Counsellor. Maybe a bit of both, to be fair?” he shrugged, looking more uncomfortable than he had before as they began to get to the crux of why he was there. “Maybe I should give you a little context of what’s been going on?”

“Of course, please do.” 

Ryke mirrored Romaes body language and sat back in his chair. It was both a technique counsellors were taught to get people to relax around them, but something he’d always done naturally anyway. Perhaps a reason why people had always felt like they could talk to him.

Sitting forward, the Bajoran put his elbows on the corresponding knees and clasped his hands together beneath his chin. “My name is Romaes Anjin, and until recently I was a task force commander at the rank of Fleet Captain,” the man told, finally exposing himself for who he was. He let out a sigh as he sat up again. “I voluntarily demoted myself following a disagreement with my superiors,” he revealed.

Ryke nodded. He wasn’t surprised that Romaes was a high-ranked officer, but he hadn’t expected the next admission. Not many people voluntarily demoted themselves.

“Would you like to tell me about that decision?” he asked, more interested in the thinking behind it rather than the situation. Right now, his focus was the man in front of him and his best interests, not the disagreement with his superiors.

“Honestly?” the Bajoran shrugged as he relaxed a little more, finding the Counsellor’s presence and tone to be quite therapeutic. “Sometimes, people make decisions that you aren’t comfortable with and you have to take a stand for what you believe in. With all that’s gone on in recent months, I’ve found myself increasingly at odds with some of the orders I’d been given,” he revealed, feeling a little more relieved with each sentence he unburdened himself with.

Ryke nodded. He couldn’t say he’d been comfortable with every order he’d been given, so he could definitely put himself in Romaes’ shoes.

“And how do you feel now you’ve made that decision?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink. Romaes’ body language seemed to indicate a lessening of tension, which was a good sign.

“I’ve set my career back by about a decade,” the Bajoran frowned in between sips of his beverage, “I’ve gone from commanding the greatest of explorers to floating cities in space, only to end up being positioned for command of a science vessel no bigger than the apartment complex I live in on Earth,” his relaxation disappeared momentarily as he thought about how low his voluntary demotion had taken him. “I’m working alongside the very people I used to lead… as equals.”

Ryke nodded, but it was more a filler movement than an agreement. He still didn’t have a good grasp of Romaes as a person, which wasn’t uncommon in a first meeting like this.

“It sounds like it’s been a major period of adjustment for you,” he replied. “Is a scientific command something that you saw in your career path?”

“An adjustment is an understatement.” Romaes scoffed and shook his head. “I’ve commanded Sovereigns and Galaxys,” the Bajoran told the counsellor, “so being given something small like a Rhode Island was not on my career trajectory.”

Ryke managed to keep the surprise off his face. 

“That is somewhat of a size difference,” he admitted. “But from what I’ve heard, those Rhode Island’s aren’t to be underestimated.”

“I guess it is just going to take some time to get used to carrying out missions that have less galactic significance,” he frowned, clutching at the arms of his chair. “I’m used to making a difference. There’s not going to be much difference-making on the Buran,” he conceded with a shrug.

Ryke tilted his head slightly. “Respectfully, I would argue the opposite. Differences come in many shapes and sizes. Yes, a Rhode Island is small, but it contains nearly a hundred crew for whom you can make a difference. No one exists in isolation. You never know, something you discover on this small science vessel, or something a crew member who takes their cue from you does, could make all the difference somewhere.”

His lips quirked in a small display of humour. “And after all, people have been saying for years it’s not how big it is, it’s what you do with it…”

Romaes’ lips started to form a word and his face screwed up as if the older man was about to refute the Counsellor’s words, but he suddenly found himself unable to speak. Was he… wrong? If he was wrong about this, what else could he have been wrong about?

Once he could again formulate words, the Bajoran divulged more regarding the position he had found himself in, and gradually felt the weight of the galaxy lifting from his shoulders as he spoke. As that relief finally took hold, the captain found himself ready; ready to move on and ready to take on new challenges.

“Thank you for the talk, Counsellor,” he smiled as he shifted to the edge of his seat.

Ryke inclined his head. Like a lot of the people he spoke to, Romaes had just needed someone to listen without judgment as he worked through things.

