Light This Candle

Exploring a pre-warp civilisation, the Orion's crew are both intrigued and excited by the prospect of an old-fashion space race!

Light This Candle – 1

USS Orion (NCC-92915), Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78974.8

The Orion’s Belt was abuzz with the low hum of voices, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from the various crewmembers scattered throughout the lounge. It was the end of another long shift aboard the USS Orion, and despite the usual intensity of their duties, there was a welcome sense of camaraderie amongst the crew. As was often the case after hours, the lounge was a haven for those looking to unwind and connect.

Located on deck eight, The Orion’s Belt (also known as the Belt) was the prime area where most of the Orion’s crew spent their off-duty time. A long and wide room, the Belt took up most of the forward section of the deck. It had a range of comfortable chairs around tables or booths (for some privacy) dotted around, along with one long bar along the aft wall. 

As they entered the lounge side-by-side, Lieutenants Jines and Anderson still wore the final costumes from their most recent chapter of the holoprogram Peter Pan. The two friends had known each other since their Academy days and had built a reputation on the Orion for their eccentric off-duty hobbies. Peter Pan was the latest incarnation that belonged on a long list of holoprograms they had played. From Robin Hood to Treasure Island to Gulliver’s Travel to Sherlock Holmes, the two friends constantly engaged in something fun on the holodeck to keep them amused and entertained when they were not on the bridge or doing their duties. Where they could, they would try to get their comrades involved. Most recently, some of them had played along in the latest holonovel of Dixon Hill and, beforehand, the entire series of The Adventures of Captain Proton. 

With his wide grin and youthful energy, Brad Anderson wore the iconic green tunic of Peter Pan, though the outfit was a bit more revealing than one might expect. His bare arms and legs gleamed under the bright lights of the lounge, and his tunic clung in all the wrong places. Thankfully, he was quite confident with his body shape, having a slim but athletic frame; Anderson did not appear to be bothered by what others thought of his appearance in any shape or form. He was a handsome guy who knew it and played on his charisma to get his way with others. His almost curly blonde hair swept back in a way that gave him a carefree yet deliberate look. Anderson’s striking blue eyes also seemed to help him capture the attention of anyone who glanced his way. Furthermore, his dimples appeared when he smiled, giving away his boyish charm that made him seem full of mischief. He was able to use all of his qualities in his work as Chief Security and Tactical Officer to ensure the smooth running of the ship. On duty, he was a serious hard worker and focused entirely on the task at hand. 

Andron Jines, by contrast, was dressed as Captain Hook, his sharp red coat and oversized hat contrasting with his wiry frame. Jines was just as young as Anderson, but there was a quiet maturity to his presence. His sandy brown hair, streaked with a pure grey quiff at the front, gave him an air of distinction, a mark of his Rutian heritage. His emerald green eyes showed a slight twinkle in any room he was in. Though slightly slimmer than Anderson, Jines still worked out to keep himself fit for duty. A light stubble traced his jaw, adding a rugged edge to his youthful face and slightly counteracting the smoothness of his youthful look. Like his friend on duty, he was committed to his work as the ship’s most senior pilot. Though the Orion was his first posting since the Academy, he flew like an experienced pilot who had taken the controls of many starships before.  

Jines gave his friend a knowing smirk as they made their way over to the bar as they approached their group of friends. Tomraf, the ship’s Acamarian chief medical officer, Nali, the sharp-eyed chief engineer officer from Xahea, and Bollwyn, the ever-enthusiastic operations officer, were deep in conversation. 

Tomraf, who had escaped from his clan duties as part of his Acamarian heritage, was the oldest one out of them all, but only by three years. His thick, curly, light brown hair sat on his head in an almost mullet style. Though somewhat quiet in social situations, Tomraf was known to join in with the antics of Anderson and Jines when he needed to let off steam. He had joined them several times on the holodeck, especially when they had run the Three Musketeers program. Tomraf was a fine doctor, though he only had a few years of field experience under his belt; he was someone who enjoyed medical research beyond his duties in sickbay and would typically be found in the crew lounge reading some latest journal or making notes on something he was working on. 

Nali, short for Le Mani Jilka Nali Ta Hoi, was the ship’s chief engineer. The former deputy engineer had been put in charge of the ship’s engineering room when her former boss was killed during the Frontier Day massacre. The woman from Xahea was known for her brilliance in being able to solve technical problems at the drop of a hat. She was quirky and was known to be caught talking to herself while working or even talking to the ship when repairing a system or installing something new was not going quite right. She was very friendly and would often praise her engineers with a piece of candy if they did something well, whether it was coming up with a solution to an issue they were working on or completing a task ahead of time. Nali’s candy pot sat on her desk in her office and was filled up daily. 

Ensign Cheryon Bollwyn, who was from Ventaxia, had only joined the Orion before its attachment to the Odyssey Squadron. The youngest one out of the group, she had only a few months on the ship after finishing her time at the Academy quicker than expected. Again, due to Frontier Day, some qualified cadets needed to be rushed through training on a fast-track approach, and Bollwyn was one of them. She laughed a lot but took her position seriously, like the others, as she felt she needed to prove herself to others. 

As soon as Jines and Anderson approached, the chuckles and comments began about their appearance. The five of them were all close friends ever since they were made members of the senior staff on the Orion. Almost every day, they spent their off duties together. 

Bollwyn was the first to speak, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the famous Captain Hook and Peter Pan?” She raised an eyebrow at Anderson’s attire. “You know, I think you’re showing a little more of Neverland than we were expecting, Brad.”

Anderson, leaning casually on the bar, tilted his head and flashed a mischievous grin at her. “Neverland has its perks, Cheryon. You should try it sometime.” He wiggled his eyebrows in jest. He had spent the night before retelling the story of Peter Pan, the boy who never grew up, in a bold bid to convince them to join him and Jines on the holodeck. Bollwyn had spoilt some of his fun after picking up a PADD and downloading the summary of the story before reading it out to them all. She had shared earlier that day on the bridge she had read the story before going to bed to see what the appeal was to Anderson. Even after sharing the story with Nali, she never got it.  

Tomraf, the usually calm one out of them all, couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head. “I can’t say I expected Peter Pan to be quite so exposed.” His voice was dry, but his eyes had an amused glint.

Nali just rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smirk. “Didn’t anyone tell you, Anderson? Tinkerbell’s the one who wears the skimpy outfits. Not Peter Pan.”

Jines cut through the banter with his deep, booming voice while pretending to be Hook and gave a dramatic, over-the-top sigh. “Ah, yes. The legend of Peter Pan. Too bad it’s all fiction. Otherwise, I’d say we could use a bit of help with our next chapter.” His smirk widened as he clapped a hand on his friend’s bare shoulder. “What do you say, Peter? We need a Tinkerbell, some lost boys, and I could use a first mate to help me defeat you!”

Anderson immediately straightened up, slipping back into the role of Peter Pan with surprising ease. He puffed out his chest, giving a mock-heroic stance as he placed both hands on his hip. “You’ll never defeat me, Hook. Never! I’m immortal!” 

The others laughed more at Anderson’s antics, and Jines pretended to look put out. 

“Fine. I’ll let you be the hero for now.” Jines looked around at the rest of the group. “But, seriously, no one here seems interested in joining us, huh?”

Tomraf, Nali, and Bollwyn shook their heads, each turning down the invitation.

“Sorry, Andron, you’re on your own. I don’t want to wear a skimpy outfit like Brad is,” Tomraf replied as he picked up his drink from the bar. 

“That’s a shame, Tomraf,” Anderson said as he clapped the back of Tomraf’s shoulders. “I really wanted to see you in the Tinkerbell outfit!”

Both Nali and Bollwyn laughed more at Anderson’s words.

Tomraf chuckled, too, as he looked up at his friend from where he was sitting. “In your dreams, my friend, in your dreams!”


Across the room, two other officers sat quietly, watching the antics unfold from a distance. Commander Savel, the tall, composed Vulcan, sat with Lieutenant Commander Kulucis, the ship’s chief science officer from Kantare. They watched the young officers with a quiet, analytical gaze.

“Do you truly understand what the captain saw in promoting them?” Kulucis’s voice was low but pointed. “I mean, Anderson? He’s barely more than a child. Look at him. I sometimes wonder if he really was worthy to be made the chief security and tactical officer?”

Savel raised an eyebrow but remained composed. “I should not need to remind you that we must acknowledge the situation we were put into earlier in the year. With our senior staff numbers decimated by the Frontier Day massacre, there was no choice but to promote from within, even if the individuals are younger or less experienced.” His voice was calm, almost emotionless. “However, for someone as young as Anderson, he is a remarkable security and tactical officer.”

Kulucis’s eyes narrowed as he observed Anderson, now laughing with the others at the bar, seemingly oblivious to the scrutiny. “I still don’t see how that makes sense. Also, he’s practically naked in that outfit. What kind of example is that for the crew?”

Savel was about to respond when the sound of footsteps interrupted him. Always poised and smiling, Counsellor Coralia arrived at their table, drinks in hand. The Lanthanite woman set the glasses down in front of both men before sitting down herself.

“Gentlemen,” she said with a nod. “What are we discussing this fine evening?”

Savel’s expression remained neutral. “Lieutenant Commander Kulucis is obsessing over Lieutenant Anderson’s choice of…attire or lack thereof.”

Coralia glanced over at the bar, taking in the sight of Anderson and Jines, still laughing and joking. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, Kulucis. I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s probably just finished on the holodeck with Jines. Also, he looks just as cute as Peter Pan is meant to be, don’t you think?”

Kulucis snorted in disbelief. “Cute? That is not how I would describe it. If I were the captain, I would have him reassigned to quarters for inappropriate behaviour.”

Coralia’s smile only widened. “Are you really going to spoil another evening complaining about the newer members of our senior staff? They have been in post for almost six months now. It’s time to move on.”

“I didn’t say it was all of them, anyway Tomraf was chief medical officer before the events of Frontier Day,” Kulucis argued back. He looked back over to the younger group; his scale-like features on either side of his forehead appeared more apparent as he frowned. “It’s just Anderson; he just doesn’t seem to take the position seriously enough, in my opinion.”

“Because of what he is wearing?” Savel checked.

“Well, yeah,” Kulucis replied instantly. 

