The shifts had seemed to get longer and longer as the week had went, from the never ending reports to the testing of new tactics it looked like Kay had been run ragged, but the truth was she had just not had any coffee the life force of every officers day to day life. She had gotten a small break so she decided to take the opportunity to go and grab a cup of the dirty bean water. She wanted something quick, but when she got to the Promenade it seemed to be busier than usual. Newcomers bustling in and out of the amenities, as well as officers trying to make their way into the areas as well.

She scanned the area to see Brew as being the only viable option so she quickly made her way there and ordered a large cup of Columbian blend coffee with French vanilla creamer and sugar. She waited before being handed the cup. She took a sip and felt the warm liquid trace down her throat, before turning and almost tackling the person she had no idea was behind her. Her coffee cup spilt all over the person and while she felt bad her anger spiked because all she had wanted was a cup of hot coffee.

She looked at the man and shook her head “I am so sorry I didn’t see you there. Are you ok?” she said as she grabbed napkins to try and help absorb some of the coffee on his uniform.

Ryke’s spatial awareness was usually excellent, but even he hadn’t managed to step back in time before he was assaulted by a cup of coffee cascading down his chest, soaking him through to the skin.

“It’s perfectly fine,” he replied automatically as she began patting him down with wads of napkins. Quickly, he grabbed her wrists gently to stop her.

“Thank you, it’s okay, I’m just a little damp,” he fibbed, the skin across his chest stinging after the burn of the boiling liquid. It wasn’t too bad, the damp fabric rapidly cooling but he’d probably need to check it over with a regenerator later.

Kay looked at him in doubt. She knew better than to believe he was ok. She knew what coffee felt like when it was scalding hot. As he grabbed her wrist she didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t lie if it hurts I should have been more careful and looked as I turned. I’m sorry again can I ironically buy you a cup of coffee? I need to get another one as well.” She said as she looked at him.

Which was when he realised he still had a hold of her wrists. And she was in uniform… his eyes widened slightly, and he let go. Grabbing senior officers that way wasn’t encouraged. Not at all.

“Err…” He quickly recovered himself and smiled. “That would be nice, thank you ma’am.”

Kay nodded at him “What kind of coffee do you want?”

“Espresso please, no sugar.”

She turned back to the counter and reordered her drink as well as the coffee requested by the stranger. She turned back and extended her hand “Hello I’m Commander Kaylynn Robert’s. Again I apologize for the unseemly accident.”

He smiled as he took her hand and shook it. She was tiny compared to him, and beautiful. It was a long time since he’d struggled to string a sentence together in the presence of a woman, so he kicked himself mentally and replied, “A pleasure to meet you, commander. I’m Ryke… Ashfield,” he added quickly.

Kay smiled while he was definitely bigger than her most people who knew her would say not to mess with her she could always handle her own. She thought about the people she had come across and never recalled the name. She turned around and grabbed the cups of coffee handing Ryke’s to him.

”Well it’s a pleasure to meet you though not in the way I would ever have intended. Looks like you’re a Lieutenant Junior Grade. What do you do here on the station? I can’t say I have ever seen you even in passing.”

Their fingers brushed as he took the coffee and he schooled his expression. Glancing around them, he extended an arm as they moved to the side, turning so the herd of ensigns who had just arrived didn’t knock into her.

“I’m a counsellor, ma’am. They don’t tend to let us out often,” he said with a small grin.

She smirked it was true counselors had always been made to be secluded. The biggest thing was she felt something around him. She felt nervous and that wasn’t normal. She cleared her throat as her mind tried to overwhelm her “Well, at least they let you out. I am sure you have heard my name given my position on the station, but I try to keep a low profile .”

He inclined his head, he had placed her as soon as she said her name, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. “They definitely don’t let us near deputy directors often. In fact, there’s probably a marauding gang of security officers looking to herd me back to counselling right now.”

She laughed “Contrary to belief we don’t have bodyguards besides I can hold my own. Sometimes looks can be deceiving.” She smirked mischievously.

“Never judge a book by its cover, counselling 101,” he agreed, relaxing a little. She didn’t seem as stuck up as some senior officers could be. “Take myself for example. Competitive embroidery.”

“Oh really? Guess I’ll have to take your word for it. The mantra for me is since I’m a senior officer I can’t actually have conversations. Most of the time people are too scared to approach or talk because of rank. Utter nonsense well for me I’m usually pretty approachable though I guess depending on my mood I could seem unfriendly.” She said with a slight shrug as she took another sip from the cup.

“You want people scared of you, try being a counsellor.” He chuckled. “Everyone always thinks I’m analysing them. I mean…” He winked. “I only do that 99% of the time.”

He’d been so busy talking he’d practically forgotten about his drink, so he took a sip. Then sighed. It had been a long day.

”In my line of work I live in an analytical mind and sometimes it makes others think they are always gonna be in trouble. Regardless of this you look exhausted. Is your day still going or wrapping up?”

“Wrapping up now, thankfully. Yourself?”

She nodded “Well, I’m on a break though I took a longer break because I worked almost all night and half the day. Have a few more things to accomplish for the day before I can actually get out of this uniform.”

“Sounds exhausting.” He looked closer at her. “Here’s the counsellor speaking… Make sure you don’t burn yourself out.” Then he gave his best, charming smile. “Although, I’m probably breaking a hundred different rules if I admitted that if your name appeared on my department intake list, I’d probably resort to violence or underhand methods to make sure I got you.”

Kay could tell her cheeks were getting red as she blushed at the remark “Well maybe I’d just make sure and request you.” She said with a charming yet mischievous smile.

The blush over her cheeks was charming.

“This might be a bit forward, but… would you like to get a drink with me sometime?” His smile widened as he plucked at his uniform. “Preferably one I don’t end up wearing.”

She stopped thinking for a minute this could be complicated, but then nothing in her life has ever been easy. She nodded “Well maybe it should be the new norm when we see each other.” She joked before continuing “I would very much enjoy that.” She said with a smile looking at the time. “I hate to cut this short, but I better get back to work.”

“So would I,” he said, his voice low. “And, of course. Before you go, how does Friday night? I’ll make reservations.”

She stood up and smiled “I will see you Friday night Ryke.”

“Until then,” he smiled, watching as she headed out, coffee still in hand. Then he smiled and followed at a slower pace, turning the opposite way to head to his quarters.

From being doused in coffee to a date, things were looking up.

As Ensign Valeriy Borisevich Makarov looked around the bustling station known as Starbase Bravo, he struggled to get his bearings. He knew he was supposed to report to Security to get his clearances but needed to find out where he needed to go. A Guardian-class station was a small city in it’s own right and it seemed to be a busy sort of place. 

Pleading pardons from a crewman that almost bowled HIM over, Makarov realized that maybe the middle of a main traffic corridor wasn’t the best place to be standing and stepped off to the side. After clarifying directions with the station’s computer, Makarov took a breath and merged with the corridor’s traffic.

Fifteen minutes, three wrong turns and an unfortunate incident where he managed to bump into a lieutenant commander and spill both cups of coffee she was carrying onto her uniform later, Makarov was in front of what he hoped was the door leading into the primary Security Office for the station. It was off the Promenade which had been even more busy and alive then the main corridor where his journey had started. Stores and restaurants had threatened to side track him several times.

He was still carrying his bags and it belatedly occurred to him he probably could’ve at least found his quarters first but he had been told reporting to Security was important and why did he always get distracted, he really needed to listen to that recording of Sturek’s lecture but he was hungry and probably should eat first bef-.

Makarov shook himself and told himself to focus. He was a Starfleet Officer as well as a scientist, let’s try to act like it. At least a little. Makarov squared his shoulders and entered the office.

Thompson had been working through reports and checking that her patrol officers were doing the job that was needed. She sat at her desk looking through reports seeing that things had been somewhat calm, which was a good thing, but she never took that for granted. She looked up just to see that all familiar look of a rookie coming into the office looking lost.

She waved to get his attention and had him come over to her desk. She smiled and stood up “You look like you are lost Ensign how can I help you today?”

Makarov saw the movement from the corner of his eye and approached a smallish, slightly built woman with lieutenant junior grade pips on her uniform. He noticed she was quite attractive then felt the blood rush to his face and hoped he wasn’t staring. He looked down at the ground, the ceiling, the bulkhead, anywhere but the security officer seated in front of him. Had he been staring? Makarov took a focusing breath and stammered out, “I-I was t-told to report here for my, uh, security clearances.”

Thompson nodded “Well I can help you with that. If you take a seat we can get that sorted in just a few minutes. Do you know who you will be reporting too? And what will be the job you will start out with?”

“Ummm, whoever the head of Astrophysics is, I can’t, uhhh, can’t remember the name, uhh, sir. I am a physicist. Astrophysicist. Uhhh..and quantum too. I do physics, sir.”, Makarov clamped his mouth shut as he realized he was starting to babble.

Thompson tried not to laugh at the awkward actions, but she just smiled. “No need if your not sure we can get you the proper clearances. Can I have your ID so I can add you to the system?” She said as she grabbed the PADD beside her and opened it to the proper screen.

Nodding, Makarov fumbled around in his pockets until producing the requested identification card and offered it to the purple-haired officer.

She nodded and took the card seeing the name. “Welcome to Starbase Bravo Ensign Makarov. I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Sonja Thompson, the current patrol shift leader.” She stated as she began to add him into the system for his clearances and the ability to get where he needed to be. In mere minutes she had it all set up from all her previous ensigns she had gotten quite good at the ordeal.

“The information should be on your PADD is you need it but your clearances have been provided. I even added a list of good places to visit as a newbie to the station. Give it a month and you will know where you need to be and every other area in this place that you can access.”

Makarov blinked owlishly at the unexpected kindness. He asked almost shyly, “Are you pretty new here too, sir?”

She smirked “No, this has been my post for about two years now, but I love the station, though at first I didn’t think I would. I sometimes like to cause mischief. My hair color was not accepted at first, but now they have just accepted it.” She laughed. “Is there anything else you need help with Ensign?”

“Umm, no…uhh…no, sir, uhhhh, thank you.”

One of Makarov’s bags chose that moment to start to slip off his shoulder, causing him to scramble to keep it in place in turn almost causing him to drop his other bag that he was holding in his hand. With more scrambling and almost falling down with a startled, “Blyat!” escaping his lips, Makarov was able to regain his balance. Realizing he had just sworn in Russian, he clapped a hand over his mouth like a little kid. Red faced he dropped his hand and murmured, “Excuse me, sir”, and rushed out of the office with the tatters of his dignity trailing behind him.

Thompson shook her head and looked at the desk seeing he left his id. She quickly walked out to see if she could find him. She spotted him stumbling and quickly caught up with him. “Excuse me Ensign, you left this on my desk. I think you might need it. Also do you want some help getting to your quarters?” She asked seeing his struggle.

Makarov turned with a deer in the headlights look, as the ancient saying goes, as the purple haired security officer approached him proffering his ID card. Struggling to get the words out Makarov suddenly had an idle thought of his friends from Starfleet and their reactions to him in this situation. Badger would be desperately trying not to laugh, Nikkira would be covering her mouth to stifle a giggle and P’nala would be rubbing her face in amused exasperation.

They thought he didn’t notice that kind of thing but he did. It didn’t bother him though. He actually understood. They always tried to help him and he loved them for it. He knew he was awkward and he understood this why he hadn’t made friends. Those three were special people and showed him kindness and understanding. He missed them dearly.

Snapping back to the present Makarov suddenly straightened and tried to put some steadiness to his voice. “Thank you for the ID, sir. My father used to say I’d forget my head if my neck wasn’t holding onto it,” Makarov smiled at his weak joke, “and yes, I would appreciate the help, you know the station after all.”

Makarov prayed to everything that could be prayed to that his smile came of confident and friendly instead of mechanical and off-putting.

Thompson nodded and extended an arm for him to follow her. She expertly led him down the halls trying not to talk because she knew the Ensign seemed flustered. In mere minutes she had arrived at the door of the Ensigns newest home. She looked back to see his face he seemed to be very confused.

”Well, here is your new home I hope now it will be easier to get here.” She smiled at him.

Makarov smiled and nodded but on the inside berated himself, he just knew his smile and manner had been odd despite his best efforts. Still, the security officer had been nice enough.

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate everything. Maybe we can grab a raktajino or something sometime.”, Makarov’s smile slowly faded as his brain caught up to what his traitorous mouth had just shot out. He began to stammer, “I mean b-because y-you’ve, uhhh you’ve been very n-nice and i didn’t mean it like- I mean you’re very nice l-looking so I d-don’t mean you’re not-b-but I wasn’t….please tell me to shut up now, sir.” Makarov looked like a miserable puppy as he gave a crestfallen look to the floor.

Thompson smirked it wasn’t normal for someone to be so lost for words around her. She decided she could be a little mischievous. She got close and gave him a kiss on the cheek before whispering “Shut up Ensign, I’ll be waiting for this drink.” She said and walked away leaving the Ensign to his thoughts.

Ensign Valeriy Borisivich Makarov, Starfleet officer, physicist, and genius, stood in front of his door for a full five minutes and he tried to get his misfiring neurons under control, prompting a few stares from passerby as they came across the vacantly staring ensign. Eventually he made it into his room, shed his bags and eventually started the recorded lecture from the Vulcan physicist Sturek. He found just couldn’t focus on it.

“I know just the place…”

Luna followed her fellow Counsellor, wondering if this place they were going was somewhere she was familiar with. Probability said it wouldn’t be, she hadn’t been aboard Starbase Bravo long enough for even an extrovert to scratch the surface and an extrovert Luna was not. It was only after they had been walking for a short while that she realised she was still holding her padd. Normally she would have left it in her office but, characteristically she had gotten a bit flustered by the prospect of socialising.

“Have you had much chance to explore yet?” Ryke slowed his stride to match Luna’s as they made their way down the wide corridors of the base. Mid-shift, they weren’t too crowded, which was why he’d suggested grabbing a coffee now. Come shift-change, it would be carnage out here. “It took me weeks to get my bearings when I first arrived.”

Luna shook her head, not that Ryke could see it as he happened to be looking ahead at that moment, or so she observed a moment later.

“Um, a b… a b… a bit?” She replied after a longer-than-was-normal pause. Luna listened to their footfalls below and chided herself not to let the answer stop there. “I found a nice place to sit with a blanket and read a book.” Was that lame? It sounded lame. “B… by a b… b… large window. So I can look out at the planet. My quarters don’t have a window, you see.”

Ryke slid her a sideways look as he turned down the corridor in the direction of one of the smaller lounges. A little off the beaten ‘track’ it was usually quieter than the others on this level, which was perfect when he wanted to catch up on paperwork out of the office, or when his companion didn’t seem the sort to enjoy large crowds.

“Have you checked out the holo-projector in your room?” he asked, sweeping an arm to indicate she should precede him into the lounge. “Took me the devil of a time getting it to work. I don’t have a window either, but it doesn’t bother me too much. I’m really only ever in there to sleep.”

He smiled as they headed over to the replicators. “What’ll it be?”

Images of an unctuous frothy Cappuccino had been forming in Luna’s mind, but these vanished with a pop at the mention of a holo-projector.

“There’s, um…” Luna started to turn pink. “There’s a holo-p… p… a-projector in my room?” She asked, in a small voice.

“Yeah?” Ryke looked over his shoulder. “Opposite wall to the bed. Flick through the room settings on your console and it should be in one of the menus.” He ordered a large latte and stepped back to let her order her drink. “Or one of the submenus, I can’t remember now. Like I said, it took me the devil of a time to find. I’m not surprised you missed it.”

Relief. Luna’s embarrassment meter had started to bubble up towards the top but hearing Ryke mention how buried the settings were, it began to subside again.

“Um,” Luna said to the replicator. “L… L… ”

“Please re-state command.”

Luna took a deep breath and let the steam in her head come off the boil.

“… …Large Cappuccino.” The drink swirled into being and Luna gratefully warmed both her hands on the warm cup, looking up at Ryke once she had a solid grip on it.

He smiled and nodded toward a small table at the back of the room near a window. It was another holoprojector, but it showed a view of the system and the ships coming in and out. It was… peaceful.

Taking a seat after Luna, he took a sip from his drink and sighed in pleasure. “That hits the spot, for sure.”

“You um… drink a lot of coffee?” Luna asked. It was a pretty crap question in her estimation but it broke some ice. At least she’d managed something.

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he set the mug down in front of him. “Probably more that is good for me, to be honest. Doc hasn’t pulled me up on it yet,” he added, lowering his voice and looking around as if he expected to be accosted by wayward medical personnel. “So I figure I’ll carry on until they do. Besides, we’re counselors; it’s practically mandatory.”

Luna took a drink from the large mug of coffee, it’s copious diameter obscuring her mouth and nose so only her eyes were visible to her companion. They fluttered from the cup to look at him on a way that was, unknown to their owner, quite alluring.

“Is it?” She asked. “I um… well… don’t we um, counsel people on avoiding addiction?”

It was probably quite a young, naive approach, very in character for Luna’s sort of energy.

Ryke grinned, finding his companion quite delightful. A breath of fresh air after all the jaded counselors he usually associated with.

“We do, but as they say, ‘physician, heal thyself.’” He sat back in his chair and looked at her with interest. “So, what drew you to counseling?”

The question took Luna slightly by surprise, but without good reason. It was a perfectly valid and interesting question. Luna would have preferred it were submitted in writing before-hand for her to consider phrasing, but then so would she with all social interaction. She placed her coffee cup on the table and considered where to start, what to reveal and with what level of vitriol to speak of her home and family.

“I um, moved? From Setlik two,” Luna started. “The um, difference, I observed in society there and on Earth made me more interested in sociology and psychology. Both individual social choices and um, differences in ethos. I guess it um, snowballed from there?” Her words were clearly chosen carefully, the fact she was holding back plain for anyone, even without a psychology qualification.

“Both are really interesting, aren’t they?” Ryke nodded, taking another sip from his mug. That was a loaded reply and no mistake. But he didn’t regret asking. “Especially when you get the chance to see different societies practically side by side. I bet it must have been a bit of a shock?”

Luna nodded.

“It was. Earth is much more um…. p.. p… progressive. How about you?” She thought Ryke seemed very jock-like to be a counsellor and, if she’d had to guess would have put him in command or security. Of course she lacked the mettle to actually say that to him, but she was very curious to hear his answer. And that took the spotlight off her, always good in Luna’s book.

“Counselling?” He smiled, sitting back in his chair. “Let’s just say I spent a large part of my younger years getting people to tell me things that they didn’t necessarily want to tell me. After a particularly nasty incident involving some teens who got themselves wrapped up in a mess they couldn’t get themselves out of, I realized that I’d far rather use that skill set to help people.”

Luna was immediately struck by the funny coincidence that two counsellors talking to one another either couldn’t or wouldn’t be entirely open. But she was too shy to pry any further. At work she had to, at work it was her job. But this was socialising, her Achilles heel. She thought back to her charisma classes she’d taken and managed to come up with a question.

“I’m… I’m glad you did. Do you have a specialty?”

“I can bake a soufflé while riding a unicycle,” he deadpanned, then cracked a grin. “Yeah, I do. Hypnotherapy. And violent patients. Not together, obviously. How about you?”

Luna grinned too.

“Oh um… well, not violent patients!” She replied a little sheepishly, as if making a joke were some sort of faux pas. “Um, well, I think day to day stuff, stress, neurosis, couples, families, kids like me for some reason? My… my old Captain said I was very easy to talk to… and very unimposing…” Luna blushed a little. “I think it was a compliment? I’m um, well I find certain conditions fascinating, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, Schizophrenia, even Depression… just… working through everything with someone and trying to find the best route out of a kinda maze of stuff that life kinda does to us…” Luna realised she was looking past Ryke off into space and refocused back on him.

“S… sorry, I get carried away.”

He nodded. “Unimposing can work and you’re definitely easy to talk to. Take it from a professional!”

“Don’t worry about it. Being passionate about what you do is what you need in this job,” Waving off her apology, he smiled again and glanced at the time. Almost choking on his drink, he sat up. “So easy to talk to. I nearly forgot about my next appointment! Want to do this again sometime? Between patients?”

Luna looked surprised to be asked, but rallied quickly.

“Um, y… y… yes I’d like that” she replied brightly. “I’ll um, stay and finish this, I’ve got a b… b… break now.”

“Great!” he grinned broadly as he tucked his padd and notebook under his arm, grabbing another quick swallow from his mug. “See you then!”

Ensign Valeriy Borisivich Makarov was taking a walk after he had concluded his duties for the day. This was a pastime where he did his best thinking, and thinking he was. He had finally had the time to listen to the Vulcan physicist, Sturek’s, lecture in his quarters and it had raised some interesting ideas and reworking of some parts of Astro and quantum physical theory.

Unfortunately for Makarov, the downside to his thoughtful strolls was that he only paid the barest attention to where he was going. He soon found himself in a quieter area of the starbase, not that he’d notice. He would continue to not notice until he heard what sounded like someone trying to get his attention begin to intrude through the barrier of his musings.

Davidson had been working on reports and classifying them per the needed requirements. It had been a slog but she was getting rather proficient at it. It wasn’t what she expected she would be doing but currently it was what was needed. She looked up from her console and saw an Ensign wondering into the restricted area. He seemed to be in his own little world.

She stood up and walked over yelling to try and get his attention. “Your not supposed to be here, this is a restricted area and you are not authorized to be here.”

Makarov blinked owlishly at the young lieutenant bearing down on him with a stern expression.

“Hmmmm?”, Makarov gave a distracted greeting as the world swam back into focus.

“You are not authorized to be in this location, Ensign. What are you doing here?”

“Oh! Oh, no. I-I-I am really sorry, sir! I was j-just going over some arguments against some, some, some equations th-that Sturek gave during his lec- and I’m doing it again and you don’t care.”, Makarav gave a pained smile of abashed self-deprecation and looked at his feet.

Davidson raised an eyebrow at the odd Ensign who seemed to be incredibly flustered. “Look by no means are you in trouble, but you can’t just wander anywhere. If I wanted to I could report you for this, but as I can see you had other things on your mind. I can just let this one go.”

She stopped for a second observing the Ensign “Are you new to the station? Most people know not to wonder past certain points of the station and this is one of those areas where unless your asked to report here you don’t want to just wander in here.” she said trying to be kind, yet to make sure the Ensign understood.

Makarov managed to somehow flush even more scarlet and said in clear embarrassment.

“I, uh, just arrived, uh, yesterday.”, Makarov cleared his throat uncomfortably and continued, “Ensign Valeriy Borisivich Makarov, Astrophysics. I really am sorry, sir. I tend to walk when I think on various things and I don’t know the station well enough yet to be on, uh, autopilot yet I suppose.”

Ensign Makarov felt like he’d rather be wrestling a Horta then standing there at this very moment.

Davidson nodded “Well, walking is healthy and I encourage you to continue with such a great past time, but I urge you to begin to pay attention to where you’re going. While I am understanding some of my colleagues are not and I don’t want to see you get in trouble on your first week.”

She looked him in the eye “I am sure you are going to do amazing things. Who knows you might have to work with us, but for now I’d watch where I was going.”

Not the first time one has heard that bit of advice, Makarov thought to himself while saying out loud, “Yes, sir.”

Makarov puffed out his cheeks with a “why me?” look on his face before remembering himself. “May I ask your name, sir?”, Makarov’s Russian accent gave an oddly musical quality to the question.

”Oh I’m Lieutenant Ashlyn Davidson, Intelligence officer for the Starbase.”

“Intelligence?”, Makarov said in a startled tone and his eyes widened as he realized just how restricted an area he had wandered into. “What does a Starfleet Intelligence officer do all the way out here?”

She shook her head “If I told you that I’d have to throw you out of an airlock.” She smirked before motioning to the door. “Let’s get you back to unrestricted territory shall we?”

Makarov blinked rapidly and said, “It’s better than a forced expulsion from an airlock, sir.”

Makarov then gave a shy smile and made a whimsical sort of shrugging motion before turning in a random direction and pointing ,”Thhhhaaaat waaayyyy?”, drawing out the query as he was unsure of the direction he had even come from.

Davidson could not help but chuckle “Not that way…thiiiiiiiiiis waaaaaaaaay.” She smirked and shook her head something about this Ensign made her feel carefree to act silly if no one was around.

Makarov coughed an embarrassed laugh and noticed that the pretty, blonde lieutenant had a nice smile and a sense of humor. He didnt really feel mocked by her little rejoinder and Makarov found that comforting. Trying to shake the thoughts off, Makarov didn’t quite succeed.

“How long have you, uh, been on the station?”, Makarov asked.

Davidson paused for a moment “I just arrived a few days ago, but I am fairly good at my sense of direction.” She continued walking with the Ensign to the unrestricted areas of the station. She stopped at the doorway that clearly denoted the restricted area. “Just watch for these in the future and I am sure you will have no problems.” She smiled at him friendly trying to make sure he felt ok about the awkward encounter.

“Yes, sir and once again, I am sorry.”, Makarov smiled back a bit shyly and began to move off.

Davison smiled “Wait a second.” She said walking over to him and slipping him a note. The note explained where to go if you want the best liquor on the station.

Looking at the note, Makarov cocked his head. He didn’t drink much, but no self respecting Russian wouldn’t at least see what the vodka selection was like, he mused.

“Uhh, thank you, sir. I hope to see you again.”, Makarov’s smile turned to a horrified expression, “I didn’t mean-I mean-uh, sorry I…good day, sir.” Makarov started off, realized he was going the wrong way and then turned and began to beat an expeditious retreat away from the Intelligence section.

Davidson shook her head at the Ensign. He was unique to say the least and his reaction to her note told her that he was like most guys. They thought she was attractive but he was polite about it. Maybe she would see what happened. He was an Ensign, but for some reason he interested her even if she couldn’t fully admit it.

Makarov felt he had been either rude or strange to the lieutenant, probably both. He had been extra awkward around women lately and he was already awkward around them. First the pretty, purple haired security officer and now the pretty, blonde haired intelligence officer. It wasn’t so much that girls didn’t interest him as much as his few forays into that arena had been disastrous, and now he had the subatomic particle project given to him from Lt. Cmdr. Johnson. Makarov was feeling overwhelmed but he couldn’t just leave sounding like a babbling idiot. He turned.

“Ummm…sir, I uh…”, the lieutenant’s face turned back towards him and he noticed how really attractive she was and froze, then managed to stammer out, “I-I am really not so strange, I, uhhh, I’m sorry, I uhhh…see you around, sir.”, Makarov moved his hands around uncertainly and then inexplicably pointed towards the direction he was traveling and said a crestfallen, “Uh, yeah.”, and left….quickly.

Despite the rigors and events of the previous day, Makarov slept peacefully and woke up feeling refreshed and centered. Well, centered for Makarov. This didn’t last long as he went through the morning routine of hygiene and breakfast. He was to meet the commander of the Astrophysics Department today. He knew next to nothing about Lieutenant Gideon Johnson and unknowns in social situations always made Makarov nervous.