“You’re more than welcome,” he replied with a smile and gathered his PADD and notebook together. “And you know where I am if you need me in future.”

“I’ll be sure to bear that in mind,” Romaes nodded and offered his hands in thanks. “I’ll be sure to check in with the Counsellors aboard the Buran and they’ll compare notes I’m sure.” With that, the Captain vacated the office of Counsellor Ryke Ashfield, making a note to visit the man the next time he was in the area.For a Counsellor, he had been a pleasure to talk to. He just hoped those on the Buran would be just as easy to share details with.

“Impressive, even for Caruther’s,” Mads said, less than ten minutes later as they edged out of the shuttlebay and headed toward the ships currently in the holding pattern around the base. “Okay, we’re looking for the…“ she checked the listing on her padd. “The NorthStar.”

Cam mumbled, “I hope the Northstar, with its steady glow, guides the pastries through this dark and uncertain journey.” 

He then shifted his attention to Mads, pointing towards a nearby dock, and asked, “So, where is it? Isn’t it supposed to be right here?”

She shook her head and pointed in the other direction. “They didn’t have the right paperwork to dock, so they’re in a holding pattern. We’re going to have to go to them. They should be in holding pattern Echo-Nine-four. If they got that right.”

“Well, Come on, Deputy McGowan!” Cam’s voice brimmed with enthusiasm as he turned the shuttle and headed the other way, toward the elusive Northstar. The mundane routine they had expected this day to be had transformed into something far more intriguing. The air was charged with the promise of an puzzlelike adventure, each step revealing new clues and mysteries to unravel.

She shook her head, hiding her smile at the younger officer’s enthusiasm.

“Just don’t crash us, okay?” She warned him, mock-sternly. She didn’t like to fly in anything smaller than a planet, which was one reason she’d always opted for base and station assignments. “My son is a pilot, so I know all about the little tricks you lot like to pull.”

“You mean like…” Cam’s face lit up with a mischievous grin as he gripped the shuttle controls, pushing them forward to accelerate with vigor. The acceleration pushed him back into his seat, making his heart race with excitement. Suddenly, he jerked the controls back, causing the shuttle to brake sharply. The force of the abrupt deceleration overcame the inertia dampeners, sending a thrilling jolt through his body. His eyes sparkled with delight as he finished his sentence, “…This?”

Mads squeaked, grabbing at the seat rests as she was jolted around in her seat. “Yes! That!” she managed, a small hint of exasperation in her eyes as she slid the younger officer a sideways glance. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at her and she shook her head. “Don’t do that when we’ve got the pallets on board. Catering will not be happy if the eggs for the Admirals cakes arrive smashed.”

“Don’t worry, it’s out of my system now, I’m not planning to make an omelet” Cam stated, a sense of calm in his voice as they approached the Northstar. 

“We may initiate the docking procedure, ma’am,” He informed Mads, his fingers poised over the control panel, ready to guide the ship smoothly into its designated berth. The Northstar’s shuttle bay doors began to slide open, revealing the well-lit expanse where their docking process would take place.

“Good!” She raised an eyebrow at him and nodded. “Go ahead please.”

She sat quietly as Cam guided the large shuttle into place and set them down so gently she barely felt a thing. A welcoming committee of what looked like the ships cargomaster and possibly the first officer approached the shuttle, their expressions fierce.

“Doesn’t look like they’re that happy to see us,” Mads murmured, sliding out of her seat and making her way to the back of the load space as the back ramp began to lower. “They definitely won’t be happy to see me if they don’t have these damn eggs. Keep everything primed and ready to get us back, we’re pushing the deadline and catering are going to start screaming soon.”

Cam nodded at her, and Mads left the shuttle. After a very frustrating conversation with the Northstar crew which had her thinking the universal translator was playing silly sods, she finally managed to get the paperwork in order and stood behind the pilot’s seat as the sealed cargo boxes with the previous eggs were loaded aboard.

“Be careful with those!” she warned, as the Northstar loader-driver clanged the forks of the vehicle against the side of the shuttle, leaving a three inch wide gouge in the paintwork. She was less concerned about the aesthetics of the shuttle as she was with the state of the eggs inside. Scrambled was not the optimal condition for them to arrive in and she definitely didn’t want catering on her back when they eventually got them there.