“It’s not as if he is exposing himself to everyone, Kulucis,” Coralia stated as she picked her glass up. “Plus, the guy works out twice a day, every day, in the ship’s gym with Jines. At least we can see he takes his fitness seriously to be in the best shape as our chief protector.”

“Indeed,” Savel agreed.

Kulucis just rolled his eyes.

Coralia leaned forward in her chair. “The other problem is you and Anderson have something in common, Kulucis.” She then leaned back, clearly enjoying herself.

Kulucis, still not entirely understanding, raised an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Coralia shrugged nonchalantly. “You both have a fixation on Captain Pike.”

Savel’s gaze flicked to Coralia, his eyebrow rising slightly. “Fascinating.”

Kulucis, meanwhile, looked somewhat stunned. “How do you know that?”

Coralia just winked at him. “Counsellor’s prerogative.”

Savel, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. “To expand on the counsellor’s point further, it would be logical for us to spend more time with the more junior members of the senior staff. Getting to know them better could improve the efficiency and cohesion of the crew.”

Kulucis crossed his arms, still deep in thought, but he wasn’t quite so quick to dismiss Coralia’s suggestion. “Perhaps. But I’m still unsure I can see myself becoming best friends with Anderson.”

Coralia only smiled, the glint of mischief still present in her eyes. “You’d be surprised, Kulucis. You might have more in common than you think.”

Across the room, Anderson was still in full Peter Pan mode, throwing out a mocking challenge to Bollwyn. 

Kulucis just shook his head in disbelief before sipping on his drink.


“Captain’s log stardate seven-eight-nine-seven-four point eight. Our mapping expedition of a nearby class nine nebula has been completed ahead of schedule. While we take a leisurely cruise to rendezvous with the rest of the squadron, I have given my crew some extra R and R. Though long-range sensors have detected what appears to be a pre-warp civilisation in a nearby habitable star system, I am waiting for confirmation from Commodore McCallister whether or not we have time to explore it. While our time in this region of the Delta Quadrant hasn’t been without its intrigue and action, I hope that the opportunity to study a civilisation that does not know the joy of space exploration as we do would be a great use of our time. While other ships in the squadron have been engaging in diplomatic encounters, this study would be the first of its kind for our group of ships this far out in the Delta Quadrant. ”

 

Light This Candle – 2

USS Orion (NCC-92915), Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78976.4

Captain Mo’Lee-Krabreii pinched the bridge of her nose as if the action alone could banish the headache brewing behind her temples. The briefing room was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the ship around her and the soft clink of the raktajino mug she set down. Across the table, Commander Savel stood with his usual Vulcan composure, hands clasped neatly behind his back. His expression, though impassive, carried the weight of someone delivering news they knew would border on absurd.

“Let me guess,” Krabreii sighed, rubbing the ridges along her forehead with slow, deliberate strokes. “Kulucis is complaining again about something Brad’s done.” Her eyes flicked up, meeting Savel’s calm gaze as she reached for her mug once more.

Savel nodded, maintaining his usual rigid posture. “Lieutenant Commander Kulucis thinks Mister Anderson needs a reminder about,” he said, looking at his PADD and scrolling for the precise wording, “the unwritten rule regarding appropriate attire for senior staff during off-duty hours.”

Krabreii let out a short laugh, a genuine chuckle, as she tucked a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “The ‘unwritten rule’? Oh, this should be good. What did Brad do now?”

Savel’s delivery was as flat as the ship’s deck. “He dressed as Peter Pan.”

Krabreii blinked. “Peter Pan? Isn’t that some Earth story?” Her forehead creased slightly as she leaned forward, intrigued despite herself.

“Indeed,” Savel replied with a curt nod. “A boy who refuses to grow up, befriends fairies and fights pirates.” He paused, noting her raised eyebrows. It was apparent by the captain’s expression she was still clueless and needed more details. “Last night, Mister Anderson and Mister Jines entered the crew lounge directly after completing the Peter Pan holonovel program. Both were in character-appropriate attire.

“And the issue is?” Krabreii prompted, taking another sip of raktajino, eyes narrowing in mild amusement. She still did not feel like she fully understood what the issue was.  

Savel hesitated, carefully choosing his words. “Lieutenant Anderson’s costume was…minimalistic.”

Krabreii set her mug down slowly, leaning back in her chair. “How minimalistic?” Her tone drifted somewhere between curiosity and exasperation.

“His torso was largely exposed, and the garment covered very little below the thigh. His costume appeared to be constructed from replicated leaves and intentionally distressed fabric. I can confirm, however, that no regulations concerning public decency were breached.”

For a brief moment, there was silence. Then Krabreii erupted into laughter, loud and unabashed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the briefing room. “Oh, come on!” She stood and walked over to the replicator, still shaking her head as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Is Kulucis serious about this?” she asked as she ordered another raktajino. The whole thing she had just heard sounded absurd. Why was Kulucis making such a big thing over this?

Savel’s gaze followed her as she leaned against the replicator, arms crossed, awaiting the beverage. “I believe his concern is less about the attire and more indicative of his ongoing discomfort with Mister Anderson’s promotion.”

Krabreii blew gently on the steaming surface of her coffee, shaking her head in disbelief. “Let me get this straight. Kulucis is bothered because Brad’s costume showed too much…nipple?”

Savel inclined his head slightly. “That is an accurate summary, Captain.”

Krabreii laughed again, softer this time, more out of incredulity than amusement. “Unbelievable. Savel, I’ve seen Kulucis spar in the gym. The man practically lives shirtless when he’s boxing or lifting weights. The double standard is ridiculous.” She returned to her chair, cradling her mug as she rolled her eyes. “No more nitpicking. Tell Kulucis he needs to accept that Brad is our Chief Security and Tactical Officer. If Brad and Andron want to play fairies and pirates on their downtime, that’s their business.”

Savel gave a subtle nod. “I concur, and I have spoken with Counsellor Coralia about this, as she was also present when he wrote his complaint. She agrees that this is part of the grieving process that Lieutenant Commander Kulucis has been going through since the death of Lieutenant Commander Reynolds,” Savel stated. “In her expert opinion, he sees Mister Anderson as trying to replace, possibly remove, all traces of Mister Reynolds from the Orion.”

Rolling her eyes as she sat down, the captain shook her head further. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Enough was enough, in her opinion. Krabreii’s expression softened, though her tone remained firm. “We all lost people that day. But we can’t let that cloud our judgment. Tell Coralia to keep working with him. And until further notice, Kulucis is not to involve himself in any more disciplinary matters regarding senior staff. If he has concerns, they come directly to you or me. Make it clear that if he can’t maintain a balanced perspective, I’ll re-evaluate his role in this command structure.”

“Understood, Captain,” Savel replied with a slight bow of his head.

Glad to have that matter resolved, Krabreii looked down at her PADD. “Anything else pressing?”

“The repairs to the plasma injectors were completed earlier this morning; we should be able to resume cruising at warp eight, and astrometrics reported the possible sighting of a cluster of microsingularities on long-range sensors. I suggest we send a probe to study it.”

“Good and agreed,” Krabreii said in her usual efficient get-to-the-point approach. She wasn’t someone who minced her words. “Is that all?”

Before Saval could nod, the intercom chime went off and was followed by the voice of Ensign Bollwyn. “Ops to Captain Krabreii.”

Tapping her combadge, Krabreii answered. “Go ahead, Cheryon.”

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am; however, Commodore McCallister has just replied to your request.”

Krabreii smirked, already anticipating the answer. “And?”

“His message reads, ‘Go for it’, captain,” Bollwyn chirped.

Krabreii’s eyes gleamed as she closed the channel. She turned to Savel, a hint of excitement in her otherwise measured tone. “Assemble the senior staff. We’ve got a pre-warp civilisation to study.”

“Aye, Captain,” Savel responded, departing with practised efficiency.


As Krabreii sipped her coffee, she allowed herself a moment of anticipation for their rare chance to study a pre-warp society. By the time the senior staff gathered in the briefing room, the air hummed with quiet excitement. Soft murmurs of conversation filled the space as officers exchanged theories and speculations. The large panoramic windows framed the swirling starfield beyond, casting silver light across the polished conference table.

Krabreii stood by the window, arms crossed, observing her crew with a vague, unreadable smile. The moment the last officer took their seat, she turned, the faint creak of her boots on the deck plate signalling the room to stillness.

“Good news, everyone,” Krabreii began, pacing leisurely toward the head of the table where she usually sat. “The lord and master of our squadron has approved our request to investigate the M-class planet we detected on long-range sensors.”

A ripple of interest passed through the room.

“Finally,” Lieutenant Jines said, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “When do we depart, ma’am?”

Krabreii tapped a nearby PADD, activating the table’s holographic display. A projection flickered to life above the centre, showing a distant star system. The fourth planet, highlighted in amber, slowly rotated as sensor data scrolled alongside it.

“Immediately,” she answered. She remained standing as she briefed everyone on their mission. “This world hosts a pre-warp humanoid civilisation. Our scans suggest they’re at a technological level similar to mid-twenty-first century Earth. Early estimates show at least four billion life forms exist.”

Kulucis leaned forward as the hologram expanded. “My initial scans showed that they might possess rudimentary space observation technology. We may risk detection.”

“It is a possibility,” Saval interjected, his calm Vulcan tone cutting through the speculation from where he sat at the other end of the table. “The Prime Directive is clear. We must take extensive precautions to avoid interference. This is not a first contact mission. Purely a study.”

Nali had already been scribbling notes on her PADD before she spoke. “I can modify the shields to mask our presence from their sensors. Basic EM scattering fields should suffice, but for visual concealment, I suggest we outfit the outer hull with holographic projectors.” She glanced at the captain. “We could effectively blend into their night sky.”

Anderson chuckled at hearing that idea. “A mobile duck blind. I like it. Do you need a hand with it?”

“If the captain approves,” Nali responded, looking at the security chief before she checked with their commanding officer about his offer.

Krabreii’s approval was immediate. “Ensure the projectors don’t overload the power grid, Nali.”

“I can help by installing backup power modules, just in case,” Jines offered. “We should also consider shutting down non-essential systems, just to play it safe.”

Krabreii nodded. “Good thinking, ensign. Will you coordinate with all departments about what is deemed essential for the successful completion of the mission regarding resources and power allotments?” She turned to her chief science officer. “Commander Kulucis, I want you to lead this study. We will have four days to gather as much information on this species as possible.”

