“They know who I am now, Captain. My cover, as you humans would say, is blown.”  Thasaz at the conference table with Captain Wren Walton and Lieutenant Charlie Hargraves.  “I’ve been given the choice to remain in Starfleet.”

Walton had been read into the secret sections of the Romulan’s dossier.  She’d been impressed with Thasaz’s double agent actions, among the other details.  “I would have no issues bringing you aboard the Mackenzie, Commander.  Our Chief Science Officer is on leave, and the position needs a steady hand.”

Thasaz had been considering the Mackenzie since Starfleet had given her the power to choose her next step.  She’d filled the role before on the Edinburgh.  She was starting to feel more at home as a Starfleet officer.  I’m not sure how I feel about that, she thought.  She answered, “I need a few days to consider the offer, Captain Walton.”

Wren let her know to take all the time she needed.  As the door closed behind the Romulan, she turned to Charlie, “You’ll be glad to know they’ve decided to reinstate your rank and position as Chief Diplomatic Officer.”

His smile was hesitant initially as if he couldn’t believe it was possible.  As she pushed the wooden box containing the rank pips across the table, he allowed himself to smile broadly.  “Thank you, Wren.”

She shrugged, “It seems the Changelings in Diplomatic really tried to sabotage our relationships with the large and small players.  Thankfully, most of the officers on the ships were able to blunt the damage.  A few were referred to JAG, but those cases have been dismissed.”

Hargreaves slid open the box and went to work attaching his old rank, “I was considering leaving Starfleet when that happened.  It felt like I was living in another universe…like everything was upside down and backward.”  He heard the click of the pips, “And it was – they tried to take everything from us.”

Walton nodded, “Good triumphs over evil every so often.  Your department has been notified of your return to position and rank.  Submit any roster changes or requests by the end of the day.”  He stood at attention and headed out the door.

“We’ve had some sightings and confirmed locations on both.”  Captain Peter Crawford handed over the PADD to Wren, “Patra and Carolyn are working as Captain and XO, based on the reports.  Patra has taken control of an entire unit of Syndicate operations…and he’s been slowly expanding his reach and influence.”  He shifted in the chair, “He’s keeping to himself and the Syndicate for now – growing and feeding the force he’s building.”

Walton perused the report, “He won’t make the same mistakes twice.  Tractoring to the Syndicate was a tactical choice.  They know his history, I’m sure…but they’re one of the few that don’t care about old news.  It’d be either them or the Borg.”

Crawford chuckled, “…and even then, I wonder if the Borg would want him.”  They shared a smile as Peter picked back up, “We’re nearly done with our sensor repair and refit operation.  Next day or so.  You?”

Wren nodded absentmindedly, “Repairs and refurbishing in the next day or so.”  She stared out the windows in her ready room at the insides of Starbase 72, “I think back to all those times I was traveling from ship to ship…and I realized the other day I’d never want to go back to that life.”  She sipped at her cooling coffee, grimacing at the blunt punch of lukewarm flavor.  “Something about the stability of command, I suppose.”

Peter mused, “Maybe you’re finally ready for commitment.”

She scowled at him mockingly, “That’s the Ferengi calling the Grand Nagus cheap.”  She returned her cup to the replicator and sat down with a fresh cup of coffee, “I accept the criticism but deny the implications, Pete.”

There was a long silence between them.  Crawford broke it, “You know…we probably should have dinner tonight.”

She felt her face grow warm, and she chewed on her bottom lip, “You think?”  It wasn’t often that Wren didn’t have a lot to say.

Crawford leaned forward, “Come on, Wren.  We’ve been dancing around this for a little too long.  I like you. I think you like me.  We’re both old enough to get off the dance floor and get a table.”

She was about to raise her eyebrows.  She had anticipated he would say, ‘and get a room.’  She wasn’t sure she would have disagreed with him on a personal level.  On a professional level, she would have thrown him out of her ready room. On a personal level…she wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed.  She replied, “I’m…that would be an acceptable compromise.  And yes, I like you.  More than as just my subordinate.” His mouth twitched, and she wondered what he had fought back from saying.  She sighed, “OK, 8 pm tonight, good?  The Captain’s Mess doesn’t get much use… and it’ll be private.”

Pete stood, standing at attention, “It’s agreed.  I’ll see you at 8 pm.”

Walton fell back in her chair when the door closed behind him.  It was a date.  She was going to have a date.

She tapped her badge, “Commander Park, to my ready room.”