Finally they were loaded and she hit the panel to close the back door with a sigh of relief.

“Next time,” she grumbled to the young pilot. “I’m going to insist on paperwork up front, and confirmation the cargo is loaded on anti-grav pallets. Come on then, get us out of here.”

She sat back as Cam took them out of the Northstar’s shuttle bay and turned them back toward the base. Checking the time, she gave a small sigh of relief. They would just make it in time…

The counseling area was buzzing with people and personnel as officers and enlisted waited for their turn to get their regular sessions in check. It has been more busy, but this was due to the recent traumatic event of the Frontier Day. People were still progressing with what had happened, which is understandable, and the counselors were there to help them through it. Arwa might be the Deputy Director of Counseling, but she felt obligated to help where possible. Walking onto the deck, “Lieutenant Shenzi?” She looked in the direction of the Caitian. “If you, please follow me, your regular check-up is next” 

Shenzi got up. “Sure thing.” She said, and moved towards the counselor. Shenzi fidgeted with one of the fingers on her mechanical arm, a habit she had. “Is this a full psych eval or what?” She asked, hoping it wasn’t as she didn’t feel to thrilled about being grilled about her mental state again.

“It is.” Arwa walked back to a designated office that was empty and ready to be used. “But no worries, see it as a daily talk on how life is and such.” Arwa walked to the replicator. “So, Lieutenant. Let us start with the most difficult question, what do you like to drink?” 

“Just some coffee, please. Black, no sugar, and strong enough to fight a Kzinti, please.” Shenzi replied, following Arwa into the office.

Giving a slight nod to that, “One raktajino coffee, please.” The replicator materialized a cup of Klingon coffee as she grabbed it and placed it before the young woman. “So, how is life on Starbase Bravo for you?” Arwa spoke, sitting at her chair and placing a PADD before her. 

Shenzi sipped at the beverage, taking in the interesting flavor. “Well, I only recently got here, but I must say it is a bit more comfortable than the quarters on a starship.” She answered, sitting down on another chair, smoothing her skirt with her free hand as she did, taking care to no sit on her tail. “Well, a ship does have more limited space, though. Holodecks here are nicer, might have a larger computer for them.”

“That sounds wonderful, glad you are settling in so well with us at Starbase Bravo” Arwa smiled at her “How about your health? Are you feeling comfortable with your co-workers? Do you experience any emotional stress?” Arwa was taking small notes of the conversation they were having. 

Shenzi flinched a little at the last question. “Well, I feel relatively healthy, though some of me is cybernetic, so I can handle more stuff than most of my kind could. I’m also starting to warm up to my co-workers, they seem like decent folk.” She said, avoiding the last question, and finished her drink. “A lot more people here than on the Shinano, but I don’t have too much trouble blocking out the mental noise as a telepath, fortunately.”

She narrows her eyes but breaks it off with a soft smile. “Well, it is good that you are warming up to your co-workers. So is there anything you wish to talk about? You might have missed recent events here, but Starfleet has been busy with the whole wrap-up on the Frontier day event.” Arwa shrugged a bit, knowing how busy her department has been. 

“Well, nothing at the moment. I saw what happened during Frontier Day, but I was on leave back on my family’s ship. It’s… surprising how that was able to even happen.” Shenzi replied, fidgeting with her mechanical hand. “What happened here on this station during the whole thing?” She asked.

Giving the nod, “Luckily nothing, Starbase Bravo stayed out of range of the Jupiter signal when it happened. Thought we are dealing with the aftermath of it. Removing the Borg DNA and counseling people through the events is day-to-day work. But it should calm down soon, I hope.” Arwa was quite positive but also careful with her words. 

“Borg… DNA? I thought they used little nano probe things.” Shenzi asked. “Huh, now I’m wonder how they’d have reacted to my cybernetic parts.” She mused, more to herself than to anyone else.

”Sadly I don’t understand it fully also. But i’m glad to see you are in perfect condition Lieutenant“ Arwa smiled at her “I don’t see any problems that would hinder your work, or do you want to discuss anything with me?”