Kulucis stiffened slightly but inclined his head. “Understood, Captain.”

“Will there be a surface expedition?” Counselor Coralia asked from the far end.

“Not immediately,” Saval replied with characteristic caution. “Any contact risks contamination.”

“I won’t rule it out,” Krabreii added, cutting him off gently but firmly. “Should conditions permit and security protocols be met, I may authorise limited away missions to go in and study anything we think is of interest. Until then, we observe from orbit.”

Saval inclined his head in respectful silence.

Doctor Tomraf shifted uneasily. The Acamarian was worried about the captain’s idea of letting others leave the ship. He took a breath before speaking up. “If they’re humanoid, I’d like time to study their biology remotely. If cosmetic adjustments are needed for infiltration, I’ll need accurate data.”

“You’ll have it, doctor,” Krabreii assured him. Her gaze sharpened as it fell back on Kulucis. “However, commander, I want their military capabilities evaluated before further studies proceed. I’d hate for us to start an interstellar war with a pre-warp civilisation that is tens of thousand light years away from Federation space. Work with Lieutenant Anderson on this.”

Kulucis frowned slightly. “I can handle that alone, Captain. The lieutenant has his hands full with the shields.”

Anderson smiled easily. “I can manage both. Happy to assist, sir.”

Krabreii placed a firm hand on Kulucis’ shoulder, the warmth in her expression softening the command. “Brad’s involvement isn’t optional, Kulucis.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Kulucis replied, masking his irritation behind a professional façade.

“All departments will submit status reports one hour before arrival,” Krabreii concluded, glancing at Jines. “Andron set course for the system. Warp eight. Once we approach the system, take us out of warp at the edge of the system and hold position.”

“Aye, ma’am.” The pilot replied excitedly. 

As the officers filtered out, Krabreii took one look at Saval. Immediately, she knew what he was thinking. She didn’t need a mind-meld with him. They had known one another for a long time now that they were a well-oiled machine. A duo that could predict what the other would say or think in most scenarios. They were long-time friends and had been through so much together. She was confident he was thinking the same thing as she was. Without hesitation, Krabreii spoke up and caught Kulucis with a subtle glance. “Commander Kulucis, a word.”

Kulucis lingered as the room emptied. Saval had moved from his chair to stand by her side, silent yet attentive.

“Commander Saval mentioned you have some concerns regarding Brad,” Krabreii said, folding her arms after sitting down in her chair. She hadn’t realised she had spent most of the briefing on her feet. 

Kulucis’ gaze flicked to Saval, then back to his captain. “I have some reservations, yes.” He admitted.

Krabreii’s tone cooled. “Drop them.”

“Captain?”

“I said drop them,” she repeated, firmer now. She wasn’t going to stand for his conduct any longer, and she wasn’t going to mince her words. “This whole bull crap you have against him, Jines, Nali, it needs to stop. Get to know the man.”

Kulucis’ brow furrowed. “With respect, Captain, he exposed himself to—” 

Krabreii held up a hand, silencing him. “Enough, Kulucis. Saval was going to talk to you about this in private, especially about your unhealthy obsession with what Brad was wearing in the Belt last night, but that little stunt you just pulled in front of everyone was unacceptable. This ends now. I need a cohesive senior staff.” 

“Yes, but—”

Krabreii glared at him now before speaking quite candidly with him. “Perry trusted Brad enough to appoint him deputy. That trust wasn’t misplaced.” She knew mentioning their former colleague, especially one that Kulucis was best friends with, might have been a low blow, but the captain needed to make her point with him. 

Kulucis shifted uncomfortably at the mention of his old friend’s name. “I know, but—”

“Perry didn’t sacrifice himself to save all of us so that you can treat his protege like shit, Kulucis. I get it. You miss him.” Krabreii said quietly, her gaze steady. She took a second to compose herself. “We all do. Honour his memory by supporting the officers he trusted. Brad needs you to watch his back, just like Perry did for you. Frontier Day hit everyone hard, especially this crew. But like every crew in Starfleet that was hit hard by it, we need to move on. That’s the job we are in, commander and I need everyone to step up and deal with the situation we are in. You’re my Second Officer; act like it. Get to know the man. Take him under your wing. Find out what makes him tick. Go play pirates and fairies with him on the holodeck if you have to. But for goodness sake, Kulucis, stop being an ass to him. Drop the passive aggression as well. That’s an order.”

Reluctantly, Kulucis nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Krabreii’s expression softened. “I appreciate it, commander. I know it’s not been easy on any of us, but it is what it is. I’ve made a decision. I trust Brad, and that’s final. All I need now is for you to behave. Plus, you never know; you may find that you two have a lot in common.” 

“Of course, ma’am,” Kulucis took a breath. His embarrassment was plastered across his face. “I’m sorry, captain. I truly am.”

“I appreciate it. Remember you had someone supporting you and Perry when you first started out all those years ago.” She indicated towards Saval, who was standing behind her with her eyes. “And years later, he still is.”

“And I am grateful for it, even now,” Kulucis admitted with a respectful nod towards the first officer.

“Sometimes, we all need to have a verbal splash of cold water to remind us what is expected of us, Commander. Dismissed.” Krabreii ordered.

After Kulucis left, Krabreii turned to Saval. “Think he got the message?”

Saval nodded. “It was quite… direct, Captain. I believe so.”

Krabreii smiled faintly, gazing out the window. “Good. He needs to.”

Light This Candle – 3

USS Orion (NCC-92915), Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78980

The ready room was gently illuminated, with only the subtle light of distant stars visible through the viewport and the soft glow of the pale blue panels on the desk. The engines produced a smooth, consistent hum reverberating through the bulkheads—a reminder of the Orion’s passage towards its destination.

Captain Krabreii sat with her eyes closed, leaning back in her chair. The haunting melody of classical Efrosian string music filled the room, its crescendo swirling with melancholy and strength. Her fingers lightly tapped against the armrests, moving in rhythm with the music. This piece had been a favourite of her husband’s. She remembered the first time she had heard it, on one of their first dates, long before the galaxy had changed around them.

Her thoughts drifted back to those days she shared with him until his last one. It was one of the first times they were not together in their careers. She was in command of the Minerva, which had been her pride, a sleek Duderstadt-class fast cruiser, sharp and elegant. They had been sent as reinforcements to the Archanis sector during the height of the Hunters of D’Ghor invasion. Klingon renegades with no honour, no code—just bloodlust.


USS Minerva (NCC-96131), Taldir System, Archanis Sector, Beta Quadrant

Stardate: 76336.3 (2399)

“Captain, we’re dropping out of warp in ten seconds,” Saval called from his chair. His voice was sharp but calming, a reassurance given the tension ahead.

Krabreii sat forward in her chair, her eyes locked on the viewscreen. She had been in countless battles before. Her career in Starfleet had started as a pilot during the Dominion War. This was nothing new to her. 

The stars around them streaked and slowed, resolving into the harsh backdrop of the Taldir system. The moment the Minerva reverted to normal space, the battle leapt into focus. Phaser fire arced across the void like jagged cracks of lightning, and disruptor bursts flashed green against the black canvas of space.

Dead ahead, the USS Sheeran was locked in desperate combat with a Bird of Prey. Its shields flickered dangerously, and the hull bore scorch marks from multiple disruptor hits.

Krabreii felt her breath catch—the Sheeran—her husband’s vessel. 

“Magnify!” she ordered, rising from her seat as the image zoomed in on the battle. “Arm phasers and quantum torpedoes. Target that Bird of Prey. Hail the Sheeran. Tell them we’re moving to support.”

“No response from the Sheeran, ma’am. Their communications array may be damaged.” Saval replied. 

Krabreii’s grip on the railing tightened. “Helm, take us to intercept. Maximum impulse. Get between them and the Bird of Prey.”

But the Minerva wasn’t fast enough.

She watched in horror on the screen as the Bird of Prey suddenly banked hard and accelerated, driving straight for the Sheeran.

“Captain, they’re moving to ram!” Saval’s voice cut through the static of battle noise.

“Fire everything! Hit them with everything we have!” Krabreii shouted at the top of her lungs.

Minerva’s phasers lashed out, but the Bird of Prey was already too close. In a matter of seconds, it collided with Sheeran’s engineering section. The resulting explosion blossomed outward, a silent inferno tearing through space. Sheeran’s saucer twisted, breaking apart under the force.

Krabreii’s hands trembled as she watched helplessly. The screen dimmed to filter out the intensity of the blast. When it cleared, all that remained of the Sheeran was scattered debris among the stars.

The bridge fell silent.

“Captain…” Saval’s voice was gentle, though she barely registered it.

She stared at the wreckage until the cold reality pressed down on her chest like a weight she could not lift.


Krabreii’s eyes shot open. The Efrosian strings had faded into silence, and she found herself gripping the arms of her chair too tightly. Her breathing was shallow, and for a moment, she wasn’t entirely sure where she was.

The door chime echoed in the stillness. She exhaled, grounding herself. “Yes, enter!”

The doors parted, and Saval stepped inside, his hands clasped behind his back in his usual Vulcan manner. “Captain, we have arrived.”

Krabreii nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she rose to her feet. “Thank you, Commander. Where do we stand with our stealth modifications?”

“Lieutenants Anderson and Nali have completed the modifications. The holographic projectors are online and functional. We remain undetected.”

“Good.” She smoothed her uniform, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. “Let’s see what this planet has to offer.”

Saval’s gaze lingered on her for a fraction longer than usual. He did not ask, but Krabreii knew he had noticed the distant look in her eyes. Still, he said nothing.

She stepped past him, the doors sliding shut behind them as they made their way to the bridge. As she crossed the threshold, the view of the new star system filled the screen.

This was not the Archanis sector. The past was gone. The future lay ahead.

Krabreii sat in her command chair and steadied herself. “Let’s get to work.”

“Initial scans starting now,” Kulucis announced from the science station. His hands moved deftly across the controls. “No immediate signs of advanced orbital weaponry or significant space infrastructure. I’m detecting numerous satellites and three space stations with a few humanoid lifeforms onboard them. None of them appear to have any form of weapons on them.”

“Interesting,” Krabreii said. “Let’s keep an eye out for anything unusual.”