After finishing breakfast, Makarov fussed over his teal uniform. He really wanted to make a good first impression on Lieutenant Johnson. First impressions were usually where things went wrong for Makarov and he vowed that this time would be different. He kept going over his uniform for an inordinate amount of time until he realized he was just stalling. Taking a steeling breath, he looked at the mirror and an awkward, gangly man stared back. He left not feeling any better but forcing himself to focus.

Makarov forced its mind to pay attention instead of allowing it to do its traditional wandering through the mystical land of physics. A new intrusion was also worrying his mind. Purple hair and flashing smile would occasionally attack his resolution to focus. He found himself in front of Lieutenant Johnson’s office far too soon for his liking. He puffed out his cheeks nervously, fidgeted for a few seconds and then finally hit the door chime.

“Enter,” Johnson said looking up from the PADD he held in his hand. The door swished open and as he locked eyed with the young ensign.

Makarov entered the office to see a bearded, dark skinned human behind the desk. He was holding a PADD and looking Makarov dead in the eyes. Makarov straightened to attention.

“Ensign Valeriy Borisivich Makarov, reporting for duty, sir.”, Makarov paused then added, “I hope I’m not interrupting, sir.”

“Not at all ensign. At ease,” he said his voice soft but carrying the weight of authority. Standing from his desk he walked over to the replicator. “Can I get something?”

Makarov blinked, forced himself to relax and said, “Black tea with lemon, please.”

Johnson grabbed the tea and his coffee from the replicator and headed towards Makarov. Handing him the cup he gestured yo the chair in front of his desk. “Please sit,” he said as he returned to his own sit.

“Yes, sir.”, Makarov took his tea, sat and took a sip. He then waited expectantly as did his best not to fidget.

Sipping his coffee Johnson glanced at the PADD that showed Ensign Valeriy Malarov’s record. “I want you to tell me something about yourself I could find on your record,” he said to him his voice stoic.

Johnson’s seriousness unnerved Makarov slightly and he began to fidget a bit more. He couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t on his record that wasn’t mundane, and the somewhat grim demeanor of the senior officer told Makarov to tread carefully.

“Well, uh, sir. I am working on a, ummm, theory about how to “trick” subatomic particles into behaving as they would they, uh,would if they were unobserved.”, Makarov suddenly warmed to the subject, “I know that this has been an on again, off again debate since the early 21st century but I’ve been working on a few….”.

Makarov trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at his burst of animation.

“Well it’s, uh, a work in progress, sir.”, he concluded somewhat lamely.

Johnson took a long draw from his mug as he eyed Makarov. He watched him intently as he noticed his fidgeting and embarrassment. Placing the mug back on the desk Johnson locked eyes with the young officer.

“Ensign, I’m going to tell you something a friend told me on my first post,” he said pausing to let his words sink in before continuing. “Never be embarrassed about your ambitions. If your passionate about it show it. That sort of thing will take you places.”

Makarov brightened a little at these words. He grabbed his tea and sipped, then asked after a moment.

“So what will my duties on the station entail, sir? Any current projects?”

“There are,” Johnson said as he picked up a PADD from his desk handing it to Makarov. “But those are being handled by the thousands of officers stationed here. I want you to continue your research into tricking subatomic particles. During your free time and I want us to meet in the Green Apple once a month for an update.”

Johnson spoke softly as he watched Makarov’s features analyzing his every move. “Do you thank you can do this?” He asked him.

Makarov’s eye’s widened in excitement. He was being encouraged to do his research. Being able to see subatomic particles in their “natural” unobserved state could open the doors for so much advancement in a myriad of different fields!

With effort Makarov forced himself back to the here and now.

“Of course, sir!”, he said excitedly, then remembering himself he calmed his tone, “I really appreciate it, sir.”

Johnson smiled at him as he sat back in his seat. “Then your dismissed ensign,” he said as he watched the young officer leave his office the door swishing close behind him.

As Lieutenant Commander Aramis Lionel stepped off the transport shuttle and onto the bustling decks of Starbase Bravo, his striking physical presence commanded attention. His lean, athletic build, honed from years of martial arts training and Starfleet’s rigorous physical conditioning programs, seemed to radiate an aura of quiet confidence. At 188 centimeters tall, he towered above the crowds, his dark brown hair perfectly styled in a short, sleek manner that accentuated his sharp facial features.

However, it was his eyes that truly set him apart. His eyes looked like piercing emerald green orbs that seemed to gleam with an inner light. Inherited from his Betazoid mother, his eyes held a deep, almost mystical significance for Aramis. As he scanned the crowded docking bay, his gaze seemed to bore into those he met, as if searching for the hidden truths and emotions that lay beneath the surface.

Aramis’s arrival at Starbase Bravo marked the beginning of a well-deserved shore leave, a chance to rest and recharge after his last assignment. It also marks a turning point in his career, as he awaited news of his possible next ship assignment, which is a posting that is still shrouded in mystery. As he made his way through the bustling crowds, Aramis felt a thrill of anticipation mixed with a hint of trepidation. What lay ahead for him? Only time would tell.

As he walked from the shuttle, he checked in with the deck officer to receive his quarters assignment. He stepped up to the deck officer, who looked him up on his PADD and told him what deck his assigned quarters were on. He left the shuttle bag and headed for a turbo lift, entered it and went to his quarters. He rode the lift alone.

The lift doors opened and he stepped out and turned the corner and started down the corridor. He stopped in front of his quarters, tapped his access code into the door panel access keypad and the doors whooshed open, allowing him entry. He walked inside and the doors whooshed closed. He put his shoulder satchel in a chair as he walked around, checking out his quarters.

As Lieutenant Commander Aramis Lionel stepped into his new quarters on Starbase Bravo, he was immediately enveloped in a sense of calm and serenity. The soft hum of the quarters’ life support systems and the gentle glow of the lighting panels created a soothing ambiance, a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of the starbase’s bustling corridors.

Aramis’s eyes scanned the room, taking in the sleek, modern lines of the quarters’ design. The walls were adorned with a subtle, textured pattern, a gentle blend of grays and blues that seemed to shift and shimmer in the light. The floor was covered in a soft, plush carpeting, its deep blue hue complementing the overall color scheme of the quarters.

As he moved further into the room, Aramis’s gaze fell upon the sleek, silver-gray surfaces of the quarters’ furnishings. The desk and chair, situated in one corner of the room, seemed to gleam in the soft light, their clean lines and minimalist design reflecting the quarters’ overall aesthetic. A comfortable-looking couch and armchair, upholstered in a durable, navy-blue fabric, were arranged in a conversational circle, creating a cozy nook for relaxation and entertainment.

Aramis’s attention was drawn to the large, transparent aluminum windows that dominated one entire wall of the quarters. The view beyond was breathtaking. The starbase’s docking bays stretched out before him, a bustling tapestry of activity and color. In the distance, the stars shone like diamonds against the inky blackness of space, a reminder of the vast, uncharted expanse that lay beyond the starbase’s walls.

As he continued to explore his new quarters, Aramis noticed the small, personal touches that had been added to make the space feel more welcoming. A few, carefully chosen pieces of artwork adorned the walls, their vibrant colors and eclectic styles adding a touch of warmth and personality to the quarters. A small, potted plant sat on the desk, its delicate, fern-like leaves adding a splash of green to the room’s decor.

Aramis felt a sense of satisfaction and relief wash over him as he settled into his new quarters. After the chaos and uncertainty of his previous assignment, it was nice to have a place to call his own, a sanctuary where he could rest and recharge. He took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, and smiled to himself. This was going to be a good place to call home, at least for a little while.

After checking out his new quarters Aramis proceeded to unpack his bag, then he took a nice long sonic shower and dressed in civilian clothes and headed to the Upper Promenade. He stepped back out into the corridor and down to the turbo lift. He rode the lift up and exited onto the Upper Promenade. Aramis walked down the Promenade, looking around and admiring the sights.

Aramis approached the open doorway to The Gate Inn, and a warm, golden light spilled out into the corridor, beckoning him inside. As he stepped across the threshold, he was enveloped in the familiar, comforting atmosphere of an ancient Earth pub. The air was thick with the smell of ale and roasting meats, and the sound of laughter and conversation filled his ears.

Aramis’s eyes adjusted slowly to the dim light, and he took in the cozy, rustic decor of the bar. Wood panels lined the walls, their warm, honey-brown tones glowing softly in the light. The floor, as he had been warned by reading an informative ad, was indeed a little sticky, as if it had been spilled upon one too many times. Aramis smiled to himself, feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over him. This was exactly the kind of place he needed to unwind after a long day.

As he made his way to the bar, Aramis’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the eclectic mix of patrons. There were Starfleet officers, of course, but also civilians, traders, and travelers from all corners of the galaxy. The Gate Inn was clearly a popular gathering spot, and Aramis felt grateful to have stumbled upon it.

He slid onto a stool at the bar, and the bartender, a friendly-looking man with a warm smile, greeted him.

“Greetings. What can I get you, sir?” he asked.

Aramis smiled, feeling a sense of relaxation wash over him.

“Just a pint of your finest ale, please,” he replied, leaning back in his stool to survey the room.

The barkeep grabbed a clean mug from the shelf and went to fill it with the local brew and placed it on the bar in front of him. Aramis nodded his thanks and carefully lifted his mug to his mouth. Aramis sipped his drink, surveying the crowd at The Gate Inn. The bar was bustling with activity, the air thick with the smell of ale and roasting meats. He had just begun to relax, enjoying the warm glow of the fire pit, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Aramis Lionel, as I live and breathe!”

Aramis turned, a smile spreading across his face as he took in the sight of his old academy friend, Catersha. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her bright, inquisitive eyes sparkled with warmth.

“Catersha!” Aramis exclaimed, rising from his stool to envelop her in a warm hug. “It’s been far too long!”

Catersha laughed, her eyes shining with amusement. “I know, I know. Life gets busy, and we lose track of each other. I’m glad I ran into you here in Starbase Bravo.”

As they pulled back, Aramis took in the sight of Catersha’s uniform, adorned with the blue color of the sciences division.

“What position do you have now?” Aramis inquired of his long friend Catersha. “Last time I heard from you, you were a raw Ensign posted at Headquarters.”

As he gestured to the esear next to him, he waved the barkeep over and offered to order a drink for her.

“What will you have ma’am?”

“Same as him please,” she replied to the barkeep.

The bartender just nodded and grabbed another mug, filled it and placed it in front of her. She nodded her thanks and took a sip, then answered Aramis.

“My speciality is in Astrophysics now. I was with a survey team that just finished a long term study on the Murasaki 312 quasar-like formation,” she told him.

“You’re doing well, I see,” he said, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I always knew you’d make a brilliant astrophysicist.”

Catersha smiled, her cheeks flushing with pleasure.

“Thanks, Aramis. You’re not doing so badly yourself. I heard you’re waiting for your next assignment. Any idea what that might be?”

Aramis shook his head, taking a sip of his drink.

“Not yet, but I’m hoping for something exciting. Maybe a deep space mission, or a chance to explore a new sector.”

As they chatted, Aramis found himself feeling more and more at ease in Catersha’s presence. It was as if no time had passed at all, and they fell easily into their old routine of joking and laughing together.

As the evening wore on, Aramis realized that he was having the time of his life. It wasn’t just the good company, or the excellent ale. It was the spark of attraction that he couldn’t help but feel whenever Catersha smiled at him, or laughed at one of his jokes.

Aramis couldn’t help but wonder if this chance encounter might lead to something more. As he looked into Catersha’s eyes, he felt a sense of excitement, of possibility. Maybe, just maybe, this reunion would be the start of something special.

Irric drew in a deep breath, the cool, metallic tang of recycled air filling his lungs. He held it for a beat before releasing it through his nose in a slow, controlled exhale. The timing matched perfectly with the hiss of the turbolift doors sliding open, as if the sound had come from him. Light spilled into the narrow cabin, sharp and almost blinding, forcing him to narrow his eyes.

The promenade stretched before him, alive with motion. Shoppers drifted between kiosks displaying glowing trinkets and holographic wares, their laughter and conversations blending into a steady hum. The scent of spiced pastries and roasted meat floated through the air, mingling with the sharper aroma of polished metal and synthetic cleaning agents. Bright banners of gold and crimson hung overhead, swaying gently in the artificial breeze and announcing the Sun Bloom Festival in bold, flourishing letters.

Irric stepped out with a measured stride, the clink of his boots barely audible over the chaos of the crowd. His movements were precise, his posture rigid, the result of years spent enforcing order in places that fought against it. Around him, the colorful bustle of festival-goers churned—a blur of flowing scarves, flashing holo-watches, and beaming smiles. He moved through it all like a stone in a stream, the flow bending around him.

As he passed, children darted between legs, chasing each other with bright holo-projectors that cast shimmering blooms into the air. Vendors called out in practiced tones, their pitches competing for attention. “Fresh Sun Bloom petals, imported straight from Solari Prime!” “Don’t miss the limited edition holo-charms—yours to commemorate this year’s festival!”

None of it slowed Irric. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, cutting through the sea of tourists like a laser. The bright colors, the music, even the tantalizing smells seemed to fade as he approached the end of the promenade. Behind those pristine steel walls, invisible to the revelers, were the holding cells—stark, utilitarian spaces where prisoners awaited their uncertain futures. The thought settled on him like a weight, but he didn’t falter.

The air shifted subtly as he entered the Security Office, cooler and quieter. The hum of conversation faded, replaced by the faint murmur of comms and the sterile glow of overhead lights. A junior officer glanced up from the desk, offering a brief nod that Irric returned without breaking stride.

The sound of hurried footsteps cut through the relative stillness. Before Irric could react, a hand tapped firmly on his shoulder. A voice followed, low and insistent.

Jade leaned as close to the Commander as she could so that she could speak quietly. “Commander, I’m not sure if you have been made aware but I spotted a few attendees amongst the crowd at the festival who just seemed to be behaving suspiciously. Obviously, I am not a trained security officer so I’ll reserve trying to make any assumptions. I will say that they seemed to be eyeing everyone and everything they came across. It looked as if they were casing this place although I would have no idea why. I could be wrong but I thought you should be made aware.”

Jade realized that she was starting to ramble and pulled back from the man a little to give him space. The fact that she rambles when she is nervous is a trait that she has always hated about herself. She mentally chastises herself for falling prey to that bad habit once more and looks to the commander hoping that he believes her and doesn’t think she hasn’t had her morning coffee or however she may appear.

Irric kept his expression unreadable, but a flicker of something—recognition, maybe—passed through his eyes. He’d learned long ago not to assume, yet his gut twisted with certainty. There was something here, some sliver of truth buried beneath the words.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, brief but deliberate. “You don’t have to be a security officer to trust your instincts, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice even, almost casual. He let the silence stretch just long enough to make the man shift his weight. Then, tilting his head slightly, he added, “Think you can point them out to me?”

Jade stood a little taller feeling a little more confident after receiving some validation from the Commander. “Sure thing. They were standing not too far from here and I doubt that they would have made it very far. Come this way please, Commander.” She motions ahead of her and then starts heading back to where she had seen the men.

After walking a very short distance, Jade stopped directly across from a kiosk displaying various holographic wares. It didn’t take her long to spot the men. They had not moved very far at all. It looked like they had managed to move only one kiosk over. She got a bad feeling after spotting them and it quickly returned after finding them again. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the why but she was grateful the Commander had at least somewhat believed her and followed her here.

Jade turns her back to the booth so that she can speak without worrying about whether she was being spotted. “If you look directly over my shoulder, there is a group of men hovering around that kiosk. Please tell me I am not imagining things and that they are giving you ‘bad guy’ vibes too.” Jade manages a small laugh at herself and then looks to the man and wait for his response.

“Definitely.” Irric tapped his comm badge with a sharp click. “Nuni to holding area three. Are there any detainees unaccounted for?”

He glanced at Jade, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Around them, the promenade bustled—voices bartering, footsteps scuffing against the metal flooring, the faint crackle of a holo-sign flickering overhead.

A moment later, a voice crackled through his badge. “Negative, sir. The computer confirms all detainees are accounted for.”

Irric’s eyes narrowed. Across the plaza, a cluster of figures moved with practiced nonchalance, their eyes flicking toward exits, their shoulders just a little too tense. He exhaled slowly. “I think I’m looking at a few who shouldn’t be here. Do a headcount.”

A pause. Then, hesitantly, “Manually, sir?”

“Yes, manually. No shortcuts.” He shut the channel with a quick tap.

His gaze shifted to a small kiosk near the edge of the market, where a wiry vendor adjusted a display with too much focus, his fingers twitching as he stole quick glances their way. Irric tilted his head toward it.

“Lieutenant,” he murmured, “pick something up from that kiosk. Let’s see how they react. I’ll watch from another stall—let’s just say I know the owner.”

Jade had not expected to have to play a role in this adventure but the thought of doing so excited her and she wasn’t quite sure why. Well, here goes nothing..she thinks internally and then turned towards the kiosk.

Zzzt..zzzzt.. Various sounds of electrical work rung through the small lounge in Starbase Bravo. Recently, the tiniest little lights have been flickering off and on around the base. Not glaringly obvious, but the little things. Whether it be a bulb in a bathroom, or a light on a food vendor’s sign, they were happening. 

..and of course, Runt was assigned to it.

This is what he signed up for, though, and do the work he shall! So now here lies the cat, flat on his back (and halfway inside an open vent), ears against their skull as his clawed furry hand worked diligently on some wiring inside the shaft. If the light cursing was anything, they were not proving very successful.

The whooshing sound of the lounge door opening was followed by light steps across the carpeted deck. Williams saw an opened panel in the wall and walked across to the pair of feet sticking out. He bent down and called inside. “Hello?”

There was a very loud curse in some language, followed by a bang, and then clamoring. To sum it up; Runt got startled, hit his head, and is now crawling out of the vent to glare up at the man. “Geez, sneak up on people much?” They murmured, before sitting upright.

The glare was gone, but the tiny throbbing pain on the front of his head was very apparent. “Er..sorry. I’ve been having a long day with this—“ He gestured into the vent behind him, a teeeeeny tiiinnyy light blinking every few seconds inside of it. “—thing. What can I do for you?”

The Bajoran smiled at the original fray of muffled curses and felt sympathy at the frustrating plight of the other ensign. He gestured to the tube as he answered. “I’m Ensign Williams. The duty roster said I’m helping an Ensign M’Hark with some relay repairs in the off duty lounge.” They’re interrupted by a beep of protest followed by some sparks in the tube. “Looks like you’ve had you’re hands full already.” He looks at the caitians hands. “…or paws? SORRY, if that’s offensive it didn’t mean it that way-“

The moment ‘Duty Roster’, ‘help’, and ‘M’Hark’ were in the same sentence, the cat’s face dropped into a frown so prominent that it could rival almost anyone’s. If there’s anything Runt is, it’s expressive.

“…Greaaaaaat.” He stood upwards, tail now swaying back and forth curiously. “Yes, that’s—gods, really? Apologies. I was just very persistent that I can do this job myself.” He hisses, pinching the bridge of his snout.

“Whatever. Paws is fine, I couldn’t care less. All I care about is that you know what you’re doing.” He sticks out a hand. “Ensign M’Hark. But you can call me Runt—it’s what everyone calls me, anyways. It’s a..” There’s a small pause; almost as if the cat was deciding what to make of the Bajoran. “..pleasure to meet you.”

“Ensign Williams. My hands are at your service.” He felt a beat between their introductions, but quickly made his mind up about this cat man. He seemed like a grumpy fix it kinda guy. They were going to get along fine. “Where do we begin?”

“Mmmmmwell…” Runt held up a clawed finger, pausing the conversation.

. . . .

A little alarm went off a minute later, coming from Runt’s communicator. With one whap, he silenced the alarm. “Lunch.” He smirked. “Lunch is where we begin.”

The cat got a goofy, almost animated smile on his face as they strutted over to a small bag sitting against the wall, opening it with a flourish and pulling out something that smelt very spicy. “What?? I like lunch. It’s mandatory for a reason.” 

Williams had given him a look, but he smiled and shook his head. “You packed a lunch? Huh, cool. What is that?” He pointed at the mystery contents inside.

Runt had already been stuffing his face full, tail sporadically twitching here and there as they munched. “Mmh-” Big gulp. “A mix of things. For me, lunch is the largest meal of the day. It’s this strange internal clock my family has had: we’re barely hungry for dinner, peckish at best for breakfast, and starving at lunchtime.” As Runt spoke, he listed each aspect on his clawed fingers.

Blink blink.

“Oh! Whoops, I’m a total jerk. Do you want some? I brought a smaller portion in case I got hungrier–” As he spoke (This cat really likes to speak, it seems.), Runt dug into said bag and handed a small container to Williams.

Williams took the container and opened it. A waft of hot spice mixed with some kind of fleshy scent hit his nostrils and he blinked. “That’s… strong stuff.” Runt began eating again but watched for Williams reaction to his lunch. He looked back at the container.

It was a fibery-like pulled pork or a slow cooked roast. There were also small green spices and what looked like sliced peppers(?). He grabbed a bit with his index finger and thumb, raised it in an informal toast to Runt, then plopped it on his tongue. He chewed, then it hit him. After the first second of calm a wave of spicy hot sensation filled his mouth and he quickly swallowed.

“See? Not bad at all. It’s actually–” CRUNCH. There’s one big pepper Runt just ate. “–reaflly goffd!” The cat let out a content sigh, leaning their head back against the wall as the two ate in silence for a bit. It was a good minute before he spoke again.

“..Apologies, for being so..what’s the word, annoying? Earlier?” He plopped another bit of food into his mouth, chewing. “I tend to have, er, problems, getting to socialize with others. It’s a vise and a virtue to be more involved with my interests than connection with people.” Runt glances over. “Also, this light has been bothering me all god damn day. It’s like a flickering reminder that we’re still subject to every bit of technology’s whim.”

William’s face had gone red by this point as he finished the food and was very  careful not to touch his eyes. “I need something to fight the heat. One moment..” He stood and walked over to the replicator station in the wall.

“Milk, chilled.” A glass of the cold liquid materializes and Reon takes it greedily. He pours the drink across his burning tongue and drains it in one draft. He lets out a sigh and puts the glass back in the replicator. “Geez. What was that stuff?”

“Oh, goodness if I remember.” Runt gets up and walks over as well, speaking to the replicator. “Mango Juice. Iced.” He takes it and sips on the glass, closing their eyes and purrrrrrring ever so softly. It seemed this cat really enjoyed a good glass of juice.

“I grabbed whatever was in my small pantry. It’s what I do the majority of the time I cook my own stuff, anyways…replicators are fine and all, but I love gathering my own foods locally. It’s almost..” Runt takes a long sip of the juice. “Rewarding.”

“Can’t argue with the results. That was pretty good.” Reon walked over to one of the cushioned seats in the lounge and sat as they finished their lunch break. “You said you have a pantry in your quarters. Do you have some kind of cooking station as well?”

He almost choked on his drink at that comment, gawfing for a second. Runt had this almost uncharacteristic laugh; deep, and imposing. Brooding, even. “Nooo..oh, no. Not for an Ensign. I was able to bring my carry on from the academy; it takes up a lot of desk space, though. I just use a nearby communal area to cook.”

The kitty then glanced over at the vent, frowning. “Uuuuggghhhhh..we still have to fix that.”

“Yeah.” Reon looked at it a little hesitant. He pushed that aside and slapped his hands on his knees. “Might as well get it done sooner than later.” He stood and walked over to the jefferies tube. Inside, a few of the engineering tools Runt had been using were sticking out of an exposed panel. He poked his head inside to get a look. 

“I can try rerouting the power to clear this space you’re working on here. Let me grab my tricorder…” He pulled his head out and grabbed the folded device off his hip.

“I’ve tried that, actually.” Runt stood up, now slinking his way next to Reon. For someone who’s been in multiple jefferies tubes today, this cat had shockingly soft fur. Well kept. “I can’t figure out what the problem’s been–rerouting, rewiring, hell even replacing. Nothing’s been working. If anything, I think this may be a core issue..but I just can’t figure it out.”

There was a reason Williams had switched to security at the academy. He was having trouble thinking of a way to be of use. He opened the tricorder and took another scan of the opened panels exposed components. “A core issue. Like a problem with the station power supply? If that were the case, wouldn’t other systems through the station be affected as well?”

“See, I was thinking the same thing. But when I did an analysis on everything..nothing.” The cat frowns, looking at the tiny bulb in the shaft, grabbing it. It flickered off and on, off and on, offfff and oooonn.. “Mh. I think this sections a bust…maybe I’ll replace the bulb and see what that does.” 

Runt climbs back out of the jefferies tube, stretching. Biiiiiiiggg stretch. “Urgh, my shoulders are killing me!”

“While you’re doing that. I’m going to find an ops station and check on any flags on the power grid. It would be embarrassing if there was a much larger issue and we missed it.” Williams tucked the tricorder back onto his hip and stepped out of the lounge.

Runt watched as the man walked to go find the ops station, hesitating. Wouldn’t it be a good idea to ask to come back and chat more? Or…something. But alas, he was already off–all the cat could do was hope.

. . .

“..You have got to be kidding me.” The unscrewing of the bulb and replacing it was no issue. If anything, it was actually a very quick action to do. That didn’t make him more frustrated.

What was upsetting Runt was that somehow, with no power source or ability flicker, the damn bulb was still going.

On, off. On, off. On, off. On–you get the idea. Runt looked down at the bulb, following the patterns of the light’s flicker. No special symbol, no morse code, nothing like that.

It was just..flickering. Just there. For some reason, it was a reminder of a long time ago in his life. But why? To Runt, maybe it was a good idea to unpack later. Duty calls, after all. 

The door whooshed open again and Reon walked back into the lounge. He held a PADD which was currently displaying the power lines running throughout the deck. Like Runt, he had found no solution to the failing indicator bulbs in the Jeffers tube. He sat down by Runts exposed boots and called to him in the tube.

“I’m back. No luck at ops I’m afraid.”

All Runt could say in response was a low cat trill as they stared at the blinking bulb in his hand.

“I..don’t know what to do here, honestly.” His tail brushed against William’s head for a second (considering the caitian’s got a large tail, this was most likely an accident), as he set the blinking bulb down. “It’s flashing even when it’s not connected to *any* power. So, uhm, what the hell?” Runt tried to give a small laugh, but it sounded more like a scoff now.

“Scanned for any anomalies?” Williams asked, gently pushing the feline’s tail down.

“..Mmh. I’ve scanned for any anomalies or anything like that, but. . .nothing. It’s just…*on*.”

Reon tossed his PADD down on the carpet and put his face in his palms. The small earring swung by his face as he rested it in his hands. “Is it just that light? Are the rest of the subsystems functioning?”

“Well *now* they are.” Runt scoffs, leaning back. “Ain’t that something…” There’s a brief pause from the cat again. He seems to enjoy these small beats of silence. “You know, it’s a little funny. Out of this headache of a day, one good thing came of it.”

Runt then looked over, giving his ever so unsettling toothy grin. “I made a new friend. Er—well, if you wanted to be friends? Uh, we haven’t really talked for more than, two hours at best, but, y’know. Uh..” Runt cleared his throat.

“Apologies. I like to run my maw when I get nervous.”

Reon smiles. “Not at all. It was nice to meet you to. I wasn’t expecting REAL cooked food until I got my first chance to visit home.” He peers inside the jefferies tube and lowers his voice. “If everything else is functioning… I say we just close up this panel, and see if it will settle itself.”