Shenzi thought for a moment. “Nothing right now, but I’ll be sure to let you know if anything comes up.” She said with a smile. “Thanks for the coffee, by the way.”

Standing up at the same time as the Lieutenant “You are most welcome, just know that the door is always open” Arwa smiled at her as the Lieutenant left the room. “I wonder what her struggle was..”. Arwa mutters to herself and down pressing the comm “Bring in the next patient please”.

“…so you can see, this is an unusual situation.”  The captain sat before her, a quiet smile on his face.  

Cassidy Montgomery understood, “I usually don’t carry a caseload, Captain Halsey…but in this, situation I think I can make an exception.”  His face filled with relief, and she stood from her desk, “I’m still curious about how you chose me to handle your treatment, Captain.”

Leopold “Doc” Halsey shook her offered hand, “I researched the folks in the area.  Your name kept coming up as a solid doctor and a no-nonsense officer.  Two things I appreciate in the people I work with if I’m honest.  I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor Montomgery.”  He gave a wave and departed her office.

Cass chuckled, “Apparently, I am well liked by some.”  A chime at her door and Ensign Parker entered, “You have a new arrival…and his file was routed to you for additional…investigation?”  She held up the PADD, “I’m not sure what this means, Deputy Director.”

A glance and she frowned, “That is…different.  Show him in, Ensign.”

Parker returned to the hallway, “She’ll see you now, Ensign Mandrake.”

Jacob stood nervously as he began to step forward towards the deputy director’s office. The smell of polished wood, and the chatter of other officers, and medical personnel going about their daily business was what he focused on to keep him from vomiting. “It’s just, a interview… you’ve done a million of these before,” he quietly mumbled to himself. He straightened his newly pressed uniform, and looked once more to make sure he had the correct PADD in his hands, then entered the office.

His heart pounded in his chest; he took a few deep breaths as he looked around while approaching her desk. The room was a true testament to achievement, with trophies, awards, and holo-images from across the quadrant. At the desk sat Deputy Director of General Medicine Cassidy Montgomery, a distinguished officer with blonde hair and a no-nonsense demeanor.

“Ensign Jacob Mandrake ree..” he paused as he coughed and cleared his throat. Oh god, what was this? He was already embarrassing himself. “My apologies ma’am. Ensign Jacob Mandrake reporting for duty ma’am,” he finally got out, trying to keep his voice steady.

Montgomery raised both her eyebrows.  She was amused but kept her lips in a natural thin line.  “Ensign Jacob Mandrake, take a breath.  Or two.  Maybe three.”  She waited patiently.

Jacob paused for a moment and collected his racing thoughts. Minor slip up, but if he knew anything, it was that first impressions were everything, and he was determined to make a good first impression.

She gestured to the comfortable office chair across from her desk, “Take a seat.  Replicator’s over there if you need a drink.”  Cassidy picked her mug of coffee off the desk and waited for him to take a seat.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said while taking his seat, and waiting for his interview to start. He still had a million thoughts racing through his head, but he was maintaining his composure much better now. He handed her a pad that he had been holding. “These are my orders, ma’am.”

She accepted the PADD from him, “Welcome to Starbase Bravo.  The first rule – ‘ma’am’ is for emergencies, dressing downs, and when you need to signal to me that something has gone wrong.  I’m Doctor Montgomery, Doc Montgomery, or Deputy Director.  And you…are an interesting case, apparently.”  She glanced through his record, “Late 30’s and an ensign in Starfleet.  Plenty of medical practice in your dossier.”  Handing the PADD back to him, she slipped a medical tricorder off her desk, “As for New York, you have my sympathies.  Never much liked the place.”  She began to run her scans.

“I’m from Arizona originally ma… deputy director. NY wasn’t that bad, I had more than a few good professors. Plus a lot of experience in emergency medicine.”

Cass continued her scan with the tricorder, “Emergency medicine was my favorite.  The energy…the intensity.  Helps you prepare for the life in Starfleet and the unpredictable nature of ship or station.”  She tapped the scan report over to her PADD, which she picked up.  “What brings you to Bravo, Ensign?   You could have chosen anywhere to serve.” She pulled the larger scanning units from the ceiling and activated them around the new arrival.