At the tactical station, Anderson’s brow furrowed as his console began to beep urgently. “Captain, I am detecting multiple launches from the surface!” he said, his tone sharp. “Could be missile launches—possible military activity?”

The bridge went still for a moment. Anderson’s words hung in the air like a weight.

“Missiles?” Krabreii asked, standing and taking a step toward him. “Can you confirm that?”

Kulucis glanced over at his own readings, twitching with interest. “Hold on,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Those trajectories… Lieutenant, let me take a closer look.”

Anderson frowned but stepped back slightly, allowing Kulucis to share the data feed. After a moment, his eyes widened slightly in realisation, and a smirk crept over his face.

“These aren’t missiles,” Kulucis said. He adjusted the display on the main viewscreen, bringing up detailed scans of the objects. “They’re rockets. Primitive space rockets using chemical propulsion with crews.”

“Rockets?” Anderson repeated, his initial alarm giving way to curiosity. “You’re sure?”

“Quite sure,” Kulucis replied, nodding. “They’re consistent with pre-warp space technology we’ve observed in species for countless years now. Judging by the patterns, we’ve stumbled across an active space program. Actually, make that more than one. The rockets are being launched from at least three different points on the planets. Perhaps we’ve run into something more…” He paused for effect, glancing toward the captain. “…a space race.”

Krabreii’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “A space race,” she echoed, stepping closer to the viewscreen. The display showed the three launch sites scattered across the planet, each sending up rockets on slightly different trajectories.

“I’ve not observed a pre-warp race at this stage of development,” Kulucis continued, his voice gaining a hint of excitement. “The simultaneous launches suggest competition between nations or regions. The payloads are likely exploratory—satellites or perhaps even crewed capsules.”

“Remarkable,” Krabreii murmured. She looked back at her crew. “This could be a pivotal moment in their history. The transition from planetary to interplanetary civilisation is one of the greatest leaps any culture can make. We might get to see them approaching that edge.”

“And one of the most dangerous,” Saval added from his chair, his Vulcan tone measured. “If tensions between factions escalate, it could lead to conflict rather than cooperation.”

“Which is why we need to tread carefully,” Krabreii agreed. She turned back to Kulucis. “Commander, can you pinpoint any key launch facilities? If we’re going to observe, I want to focus on the areas of highest activity.”

“Already working on it, Captain,” Kulucis replied, his hands flying over the console. “I’m isolating signals and telemetry from the launches. It should give us an idea of these regions’ power dynamics and technological capabilities.”

“Excellent,” Krabreii said, returning to her chair. “Brad and Cheryon, I want you both to monitor their communication channels discreetly. Let’s see if we can gather insights without violating the Prime Directive.

Both officers acknowledged with affirmatives and a couple of nods. 

“Andron, keep us at a safe distance, even with our camouflage on; I don’t want someone somewhere seeing a shimmer or the odd gamma ray being bent by our shields,” Krabreii ordered.

“Captain, this planet’s moon has a para-magnetic core; we could use one of the craters to hide in if ever need to,” Jines suggested from the helm.

“Let’s keep it in mind,” Krabreii said, impressed with the pilot’s outside-of-the-box thinking. “But for now, we watch and wait. I am not having any of us jump the gun on this. Let’s see how this unfolds. If this is a pivotal moment for this race, we may be witnessing the birth of a new spacefaring civilisation.”

Once her crew fully grasped her orders, Krabreii briefly paused and caught her breath. This situation was definitely a more pleasant change from facing off against rogue Klingons on the edge of the frontier. She couldn’t help but think how much her husband would have enjoyed exploring the wonders that lay ahead of them. 

This was why she joined Starfleet.

Light This Candle – 4

USS Orion (NCC-92915), Earth orbit, Sol System
Stardate: 78223.57 (March 2401)

The holodeck hummed softly around them; the simulated velocity court shimmered with a faint silver light. The air buzzed with energy as the disc raced between the two men, its shifting light creating brief shadows on the hologrid. Lieutenant Commander Perry Reynolds, tall and broad-shouldered, moved like a force of nature—quick, deliberate, and unrelenting. His bright blonde hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, while his blue eyes tracked the flying disc with razor-sharp focus.

Across from him, Kulucis was a study in quiet determination. A few inches shorter and leaner, the Kantare science officer held his own. His muscles tensed beneath his workout vest as he twisted to intercept the incoming shot. His pale skin glistened under the simulated lights, and his veins were faintly visible beneath the surface in the heat of the game.

The two men had been like this for years—locked in competition, neither willing to give the other an inch. Best friends since their Academy days, Kulucis and Reynolds, had shared everything from late-night study sessions to countless rounds of Parrises Squares, dom-jot, and boxing. Velocity, though, had always been their game. It was the one sport that allowed neither to rely solely on their natural strengths. Reynolds had the reach, but Kulucis was faster. They should have been evenly matched on paper—but somehow, Perry always found a way to edge him out.

Another point sailed past Kulucis’ shoulder as Perry hit the glowing target with a triumphant chime. The disc span out of control as it smashed off the wall and into Kulucis’ chest.

“Full impact. Final round to Reynolds. Winner Reynolds.” announced the computer in a neutral tone. 

“Point. Match. Game,” Reynolds declared, lowering his phaser with a smirk that bordered on cocky.

Kulucis groaned, stumbling backwards and collapsing to the floor in exhaustion. “I swear… next time… you’re going down.”

“You say that every time,” Reynolds teased, already making his way over. He extended a hand, which Kulucis accepted with a chuckle.

As Reynolds easily pulled him up, Kulucis wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I’m serious. One of these days, I’ll recalibrate the holodeck just enough to take you down a peg.”

“You can recalibrate all you want,” Reynolds said, tapping his taller frame with his palm. “I’m still taller.”

Kulucis shook his head, breathing hard but smiling. “I’ll grow.”

“Sure you will.” 

Reynolds walked to the bench, grabbing two towels. He tossed one to Kulucis without looking, already drying the sweat from his own face.

Despite the lighthearted banter, their bond ran deeper than just competitive rivalry. They had been by each other’s side for nearly fifteen years—four years sharing a dormitory at the Academy and ten years serving aboard under Captain Krabreii. Through countless away missions, skirmishes, and victories, Kulucis could scarcely remember a time Reynolds wasn’t there, cracking jokes or offering advice.

Kulucis wiped down his arms as he sat on the bench beside him. “Dinner later?”

Reynolds shook his head, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle and taking a long drink. “Can’t. I’ve got to oversee the last round of security updates for Frontier Day. Starfleet’s pushing hard to make sure every ship’s perfect for the fleet demonstration.”

Kulucis frowned. His friend had been working almost double shifts these last few weeks since the Orion’s launch ahead of the Frontier Day celebrations. “I can help. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

Reynolds grinned, shaking his head as he wiped the back of his neck. “I appreciate it, Kulucis, but I’ve got this. The captain’s counting on me to ensure Orion’s systems are flawless. If there’s even a hiccup during fleet synchronisation, she won’t let me forget it.”

Kulucis let out a breath, leaning against the wall. “Perfectionist as always.”

“Well, when you look this good,” he said, lifting his vest above his head to reveal his chiselled, defined abs, “Someone expects it all the time,” Reynolds said with a laugh, playfully nudging Kulucis with his elbow.

Kulucis rolled his eyes before he nudged him back. Reynolds had always joked around at how muscular his frame was. The guy was obsessed with keeping himself fit and in shape, and when they were at the Academy together as dorm buddies, Reynolds’ influence got Kulucis to go to the gym every day. 

“Just don’t work yourself to death.” Kulucis pleaded with his friend. “You’ve been working non-stop since the launch.”

“I’ll try. But I make no promises. I’m the second officer; I need to set the tone.”

Reynolds grabbed his gear, slinging his towel over his shoulder as he walked toward the holodeck exit. Before stepping through the doors, he glanced back. “Next game—your pick.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kulucis called after him, shaking his head with a slight grin as the holodeck dissolved into its neutral grid.


Present day – stardate Stardate: 78980

USS Orion (NCC-92915), Swallow Nebula region, Delta Quadrant

The gym was deserted, except for the rhythmic sound of fists hitting the heavy bag. Kulucis stood before it, shirtless and clad only in black shorts with the Starfleet logo, his sweat-slicked skin glistening. He breathed heavily, his chest rising and falling as beads of sweat streamed down his torso, soaking into the waistband of his shorts. The artificial gravity in the Orion’s gym felt unusually oppressive, adding weight to his limbs as he pressed on with his attack bag. 

His knuckles, wrapped in cloth, connected in quick succession – left, right, left – followed by a solid knee strike that sent the bag swinging. The strike wasn’t just physical; it was cathartic, a desperate attempt to exorcise the tension that had been simmering since the captain had called him out.

You’re better than this, Kul.

Kulucis froze mid-punch, his hand trembling inches from the bag. His heart pounded—not from the exertion, but from the sound of that voice

Perry.

You can’t lead if you keep pushing people away, the voice continued, calm yet firm, echoing in his mind as if his old friend were standing beside him.

“Damn it,” Kulucis muttered under his breath, stepping back from the bag. His muscles burned, but he welcomed the pain. It was easier to focus on that than the guilt gnawing at him.

She’s right, you know. Krabreii isn’t just your captain—she’s your mentor. You’ve looked up to her for years.  

Kulucis clenched his jaw as he mopped his brow with the back of his hand, sweat running down his nose. 

“She shouldn’t have pulled me up like that,” he growled to no one in particular. His voice echoed faintly in the gym.

You know that’s not true. She has every right to. She’s the captain. You’re being an ass. 

Perry’s voice landed heavier than any blow Kulucis could deliver. Clenching his fists, he approached the bag once more. He could vividly picture Perry nearby—arms crossed, wearing that familiar, knowing grin. It was the same expression Perry always wore when Kulucis was being stubborn.

“You’re not even here,” Kulucis muttered, slamming his fists into the bag again. Each hit sent droplets of sweat flying. Though he wished his friend was here. Standing with him like they used to train together. He missed their daily workout sessions in the ship’s gym or on the holodeck. 

Yeah, well… maybe you need someone to knock some sense into you. You took over from me as Second Officer, and you’re behaving like a brat. 