Runt grew a goofy smile so wide it almost made the cat’s eyes pop out of his sockets.

“Really?? Great! Then I need to know everything about you. How old are you? Is that silver on your ear? What’s your family like? Do—“ Runt suddenly stopped himself, taking a deep inhale. 

“Apologies once again. I enjoy learning about *everything* I can. I including my friends.”

He pauses…and a shit eating grin slowly creeped along the cats snout as they glanced at the tube. “You know,” Runt started. “This tube is barely used now-adays. It gets pretty naturally cold, and it’s *really* hard to keep your own treats here…why not make this a little more useful?”

Williams turned to Runt with an almost bewildered expression. “I’m all for bending rules, but not breaking them. And food stashed in a maintained crawl way sounds like a health violation mister.”

He crawls past Runt and seals the access panel into place with a very professional rigidness.

“Boooooo, it would be properly sealed!” Runt snickers and bwaps William’s foot. “Besides! Imagine having, like, ten packs of earth’s carbonated drinks just stashed here. It could be a hangout spot!” Noticeably, he’s purring.

Reon smiles and looks at Runt. “NO.” He tucks his PADD under his arm and helps gather up the tools.

“Let’s start our adventures with some on the books stuff. Do you like holo programs?” Reon walks over to the replicator as they chat and clean. He activates the machine and it breaks down the glasses they’d drank from earlier.

In retaliation to the “NO”, Runt blows a raspberry in Reon’s direction, before going back to that goofy smile. But it quickly drops at the holoprogram mention. “Ha…ha…yeeeep. Sure do! Totally..I LOVE holo programs. With uncanny..faces! And..people who are..*totally* human…yep!”

Cats just have an extra sense for the surreal and fake. His ears were flat against his skull as he gave a biiiiigggg, anxious smile. “If we do go, maybe nothing resembling Catiains..?”

Reon nods his agreement. “That’s fair. I’ll find something laid back. We should meet up when we’re off duty and try one. My dad gave me this great medieval program before I entered the Academy.” Williams was smiling at the fond memories. He was sure the holo program was somewhere in his quarters.

“Alright…”

The cat’s mood slowly improved, a more softer, slightly less anxious smile creeping onto his face. “Sure, sure! That works with me! I think that would be..” 

Deep inhale. “Fun! Relaxing, maybe..”

“I’m glad. I’ll see you later then.” Reon steps out of the lounge and heads back to the security station for his days next duty assignment. Visions of fantasy adventure already cluttering up his mind. He did hope it wouldn’t over stimulate his friend. He reassured himself, it would be fine.

“I’ll see you later!”

Runt watched as his new friend left, lounging on one of the chairs.

“He’s fun!” The cat said out loud, toothy grin plastered across his face. But something caught their eye: the blinking, tiny little bulb. It was still flickering.

“…..Okay.” He caved in, grabbing it. “Fine. I’ll take *you*. It’ll serve as a good nightlight.” He rolled his eyes. With a stretch, yawn, (and groan), Runt was already on his way to his next assignment.

What a day.

A small path carried the sound of galloping hooves through a dense wooded forest. On one end, a knight with a feathered helmet spurred on a dark-haired charger. The horse fumed as it charged a dark chestnut horse of similar stature. The other was clad in shining armor just as his opponent. They raised their swords and cried out. The feathered knight took a hard blow from the others sword and fell from his mount. The victor reeled around and raised the mask of his helmet. Williams face was red and beaded with sweat. He called out with a pompous accent.

“You fought with strength and skill sir knight, but the road is mine! Stand aside!”

The other knight sat up and shook a gauntlet. “I will not! My lord has Claim to the grail, and I shall suffer no other to take it!”

They both turn as another horse approaches behind them. Runt, who had lagged behind, had caught up and appeared to be struggling with the horse they were riding.

“Why—is this—work with me, god damned equine!” Runt hissed, jostling around on the horse.

It wasn’t long before he was physically altercating with the animal, nearly being flung off the horses back.

“I..” HUFF. “..hate..” HUFF. “..horseback..” HUUUUFFFF. “…Riding.”

Williams lowers his sword and turns in his saddle. “It takes a little getting used to. But you’re doing well.”

The feathered knight recovered from the sight of Runts bucking horse and retrieved his sword. He raised it above his head and tried to shout over the sound of the horses.

“I will not grant the road to ANYONE who fails to beat in combat. HAVE AT THEE!!!”

Williams saw that Runt was frustrated and didn’t want to continue further on the quest until they could do it together. He looked at the charging knight and said, “Computer, freeze character.” The knight froze in mid stride with his heavy weapon raised above his head. Williams turned back to Runt.

“It’s all good. Try scooting a little further back in the saddle.”

“It’s not working with me! This thing is BROKEN.” The cat hissed. Runt lets out a frustrated groan, re-positioning themself on the horse. “Okay. There. I got it! Can’t go wrong now..”

Runt was indeed very wrong, and before Williams could say anything; “Computer, unfreeze character.”

“Runt, no!-“

“AGAUAYGAHHHH!”

Have you ever seen a cat thrown across a stretch of a few feet by a horse? Now you have.

Williams swung himself off his horse and went over to check on Runt. With the safety protocols on, Runt had the wind knocked from them, but nothing seemed broken. He offered a hand and helped Runt up.

“That was… better.” He tried not to let the laugh cracking his voice show on his face.

“I HATE horses! Hate, hate, HATE!” Runt flipped upwards, landing on his feet (obviously), and gave a very rude and very one fingered gesture to the equine. The horse retaliated with a small huff.

“Let’s just continue with this. I’m having fun when it’s not with *it*.” They snap, thrusting another finger in the animals direction.

Williams nods in agreement. “Probably a good idea. Besides, swords are the best part.”

He raised his sword as Runt drew his own. They turned to the feathered knight, still frozen in place, and Williams continued.

“Computer, unfreeze the feathered knight. NOW THEN! LETS SEE HOW YOU FARE AGAINST TWO WARRIORS IN SERVICE TO THE KINGS C-“

Beeeeep! Beeeep!

His exclamation was cut off by a chirping sound over the holodecks comm. Williams looked disappointed and lowered his sword. “Computer freeze program. We’d better change and get back to work.” He sheathed his sword. “Meet you in the shuttle bay in 30 minutes?”

Just as things were getting interesting for the two, Runt let out a small frown and nodded.

“Ffiiinnneee…” There was a small beat, as Runt acted like he was about come up for a big cat hug. . .

. . . And then pulled the armor back onto his head, shoving it playfully downward!

“Race you therreeee!~” The cat calls out as he runs, tail playfully nudging him to the side.

Williams pulled up the mask. “Computer, arch!” He then chased Runt out of the holodeck.

The two had been assigned to run a safety and maintenance overhaul for one of the stations recently recovered shuttle craft. Apparently a senior officer had been struck by an anomaly while on board. Then both pilot and shuttle had been repaired by another omnipotent 5th dimensional race that had evolved beyond time and space. Like any recovered Starfleet equipment, the shuttle now needed a full diagnostic on its primary systems and a sweep for any tampering or sabotage before it could be certified for flight.

Williams changed back into his uniform and tucked his tricorder onto his hip. He then walked to the shuttle bay and found Runt opening up a toolkit by the shuttle.

“You beat me! How!?”

Runt smirked, now leaning against the wall as he stared at his claws like a teenage girl obsessed with nailcare would.

“Mmmmmmmiiiii have my waaayyyysss. I guess it helps I’m a cutie pie.” He struck a pose. “The hunkiest hunk on the starbase! Gets me *alll* the perks.”

Williams rolled his eyes and walked over to the shuttle hatch. He keyed it open and gave the cabin a quick visual inspection. “LOOKS clear. Now for the fun part. Checking every system one by one.”

He took out his tricorder and synced it to the engineering systems console.

“Dawh, you don’t think so??” Runt looks at all the equipment, letting out a small sigh as he stares. “Blegh. Okay…what do you want to start with?” The cat walked over, kneeling down next to Williams. “I can do the grunt work. Light work for me.”

“Sounds good. I’ll run a sweep for foreign objects in the framework if you want to handle the engineering work. Then all we have is the test flight, we can get this done quickly enough.”

He bent down and ran the teicorder near the shuttles bulkhead. The interior components of the shuttle appeared as he scanned the shuttle inch by inch for foreign technology.

The work was long and dull. William started humming an earth tune to himself as he reached the nose of the shuttle.

There was a notable prep in Runt’s step (and work) as he made haste with his movements. If anything, he’s been very upbeat and much more cheerful from when Williams last saw them. “Hey, Wills. Guess whaaaaaaaat?~” Runt snickered. “I met this super cute guy on my way here. Total sweetheart. Maybe things can go well with him!”

A pause came from Runt. “Kinda silly. I had this insane fear of never being able to meet a guy, and…here I am.”

The sound was a little muffled through the shuttles viewport. But Williams got the gist and popped his head up to smile at Runt. “Way to go Runt! What’s his name?”

Runt smirks, peaking his head out as well—and hitting it on something. “Ow! Well, I’m not gonna say who to you just yet. I don’t know if it’s going to work out.”

Runt then starts to work on the outer shell. “…I hope it works out, at least. You have anyone at home waiting for you?”

Williams turns back to the shuttle and taps at the controls on his tricorder. “My last relationship was with a girl in high school. But when I entered the Academy… I didn’t really have time for one anymore. I had a pretty rough go of it my first two semesters.”

“Dawh, I’m sorry.” Runt frowned, looking at Williams. “I’ll be your wingcat! Get you a new girl—or guy, I don’t judge—to meet!” There’s a pause as Runt scans another object. “Hey, Williams..can I ask you a kinda weird question?”

Williams was happy with the idea of a wingman. He smiled at the idea of Runt hooking him up with a new lady after such a long dry spell. He looked up from his tricorder as Runt asked him. “Sure, go for it.”

“I’m going to be posted to a starfleet ship eventually. And uh..” There was a small pause. The two have gotten decently close these past few days and weeks.  “Do you plan to go to one?”

“I really hope so. It’s the reason I joined up. Wouldn’t it be cool if we both got reassigned to the same ship?” 

Runt got the world’s largest, goofy smile across his face. “You’d wanna do that?? I’d LOVE to be posted together! Ugh, imagine how amazing it’d be if we were reassigned to the same ship.” There’s a small pause from the cat. “Which task group are you being assigned too? I’m ninety-seven. I know we’re both twenty one..”

Williams shook his head. “I… haven’t recieved a new assignment. I didn’t realize you were leaving. We’re you offered a new post?”

“Not yet.” Runt got that signature, off-putting, toothy grin. “But! I’m working here for a while. Better to enhance my knowledge a bit, you know? I’m just happy to be anywhere in starfleet.”

Runt looked at the shuttle. “Booooring, though. I’ve known everything I need to know about this one. Anyways—“ he looked back down at Williams. “I really, really hope we don’t get separated. You’re my first real friend in a while.”

“Aww…thanks, Runt.” He shut his tricorder. “Well, there’s no foreign attachments of any kind that I can see. And no clear signs of tampering. You ready to give this thing a spin?”

“Sure! Here, let me-“ Runt clamored out from the spot he was in, opening the shuttle’s doors and bowing. “Ladies first.” He smirks.

“Ha ha.” He said dryly. Williams stepped up into the shuttle and took the pilots seat as Runt sat down to monitor the engineering console. Williams ran pre flight checks and powered up the impulse drive. “Taking us up, easy does it…”

The shuttle lifted off the deck and began to glide towards the force field. A moment passed as they waited for traffic control to clear them, then they made a long elliptical pass along the stations exterior.

“Everything’s set here.” Runt looked out the main window, giving a wishful sigh. “…It’s kind of silly, but..I can’t ever get over how wonderful this starbase is.” Runt smiled, softly. “Everything about starfleet is great. The whole world is. Knowing so much about everything—the world in general!” His tail patted Williams on the shoulder. “Knowledge is everything, is what I like to say.” The cat then glanced back at the console, and Williams again. “I think space is beautiful. In a sort of cheesy way.”

Williams smiled. “I know what you mean. As long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be out here. Just to see it all and live among the stars. I thin-” He stopped half way through his thought as the navigational panel lit up. He tapped the LCARS controls and furrowed his brow. “We’re drifting. Impulse is dropping.” The shuttle made a strange whirring sound and the cabin lights flickered. “Thrusters are out.”

“Uhm?” Runt started looking at the panel, working on it. “Williams, we’re—“ the cat let out a sudden yelp as one thruster fired, causing the ship to start spinning.  “aaaAH!” The cat yeowled, clawing onto the seat to not be thrown out of it.

The ensign tried to work on the imbalance as the ships lights started flashing red, an alarm blaring. Williams clenched his jaw and grabbed the console as the ship lurched. He fought with the shuttle. Pressing thruster controls to no avail. His anger came put in a grunt and a fist against the flickering panel.

“Come on! Don’t do this to me!!” With one last chaotic lurch, the shuttle died and began a wide drift away from the station. Williams tried the start up sequence, but nothing happened. Runt already appeared to be opening up an access panel and checking through the shuttles systems.

Runt was laser focused, hands working fast and accurately; it was nothing new, but if William’s could notice anything, it was that his hands were shaking.  “It’s fine, it’s fine! Just..just gotta..” He started to regulate his breathing, but something was clearly freaking Runt out. It only started after the lights went out.

“Williams! You gotta find a way to contact the starbase!” Williams, who should’ve noticed the equal fear in Runt, was too busy with his own frustration and fear to be of any help. He continued pressing the darkened controls with greater and greater urgency.

“I’M. TRYING. The whole shuttle is dead. Damn!!” He slammed his fist down again and stood from his seat. He began pacing through the small cabin, looking for something to help with.

Runt took a deep breath once again, trying to steady himself. To him, this was a nightmare. The specific shape of this shuttle reminded runt of quite a few years ago, and it just— “AH!” The cat yelped, stumbling back as sparks fly out of the panel.

Williams turned as the sparks shot out into the cabin. He knelt down and help Runt sit up. “What was that? What’s wrong with the shuttle?”

Runt takes a deep breath, eyes starting to look wild. But his breath wasn’t slowing down.“We need..light. Light in here. Work on that, while I..do this.” The cat rushed back, hands working quickly.

Williams stood and looked at one of the lighting panels. Not likely. Wait, there were emergency equipment stowed aboard. He stood and walked to a hatch in the shuttle. He pulled it open and retrieved a pair of hand held emergency lights. He switched one on and handed the other to Runt. “Light. Now we can SEE we’re in trouble.” He’d meant it as a joke to ease the tension, but he was still too riled up to sound light hearted.

Runt was nothing like his normal self, the cat putting it in his maw as he worked. “I-I don’t—I need—“ The animals fur was bristled as he slammed his hands on the panel, cursing loudly. “WORK, DAMNIT!”

Williams took Runt by the shoulders and gave him a shake. “Runt! Only one of us can lose their cool at a time. And I don’t think it should be the engineer!” Once more his attempt to be lighthearted had made what was supposed to be ensuring a frenzy of panicked hysterics.

“Get OFF ME!” Runt suddenly screeches, slashing at Williams face. It missed, but this was some sort of freak out from the cat. He hastily went back to the console, trying to make everything fit in place. But even then, tears were welling in the cats eyes.

The shuttle became very quiet. Runt continued to work at the shuttle repairs. The sudden outburst had temporarily overcome the feelings of fear and left Williams to pace back and forth. He looked over Runts shoulder every other length of the cabin he paced.

Williams started cracking his knuckles and thinking about his breathing. He stopped over Runts shoulder again, trying to make sense of the isolinear mess before them. “Any luck? How much longer?”

“I-I don’t—I don’t know. I’m..” Runt was working diligently—and, soon enough, the lights flickered on. Runt noticeably de-tensed the moments the lights were back on, but his fur was still bristled. He was silent, and it was clear the power was back on—but the engines were seemingly offline. He tried to hail the starbase, letting out a defeated sigh.

Runt and Williams started hailing the station and finally recieved an answer from traffic control. Within minutes, the shuttle was being tractored into the hanger. A maintenance crew checked with the ensign and began more intense repairs on the affected systems.

Williams stretched his arms wide as they stepped out of the shuttle. Now that they were free from the confined space, he finally felt he could breath properly again. He saw that Runt had fallen silent again after briefing the repair crew. He had been far more curt with the caitian than he should have been.

Williams walked towards the turbo lift with Runt and they stepped inside. “Medical.” The turbolift began moving. There was some quiet as he thought of what to say. “Runt, I’m sorry.”

Runt turned to William..

..and pulled him into a big hug.

“I’m sorry.” The caitian stayed there, not letting go for a solid few minutes. “I—have this…thing.” Runt pulled away. “Being in dark places. Dark, shuttle ship like places. It’s…I can’t explain it. At least when we were examining it, it had light! I just…I feel awful. Normally I’ve been able to handle myself, but today just–” The cat sighed, before their ears perked up in alarm. “Oh *shoot*, did I scratch you??”

“Close, but no I’m good. I guess we both have some growth ahead of us. Thanks.” Williams smiled and the turbo lift opened. “I doubt the doc will find anything serious to fix. What do you say we leave cramped quarters behind for the rest of the day?”

Runt glanced back across the hall, ears flat against his skull. “..I think I need to..do something else, actually. They offer free counseling, right?”

“Yeah, the station has counseling staff. You feel you need to talk with a counselor?”

“I don’t know. I have a lot to think about before I do.” Runt looked hesitantly to the side. “i’m still really sorry for…all of that.”

Williams nodded. “I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”

“Why would I not?” Runt, for the first time in a few hours, gave a smile. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

They stepped out of the turbo lift and walked towards the medical bay. “I DID get you thrown off a horse.” They both smiled and this time Williams let out a real laugh.

“Eh, it was worth it. Now I hate them even more than before!” Runt snickered and patted Williams on the shoulder. His face faltered shortly after.

“Just..be safe. Yeah?”

“I will. You just hurry back.” Williams smiled. The doors whooshed open and closed as the two ensigns entered sickbay.

As the nurse checked them over to clear them for duty, Williams thought about their accident. He’d actually shook Runt, and that left him feeling terrible. In a moment of anxiety for a member of his team, he had failed to uplift his friend and help him rise to the occasion. With the feelings of uselessness he had felt, he had unintentionally lashed out. 

The medical probe hovered over his forehead and he made a mental vow. Never again. He was here to protect, and that meant protecting the minds of his friends and colleagues. He suddenly noticed the time on a nearby panel, eyebrows raising. With one glance over to his Caitian friend, Williams mouthed ‘Holodeck in five?’. The cat flashed a goofy smile, and nodded. He seemed more calm now…almost like Williams had uplifted him and his spirits on the way to medical.

Huh.

Maybe things will be okay after all. 

Not long ago, Commander Nuni Irric had traded his cramped investigator’s office for the expansive view from the Deputy Director’s station. Yet, despite the new title and broader responsibilities, his eyes still drifted to an old case file on his desk—one marked with the precise, methodical notes of Lieutenant Talik.

Talik’s reports were exhaustive, filled with time-stamped observations, schematics of the Promenade’s hidden corridors, and flagged transactions that didn’t quite add up. A cargo manifest that listed medical supplies but weighed too much. A shopkeeper who always closed early when certain freighters docked. Patterns so subtle they might have gone unnoticed—if not for Talik’s Vulcan eye for detail.

Even after handing off the case, Tavik kept watching. On his patrols, his gaze lingered a little too long on a harmless-looking courier. His fingers hovered over his PADD before making another quiet note. He never spoke of his suspicions outright, but the data spoke for itself. And Nuni, despite his promotion, found himself returning to those reports, flipping through them long after his shift had ended, unable to shake the feeling that the real story had yet to unfold.

Today, the case finally shifted.

Nuni strode through the bustling Promenade Security Office, his mind split between duty reports and the nagging pull of unfinished business. Then, a figure stepped into his path—Talik, his expression unreadable, hands clasped neatly behind his back. Beside him, a Tellarite ensign shifted his weight, tusked jaw tightening, the single pip on his collar catching the overhead lights.

The young officer twitched with a nervous energy as his mustard shoulders shuffled slightly back and forth in unison with his large, ungainly feet. Despite his withdrawn form and cowed head the unusually tall Tellarite was undoubtedly Ensign Log, the usually good-natured systems engineer most often found waist-deep in console arguing with the base’s internal systems. To see him here was a surprise, doubly so in the company of the fastidious security officer.

“Lieutenant Talik, what a pleasant surprise,” Nuni said, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. His gaze, however, flicked between Talik and the tense Tellarite, anticipation tightening in his chest.

Log twitched again, acutely aware of the insightful glances of the much senior officer. His lips seemed to part momentarily but clamped shut again at warp speed, opting to defer to the tall Vulcan beside him.

“There have been a number of incidents and complaints involving unlicensed merchants along the promenade.” Talik handed a PADD to the Bajoran commander. “They set up makeshift, collapsible kiosks, selling items like timepieces of questionable origin and antiquities of dubious provenance. One was even reported to have been running a game of chance called…” Talik stepped and squinted at the text on the PADD, now in Commander Nuni’s hands, “…three-card monte.”

He stepped back to his place next to Ensign Log.

“No gaming license displayed, of course.” He added. The Vulcan looked alternately at the Tellarite and the Bajoran. “I’ve not been in this posting long enough to have evaluated the trends, but is this a seasonal occurrence or an anomaly?” An arched eyebrow punctuated the genuine look of curiosity on Talik’s face.

Nuni’s eyes lingered on Talik, noting the subtle shift in the Vulcan’s usually impassive demeanor. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back, but even the faintest change in posture spoke volumes. Nuni leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but edged with anticipation. “What do you need, Lieutenant?”

His gaze shifted to the Tellarite, who stood rigid, eyes darting around like a cornered animal. Nuni let the silence stretch for a moment before he raised an eyebrow, his tone sharpening. “And this one? What’s his role in all of this?” He gestured toward the Ensign, his fingers flicking in a motion that was equal parts curiosity and demand.

“Indeed,” Talik replied. “The security detail assigned to us has certainly observed this criminal activity, but has not, as yet, been able to catch these perpetrators in the act. With his permission, I would like to put Ensign Log in,” he looked over at the Tellarite, “plain clothes.”

Log shuffled again with heavy awkward footsteps, despite his experience with Theta Squad aboard Deadalus, security missions were rarely his forte, clandestine ones even less so.

“The lieutenant thought I might make a good mark.” The young officer lifted his head, tilting it slightly to his shoulder, causing his short tusks to rub against the fabric. “I think he was being complimentary.”

“Merely stating the obvious, Mister Log.” Talik’s face remained deadpan. “He looked back and forth to the Tellarite and the Bajoran. “It has been pointed out in previous assignments that performing undercover was not…” the stoic expression faltered for a moment, betraying…shame? “…not in my skill set.”

A momentary silence descended over the trio of officers as Log presented himself for consideration. The young man was fairly well known amongst the base’s crew but out of uniform could easily pass as a fresh face from Tellar Prime seeking his next freight job. Beyond the stoic grey walls, the hubbub of the Security reception continued to bubble as he attempted to channel his most naive visage, his large brown eyes becoming puppy dog wide.

“So, let me get this straight—you want me to send an Engineer, unarmed and untrained for combat, into a potentially dangerous situation while a squad of security officers stands ready?” Nuni leaned forward, fingers drumming against his upper arm as he studied the Vulcan.

“I did the basic security training at the academy sir,” Log announced quietly. “Professor Thronick gave me excellent grades.”

Log’s face twitched imperceptibly but enough to cause Nuni to raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Well, he said I was very enthusiastic.”

Talik turned his head slightly toward the Tellarite and raised an eyebrow.

Nuni exhaled sharply, his frustration clear as he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall of the narrow hall.

“Fine, it’s approved,” he said, voice tight with reluctance.

Nuni fixed Talik with a hard stare, eyes narrowing as if searching for any sign of doubt. “But you report back to me the second anything changes. And if this goes south, Talik, it’s on you. You’re the one pushing this, so you’ll be the one answering for it.”

The Vulcan drew himself up and nodded respectfully at his superior. “Yes, sir.”

As Talik and Log retreated from Nuni’s officer, the Vulcan slowed his pace. He turned and looked at the engineer. His implacable expression soon softened into — could it be? — embarrassment. After a long moment, he finally spoke.

“I thought you were security.”

The day had been unusually long and for some reason it seemed like everything that could go wrong did. Davidson had been working a swing shift and finished after what seemed like longer than usual. Her perception was heightened and her head was pounding from the extra work.

She had decided to go grab a bite to eat and unwind, since she did not have to work the next few days. She smiled at the thought of a good steak with some potatoes and green beans. Her mouth watered at the thought as she rounded the turn from the intel suite. She almost ran into a man in front of her.

She stopped and looked almost horrified “I am so so sorry.”

“Miss Davidson?” Nuni’s voice softened as he took in her pale face, her wide eyes flickering with unspoken shock. Her hands trembled slightly at her sides, fingers curling as if grasping for stability. “Are you alright?”

She nodded “I am sorry, Sir. I am ok. I was so focused on getting some food after a very long day.”

“Do you remember the first rule of intelligence, Davidson?” Nuni’s gaze held steady, his brow furrowed slightly as he leaned in closer. He paused for a moment, letting the silence stretch. Then, with a slow exhale, he added, “You have to take care of yourself before you can take care of anyone else.” His hand rested lightly on his chest, as if feeling the weight of the words, his voice almost a whisper, but sharp.

Davidson nodded and led the Commander back to the office and sat down in her space before looking back at him and responding “I have been taking care of myself, but today was just not a great day. So I was going to grab a big steak and try to decompress.”

“So, how’s the investigation going?” Nuni’s eyes scanned Davidson, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. He leaned forward, the faint creak of the chair punctuating the silence. “I haven’t seen a report in over a week,” he added, his lips pressing into a thin line as he held Davidson’s gaze, the unspoken weight of expectation hanging between them.

Davidson pulled a PADD from the side of her desk and handed it to the Commander. “All the information that had been found is here. We had not finished so the information had not been sent, but this is what we have so far. The bad news is we still have found no indication of why or who. We only have the what and even with the what there is not enough information currently to show us who, but we are still looking.

Nuni’s eyes flicked over the PADD, his brow furrowing as he skimmed the data. He let out a quiet exhale, the disappointment evident in the slight shake of his head.

“In that case, I’d recommend taking that steak to go, Lieutenant,” Nuni said, his voice a touch colder now. He straightened in his seat, the weight of his decision settling in the room. “I need that report on my desk by the end of the day, but what I’m looking at here…” He motioned to the PADD with a sharp gesture, “…doesn’t even come close to being halfway finished.” His gaze lingered on Davidson, sharp and unwavering.

Davidson sighed as her shoulders slumped. “Sir, the entire department has been reassigned and I am the only one who was assigned to this case. I have been parsing thousands of lines of data and trying to find any information that could help, but the information shown is not the full database and I still have not received the full access I need. I have put in multiple request and still have never been granted access.”