At last, an interview question, a test of his abilities. This is what he lived for; his confidence was swiftly returning. A thirst for knowledge had always driven Jacob. With years of experience in the high-pressure world of emergency medicine, he was known for his calm demeanor and quick thinking in critical situations. Not being a real people person, he lacked what some would call the ‘art of bedside manner.’ Yet, hidden behind his penchant for crisis management was a deep-seated passion for research, particularly in pathology. So, when the opportunity arose, he knew exactly where he wanted to be. 

Jacob leaned forward, his eyes filled with enthusiasm. “Doctor Montgomery, I’ve always been passionate about the art and science of medicine. My years in emergency medicine taught me to think on my feet to save lives when every second counts. But deep down, what truly excites me is understanding the root cause of medical conditions, delving into the mysteries of pathology.” He paused and collected his thoughts, “Star Base Bravo, with its cutting-edge facilities and renowned research programs, offers the ideal environment for me to pursue my research aspirations.”

Cass smiled at the officer’s genuine passion for his subject.  It reminded her of her early days.  She returned the scanning units to the ceiling and picked her PADD back up, “Even in 2401, we’re still discovering the unknown.  The universe is a big place.”  She brought up the results from both scans and ran the analysis, “Bravo has an extensive science department and plenty of research going on.”  She handed the PADD over to him, “Your results are pretty standard for a human your age.  Blood pressure is solid, and your resting heart rate is exceptional.  You could use mineral and vitamin supplements to bridge the gap on some lower scans. I’ve included some recommendations and sent them to you to review.  Select what you’d like, and we’ll have them replicated.”  She leaned against her desk, “That’s the medical out of the way.  Any worries about this assignment, Ensign?”

He thought over the question, and then with a curious look on his face he adjusted his position, “Now that you mention I do have one.” He cleared his throat, “I understand my background in emergency medicine being what it is. I looked over my assignment, and I have been assigned to the emergency section and not to the pathology laboratory. It seems that with the large staff, you have here that would be covered. I was hoping to start practicing more advanced medicine here.” His eyes locked with hers as he awaited a reply.

Montgomery knew when she was being asked a question without really being asked a question.  She pushed off her desk, “I’ll grant a compromise – we do need hands in Emergency, and your qualified hands are needed…but I can offer to split your shifts evenly between emergency and pathology.  You get to put your hands on research while we get to use your hands to save some lives.”  She accepted the PADD back, “Does that work for you, Ensign?”

He smiled and sat back in relief, “Yes, doc, that works for me.”

She returned behind her desk, “I’ll file your revised orders and shift duties, Ensign Mandrake.  You’re free to go.”  As the door closed behind him, Parker entered with a PADD. “Please tell me I don’t have another meeting.”  

Her assistant smiled, “You do.  It’s the weekly orderly meeting.”  A sign from her boss as she stood snatched the PADD from her hand and headed out the door and onto her next meeting.

Adorned with a freshly minted pip on his collar, Cam moved with purpose through the vibrant corridors of Starbase Bravo. Weeks had passed since he had first received the intriguing offer during his initial week on the starbase, and now it was time to seize the opportunity. In the time since that offer, he had been immersed in an exhilarating whirlwind. He had dedicated his energy to assisting the Security Office during a special investigation, and the Deputy Director of Logistics with out-of-the-ordinary transports. Most notably, he had been an essential cog in the special Taskforce charged with the vital mission of purging the starbase of Borg DNA once and for all.

Yet, today held a special significance, for Cam was on the cusp of reuniting with his newly appointed Commanding Officer, Lieutenant Commander Dawa Vlček. Stepping into the bustling shuttle bay, his eyes quickly homed in on her, engrossed in her PADD, a symbol of her myriad responsibilities. His heart swelled with a mixture of respect and playful anticipation. With a smart salute, Cam reported, a warm smile dancing on his lips, “Commander Vlček, Lieutenant Junior Grade Solari reporting for duty.”

Dawa’s head shot up in surprise, and as she took in the situation, a smile slowly spread across her face.

“Well, it’s about damn time!” she said, gently swatting at his chest with the PADD. Noticing that Cam’s own smile was on the verge of collapsing into snickering, she added, “At ease, Lieutenant.”