Kulucis’s breathing grew ragged, his strikes more frantic, as frustration bubbled to the surface. He hadn’t just been annoyed at Anderson. He was angry with himself. Angry that the captain had to point it out, angry that Perry’s absence still weighed on him like a lead blanket. Why hadn’t he had seen it himself? Why hadn’t he stopped? 

The bag jolted violently as he landed a final, powerful strike. It swung back, nearly knocking him off balance. Kulucis stumbled, catching himself on the bag as his chest heaved.

“I know I’m screwing this up,” he admitted aloud, barely above a whisper.

Then stop. 

Take a moment. 

Breath, god damn it, Kulucis. Be you. 

Kulucis exhaled sharply, letting the heavy bag steady itself. The room fell silent once more, save for the faint hum of the environmental systems. Perry’s voice faded, leaving Kulucis alone with his thoughts.

The sudden hiss of his combadge shattered the silence. “Lieutenant T’Oola to Commander Kulucis.”

Kulucis straightened, pulling the towel from the bench. He wiped his face, though the sweat still clung stubbornly to his skin.

“Kulucis here,” he replied, his voice still breathy. 

“I need you in the xenoanthropology lab, sir.”

T’Oola’s tone, as usual, was dry—almost bored. The Caitian science officer was known for her mood swings. He wondered what mood he would be treated to. 

Kulucis ran a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly. “On my way,” he replied, pulling his zipped-up jacket over his shoulders. It clung to his damp skin uncomfortably, but he barely noticed.

As he left the gym, he could almost feel Perry’s presence fading behind him.

But the words lingered.

Then stop.


By the time Kulucis stepped into the lab, sweat still glistened on his brow. The dim lighting of the Orion’s corridors contrasted with the sterile, cool atmosphere of the science bay. The faint hum of active consoles filled the room, and there, standing over one of the terminals, was Lieutenant T’Oola—arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen like it owed her something.

She glanced at him and arched a brow. “Still trying to fight the punching bag, sir?”

Kulucis smirked as he wiped his face with the towel. “It usually loses.”

“Maybe one day it’ll fight back,” she replied dryly. Then, without looking up, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “This one has been at it for the past two hours. And no, I had nothing to do with whatever he found.”

Curious, Kulucis followed her gesture to see Lieutenant Anderson seated at one of the main terminals, his brow furrowed in concentration. Anderson looked up as Kulucis approached, his eyes flicking briefly to the commander’s sweat-soaked attire.

Kulucis crossed his arms and arched a brow. “Didn’t expect to find you down here, Mister Anderson.”

Anderson grinned slightly. “Well, when I’m not recalibrating shields or figuring out ways to keep the ship from being blown up, I like to dabble in a bit of xenoanthropology. It keeps me grounded. Plus, I wanted to see how much of a security threat these people could be like the captain wanted.”

Kulucis snorted softly, but there was no malice behind it. “So, what have you got?”

Anderson tapped the screen, enlarging a series of sensor readings. “With some help from T’Oola, I think we’ve got a name for this civilisation. They call themselves the Virellans, and this is their homeworld, called Virella.”

Kulucis leaned in, impressed despite himself. “That’s quick work. How’d you manage that?”

“Cross-referencing patterns in their satellite communications,” Anderson replied, clearly eager to explain. “Thanks to our Borg-inspired technology, I’ve been able to access their computer network systems. They broadcast a lot of public material into orbit. I picked up repeated symbols and phonetic markers that matched across different transmissions. T’Oola confirmed the linguistic patterns. It turns out that Virellans is the unifying term they use to describe themselves, regardless of nation.”

Kulucis glanced at T’Oola, who gave the slightest shrug.

“I just confirmed his work. He’s not wrong,” she admitted.

Kulucis folded his arms again, looking at Anderson with a grudging nod of approval. “Good job.”

Anderson’s grin widened slightly but didn’t linger on the praise. He tapped another display, pulling up an orbital schematic of the planet. Three distinct regions lit up. All of them were separate from one another, and large bodies of water separated them. Two covered a hemisphere each, while the third reached across both hemispheres.

“There’s more. Their planet is divided into three primary nations—Selvar, Arven, and Iskari.” Anderson’s tone shifted, becoming more serious. “From what I can tell so far, they all have different identities, languages, beliefs and cultures. Each nation sees itself as the superior one. The planet was devastated several centuries ago by a massive world war, but now, though there’s global peace, they’re all competing for the same goal.”

“Don’t tell me they’re working on warp technology?” Kulucis guessed as he rubbed his sweaty, wet hair. 

Anderson shook his head before tapping another button and showing a new display. “They’re not quite there yet; however, they all want to claim a habitable M-class moon orbiting one of their gas giants. Each nation is on the brink of launching crewed missions to stake their claim. From what I can gather, whoever gets there first could spark some tension. Maybe even war. It’s a race to get the resources this moon has.”

Kulucis frowned as he took a seat next to Anderson, watching the schematics cycle through various data points.

“Three nations, one prize,” Kulucis mused. “Sounds familiar.”

Anderson nodded. “History tends to repeat itself, even out here. But it’s not just about territorial claims. All three governments are heavily invested in space exploration. They’re driven. This moon is more than a resource; it’s symbolic. A stepping stone to the stars.”

Kulucis sat back, impressed by the lieutenant’s insight.

“Good work, lieutenant,” Kulucis said again, this time without hesitation. “Let’s keep studying the data. I want to understand the political landscape better before we brief the captain. If tensions are running this high, we’ll need to tread even more carefully than she suggested earlier.”

Anderson gave a crisp nod. “Understood, sir.”

Kulucis allowed himself a small smile. 

Maybe Perry was right. 

Maybe it was time to stop keeping Anderson at arm’s length.

Light This Candle – 5

Virella, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78999

“Captain’s log stardate seven-eight-nine-nine-nine. The Orion has spent the past six days in high orbit of Virella, observing the planet’s three dominant nations as they race toward their first steps into interplanetary space. The Selvarians, Arvans, and Iskari are each vying for control of the moon Terros, an M-class satellite orbiting the gas giant Narvol. Although these nations share a fragile peace, tensions remain high as all three push forward with their crewed space programs.

After careful deliberation, I have authorised an away mission to Selvar’s capital. The Selvarians appear to be ahead of this space race, so it makes sense to start there. As the Virellans resemble most humanoid species, aside from their striking green eyes and the custom of wearing jewellery to denote national identity, the away team has required minimal surgical alteration. Commander Saval is leading the team with Lieutenant Commander Kulucis, Counsellor Coralia, Lieutenant Anderson, and Ensign Bollwyn. Their objective is to study the Selvarian space program further and the upcoming launch of their vessel, aptly named Horizon.

It is paramount that we avoid any cultural contamination. This society is on the verge of a technological leap, and even the slightest misstep could irrevocably alter their natural development.” 


The air was electric, thrumming with excitement and swelling national pride. Deep blue and silver banners stretched across tall poles, their edges fluttering in the breeze like rippling waves. A soft hum of music drifted from hidden speakers along the plaza, punctuated by cheers as the Horizon crew took to the stage. The spaceship itself loomed in the distance, sleek and polished, its sharp contours highlighted by the afternoon sun.

The away team moved with the crowd, careful not to draw attention. Their Selvarian disguises blended perfectly — diamond-encrusted earrings adorned the top of their lobes, marking them as locals. Anderson glanced down at the thin silver chain hooked around his neck, resisting the urge to adjust it. Kulucis had quickly joked about how it “suited him” during their beam-in. A remark that Anderson had smirked at before Saval had told the transporter chief to energise.

“Quite the turnout,” Anderson said quietly as they pushed further into the crowd. His tone was light, but his eyes stayed alert. He was worried about keeping their identities hidden from the locals, but on the other hand, he was also enjoying discovering a new culture up close. 

Kulucis agreed with Anderson’s remarks. “The people here are fully invested. This launch means everything to them.”

“History from many cultures has shown that sometimes national pride can be dangerous. The emotional attachment is what makes this delicate,” Saval replied, his deep voice calm yet focused. “Progress and ambition often distinguish between triumph and tragedy. I have never come to understand the logic of why a large group of people can become obsessed with such identities.”

“Pride,” Coralia responded bluntly. “Many civilisations throughout history share similar traits, including Vulcan, around the pride people take in historical events that change their society for good.”

“Is that from your own account, counsellor or psychological research?” Kulucis asked the Lanthanite.

“Both,” She answered as flatly as she had with Saval seconds ago.

Kulucis gave a slight nod, his sharp eyes scanning the stage. “Well, there’s plenty of pride here. If this launch goes wrong, Selvar might not recover.”

Anderson smirked. “Always the optimist, Commander.”

Before Kulucis could reply, a round of applause erupted. A tall Selvarian woman dressed in a crisp grey flight suit stepped to the podium. She was introduced as the captain and mission leader of the Horizon. Her voice, smooth and confident, resonated over the speakers.

“In three days’ time, Selvar will make history,” Resven declared, her words stirring the crowd. “The Horizon will carry my crew and me beyond the skies to Terros. And with it, Selvar will take the first step into a new age of prosperity! We will be a nation reborn, leading our world to prosperity on Terros!”

The thunderous cheer that followed was enough to rattle the chest.

“Impressive public speaking,” Coralia observed softly. “She knows how to inspire hope.”

“She also knows how to command loyalty,” Kulucis added, watching the crowd’s adoration as the woman continued with her speech. “That could be dangerous if this launch fails.”

Anderson glanced toward him. He was starting to wonder why Kulucis was focussing on the negative here. Feeling they needed to do something more productive and positive, he cleared his throat. “Think we can get a closer look at the ship? Public tours can be informative.”

Saval turned slightly, his brow lifting. It looked different compared to other times he lifted it. His arched Vulcan eyebrows were no longer apparent. Instead, they were softly curled like Anderson’s. “Lieutenant, I trust your… persuasive talents can arrange that?”

Anderson appreciated his superior’s vote of confidence and flashed a grin. “Give me five minutes,” he said.

Anderson approached a nearby security officer. In fluent Selvarian, he struck up a conversation, gesturing subtly toward the launch platform. A few minutes later, he returned, his grin even wider.

“We’re in,” he announced. “Public tour of the launch site starts in twenty minutes. I may have implied we were engineers visiting from one of Selvar’s outer provinces.”

Kulucis arched an eyebrow. “Remind me to add deception to your next performance review.”