Nuni’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he let out a quiet sigh, his gaze softening as it met Davidson’s. “I’m sorry, Ashlyn. You know what’s at stake here,” he said, his voice dropping a few tones, no longer as sharp. He leaned back just a little, eyes not leaving hers. “If you need more resources, or anything else, just tell me.”

She sighed “I do know what’s at stake and I have been trying to do my best with what I have had. I even sent the request to your yeoman to try and get it expedited. If I can get that access I can parse my data quicker. In fact…” her voice stopped as she turned her screen towards the Commander.

She typed some commands into her terminal and on the screen it cam up for the Commander to see. The system was parsing through the needed data she had requested only hours previous until the same message popped up saying files were locked behind access controls.” She threw her hands up and grabbed her temples.

“I think the information on who is locked behind this and I have tried everything short of trying to brute force the system, which I know even with my knowledge and position that would not be approved.” She concluded as she looked partially defeated at the situation.

Nuni’s gaze lingered on the woman, her fingers pressing into her temples, rubbing slow circles as if trying to ease a headache that wouldn’t fade. The glow of the console flickered across her face, highlighting the tightness around her eyes.

He turned back to the screen, his breath steady as he exhaled. His fingers hovered over the controls for just a second before he spoke.

“Computer, unlock the files. Authorization: Nuni-Sierra-Hotel-One-Eight-Nine-Zero.”

A sight of relief washed over her face and she turned the console back and began to reparse the information seeing the information flood past her eyes. She blinked quickly to refocus her eyes when the information stopped pulling up a match to the same methodology of what had happened on the station. She pulled the name in the system and began to look into the information in a deep analytical manner.

Davidson forgot that the Commander was in front of her as she was in the zone. She got the needed information and quickly added it to the information she had just shared with Nuni. After about twenty minutes she had grabbed the information needed. She looked up to see Nuni still there and shook her head. “Sorry, Commander I zoned in and got the information. You are looking for a Benzite named Zurqock.”

“Like I said, I’ll read it in the report—when it’s on my desk by the end of the day.”

Nuni’s lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk as he flicked a wink in her direction. He didn’t wait for a response. With an easy turn, he strode toward the exit, his steps unhurried, yet firm. The soft thud of his boots echoed through the room. A beat later, the door hissed shut behind him.

There was an almost uneasy feeling in Runt’s chest as the caitian walked down the welcoming halls of Deck 371, anxiously fiddling with his jacket zipper. This was normal. One hundred percent. Counseling has only been in the back of the cats mind since he first joined the academy. Toooootally normal. All he has to do is play it cool… But just as soon as he approached the door of Luna’s office, the cat stood almost completely frozen. Last time he ever saw anyone go to get help, they got worse.

Surely that’s a sign to Runt. A sign to turn around, a sign to go in?? It was too confusing for his mind. So, now…he just stood.

This wasn’t something uncommon in Counselling, so much so if patients didn’t announce themselves reasonably promptly Luna would go in search of the nervous or uncertain, not least to assuage her own nervousness. She’d counselled many by now and largely very successfully, but Luna was condemned to be nervous herself, probably for the rest of her life. The door before Runt swooshed open and the Counsellor looked about the waiting room with large, blue eyes, quickly spotting Runt.

“Ensign M’Hark?” She asked, in full knowledge that it was he. She had read his file and seen his picture after all.

”Ah! Uh! Hi!” Runt squeaked out, tail tucked behind his legs, eyes wide. “Ms. . Luna. Sorry, I uh—uhm…yeah.”

Runt was never this nervous. Well, no, he was. All the time. But this was new: confronting yourself and your past isn’t easy. Half of the cat wanted to scream and run away with their hands flailing in the wind, and the other half wanted to sob on the floor like a kit.

“I’m…here to talk.” He took a deep inhale, ears fluttering. “About things.”

Luna blinked.

“Um, yes. Most people are,” she smiled. “L… Lieutenant Black is fine… come in?” Luna gestured Runt inside the office with a perfectly manicured hand (this weeks nails were a natural pale pink with white and baby blue flowers on). It was lit in a cosy fashion and smelled slightly of vanilla.

”RIGHT! Right, Lieutenant Black. Apologies, it’s been—a very long day.” He was very stiff, hesitantly walking in and sitting on one of the sofas. There was an awkward pause from the cat, before he spoke again.

”…I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know fully why I came here.” His ears were flat against his skull. “Something happened a few days, and I tired to ignore my feelings after. Ignore it. But. . .” Runt looked down at the ground. “I think I’m tired of ignoring it.”

“Um, well, that’s good,” Luna observed. “It might mean you are ready to face… whatever it is?” Luna sat on one of the couches, not directly opposite him, but not next to him either. Opposite would create an unconscious suggestion of adversary while next-to would be too familiar, not giving Runt space.

“B…. before we begin,” she started, “can I um, can I just take a second to cover the elephant in the room, otherwise it’ll be distracting. I will stammer? A bit? Um, just ignore it. It doesn’t mean anything about the session it’s j… just something that I have to deal with. B… but um, please try not to finish a sentence for me… if I get stuck. Now um… can I get you a drink…? Or would you like to dive right in?”

He raised a brow. “Oh. I didn’t even notice it, so don’t worry.”

The cat then glanced around the room, clearing his throat. “Maybe..later. I’d prefer to just dive in, if you don’t mind.”

Runt curled up into a ball on the sofa he was sitting on, huffing. “It’s pretty clear in my file I have a..thing going on. I forgot what the official diagnosis is. Hugh functioning is what they added to it.”

Luna nodded and standing, quickly acquired the glass of water that had been sitting on her desk, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch she had chosen.

“Your file says P… Post Traumatic Stress,” Luna confirmed. “Are… you able to tell me what happened?”

“Uhm..” Runt scratched the back of his neck, holding a hand there. “I don’t know exactly how to explain it. I was thirteen, and…at a party, and something was..” The cat trailed off.

”That’s not important. Just—something happened, and now I got that because of it.” Runt quickly receded, seemingly now on the defensive about talking about what he was so confident in discussing beforehand.

”I just need to know how to cope with these aftereffects. That’s all.” The cat frowned.

Luna sighed, internally.

“If… your leg is broken, the doctors can give you a painkiller for the pain… b… b… but you won’t be able to walk until the b… the bone is properly set,” she said in a kindly tone. “Similarly, I may be able to help a little with episodes… however…” Luna pleased herself with use of the word however, Ps and Bs were challenging her on that particular day. “…unless we address your trauma directly, the episodes will probably never go away. To um, if you want to address the trauma directly, you will need to be able to talk about it.” She went on quickly before Runt could reply. “You can choose to speak to a different counsellor, if you want to, … I’m fairly sure they’ll all say the same.”

The cat crossed his arms, ears flat against his skull as he looks away. Was he upset? Annoyed? Maybe all of the above? It was hard to tell.

Runt took a deep breath, and looked at the therapist, and spoke.

Luna grimaced, very very slightly as Runt finished explaining.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said quietly. “Thank you for trusting me with it.” She was no stranger to accounts of trauma, but she was determined never to normalise hearing them and lose her empathy. Every time she did she told herself that what her patient had experienced was not routine, not okay.

“I don’t need to know any of the details,” she said reassuringly. “B… b… but, if you can, maybe you could tell me how what happened has made you feel, about yourself, or about others? I know it’s a lot. And I know that b… being high functioning there’s not always as much urgency to face the really difficult effects.”

”…It’s..” Runt hesitated, playing with his claws. “Weird. I feel weird. I can look perfectly fine and walk down the hall like any other person, but I’m..” The cat shuddered. “I’m constantly on edge. Mind racing—it’s like it’s yelling at me. I’m always taking on work for others, and it keeps my mind busy—but it keeps me stressed.”

Runt then looked to the side. “But…it gets easier. I’ve learned to cope with it: and with the people I love, it’s gotten easier. Like—Williams! Ensign Williams. Good friend of mine, kind of a rule to a T follower.” The cat noticeably de-tensed when he spoke about his friend. “..But we had a bit of an accident earlier.”

There’s a hesitant glance to Luna and back as Runt speaks. “We were taking a shuttle out for a test after repairs were made. Not everything was fully fixed apparently, and it lost all power. I freaked. I just….did. And I don’t know why, but sometimes you have those moments.”

The cat grimaced. “I almost hurt him. I didn’t mean too. That’s why I’m even here.”

Lunda nodded as she listened.

“That must have b… b… been scary,” she said with her usual empathy. “I um, I know it might sound silly, I always felt like simple techniques for helping situations like that felt cheap, like it’s somehow trying to circumvent the problem, but maybe you could try a couple of things for me? I know it’s not easy to have the p… presence of mind in the moment to do these things. Um, the first is when you are in a situation like that, try to find something to ground yourself, something that will prove to you quickly and unequivocally that you aren’t where your mind is flashing back to and you are in the present. Maybe you could feel your com badge, or your Ensign pip with your hand. If they are there, you know you can’t possibly be back then. Once you’ve been able to prove to yourself you are here and now, um, try deep b… deep breaths. You can hold them, count in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Allow yourself time to take a moment, to stabilise and to b… to b…ring yourself to the p… p… p…” Luna took a beat and rolled her eyes at her stammer.

“…the a-present. Does that sound doable?”

Runt paused for a second at the thought, slowly gripping onto his com badge. It was a tight grip–so tight that he may break it–but that doesn’t happen. Instead, Runt follows what he was told–breathing. Count in on four…. hold for seven……. out for eight……..

“….Ah. That feels a bit better.” The cat was notably more calm now; obviously not A-Okay, but just enough to have a bit more stable of a conversation. “I’m sorry. It’s….I mean, I’ve had my methods. I’m able to do it. But they aren’t working anymore, I guess.”

He then looks at Luna. “I think I’m worried that if I were to speak out about this–speak to someone about my problems—then I’m not respectable anymore. They look at me with pity and think I can’t function.” He plays with his com badge again. “But I know that’s not me. I know I don’t freeze up anymore. It’s frustrating to have a fear I know isn’t….” There’s a pause. “….rational.”

“You can always talk to me,” Luna observed with a slight smile. And many people found they could, her manner was so unthreatening and open, so calm and empathic. She hoped Runt would be one of those people too.  “Your counselling records are confidential,” she assured him. “And we counsellors won’t think any less of you for seeking help. We’ll p…” Luna decided in the moment to just give up on P and B words for the rest of the day. “We’ll likely think more of you. And um, we can help with irrational fears. You can overcome this…” Oh what’s another word for privately? She thought. “…discreetly with us here and no-one you work with will ever need to know. If you’d like that, of course.”

The cat shifted in his seat, almost like he was going to fall off—instead opting to use his tail to find some general balance.

”That’s the weird part. I don’t….want to stay quiet. Not forever.” Runt grasped at his jacket, the red color notably an ugly clash to the blue uniform.

“Isn’t that kinda stupid?” The cat snickered, giving joyless laughter. “I want to speak to others more, get help, but I’m to scared to!!” Runt now hissed, fur bristling at the back of his neck as he spoke.

“But I’m too scared to even face my own anxieties if I had too, I don’t know how I’d react. I genuinely don’t.” Runt’s hands now rhythmically tapped on his jacket sleeve. “I don’t even know what I fully want. Ugh.”

Luna was slightly thrown off-kilter by the hissing, but managed not to show it too much. She regrouped and offered some more words of comfort.

“Not knowing is fine. It’s frustrating, I know. We naturally want to answer questions about ourselves. However, acknowledging that you don’t currently know the answer and accepting and being alright with the question staying open for a while can help. Imagine it’s a scientific experiment and you need more data to create a conclusion. Maybe as you go through the next few weeks and months you’ll have a thought or experience something that will help frame your viewpoint on this. As for not wanting to hide it, that’s um, it’s courageous, to me, if you don’t mind me saying so. If a situation is handled a certain way b… by most, it doesn’t follow you have to follow suit. You can handle it however you choose, as… as long as you don’t do anything illegal of course,” she added with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” Runt gave a small, more relaxed smile back at Luna. “I apologize for my all over the place behavior, Lieutenant. It’s not….its so weird finally voicing what I’ve been thinking for years, yes? And now that it’s all out here, I feel liberated. Thank you.”

The cats tail swishes back and forth after a beat of silence.

“Ugh, now that I’ve spilt my guts it feels a little silly to be here, haha…but we still have time, right? I got some more things on my mind.”

Luna looked at the clock.

“P… plenty of time,” she said with a smile.

Runt anxiously lied in bed, eyes glancing to the tiny bulb flickering off and on in the corner of the room. The thing still hadn’t burnt out despite grabbing it from the tube a week or two ago with Williams.

He didn’t mind it—truly, it was just something small—what was truly bothering him was the message they had laid out on a pad. It was back home, addressed to his mother—all he had to do was to finalize it and send it.

But this was odd. Maybe even a bit hard to do? Runt’s never had this problem—he and his mother had a great relationship.

“Uuuuugggghhhhhh….” the Caitian groaned, laying back in his bedding. Counseling was going great, he was making new friends constantly, and truth be told: Runt had no genuine reason to be anxious. He glanced over at the stupid flickering light, glaring at it.

OKAY, maybe it was bothering the cat. But there was no real reason to throw it out—Runt just assumed the bulb would’ve burnt out by now and been done. But it’s been almost a week….

“You are a pain in my tail. You know that?” He muttered, getting up and holding the flashing bulb up. “Kinda in the back of my mind a lot. Like a uh….pestering annoyance. A bothersome squirrel. A uh….well. You get the gist.”

There was hesitation in his movements once again as he glanced back at the pad, then the bulb. This was silly. “Fine. If you want to be annoying, you can sit here and listen to me read this.”

The Caitian grabbed the device and started reading over it.

“Ahem, Dear Mama. I’m more than thrilled to report to you and tell you I’ve been doing amazing over here at Starbase Bravo. The foods okay, but the work is great and I have a close friend already!” He glanced back at the bulb. “That better be a good flickering, you jerk.”

”Of course there’s been some….stuff. But I can’t really complain. I even possibly met this cute guy! But that’s a story for another day.” Runt continued. “There’s this one man—not related to the topic above—Ensign Williams. Total rule follower, sweetheart at his core. He’s the main friend I’ve made. A good guy! But I want to branch out more.”

There’s hesitation as Runt looks at the bulb.

”I know you’ve wanted me to do more. And I will, I promise you. I’ve been having the best time, and Starfleet was definitely the right choice.” He pauses, fixing a spelling mistake or two, before continuing. “Still no dice on meeting people like Commander Sh’ill. No, Mama, before you ask, I am not going to go out of my way too.” He chuckled, already hearing what his mother would say in his head.

”….I won’t lie when I say I miss home. Papa must be bored with his final child out of the house, and I miss my sisters and brothers, obviously. Last I checked, Ax and Ay are working on a new model of class.” He rolls his eyes. The twins were always a bit over the top for his taste.

“I won’t keep you for much longer reading this, but there’s one last thing.” He slowly looked at the bulb, it giving bigger bursts of light than before.

”I remember forever ago when you told me there would need to be some point in my life when I’ll need to look at what’s in front of me and decide what’s important. To uh, choose.” The Caitian then looked up above the small desk the bulb resided on, with a graduation picture from the academy plastered on it. “And…”

The cat paused, looking forward for a moment.

Then, In one swift movement, Runt grabbed the bulb and tucked it neatly behind the photo, wedging in between the tape and picture against the wall. “But I think you’re wrong. I think that I can learn to live with both of the things. Learn to co-exist without having the things in life stopping me from doing what I want.”

There was a pause before he started to read again.

”But that’s all I had to say. I love you, I can’t wait to hear back, and make sure Papa is doing okay. If you make any of that good bread and want to send it over, don’t hesitate.” He snickers at that thought. Runt remembers vividly the feeling of running from his furious mother after stealing a fresh loaf of bread she made when he was younger.

“Love you to the ends of the galaxy, Hrelle.”

As Runt finished reading over the letter, he glanced up at the photo. The light was notably smaller, but it was now fully on; illuminating a smiling Runt with his graduating class. Before he hit send, he added a final note.

“P.S. I think everything is going to be just fine.”

Biiiiiiiiggggg stretch!

Runt let out a big yawn, having gotten up at the early hours of the morning, currently wide eyed and eager to start the day.

there isn’t much that gets the ensign excited for mornings—but finally having a running buddy was one. He had put a poster or two around the base (old fashioned, a bit of a kick the cats been having lately) to advertise a ‘running club’. One sign up! Runt didn’t recognize the name immediately—finding that a little annoying. Normally he’d have a good outlook on the staff in the area.

Either way, the Caitian waited patiently at the meetup spot, tail happily swaying back and forth as the promise of a run hung in the air.

Ryke hated running. No, hated was too mild a word for it. He loathed running. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. There were only two things he loathed more than running… running on a treadmill in the gym, and explaining to the medical officer why his cardiovascular conditioning wasn’t in the right place for a man of his age.

So… he’d joined a running club. Or rather, he’d signed up when he’d seen some posters in the corridors advertising it. A fact he was grumbling internally about as he jogged lightly down the corridor to the meetup spot, hoping that his running partner wasn’t much for conversation in the morning.

Unfortunately, morning runs is where Runt flourished in conversation….

”Hello! You’re Lieutenant Ryke, no?” The cat beamed, waving excitedly at the man. “I’m Runt. Or, er—Ensign Runt? It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

….and seemed to really enjoy the company. So much so that he even brought a bottle of charged water, with natural energy in it.

Ryke blinked. Most people who knew him knew he wasn’t particularly talkative in the morning, not when his job involved talking most days. But the ensign seemed so delighted to see him that he couldn’t not talk.

“Lieutenant Ashfield, but yeah, my first name is Ryke,” he said as he reached the caitian. “Pleased to meet you… Runt, did you say your name was?”

Moving to the side of the corridor, he used a hand on the wall to balance as he stood on one leg, lifted the other, and grabbed his ankle to stretch his quads out.

The cat beamed, that somewhat unsettling smile creeping onto his face. “Yep! Runt M’Harak. Or, well..my names Hrelle, but everyone calls me Runt. It’s stuck!”

Runt’s already stretched—very much like a typical house cat would—but does it again, just to not feel out of place or awkward. “It’s great you signed up. When I went to bed last night, there wasn’t anything. It’s a bit hard to make friends here, is all! I’ve been going to counseling a lot. My counselors been saying maybes it’s best to get myself out there, so-“ The cat rambled, before catching himself.

“Er….sorry. I’m just thankful someone showed up, is all.” He cleared his throat, before looking ahead. “So! What’re you thinking? Four laps?”

Ryke smiled, Runt seemed to be a big ball of energy. “No, no, you’re fine. I found it difficult when I first got here as well, it’s a big base. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you in counselling then. I’m on staff there.”

He finished stretching out the other leg. With his jog down here, he felt warmed up enough. “Four laps in this section? What pace do you want to set?” he asked. “Fair warning, I’m not a fast runner.”

“Ah, I like to uh…keep it more quiet. I try to meet with Lieutenant Black more than anyone.” The cat rubbed the back of his neck for a second, before shaking his head away of any negative thoughts.

“Yep! Aha, don’t worry. I can be slow….i really like clawing my way through the lower decks, though. I’ll say that much. It’s kind of like, free-running! Buuuttttt..I can stay at your pace.” The cat playfully winked, now standing kinda next to Ryker. “Ready?”

Ryke chuckled and nodded. Runt’s enthusiasm was, if not infectious, certainly cheering up his morning. “As I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

He set off. His pace was faster than a jog but not an all out run. While he didn’t like it, he did know how to run, and several more exercise-inclined friends had told him he was a natural runner. Personally, he thought they were full of it, and had only told him that to trap him into more running.

“Lieutenant Black is a good counsellor,” he commented. “You’re in good hands with her.”

“Thanks!” Runt was a natural runner if there was one. Agile, quick, and even narrowly missing some people: he was a few steps away from being reckless. But, thankfully, was not. “I really enjoy my time with her. She’s helped a lot!”

It was almost comical how quickly Runt would get ahead of Ryker, realize he’s pretty far away, and backtrack. “Y’know, you’re a damn good runner. It’s a sport back on earth, right? Track?” The cat smiled. “Ever since I learned to play basketball, I’ve been pretty hooked with seeing what other sports exist.”

“Thanks. And yeah, track,” Ryke nodded, settling into his pace and lengthening his stride a little. “They call it a sport but I think they’re delusional. Now boxing… that’s a sport.”

For all his running off and backtracking, Runt was actually a good running partner. “You have good reflexes,” Ryke added, nodding back over his shoulder at three yeomen Runt had managed not to bowl over.

“Comes with the feline in me, I like to think. Maybe the Kitizan?” He shrugs, nearly toppling over a science officer. “Sorry! Coming through!”

He cocked his head to the side at the mention of boxing, however. “People find fighting one another a sport, right…it seemed awfully….eh, in my opinion. But I’m a bit of a hater, what can I say?”

Ryke smiled as they turned into a new corridor. Thankfully this one was less populated, so there were fewer people for Runt to almost mow down.

“It’s a traditional sport from Earth, seen as a gentleman’s sport. There’s a lot of discipline to the training, which is what draws me to it. And…” He shrugged. It wasn’t a secret that he dealt with the more risky and flighty patients on the counselling list. “Well, I deal with violence a fair bit in my job, so occasionally I need to be able to counter it. Usually not with boxing, but it helps to be able to move easily.”

Runt slowed his pace a little, furrowing his brow at the idea of fighting people for a sport. Truly, the cat couldn’t get behind it.

“I guess that works. Now—sparring? That’s something I’ve grown accustomed to doing back home. I have ten siblings, after all….BUT, why not ask the head of security to get lessons? I’m sure they’d understand for medical detail.”

The cat suddenly jumped up on a bit of a larger ledge with plants above it, seamlessly running through them (albeit making a few rock for a second or two).

”Odd question, what’s your favorite fruit?”

“Oh, Security makes sure to give us all training.” Ryke smiled. He didn’t add that sometimes they helped people with far more extensive combat experience, which meant they had to do expanded training as well.

“Fruit…” He paused for a moment before answering. The pace was fast enough that he could talk, just… if he was careful about it. “It would have to be melon. Honeydew, not watermelon. You?”

“Gross.” Runt stuck out his tongue playfully. “That’s the WORST choice you could’ve picked.”

Runt ran ahead for a moment—seemingly leaving Ryker behind. But as Ryker came around the corner, the cat stood there with two ice cold smoothies in his hand.

”Ta-da! Honeydew and Mango smoothie, packed to the brim with protein and energy. One for you, one for me. I like to take good breaks during my runs!” He smiles like a goof, tail swishing side to side.

”Besides. Feels like we may need it.”

“Oh, stars, definitely. Thank you,” Ryke slowed to a stop, accepting the smoothie. It was good, better than he expected.

“I really am getting too old for early mornings,” he admitted, groaning as he rubbed his lower back. Although it was less about the early mornings than the late night he’d pulled last night.

“So… what do you do onboard?” He asked Runt, leaning against the wall as they drank their smoothies.

“Mm, odd jobs. Or technical work. I want to go into the research and science field—“ Siiiiiiip. “But I’m taking some time here to learn other trades. HOPEFULLY, my first starship will have me be able to do both!”

The cat takes a big gulp. “I’m just happy to be in starfleet, personally.”

“Well, it’s a big station, so there are a lot of departments you can shadow to learn from. Are there any you’re particularly drawn to?” Ryke asked. He’d been lucky when he’d joined the fleet. Not only had he been much older than most, but he’d also known that he wanted to be a counselor.

He used his straw to smoosh down the last of the fruit in the smoothie. He wouldn’t run so much as just roll down the corridors after this.

“Not particularly.” Runt finished up his smoothie, tossing it back to the replicator. “I specialize in Chemistry, though. My best class—even got a little nomination for it!”

the cat smiled at Ryker. “But I’m always open to learn new things. If you want me being completely honest, I’d love to be a captain at some point. Maybe a first officer.”

Ryke finished the smoothie and his cup followed Runt’s into the recycler. He rolled his neck and shoulder, making it click as he nodded. “That’s a good ambition. Perhaps on a science ship? Shall we?” He said, indicating the corridor ahead of them. He was going to have to keep an eye on the time if he was going to make his first consultation.

“Sure! Race you to the first bathrooom!~” Runt called, suddenly taking off down the hall and leaving Ryke in the dust.

Ryke chuckled and set off after him. He hadn’t been sure how he would take to a running group, but this wasn’t so bad. Not so bad at all.

She has the talent, but I’m not sure if she has the guts.

These words haunted Luna, more than anything her bullies or her family (some of whom were one and the same) had ever said to her. This phrase comprised the closing of her last psychiatric evaluation before graduating from Starfleet Academy. It was her opinion that she’d proven she had the guts. But this was one of the many issues that arose from being an overtly shy stammerer with all of the physical prowess of a cushion. You were constantly underestimated, constantly having to prove yourself. Sure, cushions were soft and comfortable and that was no bad thing, but when it came down to it a cushion was as useful in a fight as… well as Luna was. And that was a problem. But Luna, despite outward appearances that might suggest different, had plenty of courage and determination. It was with both in her heart she set her fears aside and walked into one of Lieutenant Ashfield’s self-defence classes.

These were a different beast from the kind of training Security might provide. Geared towards patients of Starbase Bravo’s counselling team, these were designed to help those unfamiliar, intimidated or traumatised by combat, aggression and danger. They could overcome their hurdles in the safe environment of the counselling suite with counsellors present to aid them should they need. It wasn’t often that one of the Counselling staff took the course, but after her encounter with a prisoner and with some of the more unpredictable patients the Counselling team had to deal with, Luna had quickly concluded it would be a boon to be less hampered by displays of force or hostility. Secretly she thought she’d never get used to it but being less useless was appealing, if only to assuage judgement from fellow officers. Luna offered Ryke a gentle smile.

“Lieutenant Ashfield,” she greeted him a professional kind of warmth.

“Hey Luna!” His smile was wide and broad as he crossed the mats to greet her. “It’s just Ryke here. We’re all one and the same on the mats.”

He leaned in a little to murmur, making sure that his voice was too low for the patients already assembled at the side of the mats. Half looked like they were ready to bolt at the slightest noise, while the rest were doing the stiff-backed ‘not bothered at all’ act that stood out like a sore thumb. “It helps with some of the guys if there’s no rank involved at the same time as they’re facing a fear of hostility. Gotta love ingrained societal expectations, eh?”

Luna tried not to look too embarrassed by the snafu and failed at it slightly.

“Oh, s… sorry,” she replied, in just as low a voice. “Of course. Makes sense.” Luna could see rank might be a problem, but she took solace in being ‘Lieutenant Black’. Lieutenant Black was a Starfleet Officer. Luna was just a timid girl from Setlik two. She scanned the assembled officers and crew Ryke referred to. Most of them looked how she felt. Still, it was his room and his class, he knew best. “Ryke…” It felt odd. It really did feel odd.

He winked. “You’ll be fine, promise.”

Moving to the center of the mats, he stood and waited for a moment for those assembled to look at him. “Good morning, everyone. Some of you know me, some of you might not. My name is Ryke, and while I am a counselor, I’m not here in that capacity today. Instead, I’m going to be your instructor for today for this self-defense class.”