She matched his parade rest stance as she properly took in his appearance, particularly the pips on his collar. “Well, it seems it’s been a busy few weeks for you! You’ll have to tell me all about it; I’m sure the reports don’t do it justice. In the meantime…”

Dawa started marching towards the row of bombers at the edge of the hangar and motioned for Cam to follow her.

“I’m taking section T1-A out for a training exercise in the Paulson Nebula later today: six bombers. Tango Leader told me to expect one more pilot, but he didn’t say who! I’ll have to thank him for the surprise later.”

About half a dozen pilots were swarming over their bombers and chatting with each other and the maintenance crew while they waited for their briefing to begin. Dawa called out to them as she approached.

“Alright, Rangers! Our last pilot has joined us! This is Lieutenant Cam Solari. I had the pleasure of flying with him during the Stinsfor rescue mission a few weeks ago. He’s got a hell of a lot of hours in both sky and space, and the skills to show for it. I recommend you ask him about his experience with historical aircraft sometime! But for now, why don’t the rest of you introduce yourselves before we go start the briefing?”

Dawa gestured to the feline fighter pilot standing nearest to her.

A Caitian woman with a cybernetic arm set her PADD down and stood up from the wing of her fighter. “Name’s Lieutenant Junior Grade Shenzi K’Ress, but you’ll probably get to know me by my callsign, Dutchess.” She said, brushing her hair out of her eyes with her cybernetic arm, revealing a large scar across her face. “This girl is my baby, the Crimson Dutchess”. Shenzi motioned towards the blood red fighter sitting behind her on the deck, an empty beverage can sitting on one of the wings. “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”

Dawa nodded approvingly and turned her attention to the next pilot.

“I’m Ensign Nahuel,” said the young human standing nearest Shenzi. His eyes darted towards her briefly as he continued. “My callsign is ‘Jaguar’ because my name means ‘jaguar’ in Mapudungun, and my first squadron wasn’t very creative with nicknames.”

Towering over Ensign Nahuel was a Kelpien woman. “I’m Lieutenant Raddi,” she said. “Callsign is ‘Bishop’ because I’m not very good at chess. But I’m an ace at high-side phaser passes, so who cares?” she added with a smirk and a shrug.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Modaw,” said the Bolian standing next to her. “Callsign: ‘Wildcard’,” he added with a wide grin as if that were all that needed to be said. And apparently, it was, as he didn’t continue.

There was the barest flicker of a laugh threatening to show on Dawa’s face as she continued. “And, of course, since this is a bomber squadron, we have our weapons team.”

Dawa turned to the assembled crew of tactical officers and pointed, preparing to introduce them rapid-fire. “Okay, just make a loud buzzer noise if I get your name wrong, but we have Ensign Korrapati, Lieutenant Junior Grade Nyongesa, Lieutenant Laoly, Ensign ch’Thar, Lieutenant Junior Grade T’Kat, and Ensign Palex.”

They all nodded and offered thumbs up or other gestures of approval, and Dawa grinned, pleased with her success. 

Then she turned to Cam with a glint in her eye. “By the way, Solari, do you have a callsign? Or do we have to give you one?”

Cam’s eyes fixated on Dawa, and in that moment, a ‘Callsign’? A profound realization washed over him like a sudden wave. He fervently delved into the depths of his thoughts, his mind racing, but frustratingly, nothing substantial surfaced at all. The ensuing silence grew increasingly uncomfortable, Cam decided to take the initiative in breaking it.

“I-I don’t know,” he admitted with a hint of uncertainty, his brow furrowing in deep thought. “I sure have never had one. I always thought you had to earn one.”

As he spoke, a glint of intrigue danced in his eyes, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in a bit closer, the atmosphere between them growing charged with curiosity. “You know, it’s akin to selecting a puppy, or perhaps, allowing fate to choose for you,” he suggested with a playful lilt in his voice.

Dawa laughed. “If by ‘fate’ you mean ‘us’, we’ll be glad to oblige. Right, Rangers?”

A round of laughter and agreement sounded throughout the group. Dawa nodded and slapped Cam on the back. “We’ll have to see you in action first, though. Everyone, follow me to briefing room two! It’s time to get this mission started.”