Anderson’s grin didn’t waver. “You can’t review what you can’t prove, sir.”

The hover cart glided silently across the paved ground, passing under massive structural beams and launch gantries that towered like monoliths. Models of old rocket designs lined the walkway alongside statues dedicated to Selvar’s early astronomers and scientists.

Sat between Anderson and Kulucis, Bollwyn subtly scanned the area with her tricorder as the cart approached the Horizon. The space vessel’s silver hull stretched high into the sky, flanked by massive scaffolding. It was a beautiful yet intimidating sight. Anderson was remembering his time as a child visiting many of the old space museums on Earth. Everything before him was reminiscent of Earth’s early space programs. The faint reflection of the sun gleamed off the nose cone.

“Our engineers have spared no effort in constructing the Horizon,” the tour guide declared proudly. “It represents the pinnacle of Selvarian engineering, designed to withstand the conditions of Terros.”

Bollwyn’s eyes narrowed slightly as she adjusted the tricorder in her lap. Anderson caught the faint crease in her brow.

“Something wrong?” he asked softly.

“Not sure yet,” she replied, keeping her gaze forward as the scanner continued its quiet work. “But the frame’s readings… they aren’t matching up to the specs the guide is listing.”

Anderson gave Kulucis a concerned look at that news. As Kuluci’s expression hardened, he discreetly told the young ensign to keep scanning. 

“Let’s take a look later,” Kulucis whispered at the two junior officers. 

The tour eventually concluded with a visit to the launch centre’s museum and public gallery. The away team had separated, blending in as they left the facility. Kulucis, Anderson, and Bollwyn gathered beneath a tree-lined park a block away, sitting on a wide stone bench shaped like a crescent.

Bollwyn placed her tricorder on the table between them, displaying structural schematics of the Horizon. The data flickered as she ran simulations.

“These are the results of my scans,” she said quietly, angling the display toward Kulucis and Anderson. “The hull’s integrity is compromised in several places. If they try to re-enter Terros’s atmosphere, the stress could tear the ship apart.”

Kulucis leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he reviewed the simulation. The virtual model of the Horizon fractured during descent, breaking apart in a cloud of debris.

“Forty-eight per cent failure rate,” she concluded. “Even with optimal conditions, it’s risky.”

Anderson exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “That’s too close for comfort. We have to report this. At least tell the captain.”

Kulucis leaned back against the bench, folding his arms. “You know what she will say. We can’t interfere directly. We can’t pass this information along without violating the Prime Directive. We’re here to study and watch. That’s it.”

Anderson knew his superior was right. It was the most frustrating part of their job, but he understood why. He sighed heavily as he rubbed his temple. Before they could discuss the matter further, Saval and Coralia returned, balancing trays of local food. They paused, sensing the tension lingering over the table.

“What is wrong?” Saval asked, his gaze shifting between them.

Kulucis gestured to the tricorder. “Sit down, sir. We have something to share with you.”

Light This Candle – 6

USS Orion (NCC-92915), in high orbit of Virella, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 78999.7

“So, Ensign, is there nothing that can be done?” Krabreii asked. “These structural flaws you discovered, are they fixable?”

The atmosphere in the captain’s ready room was thick with tension, with each member of the away team feeling the weight of the situation. They sat or stood in a semi-circle around the desk, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Captain Krabreii, composed and thoughtful, leaned back in her chair, her bright blue eyes focused on Ensign Bollwyn, who had just explained the troubling findings about the Selvarian vessel, the Horizon. Krabreii had met her officers in the transporter room after their return from their study of the Selvarians. Noticing none of them were pleased by what they had found out, she had gathered them to talk it through. They were all still wearing their disguises as they spoke.

Bollwyn, seated on the edge of her chair, folded her hands in her lap. She glanced briefly at her tricorder, which rested on the desk, before meeting the captain’s gaze.

“Yes, Captain, theoretically they are,” she said. “But not with the resources or technical expertise the Selvarians currently have. Their materials science is decades behind what would be needed to reinforce the Horizon’s frame for safe atmospheric re-entry.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. The news was the same as they had discussed on the planet below. Nothing had changed. 

Standing with his arms crossed near the window, Lieutenant Anderson shook his head in frustration. “So we’re supposed just to sit here and watch this disaster unfold?” he asked, his voice tinged with palpable anger at the potential disaster in the making they had discovered.

“Lieutenant,” Commander Saval interjected, his Vulcan manner calm yet firm, “the Prime Directive prohibits us from interfering in the natural development of a pre-warp civilisation. You are aware of this.”

Anderson turned to him, his blue eyes blazing. “I know, Commander. I’m not suggesting we march down there and hand them a structural reinforcement blueprint. But there has to be a way to warn them without revealing ourselves.”

Bollwyn hesitated, looking from Anderson to Krabreii. “With respect, Brad,” she said, “even if we could send a covert warning, the Selvarians don’t have the knowledge or infrastructure to address the issue. They’re flying blind, and we’d be handing them a solution they wouldn’t even know how to implement.”

Kulucis finally spoke up, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I don’t like it, but the lieutenant is right about one thing. We can’t just sit back and do nothing. If the Selvarians fail, it could set their space program back decades—or worse, trigger political instability on the planet.”

Saval turned his sharp gaze on him. “Commander Kulucis, you are suggesting action that risks precisely the kind of contamination the Prime Directive is designed to prevent.”

Kulucis pushed off the wall, gesturing emphatically. “I’m suggesting we study the other nations—Arvans and Iskari. Maybe one of them has the resources or expertise to help. If they assist the Selvarians, it’s not us interfering. It’s their world, their choice. Hell, it may even provide further political stability if these nations worked together.”

“Studying the other nations means more contact,” Saval countered, his voice still calculated. “The more exposure we have to the Virellans, the greater the risk of cultural contamination. That is unacceptable. We should refrain our study of this world from the confines of the Orion.”

Krabreii, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally raised her hand to quiet them. “Thank you, everyone,” she said, her tone brooking no argument but strong enough to enforce her authority. “I see merit in both perspectives, but the Prime Directive is clear. I have no objection to gathering data on the Arvans and Iskari, but we are not crossing the line into interference.”

She leaned forward, resting her hands flat on her desk as her gaze swept over her officers. “No warnings. No covert actions. We will observe and report only. Is that understood? 

The team responded in unison, acknowledging her orders, though Anderson’s voice was noticeably reluctant.

“Let’s see what else we can learn about the others, and if I think another away mission is merited, then we will go down in smaller teams, but until then, we will follow Commander Saval’s recommendations.” Pausing, the captain glanced at them all before dismissing them all. 

As she watched them all leave one at a time, she noticed Saval hanging back. Once the door slid closed behind Anderson, the last one to depart, she looked up at Saval.

“Keep an eye on them, commander; I don’t want anyone making a fool’s decision.”

Saval nodded in agreement. “I will, but I do not believe they would take such drastic action.”

“I hope so,” Krabreii confirmed with a nod. “I get their frustration. I do.”

“As do I.” 

Startled to hear, Krabreii looked at her first officer. “I’m surprised, Saval.”

“I am a trained doctor, captain. I do believe in not wanting to inflict harm on to others,” Saval responded, remaining calm.

Krabreii nodded in acknowledgement. “Go rest, Commander. We can plan our next steps in the morning.”

Agreeing to the suggestion, Saval bowed his head in respect to his captain before exiting her ready room calmly and swiftly. 


After spending some time getting out of his disguise and completing his report on the away mission, Kulucis had decided to head down to The Belt on deck nine. It was getting late in the day, and he just fancied a quick drink before calling it a night. As he entered the crew lounge, he found Anderson sitting alone at the bar, nursing a glass of Aldebaran whiskey. Surprised to see the lieutenant without anyone else with him, Kulucis was intrigued. He could hear Jenson’s voice in the back of his head, telling him to go over and check in on the chief security and tactical officer.

The lounge was dimly lit, and the usual hum of conversation was absent. Most of the crew were either on duty or unwinding elsewhere, leaving Anderson to brood in relative solitude.

Kulucis slid onto the stool beside him, still wearing his standard uniform. “Mind if I join you?” he asked casually.

Anderson glanced at him, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Suit yourself, sir.”

Kulucis ordered a glass of sparkling water, then turned his attention back to Anderson. “You look like you’ve been through a Klingon tribunal.”

Anderson chuckled bitterly, swirling the green liquid in his glass. 

After his drink arrived, Kulucis took a sip from it. He looked back at the young officer. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were right.” He shared.

Anderson smirked in appreciation for the sentiment. “I just can’t believe we’re stuck up here, watching history about to make a left turn straight into disaster. Those people on the Horizon are as good as dead, and when that ship breaks up, it’ll send shockwaves through the entire planet. You know it, I know it.”

Kulucis nodded slowly. “I get it, lieutenant. Believe me, I do. But the Prime Directive exists for a reason. It’s not about playing God or deciding who lives or dies. It’s about respecting their right to grow and learn on their own terms, even when it sucks.”

Anderson snorted softly. “Easy to say when you’re not staring down the barrel of a planetary tragedy.”

Kulucis leaned back, studying the younger officer. “How come you’re not playing Peter Pan with Jines? I’m surprised you’re not in there now, sword-fighting pirates.”

That drew a small laugh from Anderson, and he shook his head. “Not in the mood. It doesn’t feel like the right outlet with what we know. I’m just frustrated and told Andron I wouldn’t be good company right now. I just needed to clear my head, but I’m not sure how to clear it right now.”

Kulucis smirked. “Well, I’ve got an alternative.”


Half an hour later, Anderson stood in the ship’s gym, wearing a simple tank top and shorts, looking sceptically at the punching bag swaying slightly in front of him. Kulucis, already in his workout gear, stood beside him, arms crossed.

“This feels stupid,” Anderson muttered, adjusting his gloves. “If I’m going to hit something, I prefer doing it on the holodeck.”

“You want to burn off frustration or mope into another glass of whiskey?” Kulucis asked pointedly. “Your choice.”

Anderson sighed, then threw his first punch. The bag barely moved. Kulucis rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Anderson. You’re not arm-wrestling a Vulcan. Put some weight into it.”

Anderson growled under his breath and threw a harder punch, followed by another. As he fell into a rhythm, his frustration began to flow into the strikes. 