Some of the tense shoulders in the room eased at the revelation he was also a counselor, but he was used to that reaction. He was a big guy, he knew how threatening he could be. He’d traded on that fact way back when…

“So, just to recap. This is going to be a specialist self-defense class. Most of you know the basics of self-defense, but we’re going to be switching it up today. I’m going to be adding aggression and hostility to the situation to enable you all to experience and learn to handle that in a safe environment.”

As he expected, the tension was back in the room as they all looked at him with trepidation. No outright fear, though, so that was good.

“And because this is a safe space,” he added. “We are going to be using safe words and safe signals. When we’re in the middle of a scenario, if you give me either of those, then we stop, instantly. Okay?”

Had Luna been a slightly more dynamic, self-assured person she might have mentioned to the group that while she was staff, she was also taking the class herself. But there was a large group of people, all looking somewhere roughly in her direction. This was her nemesis. Besides, if she had been a more dynamic self-assured person, she wouldn’t have even been there in the first place. Luna stood awkwardly, not with the students, somewhat behind Ryke, observing the reactions. They mirrored her own. Luna had had many new experiences recently, in her mind she simply wasn’t sure how she’d react to this.

There was the smallest of murmurs from around the room. Ryke just smiled. “There are counselors in and around the room; some are here for support, some are here to help me. Some,” he winked. “Might even be here assessing me, so be sure and make me look good, okay?”

He clapped his hands. “Right, so… safe words and signals. We’re going to use ‘banana’ as a safe word. It’s not a word that often comes up in a hostile situation, not outside of kids’ cartoons anyway, so it’s a safe pick. Now, if you can’t speak for whatever reason, then two taps on me, the floor… whatever. Failing that, stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry at me. You do that, everything stops. Sound good?”

Luna laughed nervously. Sure she was on edge, but funny was funny.

“Banana?” She said quietly as a joke, trying to lighten the mood for the patients.

Ryke chuckled, casting a smile over his shoulder at her. He knew she was nervous; it was written in every line of her small frame. He’d have to be really careful with her when it came to the actual scenarios.

“For a start off, we’re going to go through some attacks and defenses, just walking them through,” he said. “So I want you to partner up with each other. This section will just be the movements. Nice and easy, nothing to worry about.”

Nightmare. School all over again. Luna getting chosen last. She intentionally waited for the pairing up to be decided so she could go with whoever was left over. She played it as if it was intentional and she was thinking of that person who was left. She wasn’t. She was scared, as ever. As it happened there was nobody left over. Luna looked at Ryke awkwardly.

“Always the same,” he grinned at her, motioning her over to an empty corner of the mats. “No one ever picks me. Okay, guys, watch in. We’re going to start with a basic hold and release. Now, say a guy like me grabs someone Luna’s size… problem right?”

He moved closer to Luna, motioning that he was going to step in and wrap an arm around her neck, his hand on her opposite shoulder.

Luna indicated this was okay, her eyes apparently not having got the message her lips were giving to Ryke. They watched the arm as it moved into place, noting his bicep was a similar size to her head. This, he, was a whole different world from what she was used to.

“So… the nicey-nicey self-defense peeps are going to tell you all kinds of ‘nice’ things to do. I’m not.” His voice hardened a little. He wasn’t just interested in getting them past their blocks with aggression, but in giving them some real-world defense skills. “If you find yourself in this situation, you are going to be brutal. You are going to fight back, gouge, and stamp if you have to, okay? So Luna, if this happens, this is what you’re going to do…”

Quickly, he coached her through the hold and how to break it. He was a big guy, and he always made sure to wear kinetic-reflect sparring gear during these sessions, so it didn’t matter if the students actually hit him.

It wasn’t easy to believe that anything Luna did would help her to be free of someone so much stronger than she. Fortunately the sexism of her childhood worked both ways. Don’t get rough with your sister were the standing orders from her parents. Even so Luna knew well how much stronger her brothers were and they, while taller than she was by a few inches weren’t near Ryke’s height. But still, she did as instructed moving down and to her right to loosen Ryke’s grip, twisting and taking him off-balance so he fell, being forced to release her. Luna beamed.

“I did it!” She said happily, offering her colleague a hand adorned with french tips of emerald green to help him up. “P… promise you didn’t just let me do it?”

Her joy was infectious and he grinned as he let her ‘help’ him up to his feet. “You did do it! And no, I didn’t just let you. Here, watch…”

He moved her into the same position as he’d been in a moment before, albeit without her arm around his throat because she’d never have reached. Instead, he had her loop her arm around his waist to approximate the movement.

“So when I twist around and step in here, with my leg here behind your knee,” he said, turning while still holding her arm in place. “And I push, there’s nowhere else for your attacker to go.” He only took her a little off balance, holding her easily. “It’s biomechanics… the body only works in certain ways and you can use that. See? So that was totally all you.”

Putting her back on her feet, he backed up out of her personal space. She seemed okay, but he wanted to be sure.

Luna smiled. She was finding this exhilarating. She’d never been able to take classes such as these on her own terms before.

Turning, he looked around the room. “Okay, people… now you all try it, exactly as you saw Luna and I go through the movements.”

Luna watched as chatter erupted around the room and the rest of the pupils started to work out who was going first, checking each other’s boundries and working on the correct positions. She decided to share her earlier observation with Ryke.

“I’ve never b… been able to do this in a safe environment before. This… was a great idea.”

“Yeah? You’re doing great!”

Ryke had been a little concerned about Luna at the start of the session, which was one reason he’d controlled the room so she was partnered with him. He’d watched her closely during the session though and realised she was far more resilient than she gave herself credit for. She just needed a little encouragement that she was on the right track.  

“Do you want to go through it again?” he asked. “Then we can move them all onto the scenario-based portion of the session?”

Luna nodded.

“Okay.”

 “Warp Core breach in three minutes.”

A cold shiver ran down Vekora’s spine. The vice-like grip around her chest tightened, and her quick, shallow breaths did nothing to fill her lungs with oxygen. Instead, toxic smoke filled her airways, causing her to cough violently and reach blindly for support, finding it in the person next to her. 

“What do we do, Commander?”, the frightened voice of the young woman who Vekora was holding onto, asked, trembling and coughing, before transforming to a shriek as a nearby conduit sparked and overloaded.

Unable to speak, Vekora gripped Fisher’s arm. Her fingers dug into the charred uniform and the raw flesh underneath, any ounce of strength used to drag her towards a workstation. With each step, she felt laboured vibrations translating through the decks, growing in intensity before the ship rocked violently, inertial dampers failing for just a second.  

The dark grey eddies of smoke made it almost to see, leaving flashes of scarlet from one of the still-functioning terminals as their only means of orientation. On their way, they almost stumbled over something. A body, still warm, but devoid of the life that had filled it mere seconds ago, expression frozen in a mixture of incredulity and terror. 

“Here.”, Vekora managed to wheeze. The terminal they had reached was damaged, but functional. Its readout flickered, half of it had turned dark, but the underlying technology was functional. 

“I.. what do I do? I … please!” Fisher cried out. Her eyes wide in panic, and Vekora’s body involuntarily tensed, jaw set, teeth clenched, hands drawn into fists. When she forced herself to take a breath to speak, the electric scent of burnt circuits seemed to set her lungs on fire. 

“You tell me, Cadet.”, her voice came hoarse and ragged, barely rising above the discordant alerts and loud pulse emanating from the warp core. “This is your area.”

“We… we need to seal the micro fractures.”, Fisher tried, though sounding nowhere as confident in her abilities as she should be. 

Vekora’s nostrils flared. Her frustration had built to anger, unjustified as it was, and the dark spots that already impeded her vision seemed to grow with it. 

“How are we doing that?”, Vekora urged. Training and instinct were screaming at her to put an end to this, that Fisher wasn’t built for such situations, that this was a mistake. 

Fisher squeezed her eyes shut. “We… c-.. can manually seal them, but we need to lock down the magnetic constrictors.”

“Then do that!”

Through the thickening smoke, Vekora could barely see what Fisher was doing as her fingers sprinted back and forth across the display, but noted the cadet repeating the same steps over and over before they took. 

“Warp Core Breach in two minutes.”

As if to underscore that warning, a tremor rumbled through the ship’s superstructure, sending a nearby officer to his knees. 

“You know what to do!”, Vekora barked. She had to settle her emotions through conscious effort, slowing her breathing, releasing the tension in her body. There was no point in yelling. 

“Fix the microfractures manually..?”, Fisher asked, despite the suggestion coming from her in the first place. “But… but nothing is going to happen to me, right?”

“I can’t promise that.”, Vekora hissed.

“But…”

There were tears forming in Fisher’s eyes, threatening to spill over. And she wasn’t moving. 

“Get in there!” Vekora replied, and this time, she did yell. She tried to stop herself from simply shoving the Engineer into the direction of the warp core, but despite several years of Starfleet training, her old self had long won over. 

 “Warp Core Breach in one minute.”

“NOW!”

Fisher stumbled towards the toolbox that had once belonged to the Chief Engineer, and then hectically made her way to the warp core, but they had lost valuable time already. Too much. Vekora watched her standing within the barriers, tools raised, the first microfracture sealed, only to have it replaced by several others.

There was no getting out of this now. 

“I.. this.. I can’t… this isn’t working!”

Vekora didn’t even have time for a reply before blinding light erupted through the fractures, ripping the core apart with a violent brilliance. Jagged beams slashed across the room, for a split second only, before bathing terminals, officers and Vekora herself in the harsh light of impending destruction.

She closed her eyes. Not in fear, but in resignation.

When she opened them again, the tremors that had run through the ship had passed, and she once more felt her feet on solid ground. The noise had died down abruptly, as had the thick smoke and the taste of burnt circuitry. Around her, the metallic grid structure of the holodeck remained cold and unaware of just how badly this simulation had gone.

Vekora took a deep breath, allowing exhaustion to wash over her like a warm wave. The she turned to Fisher, who stood several feet away from her, wiping tears from her face. 

“I’m… sorry.” the young woman managed.

“Don’t be.”, Vekora said as she caught her breath, and regained her composure. She straightened, and tucked an out-of-place strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I… am. I failed because I hesitated… and … and because I started crying.”

“No.”, Vekora shook her head. “You succeeded because you did it anyway. That one minute wouldn’t have made a difference. Your mistake was not challenging the Chief Engineer when he redirected power from the shields.”

She decided not to address the crying part.

“But it was an order.”, the cadet argued. 

Vekora gave a slow nod. “And all you could have done was advise him of the consequences.”

“Would he have listened?” 

“No.”

“So this … was always going to happen?”

“Yes.”, Vekora replied indifferently. “Or rather – yes, most likely.”

Fisher turned away, her firsts clenched in anger. “That’s… unfair..”

Vekora’s voice softened, but only ever so slightly. She understood the other woman’s frustration, but no one had ever pretended that this was supposed to be fair. Starfleet coddled their cadets, but she wasn’t going to do the same. After all, Fisher had come to her for help in preparing for her practical instructions. 

“It is. But it’s also realistic. I am not measuring success by the outcome, but by what you as an individual do.”, she explained calmly. 

“Is that the Cardassian way of teaching?”Fisher spat, folding her arms in front of her chest, and still not looking at Vekora.

“It is.”, Vekora sighed. She had been taught in similar ways, and it had taught her to rise above her fears. It had made her efficient.

But at the same time, she had hated it.

She had hated her mentors, hated the training scenarios that so often didn’t have the comfort of holodeck safeties, and hated how she had been left to deal with her feelings afterwards.

Perhaps this kind of teaching wasn’t as valuable as she had once thought it to be.

She looked toward Fisher, who was headed towards the doors. 

“Wait.”, she said, and of course, Fisher stopped in her tracks and turned back around to her.

“Let’s… find a more pleasant program and… talk.”, she suggested. The words sounded strange coming from her. She wasn’t known for being touchy-feely. 

Fisher hesitated, likely thinking the same. Then, she gave a small nod, and an even smaller smile. “I’d like that. “

Davidson had been working to try and compile some information regarding enemy movements on the Federation borders for the monthly briefing when her system went down and while trying the little bit of technical knowledge she had no luck at getting the system back up. She cursed silently as this was not what she needed to happen today.

She grudgingly pulled out her PADD and made a request for the engineering department to come and fix the system, though it was classified the need for engineers allowed them to work on it because of the system integration. She sighed and looked at the desk seeing her pile of work and not being able to do it, as each station was locked to a specific user for security purposes.

A nervous knock at the nearby desk divider interrupted her musings in the silent office, as the slender form of Log leant out from behind the slim glass privacy screen. The young Tellerite shuffled awkwardly as he slung the engineering tool kit into view around the end of the curved desk.

“I was just down the corridor,” he muttered, motioning to the tool kit with the long fingers of his empty hand. “You asked for a security-certified engineer?”

Log took two-minute steps forward into the centre of the room, his short figure made even smaller by a slight deferential bowing of his head and shoulders.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Davidson shook her head mainly because this was not what she suspected, but also that she had to deal with these issues. She looked at the newcomer and motioned at the now-frozen screen.

”This thing has not been working for the past two hours and when I tried to fix it I didn’t get very far. I don’t need to tell you everything in here is highly classified. You have been cleared but that still means you cannot try to access just anything. If you do it’s my job to report it.”

She wasn’t trying to be mean, but this was one of those serious situations.

“Don’t worry Lieutenant, I’ve had plenty of confidential debriefs pass by under my nose. Couldn’t tell you what any of them said if you asked.” Log allowed a playful twinkle to hover on the corner of his lips before crossing the office and with a quick flick of the wrist causing the console’s rear covering to pop open. Quickly he disappeared into its inner workings, a waterfall of half-spoken whispers tumbling from his obscured face like the ebb and flow of the sea on the shore.

“What are you up to… That doesn’t… What are you doing over there…”

With a mustard arm he rummaged in the nearby toolkit, the myriad of glowing and pulsing devices clattering against one another with a series of gentle tinkles. Eventually, he alighted on a long green cylinder covered in familiar square runic characters and twirled it in his hands, adjusting the setting blindly with his long fingers. The slender tapering device chirped and whined as he made minute adjustments, his interrogative mutterings continuing to echo inside the case in a dull baritone.

Davidson looked at what the engineer was doing and immediately went over and stopped them. She pointed at the tool “That is not an approved tool to be using on authorized equipment. What do you think you’re doing?” She had visible anger on her face and a voice that indicated something was wrong.

“Oh! Sorry Lieutenant, it’s an old Tellarite depolariser. My mum sent it to me for my birthday a few months ago. It’ some much more efficient-” Log lept down from the console and raced over to Davidson with all the excitement of a child.

“- and isn’t the interface just so simple and ergonomic?” He moved some sliders effortlessly with the pad of his wide thumbs, causing the device to emit a glissando of tones into the room. “They really don’t make them like this anymore, apparently it was my grandfather’s. Which is weird because I don’t ever remember him picking up a tool in his whole life.” Log’s bushy eyebrows crawled up his forehead as he shrugged his shoulders dismissively, before making his way back to the desk, the long green tool rolling back and forth in his hands.

Davidson stopped looking at the very excited engineer and shook her head “I am not really someone who gets excited about tools, but I can see you’re excited and from all indications it doesn’t seem like the tool will cause any issues. I will continue to allow you to use it.”

She wasn’t sure what the engineer thought by bringing unapproved equipment into this section, but she thought about it and realized it brought no harm so she would not report it or cause any issues. The truth was, she had sometimes done things before getting into the position she was now, but it took time to get to where she understood.

“I do have a question though, what makes you so excited? Even with a simple fix like this you seem like a kid who is doing something that they love to do. I never felt that way…I love my job but I never have your excitement level, in fact, I haven’t had that for many years.”

A dull thud interrupted the chirps and whistles that emanated from Log’s tool kit as the young ensign’s head made contact with the inside of the console. Slowly withdrawing from the slim grey unit his face was a visage of confusion.

“What makes me so excited?” He motioned to the surrounding room, his arms making large circles in the air. “Everything!” Grabbing another tool from his kit, he dashed across to Davidson’s side.

“This thing for example,” he motioned towards her with the nondescript white pyramid in his hand. “It wirelessly reconfigures the bio circuitry of the gel packs, which is a bag of organic goo that processes calculations at near light speed using the architecture of neurons and synapses.”

Log dashed across towards the console and tapped its lid demonstrably.

“This console is connected to a massive system of similar ones that allow me to talk to my grandmother on Tellar Prime in essentially real-time, despite being trillions of kilometres away, because the messages are transmitted by bending the fabric of subspace.”

Log dramatically pressed a small button on the desk surface, causing the small blackout filter of the window in the corner of the office to shimmer away, revealing the splendour of the nearby Paulson nebula. Its vast purple form was ribbed with gaseous bones of red and crimson as it filled the horizon beyond the green sphere of Mellstoxx III.

“Which I have to do because I live in a giant floating city, with thousands of other people… in space.”

Log shook his arms towards the purple starscape beyond the window with barely contained energy.

“I live, in… Space.” the young man’s smile was barely contained, beaming brighter than the nearby yellow star of Mellstoxx that glowed from beyond the verdant planet below.

“How could I not be excited?”

Davidson was amazed at the excitement of the younger officer, in fact, it made her smile as it wasn’t something she had seen in a long time. She looked out the windows and saw the beauty of the nebula and the reflection in her eyes brought her back to when she was a child.

Her mother was an astronomer and she was taught about the wonders of the stars at a young age. She loved looking through her mother’s telescope and she had seen such beauty sometimes it made her forget just what made her love space. She of course found a love for intelligence, but it doesn’t change her love for space. How she had forgotten it she couldn’t imagine.

She smiled at Log “Thank you, Ensign, for reminding me that sometimes it’s the small things that need to be appreciated. You have an incredible outlook and excitement and with work, I had seemingly forgotten that.” She went to her terminal and pulled up some images that she had taken of space through the years.

She gestured for Log to come look “This is something I don’t share often, but I love the beauty of space if you can tell here.”

The ensign’s form slipped out from the console with surprising ease, his small belly causing the desk to bow slightly as leaned over the top of its grey form.

“That’s beautiful lieutenant, you have a good eye for composition.” He tilted his head at an awkward angle. “The Arachnid nebula?”

He twiddled the old tool between his stout fingers as his mind began to visibly wander.

“My mother used to tell me it was full of Risian Spiders, that they floated through the nebula on gossamer webs a hundred kilometres long.” He let out a quiet sigh of childhood happiness as his eyes became glassy with the fond memory.

Davidson smiled at the compliment and looked at the Ensign. “Thank you for the reminder of the small things in life. Can we finish up so I can get these reports done?”

Log flicked a few switches on his antique tool, causing it to sing a short melody of high-pitched tones. Moments later the console flashed awake, the familiar seal of the Federation filling the screen.

“You’re reports await Lieutenant.” Log offered a smile as he scooped up the toolkit and made for the door. As he approached the edge of the room and the doors swished open, the young officer stopped and offered a look over his wide shoulders before nodding towards the small window.

“Don’t forget to enjoy the view.”

The spike of adrenaline was coursing through her veins. Jade had never done anything like this before but that would not stop her from helping. After taking a few seconds to peruse through items available for purchase at the kiosk, Jade reached out and grabbed the closest item to her. What was she to do now? She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She decided to just wait and starting examining what she had in her hand. This is not something she has ever seen before so she was genuinely curious.

From across the kiosk market, Nuni’s eyes locked onto Lieutenant Hart as she wove through the crowd. Her posture was composed, her gaze sharp, but something about the way she held herself made Nuni’s instincts prickle. Before he could focus on her any longer, a familiar voice broke through the din of market chatter.

“Commander Nuni,” Randor called out, sidling up with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Are you here to shop, or are you planning on falsely arresting me again?”

Nuni turned, giving Randor a cool smile, his tone unruffled but carrying an edge. “You know I don’t do ‘falsely,’ Randor.” His eyes flicked back to Lieutenant Hart for a brief moment before returning to the vendor. “But no, I’m here for something else. Information.”

Randor’s grin faltered as he crossed his arms. “Not happening,” he said quickly, his voice hardening.

Nuni’s smile never wavered, though his gaze sharpened. “That’s fine,” he said smoothly, his tone as calm as the sea before a storm. “But did I mention I’ve just been promoted to Deputy Director of Promenade Security?”

Randor’s posture stiffened. The playful arrogance he wore so well began to slip. He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well,” Nuni continued, his voice now a quiet thread of confidence, “all vending licenses have to pass through me before they’re approved. Just thought I’d mention it.” He gave a casual shrug, his smile widening just a touch as his gaze returned to Hart, who had now caught the attention of the marks.

Randor froze, his face drained of color. His jaw tightened as disbelief flashed in his eyes. “You wouldn’t…” he trailed off, his voice rising with shock.

Nuni cut him off with a soft, almost imperceptible chuckle. “Are you sure about that, Randor?”

Randor let out a deep breath, shoulders sagging as the weight of the conversation shifted in his mind. “What do you need?” His tone was resigned, though a flicker of wariness remained.

Nuni nodded almost imperceptibly toward Lieutenant Hart, still keeping his focus on her as he spoke. “That officer over there, the Human” he murmured, his words barely rising above the noise of the market. “The ones circling her—who are they?” His eyes never left the group of men trailing her, his every movement deliberate and observant.

Jade stiffened as she suddenly felt a too near presence beside her on her right side. She watched out of the corner of her eye as the man pretended to analyze an item lying on the stall counter near him. His eyes kept darting between the item and her. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t notice but she did. What is his deal? she thought to herself. Taking a step to her left and attempted to step away from the man, she noticed another man standing too close to her on her left. She hadn’t even noticed him approach.

The two men looked to be wearing almost identical clothing. Both men were wearing what looked to be very worn dark grey uniforms. She tried to focus and see if she could make out an emblem but it was no use. If there was an emblem at some point, it has long since wore off. The only evidence of an emblem is a slightly discolored spot on the dark grey uniform. Curiosity got the better of her and she looked up just in time to make direct eye contact with the man standing on her left. His face lit up with a big, devious smile and he winked at her with his left eye.

Wiping away the sweat starting to bead on her forehead, Jade didn’t know what to do next. She had not been trained for this type of situation. She made the only decision she could think of and stepped away from the kiosk and turned toward her companion. Jade held up the item she had been holding toward him. “You should get a look at this. I can’t decide if I want to purchase it or not. Maybe you should help me,” she called out.

Nuni’s eyes followed the scene as it played out, his body tensing ever so slightly. The instant she called out, he moved—his steps quick, almost too eager.

“Of course, honey,” he said, his voice dipping into a playful warmth as he closed the distance. His brows lifted, his head tilting just enough to feign intrigue. “What did you find?”

Instinctively, Jade stepped closer to the Commander when he approached. She wasn’t sure what these men were up to but she had an uneasy feeling in her gut. She held up the item she had been holding so that he could see it as well. “I think it’s a watch. Look, if I press this button here then a holograph appears above the watch face that looks to have several different functions. I think it’s a neat item but I’m not sure it’s worth spending that much for it. What do you think?” Jade inquired looking directly at the Commander and trying not to let her nervousness show through her facial expressions.

Why is suddenly so hot in here?…Jade thought to herself. She grabbed the collar of her uniform and adjusted it the best she could to provide some relief and air flow. Surely she couldn’t be the only feeling this way.

“What do I think?” Nuni echoed, his head tilting slightly. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I think you’re doing great. Could you maybe—”

A sharp voice crackled through his commbadge, cutting him off.

“Commander Nuni, this is Lieutenant Lima from Holding Area Three. We’ve completed our manual headcount—three heads short. Sending the data now.”

The air shifted. The three men trailing behind Lieutenant Hart stiffened, their movements suddenly too controlled, too deliberate. One swallowed hard. Another’s fingers twitched near his belt. A quick glance passed between them—silent, urgent.

Nuni’s expression remained unchanged, but his hand rose to his badge in one smooth motion. A double tap.

“No need—I know enough.” His voice was calm, measured, but edged with steel. Another tap, another channel. “Nuni to Security: Extra detail on the promenade. All officers present, converge on my location. Three fugitives—secure them. Rehabilitation priority.”

The moment the words left his mouth, the men sprang to life. One shoved past a passing officer, another vaulted over a railing, the third ducked into the crowd. A woman yelped as she was nearly knocked over. Bystanders turned, startled murmurs spreading like ripples in water.

Nuni exhaled through his nose, eyes tracking their retreat. Then, without missing a beat, he turned to Lieutenant Hart, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“Hope you haven’t done your cardio yet,” he said, already stepping forward. “I need you close—identify them as we go. That work for you?”

Jade’s pulse was hammering so loudly that she was positive the Commander could also hear it. She had not intended to be drug into this but now she was in the middle of it and she didn’t have a choice did she? You can do this. You will not be afraid…she thought to herself. She had used this mantra since she was about fourteen years old. She had read an old fictional book where the female main character used it to drum up courage during difficult times. She liked it and had decided to use it herself. It had always served her well and it would do so now.

“You are in luck. I’m in need of cardio training today. Lead the way and I’ll do the best I can.” Jade spoke more confident than she actually felt. Her nerves seemed to have worked their way up into her throat and she was starting to feel a tad nauseous. She swallowed hard and hoped the sick feeling would go away.

Nuni darted around the corner, his feet pounding against the pavement, just a few meters ahead of Lieutenant Hart. His pulse quickened with the anticipation of the chase—until his eyes caught the unexpected scene ahead.

All three men. The ones he had been expecting to track across the promenade, turning every corner in a drawn-out game of cat and mouse—were already surrounded. Security officers stood in a tight formation, hands on their weapons, the men’s arms twisted behind their backs as cuffs clicked into place.

Nuni’s stride faltered for a split second. A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he slowed to a halt, his gaze flicking over to Lieutenant Hart.

“Well, Lieutenant,” he said, the amusement clear in his voice, “looks like your cardio can take a rain check.”

Jade let out a long exhale of breath. “You don’t say, Commander. I don’t think I’ve ever been that scared before in my life. I don’t know how you do this every day.” She stopped walking to take a second and catch her breath and slow her heart rate down.

“Well, I can say that was a lot of excitement for one day.” Jade gave the Commander a small smile.

Nuni gave a nod of appreciation, his grin spreading as he wiped a bead of sweat from his temple, still catching his breath from the unexpected turn of events. His eyes flickered to Lieutenant Hart, a glint of mischief in them. “Good work, Lieutenant,” he said, his voice smooth, almost teasing. “I’ll make sure your CO hears about this.”

He let the words linger for a moment, his gaze shifting to the security detail, then back to her. The crowd around them had begun to thin, the pulse of the promenade continuing, but Nuni’s smile didn’t fade.

“And,” he added with a quick glance that spoke volumes, “if you ever get tired of the paperwork and decide you want a little more action, you know where to find me.”

The soft laugh that followed was brief, yet light enough to suggest that the offer wasn’t as offhand as it seemed. He gave a half-smirk, turned, and strode away, his footsteps blending into the crowd.

K’retok bellowed with laughter and punched Aloran hard in the chest. The Vulcan shook with the impact, rocking back on his chair and frowning at his Klingon friend. No-one in the Pit and Pendulum took any notice, everyone engrossed in their own conversations or focused on their thoughts and their drinks. They were sat in the corner of the gothic bar, slightly in shadow, conspiratorially if it were not for the frequent loud outbursts from the Klingon and the occasionally surprising reciprocity from the Vulcan.