Hours later, the squad was celebrating their good day’s work in the dim lighting and loud chatter of one of Starbase Bravo’s countless bars.

Dawa took a gulp of her beer, then raised it in Shenzi’s direction. “Lieutenant K’Ress, I already said this in the debriefing, but that was an impressive maneuver around that asteroid. A dossier only tells half the story, so tell me, where’d you learn to fly like that?”

Shenzi raised her Kzinti Absinth back in Dawa’s direction, the beverage giving a disturbing green glow. “Well, I’m actually self-taught for piloting. I grew up on an old Crossfield class and was piloting Workbees when I was a kitten. Also spent a lot of time in the holodeck flying an old human plane called a Raptor,” she replied. “Got good enough that I even did a few dogfights with the holodeck safeties disabled. Captain found out and gave me an ass chewing, as you can probably imagine.” 

Shenzi laughed a little, and took a swig of her beverage, with no visible effect on her despite the fact that Kzinti Absinth was strong enough to put down a Klingon.

Dawa chuckled at the anecdote. “A Raptor, huh? Sounds familiar,” she said, drawling a bit after several beers. “Is that one of the historical craft you ever flew, Cam?” she asked, nudging the lieutenant next to her at the table.

“Yeah, sure, I’ve had the chance to pilot a Lockheed Martin F-22,” Cam replied, his tone intentionally nonchalant. He wanted to impress ‘the squad,’ but the room’s atmosphere, filled with raucous laughter and clinking glasses, wasn’t something he was accustomed to. On top of that, the world around him started to blur, he realized, this definitely wasn’t synthehol.

Cam attempted to toughen up and said, “One time, my Dad and I, we fffflew an Fff-twentfly twlo…” 

Cam noticed he struggled to form the words, his throat felt swollen, he swallowed. 

His eyes swept across the room, locking onto the laughing faces of the squad before him. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and he nervously swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Cam’s tension released as he finally let out a relieved sigh, the disorienting haze in his mind slowly dissipating.

He cleared his throat, his voice quivering as he continued, “Sorry…” His story pressed on, “We were soaring over San Francisco Bay, nothing trailing us but endless sunshine…”

His eyes widened, and a knot of discomfort twisted in his stomach. A sudden epiphany hit him like a ton of bricks. Cam used his right hand to balance himself, pushing off from the chair, and mumbled, “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” 

Shenzi watched as he made his escape to the restroom, and smirked. “Someone’s a lightweight,” she said, taking a swig of her green glowing beverage of nearly pure alcohol, and setting it back down. Shenzi produced a pack of cigarettes and a zippo from a cargo pocket on her flight suit. “Y’all don’t mind if I light one, do ya?”

A few around the table shrugged or shook their heads. Ensign Nahuel leaned in closer, apparently mesmerized by the zippo lighter. “Whoa.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Shenzi said to Ensign Nahuel as she stuck a cigarette in her mouth, and lit it. She slid an empty beer bottle over to herself to stick the butt in later. Shenzi opened her hand, allowing the ensign to get a better look at the design, the letters “US” stuck on the lid, with a winged propeller below it.

Dawa chuckled at his reaction, then stood up. “I’m going to go check on Mr. ”Endless Sunshine” and escort him back to his quarters,” she said, giving an expectant look at the crew.

Lieutenant Modaw was the first to take the hint, and rose from the table. “I’ll help you,” he offered with a grin. “I’m a Bolian, we’ve got strong stomachs.”

Dawa gave him an appreciative pat on the shoulder, then glanced around the table one last time. “Okay, no one else drink so much that you forget today’s briefing. Understood?”

They all raised a toast in response. “Yessir!”

Joshua strolled into Brew and sat at a table. The night with N’Vea went off better than he imagined. It was hard to know if the thought was mutual, Vulcans were always difficult to read. She didn’t leave abruptly, so he chalked it up as a win. But was it a date? It was never described as-

“Good morning Dr. Bryant!” The cheerful hologram interrupted his thoughts. “We show your last order was…” the hologram flickered, “Pineapple Cream Dream Rapid Raktajino. Would you like that again?”

“What? Ugh, no!” Was he that tired the last time he was here? But the drink did keep him up after the all-nighter. “I’ll have a vanilla latte.”

