The basement pool of Hotel Lanea’s Victory was isolated. The hotel was named after the same Cardassian-defeating heroine that the small township was named after.

Faint blue lighting shimmered along the ceiling. It reflected against water disturbed only by the metronomic rhythm of a lone swimmer’s stoic motions across its surface. The rest of the resort above buzzed with distant nightlife. Music piped in through hushed speakers. The cheery, upbeat tone stood in contrast to the look of focus on the dark-skinned commander’s features. The steady splash of arms and legs in motion reverberated throughout the enclosed space.

Between strokes, there was an eerie stillness.

Commander Marlon Smythe emerged from the far end of the pool in a practiced turn and dove back down the lane. His movements were mechanical. Every stroke was calculated, paced and precise. He kept his gaze straight ahead beneath the water. The soft azure lights shimmered in his periphery. His mahogany skin gleamed with a slick layer of chlorinated sweat. Strong arms cut through the glassy water like a torpedo exiting the bay of a Klingon starship.

He hadn’t meant to lie awake tonight. Mundane details of the latest deployment logs to Eldor III kept dancing through his mind. Marlon could only imagine the prefabricated structures transported to the class-L planet. A select few of his crewmates still worked under sand-pelted skies. Sleep had been rare during his time on shore leave. Every time he laid down, the distant desert world was on his mind.

His stroke broke slightly with a noisy splash. He corrected with an adept swish. He turned and propelled himself into another run with a leap.

Doors along the back wall hissed open. Light from a well-decorated corridor spilled in. A woman with dark hair and sun-kissed skin stopped to study the faint glow of LCARS displays that lined the walls. One showed Marlon’s time and breathing intervals. Another tracked the water’s temperature and chemical balance. A third panel advertised local attractions. The final display analyzed the night’s beautiful weather outside.

Lt. Cmdr. Ikastrul Zaa approached with her arms folded.

“Is this what you blew me off for?” The Betazoid’s gentle voice barely raised above the gentle slapping against the water.

Smythe kept swimming, eyes forward. She could sense he was trying to block his thoughts again.

“I had to get my exercise in,” he said as he flipped into another turn. His controlled puffs of breath were exaggeratingly loud.

She smirked as she leaned against the doorway. Her murky, obsidian irises went back to studying the readouts. “You keep inventing new excuses every time I ask you to hang out. Last night it was hiking. Then you had to have morning brunch with the Orion delegate. What’s next, deep cleaning the boardwalk tiles?” Her accent gave her voice a melodic, sing-song quality.

“I’m not avoiding you,” Marlon replied when he came up for breath. His voice was low and apologetic. “I’ve just been busy.”

“You’re not supposed to be busy.” Ikastrul said with a commanding sense of finality.

He stopped at the pool’s edge, arms braced against the rim as he caught his breath. “Fine. You caught me. I can’t relax while we’ve still got people out there. Kian, Trell, the others. They’re cut off from everything. Nights there are cold enough to crack bone. I don’t feel comfortable sipping tropical synthales and telling stories like I’m retired.”

Ikastrul slid into the pool. She had spent the last few hours before sunset tanning. Water coated her slick three-piece swimsuit and sheer mini-dress. Her body mirrored his posture as her forearms rested on the poolside tile.

“You know, they volunteered for assignments like this when they joined Starfleet. We all do,” she said.

“They didn’t volunteer for this assignment, with the heat and the beetles. They were needed. Someone had to go, so I assigned them.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “The beetles are doing great work for the soil. Starfleet hasn’t tended to Eldor III in years. Their work is important. You’d be proud of them if you let yourself.”

He glanced away. She edged closer as the water retorted.

Silence returned for a few moments. The low hum of circulation pumps and the gentle lapping of water against the edge was the only noise to drown out the commander’s thoughts.

“You’re still carrying it,” Ikastrul said.

His eyes focused on the illuminated readouts of his lap times. Marlon tried desperately to focus solely on his aquatic performance.

“The Vaadwaur,” she added.

His fingers tightened against the tile. “I was at a wedding. A wedding. I beamed down, showed my face, smiled for the happy couples. Then we watched helplessly from a dark cave as the Cardinal got torn apart.”

“You weren’t ordered to return.”

“I was ordered to hide,” Marlon snapped. His voice was softer when he spoke next. “Do you know what that feels like? It’s hard to be told the ship you’re supposed to protect is under attack. People I joked and ate breakfast with that day were killed

The counselor said nothing in response.

Marlon stood slowly and wiped water from his face. “We got back as soon as the captain said things were safe. The doctor saved as many lives as she could. But I wasn’t there for those first few hours. Not while everything was going down. I’ll never forget that.”

She rose with him.

“I’ve seen how you are with the crew,” Ikastrul said. “You know their names, you know their history. You remember who just had a kid and who plays springball. You’re a damn good commander, Marlon. Don’t forget that you were there for everyone during the Underspace fighting.”

He allowed himself a relaxed breath.

She touched his arm. “I’m glad we’ve gotten closer over these past few months.”

He gave her a playful sidelong glance. “Do you mean all those late-night coffees and early morning talks?”

Ikastrul grinned. “Starfleet approved our declaration. I still got promoted to third officer.”

“I know. That’s a clear sign that the chain of command approves.”

She bumped his shoulder. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smiled faintly.

“I just want you to be happy,” she said gingerly. “You’re not on the bridge right now. You’re not in that cave. The Vaadwaur are long gone. All that’s left are people who care about you.”

He smiled weakly as he leapt from the pool. Heavy water tugged his tight blue swim trunks low around the curve of his rear. “You want me to go sit in a hot tub, don’t you?” The Cardinal’s executive officer looked back at her as he yanked his trunks upwards.

“I want you to decompress.”

“Will there be people?” There was anxiety in Marlon’s voice.

“I’ll find us a quiet one.” Ikastrul could sense his concern on a deeper level than he would ever realize.

He hesitated. “I just feel like I’m not allowed to relax. It feels like my guard should stay up.”

“You are allowed to relax, though. You need to.”

They walked toward the door. Both stopped to grab a towel from a metallic shelf.

She turned to him as they walked across the marble floor. “Don’t worry. The Cardinal is going out tomorrow with a skeleton crew. They’ll pick up the team on Eldor III and bring them here.”

“I know, they’ll be here soon.” Marlon slowly allowed the truth to sink in. “Okay. I’m sold on the hot tub. But only if it’s not set to ‘boil.’ I’m not a Tellarite.”

“I’ll make sure everything is human-friendly.” Ikastrul took one last look at the pool’s reflective surface behind them. She studied their reflection. Her right hand grabbed his as the doors shut behind them.