“You are too composed to have been lost and afraid! I do not believe you!”, K’retok looked at Aloran with challenge and humour.

“Not all fear is physical, K’retok. Nor all bravery”.

The Klingon scoffed and leaned back in his chair, taking another swig of his drink and motioning for Aloran to continue.

“YMany years ago I was adrift, untethered from society and barely holding onto my sanity. Loss, without the glory of battle, the meaning of sacrifice, and lives cut short, can be as significant a stranding as being the sole survivor of a shipwreck”, Aloran sipped his drink, wetting his lip as he leant forward on the table to begin the story.

2369, in the wilderness of the colony planet Jurush.

Aloran had not expected to feel so profoundly alone. He was a Vulcan, he was proud of his mental discipline, he had meditated since a child and he was now well into his seventh decade. Aloran had spent weeks in isolation on many occasions in his diplomatic career and had felt no more discomfort than when in a plaza crowded with people. Loneliness was something he did not feel and his feelings were always disciplined and controlled. But this was different. He was lost in a wilderness of the mind.

If someone had been observing him, Aloran would appear unchanged from his normal composure. The Vulcan’s face was at peace, showing some signs of age but no signs of agitation. His muscles were relaxed, his body at rest, his hands cupped together and held at his chest.

Inside of his mind, he was screaming. The normal thoughts and consciousness was there – he was present and aware – but nestled in the background was a piercing shout. Aloran did not think it was an auditory hallucination because it was not a sound he was hearing, it was an experience at the back of his consciousness and it was profoundly disturbing. He imagined his conscious self being a small boat in the wider ocean of his mind: for all of his life the ocean was effortlessly calm, a reassuring presence upon which he could sail according to his thoughts, adventuring with logic games, frontier exploration as he considered the strategies for his next negotiation, or meditating in placid coves.

The ocean upon which his little boat resided was now in the midst of the fiercest storm imaginable. Giant waves rose up and threatened to engulf him, treacherous outcroppings of rock reared up and threatened to dash him to bloody pieces, sea monsters lurked beneath and tossed his little boat high into the air before it came crashing back down into the swirling currents.

“As you can see, ambassador, the ruins of the temple are quite complete. If you follow the ridge-line over here you can s—”

Aloran interrupted the lively and energetic Bajoran historian, “I was never an ambassador, Dorrell, and I have not been a diplomat for several years. As you know.”

“Yes, but if you just follow the ridge-line you can see several unexpected spires! They are almost as they would have appeared over a millenia ago. How remarkable is that?”

“Remarkable”, Aloran looked at the spires that Dorrell was pointing at. They were fine examples of architecture, with what at this distance looked to be resting on large stone carvings of grotesquely enlarged heads. He imagined what his father would have made of them, no doubt an astute observation of why the manner in which they had been built meant that they would survive for thousands of years. His own knowledge on the topic was secondhand and not of much use.

“Thank you, Dorrell, I can continue my observations alone”, Aloran placed his left hand on the shoulder of the man, a friendly gesture, “I will see you back at the villa and we can discuss all of this well into the night. But for now, I require solitude”. Aloran had no intention of discussing his observations with Dorrell but knew the man would not leave without such an assurance.

Dorrell looked at Aloran with disappointment and concern, but he nodded, “I’ll see you later, Aloran, and take care as you go poking around”.

Aloran watched Dorrell pick up the rucksack he had discarded on a nearby rock, look once more at the Vulcan, then turn and start walking away down the path they had come. He observed the back of the man closely, mentally noting the cracked leather, the fine quality boots with worn heels, the utility belt around his waist with a variety of sensor equipment. Aloran did so as an exercise – the exercise he had done a thousand times or more – to see if the roaring scream in the background of his mind impaired his cognition. So far, it had not. The observation was not particularly reassuring, he assumed that something would break in his mind eventually and that when it did, he would simply trick himself into believing that all was as it should be.

The logical course of action would have been to seek help, medical, perhaps, or a mind-meld with one of the many spiritual leaders on Vulcan that still insisted on sending him subspace messages. He had read them all, diligently, and never replied to any. Aloran’s isolation did nothing to lessen his incurable desire for as much information as possible. Similarly, he was pragmatic enough to realise that, unless he chose to end his life, he should continue to communicate adequately with the people he met, and the people he needed, in order to continue travelling.

The best way to stay independent, Aloran had determined, was to attract as little attention as possible. He could not clearly recall why it was an imperative to remain independent, detached from society, but the strength of his conviction was so powerful that to interrogate the origin seemed pointless. But the loneliness was as hard to tolerate as the raging, unrelenting screaming at the edge of his thoughts. Why was travelling just as important?

His intellect, long his friend and the most dependable asset he had ever had, was not as clear-sighted as it had been. Aloran was self-aware enough to feel the difference but was at a loss as to what to do about it. With the exception that he must be the one to do something about it and that no-one else could be, should be, relied upon. The loneliness was necessary and the loneliness was agonising.

Aloran walked on within the ruins. He had sought them out, like he had sought out many others across the Alpha and Beta Quadrants, because they were understood to be the primary religious compound of an earlier civilisation. He had searched more temples, shrines, churches, memorials, and relics than he could recall and none of them had been right.

He encountered many people because talking with many people is often necessary to travel and secure authorisation to visit sites of historical and spiritual significance. Aloran tried not to lie to them, but certainly told them as little as possible. Himself being so adept at negotiation made it easy to avoid subjects, to counter with a curious aside, or to simply look at them silently until the moment to answer their question had passed.

A rock caught under his foot and he stumbled forward, gaining momentum, a haphazard run forward in an effort to find his balance. Failing to do so, Aloran crashed down into the undergrowth, he pushed his hands out to steady him but the ground fell away as he did so. He grasped frantically for a stable hold but the earth seemed to fall away faster and faster.

The freefall was unexpected and nauseating.

The collision with ice-cold water took what breath remained.

Coming to a stop on the hard stone surface beneath the water was a painful, sickeningly final thud.

Aloran could taste blood before he could see the green liquid swirling and mixing within the luminescent water he was lying in. The pool was not deep but he had swallowed a fair amount nonetheless, he could taste the sweetness of it alongside the sharp flavour of his blood. He carefully sat up, noting how his body was shaking but seemed to be responding well. Nothing broken. He looked around, taking the measure of where he was.

Aloran could see that he was in a room built of finely-carved stone – the same local stone that built the temples he had explored earlier – with a pool of water, no more than a foot deep, in the centre of the room. Tiers of what he assumed were seating lined three of the walls and on the fourth was an intricately-carved mural. He blinked some more of the water out of his eyes. The mural followed the same religious principles he had seen elsewhere, appearing to depict groups making a journey from one realm of existence to the other.

“Father, you will never leave here”.

Aloran turned sharply toward the soft young voice. Too sharply because the pain from the fall blurred his vision.

“Father, you will never leave here”.

Aloran blinked, and blinked again. He tried to stand but all he achieved was to splash around in the small pool of brightly-coloured water.

“You are alone”.

Aloran closed his eyes and attempted to centre his thoughts and find an anchor, some clarity about his situation, “I am alone. Who are you?”

“You will never leave here if you are alone”.

Opening his eyes he tried to focus on the person speaking but the shapes were tantalisingly out of focus. He looked at the stone walls behind the figure but they too were blurred lines. He scanned the room even though doing so made the nausea significantly worse. There was no apparent entrance or exit and he could not see any opening above him. But he was certain that he had fallen into this place.

“You will never leave here if you are alone”.

He steadied his breath, counting as he inhaled and exhaled, “There does not appear to be an exit”, he said to the figure, “And yet I fell”.

“You fell out of the world many years before you came here, father”.

“Why do you call me father?”, Aloran’s mind was reestablishing some awareness, it felt like he was fighting to concentrate, “E’Shal?”

“You cast yourself adrift, father. Sorrow. Pain. You hide. You will never leave here if you hide. You will never leave here if you are alone”.

Aloran grimaced, turning his face away as he tried to look directly at the figure addressing him, using his daughter’s voice, “E’Shal is dead. You are not E’Shal”.

“When did you last speak my name? When did you last speak my name to another person? You are trapped”.

“I am not trapped”, Aloran tried again to concentrate on his surroundings but so many feelings were fighting for his attention. He tried to observe a detail, to gather some focus, but all he could feel was abject terror. Cold, cold, horror, “I am trapped”.

Aloran began to panic. He could feel his heart rate increasing, he could hear his pulse pounding, he tried again to stand but he had no balance. He blinked again, but it was tears now obscuring his vision. He wept openly. The taste of the strange water, his blood and now his tears was a confusing medley of sensations. He looked around, searching for some way out of this stone room and its intensity, but could see no way to leave.

“You have imagined a prison and have lived in that place for many years. You have been in so many places, searching, but you have always remained in the same place. You will not leave here if you are alone”.

“I choose to be alone!” shouted Aloran, spit, tears, blood and water catching on his chin, “That is the logical course!”

“It is not. If you make that choice you will never leave this place”.

“Why should I leave!”, he was crying openly but the strength of resistance was beginning to ebb and flow away from him, “Why should I leave?” he said more mildly.

“You may stay. You will die. Some will remember you, some have already forgotten. If you stay, you will never remember”

“I do not wish to remember”, as Aloran spoke the words he felt the rising panic return, “I do wish to remember!”, he panicked at the thought of never again looking at the memories of his family, “I do not want to be alone”.

Aloran blinked again and looked around. The sickness was passing and he could more clearly make out the surroundings. He firmly planted one hand on the stone beneath the water and pushed himself to a crouching position. He looked around again, seeing light from one corner of the ceiling. The roof had long ago caved inward and it became clear to him that he had fallen in through that opening, knocking loose the earth and rock that had obscured the hole.

“I do not want to be alone”, he whispered softly, looking for the figure that had spoken to him but she was nowhere in the room. The room was empty and quiet, with a slight dampness in the air and an old, moist taste.

2402, in the Pit and Pendulum, Starbase Bravo.

K’retok was staring at Aloran with a serious expression, his hand around his mug but he made no motion to drink, “You glimpsed Sto-vo-kor”.

“I hallucinated in a pool used for religious rites”, Aloran smiled gently at K’retok, “But I saw what was necessary to honour the fallen and to find some peace in this long life. I could have remained lost forever in that place. But the cost was too great”.

As he walked towards the counselor’s office during his first day at Starfleet Academy, hands clasped behind his back, Yajat was thinking to himself about his past and how it had shaped him. He waited outside the counselor’s office, hoping that the one medical secret he withheld would not get exposed to the public…

Lieutenant Seta had seen it all – especially in first-year cadets. Those who were struggling to cope with the high expectations of Starfleet Academy, those who missed their homes and families more than they had anticipated, and those who didn’t get along with their roommates. 

It was one of the reasons she enjoyed working with cadets – challenges certainly came in different shapes, but were almost always manageable. 

She looked up from the PADD she had been reading when the doors to her office hissed open, and revealed a young man – human, from what his medical record told her. She offered a soft smile, and rose from her chair to shake his hand. It was a human custom she had learned only recently, and was eager to try. 

“You must be Mister Shamji. Thank you for coming.”, she said, watching his reaction attentively.

Yajat simply took a seat, his face calculating and cold. Seta made a note of that.

“Counselor… Jinean, I believe?”, he asked, having asked for her identity beforehand.

Seta nodded. “Yes. Please, take a seat.”

Yajat slowly walked over to the seat.

She waited for Yajat to get comfortable, reaching for her own cup of tea, and letting the silence between them linger for just a moment. She wanted to give him the opportunity to fill it.

Yajat spoke. “So, Counselor, I presume you know why this appointment was booked?”, he said coldly. Sure, he was being curt and it sounded as if he was being rude, but it was just because he was near-emotionless – rudeness and curtness generally don’t register in his mind or vocabulary at all.

“I do.”, Seta smiled. She did not seem to be bothered by his demeanour – but the Cadet unsettled her. Most of them, especially on their first day, were overwhelmed and either couldn’t stop talking, or didn’t get a word out. . “But how about you tell me in your own words why it’s important?”

Yajat said: “Honestly, not sure. I personally feel… numb. As if the weight of an anvil forged from the heart of a supernova is suppressing my emotions.”

“Does that bother you?” Seta asked carefully. “If you look at your everyday life, is it something that causes distress?”

Yajat looked at the counselor, his eyes suddenly turning as lifeless as a black hole. “No. In fact, the metaphorical anvil is the reason I live. It also doesn’t interfere in my everyday life and I am content with that.”

Seta leaned back in her chair, making a point of maintaining a relaxed posture. “Have you always been that way?”

Yajat says, with a calculating and cold undertone: “Not always, but I would never change anything. If anything, I’d find a way to make the metaphorical anvil heavier – maybe have it forged out of a neutron star instead of a supernova.”. He then pulls out an old relic of Earth’s past: a notebook. He quickly flicked through it, pointed at a page before closing it. “Yes, a neutron star instead of a supernova.”, he reaffirmed.

Seta tilted her head. She hadn’t seen anything resembling paper in several years now.

“Then, why are you here?” she asked. “From what I hear, you do not wish to change anything and you say that it does not negatively affect your life-….”

Yajat instantly shoots back with a cold tone: “What are you suggesting?”

“I am not suggesting anything – you didn’t let me finish. I am asking why you are here.”

Yajat, still having that cold undertone, spoke: “Apologies for the abrupt cut through your conversation, Counselor. As for why I am here…”. He pulled out a 2nd notebook and just stared at it before opening it and looking in it slowly for a bit before putting it away. “I suppose you could say I am here to correct my near-emotionlessness.”, he said, his calculated tone now more prominent than his cold tone.

She nodded. “And what you were feeling just now, when you interrupted me – was that numb? It sounded an awful lot like anger or frustration to me.”

Yajat just crossed his arms and tapped his fingers before saying: ”The metaphorical anvil isn’t successful – hence my mentioning of how I wish to increase its weight.”

“What is it that appeals to you about being devoid of any emotion?” Seta asked patiently.

Yajat smirked before saying: “I am a man of mathematics and formal sciences, Counselor. Emotions are akin to a malignant cancer I want rid of.”, the last sentence having a dangerous tone and undercurrent.

To herself, Seta thought that the more likely description was that he was a man who didn’t belong in Starfleet, and she would have to consult his record to see who had done the initial psychological evaluation… and suggest they retake their counseling training.

“Why?”, she asked, making another note on her PADD, probably scheduling Yajat for weekly, if not daily, counseling sessions.

Yajat just sighed and paced the room – did he really want to recount the day again? He has said it to at least 20 different people in 2 weeks prior to his admittance in the Academy. He then sees something and quickly sets up his mini-telescope that he kept in a small bag. He then went to a promenade viewable from Sickbay to see the thing his eyes caught – the library nearby pulling out old-fashioned books, pens, and sheets of paper. A small smile crept over him as he saw the sight unfold. Unbeknownst to Yajat, Seta was looking…

Which was odd, considering they were in the middle of a counselling session. Seta tensed.

“I do not think I have ever seen another cadet carrying… this… with them.”, she noted.

Yajat then held the mini-telescope up – it was small enough that he could hold it but had a high enough refraction index such that he could see through it as if he set up an actual telescope. Silver, copper, gold and a few other precious metals were used in the construction of it. It was a work of art.

“I will be honest with you.”, Seta sighed and rose from her chair. She was very much looking forward to ending this conversation. “I will recommend your removal from Starfleet Academy unless you are willing to work on whatever it is that causes your desire to be numb and emotionless.” A pause. “Describing emotions as malignant cancer is against everything we believe in, and against the strides we have made in understanding mental health. I believe you need help.”

Yajat disassembled the mini-telescope and put it in his bag before coldly saying: “So, I have to reveal it.”

“What is it you have to reveal?”, she asked. She was unsure if there could be anything that justified his behaviour.

Yajat sat down before he spoke. “The reason why the hypothetical anvil exists in the first place. Why I’m pretty much near-emotionless.”

“Tell me.”, she prompted. “But please be aware that wherever this comes from does not mean that you do not need help.”

Yajat said scornfully, showing Seta the smallest slice of his past: “Help never existed for me before Starfleet, I warn you – this story is long.” He then straightened himself. “Are you sure you want to hear this? You’ll be the 21st person who hears this over the past 2 weeks and the first person to hear this after my admittance into the Academy.”, he said, having shifted to a dark tone and undercurrent…

“I do.”, she nodded, letting him talk.

Yajat sighed. “Very well. But I warned you. I was never liked or even appreciated growing up. Simple bullying, at first. Then it got progressively worse because of my intellect and my… technical creativity and unconventional methods, you can say. The real problem was a group of ‘power teens’, as I like to call them. This is because, well, their parents were extremely influential and would have kicked me out of my education at any point. Their leader was a tall, strong, athletic and blond boy named Eric Bergvall. One day, they tortured me, to be blunt. Once they were done, I just took out my custom phaser, which I had built myself. They weren’t banned in my country, mainly because I had a special order for self-defence usage issued by my part-time job at a research facility and put it on the lowest stun setting possible, which is lower than Starfleet’s. I then knocked Eric out cold. The others ran seeing that, I think. I then collapsed and woke up in hospital after what felt like an eternity, saying I should have died and I was lucky to be alive. Once I was done, I found out the 16 kids had their parents file a court case against me for several false charges. Fought tooth-and-nail for 3 months just to win the case against improbable odds – the manipulated story was a concoction and a half. The media trusted them. Got cut off from the outside world – even my family disowned me emotionally. To this day, I never socialise and my emotions suffer because of that day.”

Seta leaned back in her chair – after making a note about the unauthorized weapons usage.  “That sounds unfair. And I think it gives an explanation as to why you feel the way you do. But this is Starfleet. Academy admissions are reserved for the best of the best – you are among people like you.”

Yajat stared at Seta before saying: “I will see for myself whether Starfleet Academy gives what I need and want.”

“But I need you to acknowledge that it isn’t right, and it’s not healthy. Emotions will always be a part of you – you are not Vulcan, and you are not an Android. And if you keep hating that emotional part of you, you turn that hatred towards yourself.”

Yajat spoke: “The hatred is channeled into something positive, Counsellor. Never towards myself. It was simple to do, given I channeled other emotions into my work before. Otherwise, dissipation is what happens to the unchanneled hatred – that extends to any emotion.”

She shook her head. “No one will require you to be ‘like the others’. But you need to get better. And that will need work. A lot of work.”

Yajat just looked at her for a while. Then, he said: “Needing to get better won’t happen – believe me. I almost made it worse for myself. But I can suppress it a little better, I suppose. I can’t guarantee anything else.”

“Well, until you do, I will make the recommendation as mentioned before. I will refer you to a specialist, perhaps they can help. Is there anything else you would like to talk about at the moment?”

Yajat said: “No. No, I do not. However, in terms of suggestions, one of the few relatives I was in contact with till his late demise suggested I get an emotional support mechanism in the form of a pet. Do you have any recommendations for me, Counselor Jinean?”

“A pet?” Seta sounded surprised. “I am unable to stop you from getting one, but pets need an emotional connection. And I believe having a pet that needs your attention would interfere with the many, many counseling sessions you will be having if you intend on getting the chance to remain part of Starfleet.”

Yajat said: “As far as having an emotional connection is concerned, I told them I don’t have it in me. But he insisted that I do it for him, if not for myself. In regards to Starfleet progression, you’ll find my research methods will allow me to find the pet that’ll give minimal resistance for counseling sessions.”

“Mister Yajat.”, Seta said, her voice firmer now. “I would like to end the session here. I will recommend you be suspended from classes, for the time being, and connect you with a specialist.”

Yajat stared at the Counselor. He knew he couldn’t do anything else. “Very well. But, I will say this – suspension from my Academy classes won’t affect me.”, he spoke with a stern tone. He then left the office, partially satisfied in his mind…

Once the door had hissed shut behind him, Seta took a deep breath. This was unlike anything she had encountered before, and she was worried – not just for Yajat, but also the safety of those he would be working with.

Back at his quarters, as Yajat was sitting down, he suddenly had immense pain from where his heart was. He quickly grabbed a tiny tool from his bag and pressed the region around his heart in a random way. But, then, it opened up, revealing a quantum cybernetic heart – the medical secret he was trying to hide. He got to work unjamming some quantum chips using the tool before closing it and putting the tool away hastily. His breathing was ragged, but he was fine for now. “Thank goodness – 2 more minutes in the Counselor’s office, and I swear, I’d be the talk of the town.”, he muttered under his breath. But he only knew it was a matter of time before his secret – the heart he designed from scratch to save his own life  – was out in the public…

Shortly after his meeting with Counselor Jinean, Yajat, who was now back in his quarters, set up his mini-telescope, sat down on a chair, put the mini-telescope on a glass table and did some stargazing.

As he watched the stars, he pulled out the first notebook that the Counselor saw early in the day and a fountain pen, its black and gold features exuding elegance and class, before noting down what he could see. It was a particularly long session, 3 hours to be exact, as he wanted to forget as much of the day’s events as possible. He had managed to see, with his keen eyes and his mini-telescope’s high refractive index, the typical stuff you’d see during a stargazing session (the planets in the Solar System, the Kuiper Belt, asteroids and moons) but also an exotic object: a binary star system.

“α Persei. Haven’t spotted you in a stargazing session in 3 years.”, Yajat said. He noted this down, the fountain pen’s blue ink gently drying onto the old notebook as his hand went across the page. Once done, he noted the time and ended the stargazing session, packing everything up for the night.

Once done, he prepared himself for bed before settling in. As he did, his thoughts inevitably drifted back to the counseling session he had earlier in the day. He began analysing every word that the Counselor said, given his calculating nature. As he went over it, a sentence that the Counselor said started ringing in his head:

“I will recommend your removal from Starfleet Academy unless you are willing to work on whatever it is that causes your desire to be numb and emotionless.”

Yajat’s eyes froze and his brain went into overdrive, calculating possibilities.

Would… they actually do that? Just because I am a near-sociopath?

As he kept tossing and turning around in bed, nightmares started appearing: him getting removed from Starfleet Academy, his family disowning him completely, more bullying and torture by more ruthless gangs, Eric and his ‘power teens’ back out for revenge and so much more. Yajat kept moving around in bed in an erratic manner, screaming and yelling every couple of nightmares, his breathing very ragged and his quantum cybernetic heart now delivering irregular nano-clicking from the chips and irregular quantum pulses, sweat pouring down his pyjamas by the metaphorical bucketload, face turning into all different shades of colours. Yajat started to regulate his breathing, taking deep breaths in and out to keep his heart, face and respiratory system in check. Coupling that with water from a glass nearby to combat the profuse sweating, it calmed him down and he’d go back to bed, only for the cycle to start again. And each new set of nightmares was worse than the previous set.

As this cycle continues, a spare bed is seen above his quarters. Although he hated it, could the solution to ending this for Yajat, as well as understanding him outright, be a roommate – someone who shares some characteristics but also has different traits that Yajat admires?…

Personal Log, 2nd March 2411.

Begin log.

I just keep thinking back to the day I was falsely framed for meddling with Academy examination schemes to benefit myself. That day started out like a regular day, then became hell, but somehow had a happy ending for me.

Begin Flashback

It was the 5th of June, 2408 – the day that the Academy graduation examination was going to happen. I did my usual routine – I woke up at 4am and replicated some toast with milk before sitting down to have it. Then, I took a sonic shower and did some quick Indian meditation. I put on my usual attire and then started tinkering with my custom phaser – the latest technological project I was working on at the time. Kept tinkering with it from 5am to 6am before revising from 6am to 7:45am. Once it was 7:45am, I packed all the stuff I’d need for the day. I went to the examination hall and arrived 1 hour early, as usual, and talked to some cadets. I gave them some pointers and told them to keep their nerves as cool as possible so that they’d graduate with the best possible grade.

Then, at 9am, we entered the hall for the Starfleet Academy Sciences and Engineering Graduation Examination. Despite the fact I was only studying the Mathematics P.H.D., I had also done everything else required to answer the Logic, Computer Science, Systems Science, Cybernetics, Astronomy, Astrophysics, Minerology, Physics, Stellar Cartography, History, Astronautical Tactics, Forensics, Quantum Engineering, Warp Systems Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Cosmology, Philosophy, Statistics and Archival Sciences questions – getting the pass rate for all the other subjects also meant I’d be getting a P.H.D. for each of the subject.

Now, at the time, people were wondering why I was such a workaholic. But the truth was that I either loved, had an interest in, made a hobby out of or figured I’d need those subjects. And I knew Starfleet Academy wouldn’t keep re-admitting students, so I decided to sit all 20 P.H.Ds in 1 Academy admission. It was tough, but then again, I wasn’t one to party and I was near-emotionless. Even Erwin Rydenberg, my best friend then and now, called me “as crazy as a rampaging black hole”. And he wasn’t wrong. I had schedules for each subject and kept to them all, each of which intertwined with each other to create the ultimate workday calendar – something even the most devout Stakhanovite can’t help but admire and respect simultaneously. Throughout the year, I was either in my quarters, walking, in Sickbay or in counselling sessions – that’s how anti-social I was. Labelling me as a near-sociopath on top of that didn’t help at all.

Pause Flashback

But, I digress. God, I need to cut out the tangents. Computer, delete the last 3 sentences, which includes this sentence I am saying right now, permanently.

Computer: “Working…”
Computer: “Last 3 sentences removed from personal log.”

Resume Flashback

The examination hall was split into squadrons. Given I was in Blue Squadron, I was in the back right quarter of the hall – the order from front left to back right was Red, Gold, White, Blue. I found my way to my allocated seat and waited for 9:30am, the time at which the examination would start. Once 9:25am came around, the Academy Examination Invigilators came up and reiterated the Academy’s strict examination rules. But once 9:30am struck, this was it – the chance to obtain all 20 P.H.Ds with 1 metaphorical stone, as the altered saying went.

The questions in each subject were distinctly challenging, as if they had a personality of their own. Luckily for me, I applied my unconventional methods and technical creativity to form solutions that no examiner would see coming – they’d be blindsided by my ingenuity. Each subject had a wide range of topics, ranging from easy to thought-provoking – mathematics had Riemannian topological inversions, astronomy had magnetar nulceonic chains and so on and so forth. As the hours rolled by, people began leaving while I was still going through the examination – I was doing 500 out of the 1275 questions on the digital paper, which meant that for each one of the 51 potential P.H.Ds you could get, there were 25 questions designed to test you for that particular subject.

It was now 11am, and everybody had left the examination hall but me. I was in the middle of doing Logic Question 16/25, and having done 213 questions so far, when an Academy Examination Invigilator walked by me and was surprised.

AEI: “Excuse me, Cadet.”

I quickly stopped what I was doing and pressed the Pause button on the console, which is there whenever you need to go to the bathroom or address an Invigilator, even though I’d have ideally liked the interaction to happen after I had done my working out and submitted my solution to the question. I then addressed the AEI.

Me: “Yes, Invigilator?”

AEI: “You do know you can leave, right? Everyone else has left.”

Me: “I’m actually hoping to get 20 P.H.Ds in 1 examination.”

AEI: scoffs.