Kulucis nodded approvingly. “See? Not so stupid now, is it?”

Anderson didn’t answer, focusing instead on the rapid flurry of blows he was delivering. When he finally stepped back, his breathing was heavy, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. He turned to Kulucis, his expression less tense.

“Okay,” he admitted grudgingly. “Maybe that helped. Probably more than I expected.”

Kulucis grinned. He was impressed at how good  “Told you. Let’s see if you can last five rounds against me.”

Anderson groaned but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he followed Kulucis into the boxing ring.


Kulucis and Anderson stumbled into sickbay, leaning on each other for support. Their laughter cut through the near silence in the medical facility. Both men were drenched in sweat and wearing gym gear that clung to their battered bodies. Kulucis’s face was adorned with a black eye that was already starting to swell, and Anderson sported a split lip and a nasty scrape along his arm.

Doctor Tomraff was seated at his desk, reviewing a medical journal and enjoying the time to himself without anyone else around. Barely older than Anderson, Tomraff was known for his professionalism and no-nonsense approach, though his youth sometimes lent him a dry sense of humour. When the two officers stumbled in, his blue eyes lifted, narrowing in bemusement.

With a sigh, he grabbed a tricorder from his desk and walked toward them. “Lieutenant Commander Kulucis. Lieutenant Anderson,” he said in a tone that was half-greeting, half-suspicious inquiry. “I see you’ve decided to bring your workout directly to my sickbay. What happened?”

Still chuckling, Kulucis adjusted his stance, Anderson still leaning on him for balance. “Training session in the gym. Nothing serious.”

Tomraff arched a brow as he looked them over. “Training? You look like you’ve been sparring with Nausicaans.” He gestured to the biobeds. “Sit. Before you collapse or bleed all over my floor.”

The two men plopped down onto the biobeds, still grinning at each other like mischievous schoolboys. Tomraff activated his tricorder, scanning Kulucis first.

“You know,” Tomraff began as he scanned the swelling around Kulucis’s eye, “most people use the gym to stay in shape, not to beat each other senseless.”

Anderson smirked, dabbing at his lip with a towel. “Sometimes you’ve got to get a little rough to work things out. It’s all part of the process.”

Tomraff sighed, reaching for a dermal regenerator. “If this is your idea of therapy, remind me never to join you. Now, hold still.” He started working on Kulucis’s black eye, the soft blue light of the regenerator bathing the commander’s face.

Kulucis chuckled. “You should try it sometime. Nothing clears the head like a good sparring match.”

Tomraff snorted. “I think I’d prefer Vulcan meditation with Commander Saval than trying to get in between you two. Thanks, but no thanks. Less bruising.” He finished with Kulucis and moved to Anderson, who was still grinning despite the cut on his lip. As Tomraff began treating Anderson’s injuries, he shook his head. “So, tell me—did beating each other into pulp help you resolve whatever existential crisis you were having?”

Anderson glanced at Kulucis, his grin widening into something more genuine. “Yeah, actually. It did.”

Kulucis nodded, his tone more sincere. “Sometimes you need to let it all out. Even if it means taking a few hits in the process.”

Tomraff rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but notice a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You two are incorrigible. Just don’t make this a habit, or I’ll start prescribing mandatory sessions with Counsellor Coralia.”

Both men laughed as Tomraff finished treating Anderson’s injuries and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“There,” Tomraff looked at Anderson. “I heard what happened during the away mission. It must have been hard having to walk away knowing you could do something to save them.”

Kulucis hopped off the biobed and stretched a bit, not wanting to go down that road again. “Thanks, Doc. We’ll be okay, won’t we, Brad?”

“Yeah, we will,” Anderson added, wiping his face with the towel.

“Very well, go rest and get a good night’s sleep,” Tomraf said as he watched them walk toward the exit. Their camaraderie was evident in their playfully shoving each other despite their recent bruises. Shaking his head, Tomraff muttered under his breath, “I swear I work with children half the time.”

Light This Candle – 7

USS Orion (NCC-92915), in high orbit of Virella, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 79001.8

The soft light from star charts and holographic displays brightened the sleek surfaces of the Astrometrics Lab. Kulucis stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze concentrated on a swirling 3D model of the Virellan system. A spinning schematic of Terros and its atmosphere appeared, enhanced by multiple analyses and projections. 

Kulucis’s shoulders were tense, and his jaw was set, reflecting his frustration with the bleak findings of their observations. He had been there for hours, poring over schematics and atmospheric simulations of Terros. The rotating hologram of the moon and its turbulent atmosphere painted a stark picture of the Virellans’ doomed ambitions. Beside it, theoretical models, each more outlandish than the last, flickered and then vanished as Kulucis dismissed one failed idea after another with a brush of his hand. 

He ran his fingers through his hair, frustration evident in his defined Kantare features. Progress was slow, and he was eager to discover a solution. An academy professor had once advised him that every problem had a solution. Therefore, a way to assist them must exist—an indirect method that wouldn’t breach Starfleet’s most revered rule. Yet, he couldn’t uncover it. 

The doors to the lab swished open, and Lieutenant Anderson stepped in, his usual confident stride tempered by a weight of concern. He was dressed in his standard uniform, but his eyes were wearied.

Kulucis barely acknowledged Anderson, his focus glued to the displays around him. Eventually, once Anderson was almost by his side, he turned to him and offered a subdued nod. 

“Welcome back. How’d it go with Commander Saval on Arvan?” Kulucis’ focus remained on the readings before him. 

Anderson shrugged, his expression grim. “Not much better than Selvar. Their space program—Vigilant—will experience the same problem. They don’t have the resources or technical expertise to overcome the design flaws. If they launch, they’ll eventually meet the same fate as the Selvarians’ Horizon. How did you and the counsellor get on with the Iskarians?”

Kulucis sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Same results. The Iskarians are just as ambitious, but their program is just as underprepared. Their ship won’t survive either. The atmospheric density of Terros, combined with its high gravimetric shear, will tear their ships apart before they can even begin a descent.”

Anderson leaned against the console beside Kulucis, his brow furrowing. “It’s not just about the ships, though. While we were in Arvan, I noticed how tense things were. Their leaders are under immense pressure. Each nation is on edge, ready to stake its claim to Terros. All three of them are racing against time—and against each other.” He paused and looked at the work the commander was focussing on. “The captain mentioned that you’ve been working on another approach since you’ve been back. How’s it going?”

Kulucis exhaled sharply and finally turned to face him. “It’s going… nowhere. I’ve been trying to think of ways to mitigate Terros’ atmospheric dangers—something covert, something indirect. I even considered whether we could use the ship’s deflector array to dissipate parts of the atmosphere and stabilise the gravimetric shears, but…” He gestured toward the hologram in defeat. “The scale of intervention required would expose us immediately. And even if we could, it might cause long-term harm to the moon’s ecosystem or its orbital balance. We can’t interfere. Not without risking contamination.”

Kulucis then gestured to another set of holograms, showing more data. “I’ve even been looking at possible statistical projections on their development, but none of them will be ready in the next two decades. Their engines aren’t powerful enough to maintain stability through the thermosphere, and their hulls can’t withstand the strain of the gravimetric distortions caused by Terros’ unique atmospheric dynamics. It’s like trying to punch through a storm with a paper umbrella. Even their thruster systems lack the precision for proper landing vectors.”

Anderson stared at the display, trying to absorb the scientific explanation. “So, it’s not just one thing—it’s a cascade of failures. The atmosphere itself is the main culprit?”

Kulucis tapped a section of the projection, highlighting the densest atmospheric layers. “The atmosphere is incredibly turbulent, with sudden spikes in ionisation that can short out their navigation systems. And because Terros has slightly higher gravity than Virella, their current engine designs will burn out trying to maintain trajectory. Even if they manage to breach the atmosphere, they’ll lose control before landing.”

Anderson exhaled sharply, leaning forward. “So, basically, it’s a death trap for anyone who tries.”

Kulucis’s expression darkened. “Yes. And the political climate on the surface doesn’t help. If none of them make it, it might prevent a war. But those crews. Well, they’ll pay the price for it.”

Anderson shook his head, his voice tight. “It’s hard to sit here and do nothing. Watching them all walk toward the edge of a cliff.”

Kulucis placed a hand on Anderson’s shoulder, his tone serious. “I know. It goes against everything we stand for—to protect life. But we can’t interfere. Unless they had warp technology, and again, the projections suggest that won’t happen for at least another century.”

The two men stood silently for a moment, the hum of the ship’s systems filling the quiet.

Finally, Anderson broke the tension. “You know what I need, Commander? A distraction. Andron and I were about to start a new holonovel—an action-thriller set on an old Constitution-class starship after the Federation-Klingon War in twenty-two-fifty-eight. You in?”

Kulucis raised an eyebrow, his scepticism evident. “A holonovel? Anderson, I don’t think running around pretending to be some twenty-third-century officer is going to solve anything. We have real problems here.”

Anderson crossed his arms and smirked. “I get it. But you know what? You were the one who got me to punch a bag in the gym the other night when I was stewing. Now, it’s my turn to help you blow off some steam. Besides, when was the last time you did something for fun?”

Kulucis frowned, considering his words.

Anderson leaned in, his tone coaxing. “Come on, Commander. We’re no use to anyone if we’re burnt out. A couple of hours in the holodeck won’t change the situation on Terros, but it might clear your head. And I promise you, no red shirts for you.”

Kulucis let out a soft chuckle despite himself. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

Anderson grinned. “Not a chance.”

Kulucis sighed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But if I end up as some ensign swabbing the decks or cleaning the boots of an admiral, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Anderson laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Let’s go.”


Sitting alone in the softly illuminated briefing room, Captain Krabreii was like a small island in a vast ocean. There was nothing around her and nothing to bother her for now. Her keen gaze was focused on the holographic feeds hovering before her. The room was filled with the simultaneous voices of newscasters reporting from Virella’s surface. Every screen showcased a unique broadcast, with each nation declaring its imminent triumph.

One screen showed a bustling plaza in Selvar’s capital, where the charismatic mission leader addressed a roaring crowd. “Our engineers and scientists have forged a path to Terros that only Selvar can achieve! The Horizon will be the pinnacle of our nation’s strength and innovation!”