“Very good, one moment,” and the hologram vanished.

“Man, who comes up with these drinks?”

“A person with a rich and creative mind that makes people like you and me think about it” A voice came from his left. Arwa took a sip from her drink and enjoyed it “It is quite amazing when a name is as surprising as its taste” She looked at him “Doctor el-Imam pleasure to meet you.”

Joshua nodded, “Joshua Bryant, likewise. It was certainly… something. I was half asleep the last time I was in here. I asked for something strong and heavily caffeinated. It was all of that and the tropics liquified. I’m not sure I could’ve pronounced that in the state I was in.” 

Overhearing the conversation from the nearby table, Pilk turned toward the two officers. “I’ve often wondered the same thing. Though from my experience it is not only humans that are creative with drinks. Have you tried the pumpkin spice double espresso Raktajino  made with Ferengi grown  beans at Quarks on DS9?” 

“I haven’t,” Joshua admitted. “And I thought Pineapple Cream Dream was an obnoxious name,” he laughed. “I’ve been meaning to make a trip to DS9, lots of history there.”

He looked between the two individuals. “You know what? Talking like this is awkward, why do you two join me? I have more table than I know what to do with.”

Pocking up the mug in front of him, Pilk got up and made his way over to the table. “ Lieutenant Pilk, nice to meet the two of you.” As he offered a hand to each of the two officers.

Joshua shook the proffered hand, “Joshua Bryant, it’s always good to meet fellow coffee admirers.” 

Taking her Andorian iced tea with her and taking a spot at the table with the two “It would be a pleasure, I am always in to get to know new people that work here at this large base.” Arwa sat down and smiled at them. “Especially when I just arrived here”

“Fresh off the boat… as it were?” Joshua asked. “Which admiral did you get on the wrong side of to end up here?” He smirked. “Seriously though, it’s a good place,” Joshua stretched. “A bit daunting at first, but it’ll come to you. I’ve been here a few months and I’m sure there are places I haven’t seen yet.”

Taking a sip of her drink “Well I came from Eos Station, so this place will do just fine” Arwa just has to mention the name, which should indicate enough of her experience thus far. “But I expect to explore the base and planet soon or when time allows it”

A server appeared with Joshua’s drink, “Your vanilla latte, Dr. Bryant. If you need anything else, please let us know.” The hologram vanished.

Taking a drink, he turned to Pilk. “What about you, Lieutenant Pilk? What brought you to Bravo?”

“I’ve been here for going on a year now. Originally I was hoping to fill a tactical officer slot on a ship, but with things being as they have it was felt I could be of more use here. Working in the Strategic Operations offices. Not quite exciting as being on a ship but it has its moments. Before that was a tactical officer/ Operations officer on a Raven.” as he took a sip from his mug.

“Ah, ship life is overrated,” Joshua replied. “I need room to breathe,” he emphasized with a deep inhale. “But coming from a Raven it must be one extreme to another.”

“Never really had life on a Raven before. How is it? I am interested to hear those kinds of stories.” Arwa showed interest by looking at them both. She slowly took a sip of her drink and enjoyed it, as shown in her facial expression of joy. 

“On a Raven? Life is busy. Small crew on a small ship that can be called upon at anytime to take on all types and of missions. I’ve heard tales of whole fleets of Ravens taking part in some pretty big operations. Quite a few took part in operation Sundered Wings. I’m willing to bet some of the higher ups have some stories to tell about their time on Ravens.” as Pilk day back in his chair and looked at his table mates wondering.

“It’s hard to think about admirals serving on such a small ship,” Joshua took a drink from his cup. “Everyone has to start somewhere. And you’re right about Ravens being the perfect ship for operational tasks. The ship can sneak past most defenses while the patrols look for bigger ships.”

Nodding about the shared experience, Arwa noticed the time. “Oh my, I have extended my stay here. I have to say it was a pleasure to meet you all and hear your experiences out there in ships like the Raven class.” Arwa stood up and gave a slight nod “Thank you for your time, and who knows, we shall see each other in the future.” WIth that said, Arwa departed to resume her duties.

Joshua waved as Arwa departed, “It’s been a pleasure.” He turned back to Pilk and continued the discussion about life on Starbase Bravo.