AEI: “Nobody is allowed to do more than 1 P.H.D in an examination, Cadet.”

Me: “With all due respect, Invigilator, cadets are not explicitly banned from staying back and completing questions from different disciplines and even getting the discipline’s respective bachelors or P.H.Ds on graduation day, as long as you’ve notified the lead Invigilator, which is your boss, in advance. And I told her about 1 month in advance of this examination, which is unprecedented. But I got her approval.”

AEI: has an irritated face but cannot defeat a Cadet who’s gone through the protocols.

AEI: “Fine. You may continue, Cadet.”

The Invigilator simply smiled in a weird manner before leaving me to finish the examination.

Pause Flashback

Back then, I put that smile down to embarrassment and it being forced. Now I know it wasn’t forced – it was genuine and it was formed from the depths of malice and cunning – he was starting a plan that could’ve ruined my Starfleet career forever. I should have picked up on it, but I was and am a near-sociopath, so I don’t blame my past self for thinking that way.

Resume Flashback

Eventually, when it struck 8:30pm, I had finally finished all 500 questions. 11 hours of processing every single question. Some were very easy, some were harder and some were even thought-provoking, difficult and challenging simultaneously.

Once done, I packed up everything and pressed Submit, sending the script over to the Academy Examination Department, before leaving the hall and returning to my quarters, where I had my dinner before collapsing onto the bed. Little did I know what was going to happen the very next morning…

The very next day, I still followed my ‘Stakhanovite calendar’ until 6:45am, when a shrill doorbell ring echoed throughout my quarters. I perked up, wondering who on hell would come to my quarters at all, let alone come at this hour. I securely put away my custom phaser, which I was tinkering with, and set up the quarters nicely, in the event guests were somehow over, before asking whoever was outside to come in – the doorbell had been rung 2 more times by now. When the doors opened, a senior Admiral alongside some security officers and the same AEI from yesterday entered. The AEI looked smugly at me. But I didn’t look back at him – I decided to get to the bottom of this.

Me: “Admiral.”, putting my hands behind my back and clasping them together.

Admiral: “Cadet, you’re under arrest.”

Then, the security officers attempted to place me under arrest, but they found that my hand clasp was quite strong.

Security Officer 1: “He won’t loosen his clasp, Sir.”

Me: “Admiral, name me the charges for my arrest and I’ll let go of the clasp.”

The Admiral and I stared at each other for a few minutes. It was a dangerous game, sure, but I had stood up to 1 or 2 other senior officers and even a top brass officer during my time here in the Academy, so I knew this was the safest way to “face off” against the Admiral, so to speak.

Admiral: “Fine. You’ve been charged with manipulation of data, manipulation of evidence, falsifying data, falsifying evidence, bribery, emotional blackmail, altering of examination marking material, manipulation of examination marking material and cheating.”

Although my exterior was calm, I was raging inside. I let go of my clasp, as promised, and the security officers handcuffed me. I knew this meant that the Academy Court would have a case on their hands. All this time, the AEI kept giving me a smug smile. I was taken to the brig and placed there with handcuffs on. Over the next week, my attorney showed me everything I was allowed to be shown, and I was stunned at the extent of the framing – altered video footage from the examination day showing that I bribed and manipulated, blurry video footage potentially depicting me scaling buildings to alter and manipulate examination marking material, isolinear chips logging an altered script that showed I had somehow implanted a virus into it and so much more. Me and my attorney started building my defence up over the next month and a half, preparing for the trial date. We used everything, from my already diagnosed acrophobia alongside other medical conditions and surgeries to eyewitnesses on the day of the examination itself and contradicting cross-references in regards to the defendant’s statements, at our disposal.

However, one night, my attorney suggested something… outrageous.

Attorney: “We could mention your…”, pointing to his heart, he said in a hushed tone.

Me: eyes widen in shock.

Me: “Absolutely not! Only Starfleet Medical and those that need to know in the Academy knows about it.”, I pretty much whispered in protest.

Attorney: “The nano-clicking, quantum pulses, the fact you have a tool for unjamming quantum chips and the rest of the mechanics of the quantum cybernetic heart you built will strengthen our defense to the point where their attacks may not be able to do much, and we’d have a higher probability of winning the case. Because, right now, it’s about a 43% win rate to us. And, even then, there’s more evidence on their side rumoured to take our chances down to 31%. So, this might be our best chance to get a leg up while we can.”, he responded softly.

I then had to grapple with the fact that one of the few secrets I keep to myself could become public knowledge. But, I quickly realised that, if it ultimately saved my Starfleet career, I had to – choice was out of the equation.

Me: “Fine.”, I responded.

With that, the attorney acquired the blueprints from Starfleet Medical and spent another 2.5 months using everything he could gather about my quantum cybernetic heart to strengthen our defence. Overall, it took exactly 6 months from my arrest for the evidence-collecting to stop and for the trial to finally begin. Even graduation day was suspended for all the cadets in the Academy because of me – the outcome of this trial literally would make or break all of their grades.

My family, meanwhile, had publicly decided to emotionally disown me, saying that this is final regardless of the outcome. But they also mentioned that if the outcome was negative, they’d legally disown me as well. Although that was heartbreaking, it felt… kind of relieving since they never cared about me growing up.

Inside the Academy Court, we fought against the AEI that framed me for another month, slowly winning in a game of evidence attrition. At the end of the trial, the Academy Court Judge conferred with another panel of judges before coming to a decision.

ACJ: “It is the court’s final decision that Cadet Yajat Shamji is found… not guilty. It is also in the court’s interest that the defendant be fired from his job.”

I slumped in my seat, knowing that I emerged victorious after 7 months of fighting. Meanwhile, the AEI was furious, his smug smile replaced by a seething expression. However, the Academy cadets started protesting, saying that they’d potentially have no grades now. I suddenly raised my right hand, with my index and middle fingers whilst the rest of the fingers were near the palm, to silence the cadets.

Me: “Your Honour, may I propose something to this Court that’d satiate this protesting?”

ACJ: “Proceed, Cadet Shamji. But do make it quick.”

Me: “Acknowledged, Your Honour.”

I then stood up.

Me: “Your Honour, I propose abolishing fixed/set mark schemes for Starfleet Academy examinations and replacing them with flexible mark schemes that consider all angles and approaches to a solution.”

The Cadets murmured amongst themselves before one of them stepped forward.

Cadet 1: “We agree this is a suitable solution. But why are you suggesting this?”

I then, to make a long story short, explained to the cadet that the values of curiosity and inquisitiveness are lost in a classroom and that this is the first step to regaining them. I also used other cadets as examples where the traditional mark schemes let down the students when their approaches were valid. After 45 minutes of making my point, I sat down. Then the Academy Court Judge once again conferred with the panel of judges before coming to a decision.

ACJ: “The court has also ruled that Cadet Yajat Shamji’s suggestion should be… implemented immediately.”

I sighed out of relief, as I knew another victory had just been secured. But later that night, I mentally and psychologically broke down – the last 7 months were too much for me. Plus, the entire Academy Class of 2408, the media – everyone now knew about my quantum cybernetic heart. Erwin consoled me for a week and managed to make me see the light at the end of the emotional tunnel by giving me a pet Tribble, whom I named Srinivasa after the first name of the Indian mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan. On graduation day, I was valedictorian of the class and was awarded a special medal they commissioned starting from this year onwards – the Claude Shannon Medal of Mathematical Excellence, given to a valedictorian who showcases exceptional mathematical skills beyond what is shown in the curriculum.

End Flashback

However, still thinking back to that day hurts. They now teach it in Criminal Justice back at the Academy on Mellstoxx III. They’re calling the incident “The Isolinear Prodigy Scandal”, or IP Scandal for short.

As I hear the humming, clicking, quantum pulses and shockwaves of my quantum cybernetic heart, I gently clutch the region around it.

I’m now off to do my night-time routine of playing 3D Chess and Kal-Toh against myself in the Mess Hall whilst everybody’s asleep or on duty – nobody goes to the Mess Hall in the middle of the night except me.

Come, Srinivasa.

Oh.

End log.

It had been a week since Yajat’s appointment with Counselor Jinean. And, although the nightmares have massively decreased in terms of frequency, they haven’t been stopped completely and their intensity still remains the same. His stargazing sessions still occur every night and, despite the fact he was suspended from Academy classes, had far surpassed his peers in terms of this semester’s curriculum – he was nearing the middle of it whilst even the brightest of the rest were following pace with Academy classes and, hence, still on their first month of the curriculum.

“I suppose the medical suspension from classes has been a blessing in disguise.”, Yajat thought to himself. He was currently taking a break from reviewing Mandelbrot fractal vectors, one of the final subjects before what should be the mid-semester tests, and was mechanically fine-tuning his custom phaser. He also had another technological project he was working on – a magnetar neuron – but it currently is in containment after he noticed some instabilities that cannot be corrected until he gets the right materials.

After a few hours, he decides that he needs to get out of his quarters. So, he goes off for a walk and heads for the Promenade.

Cadet Ozzy Solari stepped out of his bunk, rolling his shoulders as he strolled down the corridor. His damp hair clung to his forehead, the lingering warmth of his morning shower still clinging to his skin. The station’s ever-present hum filled the air, punctuated by the occasional chatter of passing crew members. His stomach tightened—a sharp reminder that he hadn’t eaten yet. He smirked to himself. A proper breakfast on the promenade sounded a lot better than another bland replicated one from the mess. And today, with no shifts or drills to worry about, he had the time to enjoy it.

As he neared the turbolift, he caught sight of another cadet waiting beside the control panel. The young man stood stiffly, hands clasped behind his back, his uniform crisp and spotless—too crisp. A newcomer. The turbolift doors slid open with a soft hiss, and they stepped inside together.

Ozzy leaned against the wall, glancing at the cadet. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “Haven’t seen you around before. You a new arrival?”

Yajat looked at the cadet. “Yes. And you?”, he said coldly.

“No, no, I’ve been here a while,” Ozzy said, shaking his head with a quick grin. “Got dropped here a couple of months ago after a tour on the Blythe.” His fingers drummed against the turbolift railing as he spoke, his gaze flicking upward as if replaying old memories. “I was supposed to head back to Earth, keep working on my research there, but—” he let out a short laugh— “guess someone had other plans for me.”

He shifted his weight, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. “Worked out, though. My brother’s stationed here too. First time we’ve served in the same place. What are the odds, huh?” A glint of something warm—pride, maybe—flickered in his eyes.

Turning fully to the cadet, he extended a hand, his grip firm but easy. “Oswald Solari,” he said, the name rolling off his tongue like a well-worn introduction. “But everyone calls me Ozzy. Welcome to Starbase Bravo.”

Yajat completed the handshake as if it were a formality. “The name’s Yajat – I’m sure you’ve heard of me somewhere in the Starbase.”, he said in a cold tone.

Ozzy’s brow furrowed, a brief flash of confusion crossing his face. He glanced the cadet up and down, as if trying to place where he might have seen him before. When the recognition didn’t come, he shrugged lightly and let out a soft chuckle. “Can’t say I have,” he said, the curiosity clear in the way his eyes narrowed slightly, studying the other cadet. “Why’s that?”

Yajat quickly realised before saying in a calculated tone: “So you’re not the type of person to pick up on gossip or rumours, huh? There’s whispers amongst other cadets that a near-soulless first-year cadet occasionally walks along the Promenade, never or barely talking to anyone and just being a near-sociopath in general.”

Ozzy stared at the cadet for a moment, his brow furrowing in confusion. Then, as the words fully hit him, his eyes widened, and for a split second, his breath caught. The lump in his throat was sudden, and his eyes stung, but before it could overwhelm him, something inside snapped. He couldn’t help it. The laughter burst out, loud and unrestrained, shaking through him like a release. His shoulders heaved with each chuckle, and he clutched the railing of the turbolift for support, his face flushed with amusement.

When the laughter finally slowed, he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, still smiling like it was the funniest thing he’d heard in ages. “That’s golden,” he said, his voice still thick with laughter, but now steady. “First years and their ghost stories. You’ll get used to it.” He shook his head, a look of fond exasperation crossing his features. “Don’t let it get to you though—kids can be cruel like that. Just some harmless fun for them.”

The turbolift doors slid open with a soft hiss, and the bright lights of the Promenade flooded in. Ozzy stepped out with a quick glance back at the cadet, a playful grin still dancing on his lips. “So, how about it? Want to haunt the Promenade with me? I was about to grab breakfast—could use some company.”

Yajat pondered for a bit before saying: “That’s fine – I only walk on the Promenade since I had my breakfast.” With that, he also stepped out with the cadet he just met, and he turned a couple of steps to the right with his normal walking routine in mind.

Ozzy’s eyes flicked toward Yajat as he turned in the opposite direction, his boots tapping lightly against the polished deck. He hesitated for a moment, then took a step forward, closing the distance just enough for his voice to carry.

“Hey—” he called out, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “How about a coffee?” He let the words hang in the air for a beat before adding, “Or maybe a Raktajino? Whatever you’re in the mood for.” His tone was light, casual, but the way he lingered just slightly made it clear—he wasn’t just making an offer; he was hoping Yajat would take it.

Yajat stopped, turned around, and said: “I’ll pass, Cadet Solari.”. He then continued walking.

Ozzy lingered for a moment, watching as Yajat disappeared into the tide of people flowing through the promenade. The crowd swallowed him up without hesitation, leaving no trace he had ever been there.

A breath slipped from Ozzy’s nose, more amused than anything, and a smirk ghosted across his lips. “No worries”, he mused, rolling his shoulders in a loose shrug.

Turning away, he let the scent of fresh coffee and something sweet pull him forward. His stomach growled in agreement—breakfast wasn’t going to find itself.

Yajat was standing at a window, staring into space. He reflected on the interaction and just muttered under his breath: “That went as well as one could hope for.”. Then, he decided to go back to his quarters, having decided that he had finished his morning walk…

Lieutenant Junior Grade Cam Solari felt a chill run through him as the sensors on his Apsara-class fighter lit up again. Sunshine was leaking—or at least, that’s what the readouts said. The screens flashed with warnings, yet when he glanced out the cockpit, there was nothing to see. No vapor trails, no glistening crystals forming in the wake of a faulty fuel line or engine malfunction. Just the stars, calm and infinite.

He ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, frustration rising. The systems had been glitching for days, persistent little blips in the data that couldn’t be ignored. But no one else seemed worried. The engineers at his regular flight deck didn’t even bat an eye when he mentioned it. They ran a quick diagnostic, shrugged, and dismissed it as a fluke in the system—nothing that warranted further investigation.

But Cam knew his ship. Sunshine had been with him for months, and he trusted her like he trusted his own breath. If something was wrong, he would feel it. He felt it now. It was a subtle thing, a nagging sense that there was something beneath the surface, hidden from view.

That’s why he was here, walking through the bustling corridors on the other side of the Starbase, the hum of machinery and chatter filling the air around him. Engineers in greasy jumpsuits, petty officers with their ever-watchful eyes, and civilians—faces blurred together in the crowd.

He scanned the sea of people, his gaze sharp, searching. There weren’t many Orions around in this part of the base, and green skin stood out like a flare in the dark. He spotted her almost immediately—Lieutenant Commander Venaa, or “Vee” as he called her.

She was standing near a cluster of engineers, a PADD in her hand, eyes fixed on the screen as her fingers flicked rapidly over the surface. Her brow furrowed in concentration, the tip of her ear twitching slightly as she absorbed the data. The crowd parted around her like water flowing around a rock, as if they instinctively knew not to disturb the woman who could fix anything.

Cam approached, his boots making soft, deliberate steps on the metal flooring. His hand clenched at his side, heart beating a little faster now. He wasn’t the type to waste time.

Without any preamble, he spoke, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the Starbase. “Vee, I need your help.”

Vee had indeed been intently focused on the view of a detailed schematic of junctions forty-nine through one-hundred and twenty. For several days, she and a dedicated team manually recalibrated power flows and scrubbed regulators to correct several hot spots that had developed in power flows across the Starbase. It had been rather gruelling and very much a manual process – it was a good thing she enjoyed getting her hands dirty.

Thankfully, this project was near completion – there was only one hot spot left, and she had spent the past hour or so tracing back the work they had completed to see what was missed or if this last hot spot was unrelated to the rest.

“You and the rest of the thousands of people on this wonderful Starbase we call home,” Vee replied deadpan without looking away from the display in front of her. A few seconds of silence passed before her brain had fully come to the realization that it was Cam’s voice.

Vee broke her concentration and turned her head softly to meet the Lieutenant’s gaze. Her eyes seemed to glimmer with a slight sparkle, and instead of being annoyed and gruff about the interruption, she was pleased to see the man.

“Now Camden. Something must be amiss if you came all the way down here in person to tell me that you need help,” Vee grinned as she used his full name, something she did now and then as her way of throwing a joke his way. She rather liked his full name, actually, and felt that calling him Cam didn’t quite do him justice.

He sighed, shaking his head as he handed her the PADD. The screen flickered to life, displaying lines of data, system logs, and error reports. Vee’s eyes flicked over them, sharp and focused.

“Venaa, It’s Sunshine,” he said, crossing his arms. “The system keeps flagging a leak, but there’s nothing—no trails, no crystallization. Visually, it’s clean.” His fingers tapped against his bicep, restless energy thrumming beneath his skin. “I’ve run checks, diagnostics, everything I could think of. But the line engineers? They don’t see a problem.” His jaw tightened for a brief moment before he exhaled.

Vee’s eyes fell to the PADD’s contents immediately after Cam handed it to her. Her eyes dashed back and forth rapidly, and her fingers scrolled through the content. It only took a few moments for her to consume the logs, a pace almost android-like but only a reflection of her experience in such things now.

“Have you checked the thermal lines? The components on this model of ship have been known to occasionally develop microfractures at the regulator junctions. Rare, but it can happen.” Vee finally broke her concentration on the PADD and looked back up at Cam.

Cam’s grin flickered to life, the kind that always meant trouble. He shifted his weight, tilting his head just enough to make his amusement obvious.

“First thing I checked,” he said, his voice light but edged with satisfaction.

Vee’s fingers paused over the screen. Cam caught the faintest twitch of her brow. He pressed on.

“Ran the diagnostics—twice. Didn’t trust the readouts, so I went in myself.” He made a small gesture with his hands, mimicking the careful work of a manual inspection. “Even checked the backups. Everything came up clean.”

He leaned in just slightly, watching her closely. “So? What else you got?”

The Engineer grinned. “Yeah. I should have known you’d think of that on your own.” She glanced back down at the PADD and braced her opposite hand against her hip. If she were to take what was on the PADD at first and even second glance, she understood why his concerns had been dismissed by others on her team. Experience had taught her over the years, though, that a pilot knew when something wasn’t right with their craft. They had a sense which was rarely incorrect.

“Shall we go take a look at her in person?” Vee asked, concluding that there was nothing else on this PADD that was going to help bring light to the situation.

Cam stepped aside with a slight smirk, extending his arm in an exaggerated flourish. His fingers flicked toward the path ahead, a playful glint in his eyes. “After you.”

A few hours later and Cam’s ship looked like it had been turned inside out. Pretty much all maintenance panels had been removed. Wiring and tubing were birthing from the vessel, making it look like some mechanized octopus. Vee, dressed in her engineering coveralls, looked even more dirty and dishevelled than she had earlier. She had every right to be exhausted at the moment, having put in a ten-hour shift, but she loved a good mystery, and Cam’s ship provided just that.

As she pulled herself out of one of the maintenance holes, a hypospanner in one hand and a microtubule converter in another. She looked up at Cam and then down at the multiple pizzas they had replicated. “Would you mind, Cam?” Vee asked and then chomped the air several times, indicating she wanted a bite but didn’t want to put her tools down.

Cam chuckled, adjusting his grip on the piece before holding it out. His fingers tensed slightly, offering just enough resistance to make the tear clean and easy. “You help me, I help you,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he met her gaze..

The Orion gratefully took a large bite of pizza with her friend’s assistance and quickly took a second before practically throwing herself back into the compartment she had torn apart. “Can you initiate a simulated emergency thrust again? Do the port side this time.”

Cam hauled himself into what remained of the cockpit, his fingers brushing against cold, stripped-down panels. Exposed wiring snaked along the frame, and through gaps that shouldn’t exist, he caught glimpses of the cargo bay beyond—a view he was never meant to have.

Still, he didn’t hesitate. This was Vee’s work, and if there was anyone he trusted to tear Sunshine apart and put her back together, it was her.

Settling into the seat, he ran his hands over the console, the familiar hum of the system booting up beneath his fingertips. Screens flickered, one by one, casting flickering light over the cockpit’s skeletal frame. With a final keystroke, he engaged the simulation.

Vee’s tricorder was already running continuous scans and was visible on the ledge of one of the internal control panels to the left side of her head. She eyed the results closely as Cam ran the test as requested. The minor and barely noticeable phase variance the two had identified after some chasing was still reading clearly now.  She groaned in frustration and pulled herself back out. The tools she was holding were dropped to her ground, and she turned herself around before taking a seat and using the craft as a backrest.

“I don’t get it. This isn’t making sense.” Vee stated in a muffled and frustrated tone. She was rarely puzzled about such problems, a benefit of having been at this gig for many years now.

Cam’s leg twitched, a subtle tremor that quickly spread up his thigh. Her words had hit too close to something he didn’t want to face. For a moment, the room seemed to close in, his breath catching as the thought flashed through his mind—If Vee can’t figure this out… who can?

He snapped his focus back, shaking off the rising panic. His voice was controlled, steady as he met her gaze.

“What did we miss?”

Typically, being one who always has an answer to that type of question, Vee shrugged in a bit of a frustrated manner. She loved a good puzzle as much as any engineer, but this was just ridiculous. “I honestly don’t know. I feel like we’ve turned her inside out at this point, Cam.”

His fingers brushed over the console, eyes still on her. “Did you scan the intermix chamber for residual tachyons?” The words felt flimsy, but he couldn’t help himself. It was a shot in the dark, but it was all he had left.

Before Vee could answer Cam’s question, a slight purring sound emerged from one of the open compartments. It was barely audible but reminiscent of a kitten’s mew. Vee turned her head sharply toward where she thought it came from. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Cam asked, his voice low with genuine curiosity. He straightened up slightly, his head tilting to one side, as if trying to catch any hint of sound that might have escaped his notice.

“I swear I heard something coming from…” Vee stood back up and moved toward the open compartment. She stuck her head inside and looked around. More importantly, she intended to listen for the mewing she thought she heard. Either it was something, or she was losing her marbles. Vee made a whispering sound in her mouth as if she was calling for a cat to come close to her.

“Mewmewmew…” A louder but barely audible sound replied to her attempt at communication.

Cam stood two meters behind her, his brow furrowing as he watched her, a baffled expression creeping across his face. He crossed his arms, shifting his weight onto one leg, eyes narrowing in disbelief. The problem they were dealing with was frustrating, sure, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that would send someone spiraling. He couldn’t help but feel a little stunned, wondering if she’d completely lost her grip on things.

“Camden. There’s something in here.” Vee dug a little deeper, moving some conduit material out of the way, and it revealed a small tennis ball-sized creature reminiscent of a cat mixed with a gerbil. Its fur had a transcendence to it, making it appear as if it was phasing in and out of space-time. Vee immediately recognized the creature and slowly made an attempt to scoop it up with her hands lightly. Thankfully it was receptive to the touch and immediately nestled into her hold.

“I’ll be damned.” Vee had a massive smile as she elbowed her way out of the open compartment, the creature secure in her hands – like a little chick being held by someone at a petting zoo. “I’ve never seen one of these in person. Only ever heard of them. It’s a Yarr. They’re an energy-eating, phase-shifting creature that is native to a region near the Betreka Nebula.” Vee gently itched under one of the creature’s ears, and it began to purr louder and nuzzle into her touch.

“Many species have similar sayings. Gremlins in the engines, I believe, is the human term?” Vee looked up at Cam. “Very much because of little creatures like this. Extremely rare to come across. There’s an old Klingon tale of how these creatures only inhabit the ships of honourable commanders. I just… How did it get here?”

Cam’s laugh echoed softly against the metallic panneling surrounding them, the sound a mix of disbelief and amusement. His gaze fixed on the creature nestled in Vee’s arms, a small, scrappy thing that seemed completely out of place next to the sleek, powerful form of Sunshine. It looked so unassuming, yet it had managed to bring down the ship that had been his pride and joy. He stepped closer, trying to get a better look, his eyes narrowing in utter curiosity.

“Honorable Commander, huh?” he said with a raised brow, his voice laced with amusement. “Sounds about right!” He shook his head, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips as he eyed the creature, then flicked his gaze back to Vee, half-amused, half-stunned by the absurdity of it all.

“We should secure it and run a sweep for any of its friends. They’re harmless in small numbers, but if we get a couple hundred of them phasing around, we’ll have an issue. There’s also the issue of sensors being unable to detect them easily because of their phasing abilities. I think it’s just a baby, though. They take two years to hatch, so there’s no telling how long this friend was being baked up in your ship. We may not even have a problem besides this little buddy.” Vee held out the creature in the direction of Cam.

“Did you want to hold it?” The creature looked at Cam, its eyes opening wider, and one would swear it was smiling at him, too.

Cam eyed the Yarr, its small, wide eyes blinking up at Vee as it nestled back in her arms. The creature’s fur was soft and fluffy, its tiny paws curled against her chest as if it belonged there. He couldn’t help but smirk, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than he intended.

He shook his head, a chuckle escaping his lips as he backed away slightly. “Nah, I’ll pass,” he said, his tone light but teasing. “But you might want to ask if they’ll let you keep him. Looks like you two are already thick as thieves.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing from Vee to the Yarr, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.

The dreaded appointment with the psychiatrist had arrived. 2 days after his bump-in with Cadet Solari, Yajat got the notification that his psychiatrist appointment had been booked for 20th January 2402.  All of a sudden, the nightmares ferociously returned. Even his quantum cybernetic heart began malfunctioning on a regular basis – it was only a matter of time before every single cadet knew about his little secret. As he sat on his bed 5 minutes before the appointment was due to be scheduled, Yajat was just doing some deep breathing.

Let’s hope this has a happy ending for me and those nightmares don’t end up becoming true.

Yajat then walked to Sickbay, not knowing what the appointment held in store for him…
—-
The psychiatrist, a man in his mid-40’s with greyish hair, motioned for Yajat to sit.

“So, Counselor Jinean has told me about your… appointment. She has recommended you to get removed from the Academy on medical grounds.”, Doctor Antonov said in a gruff tone with an Armenian accent.

“That would be correct.”, Yajat said.

“Hmm.”, Antonov mumbled to himself.

“Let’s begin, then, shall we?.”, he said.
—-
The appointment lasted over 3 hours, during which Dr. Antonov ran various tests related to the brain, mental health and psyche. Yajat’s quantum cybernetic heart did malfunction 2 times throughout the appointment, but luckily, on both occasions, he had the quantum chip unjamming tool.

“Alright, I’ll be sending my formal assessment, alongside evidence and my final conclusions, to the Academy Medical Centre. You’ll find out in a few hours what I’ve decided.”, Dr. Antonov said.

Yajat stood up, nodded and shook his hand.