Another displayed the Arvanian president, standing at the edge of the Vigilant launch site, her voice steady and commanding. “We are mere days away from claiming our rightful place among the stars. Terros will belong to us, as it was always destined to.”

A third feed showed the Iskari prime minister, flanked by military officials, promising their citizens that what stood before them would usher in a new era for Iskari. “We will not be denied. Our claim to Terros is absolute!”

Krabreii scowled while drinking lukewarm tea. Her dark eyes searched the feeds for signs of compromise or an opportunity for these nations to ease their intense rivalry. Yet, all she found was pride, ambition, and the beginnings of possible conflict.

The briefing room door opened quietly with a gentle swish. Saval stepped inside, his Vulcan demeanour as calm and composed as ever. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back as he approached her.

“Welcome back, Commander,” Krabreii greeted, acknowledging his presence with a subtle nod. She gestured with a PADD in her hand. “I’ve read Brad’s initial report. Not exactly the kind of news that brightens a day.”

Saval inclined his head. “The report is accurate, Captain. All three nations’ spacecraft are critically flawed. They lack the materials and expertise to construct vessels capable of withstanding the atmospheric conditions of Terros.”

Krabreii let out a weary sigh, her eyes returning to the feeds. “Kulucis is in astrometrics, trying to find alternatives. I sent Anderson to join him, either to help or at least cheer him up. Both of them have been beating themselves up about this situation. I can’t quite blame them.”

Saval raised an eyebrow. “And you, Captain? Do you require similar encouragement?”

Krabreii gave a dry laugh and shook her head. “I’m the captain. I don’t get that luxury. Besides,” she added, waving a hand toward the screens, “I’ve been too busy watching these broadcasts. I thought maybe—just maybe—I’d find some indication that this mess won’t end in disaster. So far, no luck.”

Saval studied the feeds, his sharp features betraying no emotion. “The leaders of these nations appear deeply entrenched in their positions. Their rhetoric suggests an unwillingness to compromise.”

“Exactly,” she muttered. “I was hoping for some glimmer of common sense, something that might prevent a global war if—when—all three ships fail. But all I see is a powder keg waiting to blow.”

Saval moved to the replicator. “Perhaps some fresh tea would improve your perspective. Vulcan spice tea, Captain?”

Krabreii’s lips twisted into a faint smile. “You know me too well, Saval.”

Moments later, he returned with two steaming mugs, one of which he placed in front of her. Taking a seat beside her, he sipped his tea with characteristic precision. 

“Thanks,” she murmured, cradling the mug in her hands. She stared into the amber liquid for a long moment before speaking again. “Saval, I think we need to move on.”

“Leave the system?” he asked, his eyebrow arching slightly.

She nodded with a slight sigh. “There’s nothing more we can do here without violating the Prime Directive. Watching those ships fail and their crews die. Well, there’s no point in us staying and witnessing it. Even if Kulucis finds an alternative, I find it difficult not to see that whatever happens, these people will end up fighting one another. And it’s not fair to the crew to put them through all of that. It’s our first pre-warp civilisation to discover out here in the Delta Quadrant, and all we will see is a civilisation eventually destroy itself. The Prime Directive may stop us from interfering, but it doesn’t force us to watch them obliterate themselves.”

Saval set his mug down, folding his hands neatly in his lap. “Remaining here would indeed serve no purpose. The emotional toll on the crew is already evident. Perhaps it is time to redirect our efforts.”

“I’ll speak with Commodore McCallister and let him know we will rendezvous with the Odyssey and the rest of the squadron ahead of our schedule,” Krabreii said.

“There may be nebulae or a black hole that requires investigation before we reach the Odyssey. Neither would involve pre-warp civilisations or moral dilemmas,” Saval suggested. 

Krabreii chuckled softly. “You really do know how to say the right thing to keep me going, don’t you?”

“It is my duty to assist, Captain,” he replied simply.

She leaned back in her chair, the faintest hint of relief softening her expression. “All right, then. Let’s give the crew twenty-four more hours to wrap up observations. After that, we’re leaving the system. And, Saval?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Thanks—for the tea and for keeping my head on straight.”

The Vulcan inclined his head. “Always, Captain.”

Light This Candle – 8

USS Orion (NCC-92915), in high orbit of Virella, Swallow Nebula, Delta Quadrant
Stardate: 79003.8

The doors to Captain Krabreii’s ready room swished open, and she stepped onto the bridge. Her tall, commanding figure immediately drew the crew’s attention. Saval followed closely behind her, his hands clasped behind his back in his customary Vulcan manner, immediately attracting the crew’s attention. The two of them together were a force to reckon with. 

“Captain on the bridge!” Jines declared from the helm station, his voice ringing out distinctly.

At once, the crew stood to attention, their gazes locked forward, professionalism emanating from every corner of the room. Even the usually laid-back Anderson straightened his posture, although a hint of unease lingered on his face.

Krabreii maintained a calm and neutral expression. Although revealing her feelings or thoughts to anyone was rare, she understood how this mission had affected her crew. Compared to other missions they had undertaken since arriving in the Delta Quadrant, this had been the one that returned them to one of Starfleet’s pinnacle principles of exploration, and she loathed the negative outcome of their investigation. 

“At ease,” Krabreii ordered, her deep voice cutting through the momentary stillness. The crew relaxed, returning to their stations, but the tension in the air remained palpable.

Krabreii walked across the room to stand at the centre of it all, her hands clasped behind her back as she gazed at the main viewscreen. It displayed the faint trails of the three spaceships, each making their way toward Terros, the contested moon.

The captain’s voice broke the silence, steady and resolute. “As of this moment, all three nations have launched their spacecraft.” She turned, her sharp eyes scanning the faces of her officers. “The Prime Directive is clear—we are forbidden to interfere. The price of this directive is often high, and today, we feel its weight.”

Her voice softened slightly. “But as we’ve seen in countless other civilisations—Earth, Vulcan, Andoria, Efros and more—the journey into space exploration has always been perilous. Every nation, every planet, faces challenges and tragedies along the way. Unfortunately, with what we know about Terros means that we know what the likely outcome will be for these three crews. It is our hope that the Virellans will grow stronger from these struggles and, one day, find a way to unite and explore the stars as one.”

The silence hung heavy until Lieutenant Anderson stepped forward. His jaw was tight, and he spoke with careful consideration. “Captain, may I say something?”

Krabreii nodded, her expression encouraging. “Go ahead, Brad.”

Anderson cleared his throat and glanced around at the other officers before speaking. “I’ll be honest, ma’am. A part of me wishes we could help the Virellans. Watching them make mistakes we know will cost lives; it’s hard to stand by and do nothing, especially when it is in our nature to help those in need.” He paused, his voice tightening. “But this mission has made me think about Earth’s early days of space exploration. I’ve been reading up on some of the tragedies—the Challenger, Columbia, the Ares mission to Mars and the many countless lives lost before Zefram Cochrane’s warp flight.”

He exhaled deeply, his tone shifting to one of reflection. “In the back of my mind, all I could keep thinking of was, what if the Vulcans had interfered in any of those moments? What if they’d stepped in and fixed things for us? What if they had saved all of those crews as they passed by our planet? Would Earth have ever found its way to the stars? Would the Federation that we know today even exist? None of us know the answer to that.”

The bridge was silent as Anderson continued, his voice steady now. “The Prime Directive isn’t just a rule—it’s a reminder that we’re not gods. We don’t have the right to play with the lives of others, no matter how much we might want to. Watching this unfold… it’s painful. But I believe that someday, the Virellans will join the galactic community. And maybe they’ll be the ones to create their own version of the Federation right here in the Delta Quadrant—a new era of peaceful exploration.”

Kulucis, who had been leaning against a console with his arms crossed, nodded slowly. “I like that idea, Brad. A lot. The Virellans carving their own path, their own legacy. It’s poetic.”

Krabreii offered a rare, small smile. “Well said, both of you. That’s the spirit of Starfleet. We observe, we learn, and we hope. And sometimes, hope is all we have to give.”

She moved toward her chair, her presence commanding as she sat. “Mister Jines, set a course to take us out of the system, impulse power only. Let’s leave them to their destiny.”

“Aye, Captain,” Jines replied, his hands already moving over his controls. Just as he began to prepare for departure, his console beeped insistently. His brow furrowed, and he glanced back at her. “Captain, I’m detecting an issue on one of the ships.”

Krabreii tensed. She threw a look at Savel before glancing back at the pilot and leaning forward slightly. “What kind of issue?”

Jines tapped rapidly at his controls, and Bollwyn, stationed nearby, chimed in as she analyzed the data. “It’s the Horizon, Captain. The ship’s structural integrity is failing. They’re venting atmosphere.”

Before Krabreii could respond, Bollwyn added, her voice rising with urgency, “I’ve intercepted communications from the other two ships. Both are altering course to assist the Horizon.

The bridge fell silent for a moment, everyone absorbing the implications. Krabreii smirked at hearing that news.

Saval was the first to speak, his Vulcan tone calm but with a faint undertone of satisfaction. “Perhaps there is hope for the Virellans after all. Cooperation in the face of adversity may lay the foundation for unity.”

Krabreii allowed herself a moment to process that. A slight smile played on her lips. “Perhaps, Commander. Let’s hope this is the beginning of something greater for them.”

She pulled down on her jacket and straightened herself in her chair, her command presence returning. “Mister Jines, get us underway—slow and steady. Let’s ensure we remain undetected.”

Jines nodded firmly. “Aye, Captain. Setting course now.”

As the Orion gracefully moved away from the system, the bridge crew kept their thoughts to themselves. On the main viewscreen, the three ships of Virella worked together, a fragile but promising sign of cooperation among the planet’s nations. The distressed Horizon was stuck between the other two crafts as their crews started spacewalks to help the stranded crews. All of them were working in tandem to help each other to prevent the loss of life. What did this new sense of cooperation mean for their missions? Would they continue together, return home or return to their separate ways? Who knew?

To herself, Captain Krabreii hoped that one day she could return and find this planet united just like her people and so many others had done. United and hopeful for the future. She could only dream of that day to come. 

Once Jines announced they were at a safe distance and ready to jump to warp, Krabreii took one deep breath.

Engage! She ordered.

The Orion‘s warp engines grew in brightness as they charged themselves up, and like a snap of a pair of fingers, the ship jumped into high warp away from the Virellan system.