Before he left, Antonov remarked: “You know, that heart of yours was very meticulously designed. Who made that?”

Yajat stopped at the doorway, his hands behind his back in a clasp as was always the case, and turned around.

“I made it myself, Doctor. I submitted the blueprints to both Starfleet Medical and Starfleet Academy pre-entry.”, Yajat responded.

“Fascinating.”, Antonov said, a glint of excitement running through his voice and eyes.

Yajat then turned around and walked back to his quarters. Once inside, he just did part of his usual calendar for a few hours until, just after dinner, the dreaded notification sound from his personal viewscreen monitor came.

He did some more deep breathing to steel himself for the medical report. Then, he walked over to the monitor and activated it before looking at the report. He looked carefully at all the tests, analysing every piece of data, before looking at the verbal assessment, thinking of every possible connotations of every word that had multiple definitions and meanings, and just sat back in his chair.

This is not looking good. At all., he thought to himself.

Then, he read the conclusion and final decision, which stated the following:

“Although I believe that Cadet Shamji has definitely been affected a lot by his past, especially the ‘Bergvall incident’ (as he calls it), his family’s subsequent treatment of him, the legal case surrounding that and the fact the world was commenting on that for at least 7 months, I believe that his near-sociopathic tendencies and anti-social habits are still not justified. Hence, my professional opinion is that he is to be removed from Starfleet Academy, effective immediately. However, I will concede that no-one has ever recommended him any emotional support mechanisms at all, which is quite damned for such a bright mind who constructed the very thing that saved his life, in my personal opinion.”

“Mr. Shamji is to pack up all of his belongings and leave the Academy by the end of the week.”

Yajat just slowly slumped onto his chair and put his hands in a praying position before putting them towards his nose.

This… can’t be happening. This is some sick joke, right?…

But, this was very much real. The very institution that Yajat hoped would change him for the better has instead rejected him because of his past.

Just because I am a near-sociopath.

Yajat then began silently sobbing, each sob wracking his body much more than the last. This was it for him. No matter how hard he tried, he could no longer suppress his emotions at all whatsoever. He was vulnerable now, more than ever, and he had to admit it – his nightmares were becoming true…
—-
(1 week later…)

Yajat had packed up the last of his belongings, which were all now crated up and hauled away by Starfleet officers. As he stood in what was once his cadet quarters, even if it was for only a few weeks, he thought:

Why is it that my mental state, past, tendencies and habits always force me to be shunned everywhere I go at all angles? Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I heal?!

He then slowly walked away from the quarters and took off his Starfleet cadet attire for the last time before handing it over to a senior Starfleet Academy Officer.

SAO: “Good luck with your next ventures, Mr. Shamji.”

Yajat nodded before changing into civilian attire and leaving the Mellstoxx III Academy campus. He stoppped at the doorway and shed a tear before finally stepping outside the campus building. And as he made his way to his pre-booked civilian quarters on Starbase 4, his final thoughts were:

Why? Why does it always come to this?…

Ensign Williams Personal Log, Supplemental: Today’s assignment involves security detail for two visiting dignitaries: a Tellarite Ambassador and an Andorian Ambassador. They are, as I understand, renowned figures in the diplomatic corps, though their relationship is… complex. Their history together is apparently fraught with tension, and my primary objective, along with the station security detail, is to ensure their interactions remain professional and, ideally, non-violent. I’ve been assigned to follow the Tellarite Ambassador. Keeping him safe if possible at a distance from his associate.

Williams stood at attention at one side of a set of doors leading to one of the stations suites. A lieutenant led the furry faced Tellarite Ambassador towards the doors and escorted him inside. As the doors closed, the expected muffled shouts of indignation began. Reons brow raised, the only visible motion on his face to indicate a reaction to the Ambassadors tantrum.

The other half of the Tellarite Ambassador’s detail also raised an eyebrow and threw the Ensign a sideways glance. Having spent some time on Earth and on the Starship Hathaway, Crewman Fearne Popples had decent experience, but she was no officer. An officer probably wouldn’t have gotten lost so many times in the first week of assignment aboard Starbase Bravo, even despite of its massive size. Still, she was studying deck plans every night over dinner. She’d get there. Eventually. She always did.

“That‘s a good start,” she commented. “Should we go in there, sir?”

Williams met the glance. “Only if the Luitenant calls. Or more likely, the Ambassador.”

The two snapped back to attention as the doors opened and the Ambassador strode back out into the hallway. He appeared to be mid tangent with the Lieutenant who followed closely behind. “-I will not sit in a dark prison cell the duration of this waylay!”

He turned his attention to Crewman Popples and continued. “This Station is furnished with recreational facilities, is it not?”

Fearne’s eyes widened slightly and she gulped. She didn’t expect to be addressed. As far as she was concerned she was security goon for the day and Ensign Williams was doing the talking. And for good reason.

“Uhmmmm, yes, sir!” She stuttered after swallowing nervously. “There’s clubs, pubs, bars restaurants, cafes, cinemas, theatres, lounges, shops, pools, I’m fairly sure there’s even a massage parlour. Oh and there’s a pizza place on deck three three seven? Oh my God. Best salame you ever had. Me and my wife go there all the time.” Realising her answer (like most of her answers) contained about three hundred percent more words than was necessary, she offered the ambassador a winning smile instead, one which would have been much more convincing if she hadn’t looked utterly terrified.

The Ambassador tried to interrupt but was halted by the intensity of Fearnes outburst of station amenities. She smiled at him and for a moment he was actually lost for words. It did not last. He quickly regained his displeased manner and turned to the Ensign.

“Very well! Take me to one of these Restaurants! I wish to be among the people.”

The Lieutenant nodded to Ensign Williams who realized he now had to lead them on. He nodded and gestured toward the turbolift. “We’re moving. Crewman, take up the rear.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Fearne hoped she hadn’t said anything particularly ill-considered to the Ambassador as she fell in, her eyes darting about as they walked, scoping anyone who came near, making plans for exit routes and all the other things one did when on V.I.P. duty.

The small party made their way to the promenade. Williams swept the deck ahead and kept his eyes moving between pedestrians as they passed. Starbase Bravo had MANY amenities, and the variety of food vendors made up the majority. The Ambassador stepped aside toward one of the venues. “This will do. Now give me some breathing room while my appetite for food and company is filled.”

“Ambassador…” Williams protested. “…we’re supposed to keep you within sight for your safety.”

The Ambassador lowered his voice and smiled as his tellarite disposition reared itself. “Then if you value my safety, you’ll find a way to leave with room to breath.” He gestured inside restaurant. They served Earth cuisine and had been decorated like an early 21st century steakhouse. The walls were paneled with rough oak wood and old repurposed Street signs. The Ambassador gestured to a bar inside, then the tables.

“There, you’ll having a commanding view of any possible attacks from that fine bar. Now, goodbye.”

He stepped past his escort and sat himself at one of the tables. Williams was lost for words. He looked at the bar, then back at Fearne. The pair walked over.

Fearne shrugged at Reon as she sat at a bar stool, her gaze on the Ambassador mostly.

“Jeez!” She exclaimed as she wiggled her butt to get comfy on the stool. “Well hey Fearne what did you do today at work? Any danger? Any phaser fights? Any arrests? Well… I sat at a bar all afternoon and watched an Ambassador eat sirloin and chips with peppercorn sauce,” she joked with a slightly comedic grimace. “Is V.I.P. work like this a lot, sir?”

Reon sighed, “I hope not. This is… my first posting.” He swiveled in his seat to join Fearne in monitoring the Ambassador. He was now complaining to a Bolian waitress who was trying to hand him his menu.

“I was really hoping we’d see some action here. But I guess it’s hard to find conflict aboard a civilized Federation Station.”

“You mean outside of my marriage,” Fearne replied with a cheesy grin of lipstick that was possibly a tad bright to be regulation. “Take it from me sir, action isn’t all it’s cut out to be. Y’know I’ve only been assigned to two ships before this? First one got attacked, lost power and exploded, second one got hit when a sun exploded, lost power, the ship didn’t explode per se, but I don’t think it’s operating any more… of course I was on Earth for a bit and that didn’t explode but then if it did we’d have some serious problems. Also my Dads would be dead and that would be really shit. My point is, and believe it or not I will actually get to one through all the chit-chat, or ‘jibber-jabbber’ as my wife calls it, conflict isn’t always great? Like… a lot of stuff explodes…?”

“Expetience eh? I’ll take your word for it.” The Ambassador had finally put in his order and his fuming waitress carried the menu back towards the kitchen.

“Can I get anything for you two?” A human woman approached them from behind the bar. Reon shook his head “No, thank you.”

Fearne jumped slightly and spun her head around towards the new voice.

“No thanks,” she responded after Reon. “My wife is a barmaid, kinda feels like cheating.”

Ignoring, or rather not noticing the puzzled look she got in response as she turned back to Reon, Fearne piped up with a question for her boss-for-the-day.

“You married, sir?”

Williams chuckled. “Unfortunately not yet.” His eyes scanned the room activity. He watched a plate of bread move from the kitchen to the Ambassadors table. The Tellarite examined the bread distastefully. Then he noticed the butter. Williams watched as the Ambassador spread some butter on the bread. Then was amazed as the Ambassadors eyes lit up with joy for the first time that day.

Fearne watched Reon’s eyes and took in the Ambassador’s revelations.

“Hope he’s not lactose intolerant,” she mused, imagining some difficult scenes in subsequent diplomatic talks should it turn out he was. “Hey, maybe we should just charge the meeting rooms with bread and butter, ay sir?”

“Hey, you’ve got a good sense for diplomacy.” The moment was ended as the sounds of raised voices broke through the room. Williams looked back to the Ambassador and saw he had begun a conversation with… an Andorian. Not just any Andorian, a fellow Ambassador. THE Ambassador that was supposed to be kept from his Tellarite colleague during their way lay.

The Andorian Ambassador and his escort had apparently planned to stop at the very restraurant Williams had selected. The two had seen each other and the Andorian made a bee line for his associate. The two were trading jests that were now becoming nasty. And loud.

Fearne stood quickly, uncertain how to act. She was no seasoned officer, no officer at all in fact and she didn’t want to cause an incident. She looked at Reon, panicked.

“Whadowedo?” she asked.

“This is bad. We need to break those two up.” He stood from his barstool. They weaved between the tables to the pair of squabbling ambassadors. The Andorian towered over the Tellarite and lobbed an insult.

“I’m surprised you picked a restraunt with such taste. I assumed any slop would suit the tastebuds fitted to a snout like yours.”

“Excuse me.” Williams cut in as the Tellarite took a deep breath, his retort already loaded and ready to fire. “As security detail to the Ambassador, I’ll have to insist on keeping a distance between yourselves. You’re far to exposed clustered together.”

The Tellarite Ambassador huffed. “Well I’M not leaving. I’ve already ordered! You…” He pointed at Fearne. “Please remove my frail colleague from the premises. I’d hate to see his nerves shot before we began our work.”

The Andorians antenna reared up. “Frail?!”

Looking somewhat uncertain of herself, Fearne occupied what free space there was between the table and the Andorian Ambassador, becoming well in the orbit of his personal space.

“Sir? Um, Ambassador sir? Would you mind um, leaving? A bit? Please. Security risk. Yep. Definite risk. Lots of important people all together. Which is bad. Very bad. If you’re security. Which we are. I mean we are. Hence the uhhhhh… Gold uniform. Yep.”

Great job, Fearne. Smooth, she thought. Emma would be wetting herself laughing if she were there.

The Andorian looked at Fearne with a paused look of bewilderment. His feelings of offense now muddled with the crewmans polite request to… to… what had it been?

“I… what?”

Williams jumped in before the two could begin bickering again. “The crewman is right. Your own security detail appears to feel the same way. This venue is far to open to host two of the Federation most important officials simultaneously.”

The Andorian Ambassador looked flustered at the implied compliment then looked to his security escort who were standing outside the restraunt, watching the mass of residents on the promenade. “Yes… perhaps you’re right. Perhaps the Klingon deck will provide the discretion a VIP such as myself is in need of.” He turned to the Tellarite who was about to add another remark. Then Williams snapped to attention. His arms swung to his backside and ever so slightly smacked the side of the Tellarite Ambassador. The accidental strike threw him off guard and his frustration was torn briefly between the ensign. The Andorian bowed slightly. “Until tomorrow.” He turned end walked out of the restraunt, his own security detail trailing after him.

Fearne exhaled loudly through pursed lips, letting the tension of the moment dissipate.

“If in doubt, confuse the hell out of them, ay sir?” She said, rather self-deprecatingly.

The side of Williams lips curled up into a sideways smirk. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

The server returned to the table and placed a warm plate holding a classic steak dinner. The Tellarite looked at the meal with a weary expression. He sighed and looked at the waiting server. “I’ll… take this to go.”

Williams and Fearne escorted the Ambassador to his quarters. Fearne brought his doggy bag from the restraunt and set them on the center table.

“Thank you. I will turn in for the night now.”

Williams nodded. “Of course sir. We’ll be right outside.” The pair stood outside the Ambassadors door for two more hours. Their shifts finally came to a close as two fresh security officers stepped off the turbolift and relieved them. Fearne and Williams walked to the turbolift.

“Thanks for shifting with me sir and not like, wanting to totally kill me by the end of it,” Fearne said with an endearing smile. “I know I’m a lot and I always say the wrong thing and stuff, it’s kinda weird actually for someone who talks a lot, like, you’d think that I’d end up saying the right thing eventually? But Emma just gives me that look after a while and I just kinda stop talking without ever getting there… but um, yeeeeah. Thanks for not telling me to shut up or that I’m a moron or anything? ’cause people do. And I do talk a lot of bollocks. But it’s nice to go a whole shift without being told to shut up, y’know? Maybe you don’t. You probably don’t talk a lot of bollocks like I do, I mean I’ve gone a whole shift with you and you haven’t even talked one nut yet let alone a pair…”

Williams tried to comprehend the barage as they entered the Turbolift. He tried to think of a response. “I… yeah. Yeah you too.” They smiled and rose the lift to the habitation ring. “It was a pleasure. I hope our paths cross soon.” The doors slid open and they parted.

Even those with the most experience of the giant floating city that was Starbase Bravo could get lost. Nobody really had need to go everywhere, especially not those with a rather narrow job description like Counsellor. Most of Luna’s work took place in the Counselling suites attached to the main hospital of the station, but on occasion she had reason to go somewhere other than there, her quarters and the few coffee shops and other communal spaces she visited. Today was one of those days. Luna felt like an intrepid explorer every time she ventured out into the wider station, seeing new things, new places, new faces. She once again told herself as she moved down what she thought was the correct corridor that taking a day to just explore would be fun. Of course, that involved being outside of her quarters on personal time, something the rather timid Luna couldn’t often muster. Her journeying would have been helped by using the station’s guided navigation, but that would draw attention to her and if there’s one thing that rook the permanently anxious counsellor to downright scared it was attention or embarrassment from strangers.

Eventually Luna arrived at the tactical station she had been searching for. The wide array of windows spanned many degrees across the sky and sat above an equally dizzying array of consoles that, Luna knew from her reading of case files, controlled some of the Starbase’s tactical systems. She stopped just beyond the doorway to take in her surroundings. They were certainly grand.

Lieutenant Alexander Kolokotronis stood at the tactical station, reviewing the incident report once more. The incident had been a serious one – a junior officer had locked weapons on a federation starship during a battle simulation. No shots were fired, but the officer’s motives and judgement had been called into question. An incident like this could not be ignored.

The doors slid open, and the Lieutenant prepared to greet the Counselor, as they both stood on either side of the threshold to the entrance. He turned his head slightly, the nodded in her direction. He could see the tension in her shoulders.

“Counselor.” He greeted, giving a soft grin. “You found your way.” He motioned towards a nearby console, his expression unreadable, even to her. His eyes wandered back to the PADD he had been referencing the incident report from, then spoke again, his eyes not wandering from the small screen.

“I assumed you’ve read the incident report.” He sighed, his voice even, and unassuming. “I don’t know if this officer lacked proper training, lacked nerve, or if he has a more serious issue.” He placed the PADD on the nearby console, exhaling as he did so, turning his shoulders to Luna. “Out here, any one of those can be a problem.”

He studied her up and down. He preferred straightforward answers, but this was no longer an isolated tactical issue. This was an issue of personal nature, mental fortitude, and emotions. That was her expertise – not his.

Straight down to it. Luna found this slightly jarring. In her work there was always a greeting, cordial smiles and warm invitations to come in, to sit down, to have a drink. On a moment’s reflection Luna supposed that a tactical centre was hardly the place for things such as these. If to the point was the order of the day, she could adjust.

“Yes sir,” she confirmed. “I um, I can’t comment on training b… but… well um… I was wondering… if you could show me the relevant systems? P… please?” The stammer. Of course she was stammering, she was stressed. It was also embarrassing. Luna hated being embarrassed. It made her stammer even more. Employing long-practiced methods she took a considered breath and steadied her mind. “I’m trying to work out if Ensign Rees is lying to me… you see,” she explained, finally able to look Lieutenant Kolokotronis in the face. “His psych history notes remarkable self-assuredness, jock-like behaviour. P… … …possible narcissism. So I’m doing the eval… the N word… resident expert on N….P.D. you see. He um, he claims it was a simple mistake, but I’m not convinced. It seems out of character and he explains things a little too eloquently. It feels like he’s p… playing to the audience. B… b… but I have to be sure, I could tank his career if I’m wrong.”

Alexander never intended to make the Counselor nervous, but he was well aware of the potential gravity of the situation, and her unfamiliarity with tactical systems. “No need to be nervous, Counselor. We’ll get to the bottom of this.” He walked over to the tactical displays and firing mechanisms, motioning for her to follow him. “I acknowledge your concern for the young officer’s career.” He pulled up his information on the screen, allowing him access to the terminal itself. “….however. The path to hell is often paved with good intentions.” He grinned to her, jokingly, then turned back to the screen and collected a more serious demeanor. “It’s technically very difficult for any Starfleet personnel, regardless of rank or billet, to target any Federation vessel without bypassing a number of safeguards. I’ll connect to one of our phaser cannons and show you myself.”

He moved his fingers across the screen as he accessed the phaser control interface. The screen displayed a number of potential targets, including various civilian vessels, training drones, and one Starfleet frigate. He navigated past most, but then attempted to designate one of the Federation vessels as the systems’ primary target.

Immediately, a sharp chirp shrieked from the console, flashing a red warning on the screen, with a bright text that covered most of the interface: “Targeting a Federation vessel is prohibited per Starfleet regulations. Override authorization code required.” 

Alexander nodded to Luna, exhaling assuredly. He tapped a module button for the system to recognize his clearance. The chip blared again, this time with an additional message: “Warning! You are attempting to target a Federation vessel. Confirm action.”

He frowned, shaking his head slightly, then deactivated the display, disengaging the targeting protocol and turned again to Luna. “Even with my credentials and clearance, the system gives you one hell of a pushback, it won’t allow a target without extensive overrides. If the Ensign did this intentionally, he would have had to bypass multiple firewalls, which means it was definitely intentional. Based on what you told me, and his cavalier attitude, I think we have a bigger problem than just frayed nerves, but then, you’re the expert on that.”

Luna nodded. It was always slightly disappointing when patients lied to her, even if she already knew they probably were. She liked to assume the best in people despite her experiences as a child. That probably was a good thing, especially in cases such as this, but she had to do her due diligence. So Rees had lied. The question now was; was he fit to stay in Starfleet? That would depend on a few things.

“Thank you,” Luna said to Alexander gravely. “I don’t see how that could be an accident either. Oh and um, p… please just ignore the stammer it’s… I’m not nervous.” This was true, to a degree. She wasn’t more nervous than her usual base level.

“On the subject of training,” she went on, “I um, I need to consider all the angles that the Ensign gave to me and that could be affecting the incident. I’m guessing that all new appointees to Tactical here are given adequate training on Starbase systems? Shown what… what you just showed me?”

Alexander gave her a steady yet serious nod. His expression turned more thoughtful, and he stared off above her head while he thought. “Yes, all tactical officers, especially those assigned to weapons control receive a vigorous and thorough training program on both vessel and station protocols. We drill them on everything, but targeting restrictions and and safeguards and specifically emphasized to prevent these types of incidents.” He paused, and gave Luna a sincere look. “There is no way a trained officer that is sound of mind could commit a mistake like that, unless it was entirely intentional.”

He crossed his arms, examining the implications of the situation. “If Rees says this was a mistake, he’s either entirely incompetent, or lying. Given his access to the systems and a weapons control clearance, and based on what you told me, I’d go with the latter.” He frowned. “Regardless, we’ll have to have a word with his training officer as well, if this was done on Bravo.”

“I don’t envy your job, Counselor. What’s your next move?”

Luna wrinkled her nose in consideration, her eyes scanning the line of consoles, making up her mind on something. When she looked back to Alexander she seemed a little more calm, her decision cemented.

“Now um, well, now I finish and submit my evaluation. It’s not… I’m not the one who decides what happens, evidence and stuff, that’ll be… JAG maybe? One of the flag officers? I um, I do speak about his state of mind, which they’ll take into consideration when they’re deciding what to do.” In her head Luna knew this was Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Her theory was that, taken from the Academy, a place of notoriety where he had had one-on-one attention and rewards of recognition for achievement, Rees had been placed into one of anonymity and mediocrity in the lower decks of Starbase Bravo and his inflated sense of self hadn’t been able to take it. Whether through anger at not being recognised for the legend he thought he was or a simple cry for attention, believing he could stave off any trouble with the mistaken assurance in his own superiority of intellect she wasn’t sure and would probably never know. Narcissists rarely admitted anything, especially a problem with themselves. They also rarely sought help, or changed. Luna knew that fact alone and subsequently the fact she had to include this information in her evaluation meant the Ensign’s time in Starfleet was probably done.

“I um…” she continued, “I can’t discuss any diagnosis with you, or what he said to me in sessions. But this has b… been very helpful. Thank you. I know what I’ll write now.”

(1 day after arriving and unpacking everything…)
—-
Yajat stood in his quarters for the next 2 months until the Vacaville arrived to grab its new Captain, Lucy Sadakat Nurdan, make some repairs after being damaged during their latest utility run and head to Earth – the Vacaville would then dock at McKinley Station before dropping him off and receiving their next assignment.

Yajat wondered what would he do once he returned to Earth. Just then, his viewscreen monitor emitted a notification sound. Curious, he went over and saw it was from the Ramanujan Institute of Mathematics.

The Ramanujan Institute of Mathematics? Why are they contacting me?, he wondered.

He picked up.

“Mister Shamji. We’ve been monitoring you. And we believe you’re the perfect fit for Head of Advanced Mathematics Education.”, the director of the Institute said.

Yajat was taken aback.

A fresh start… at a mathematics institute? Am I dreaming right now?, he thought.

Eventually, he composed himself.

“I accept.”, Yajat responded.

“Good. See you in 3 months.”, the Director said.

The transmission terminated. Yajat was delighted, but he didn’t show it. He then sighed.

2 months. 2 months before I leave Starbase 4.

Little did he know that those 2 months would feel like an eternity…
—-
Personal Log, date: 4th February 2402.

Already 6 days into my stay here in Starbase 4, and I’ve already had to submit a request for heavy-duty soundproofing in my quarters – that’s how bad and frequent the nightmares have become. Hopefully, that request gets approved soon – my ‘neighbors’, although understanding, are losing sleep over this. On a more positive note, however, walking around the starbase has been nice – fresh air somehow calms my nerves. Perhaps a holosuite session that lasts 1-2 hours where I just meditate in oxygen would do me wonders? We’ll see. No friends yet, but someone has mentioned that their son, Erwin Rydenberg, might be the perfect fit. What’s more, he’s also in civilian quarters here – we’ve set up lunch that’s going to be in a few days time, so fingers crossed that works out.

A recent negative development is that my quantum cybernetic heart has been malfunctioning lately at more regular intervals – I can’t fathom why. Dr. Antonov, who has diligently read through every file on the heart I submitted to Starfleet Medical and Academy, has offered me his services. And I have taken him up on his offer – he genuinely sounded like he wanted to help. So, tomorrow, me and Dr. Antonov will be meeting up in Sickbay to see what’s the problem.

As for the nightmares, well… where do I begin? They are mostly the same: my family legally disowning me, Eric and his ‘power teens’ returning with a fiery vengeance and new gangs on the hunt for me. But that last type of nightmare… – I don’t even know where to begin on that. Every night, it changes to a new gang, a different motive, more gruesome methods of bullying and sometimes even torture. I wish I can describe it, but I won’t – for fear of not triggering another panic attack, which is a side-effect of these nightmares. Other symptoms I’ve quickly noticed are that: my sense of awareness has skyrocketed to levels such that it looks like borderline paranoia, heightened reflexes and a deeper mistrust of people in general, which explains the lack of friends. I fear there’ll be more symptoms throughout the rest of my stay, but for now those are the ones I have discovered.

Finally, sleep quality has gone down the drain ever since the nightmares restarted. Quantity so far is offsetting that, but it’s only a matter of time before it shows – after all, quality is more important than quantity, as the saying goes.

End personal log for 6th February 2402.
—-
Personal Log, 24th February 2402.

Well, the 20 days since my last personal log have been… highly eventful, suffice it to say. Goodness, where do I begin?

Let’s start on a positive note, shall we? That lunch between me and Erwin went great. We ended up going out a lot and got to know each other quite well. Then, Erwin went to his parents and surprisingly said he would like to move into my quarters. They agreed, so he asked me. I was quite shocked – the friendship had only been, like, a week old at the time. But then, he said he had no other friends growing up, and I was the first friend he made. Honestly, despite the fact I was a near-sociopath, that chipped against the metaphorical anvil just that little bit. So, I caved in. That was the right decision – we’re now as inseparable as a binary star system. Erwin’s… changed my outlook on emotions, I must say. I still want to get rid of them, but not as heavily as when I met with Counselor Jinean. I’ve told Erwin everything about my past – he has suggested I still need another emotional support mechanism to start healing and I do agree. He said it has to be a pet, but he doesn’t know which one.

A pet…

The same thing I told Counselor Jinean…

shakes head.

Goodness. Sometimes, my mind still wanders to the few weeks I spent at the Academy – painful to think about.

On another positive note, I’ve started blending my walking with the oxygen meditation I mentioned in my previous personal log. Honestly, the amount of pure oxygen a holosuite can produce is astounding – I struggled to breathe in the first 2 sessions. But, I’ve slowly adjusted to it. 2 hours of oxygen meditation really does calm the nerves – something I need, given my fragile state.

And speaking of my fragile state, here’s the first negative note of this personal log – my nightmares are getting worse each night. It would have been much worse had Erwin not been around, but it’s becoming unbearable. Luckily, the heavy-duty soundproofing got installed – I’m now yelling every 10 minutes due to the frequency of the nightmares getting ratcheted up every night or every 2 nights. On top of that, the profuse sweating and heart malfunctions are back, and worse than before. I even have some new symptoms: goosebumps, rashes and even 2 minutes after the dream where I just can’t move. All of them are annoying, although I will admit at least the 3rd new symptom keeps me semi-safe and allows Erwin to wake up and start tending to me, even though I keep telling him not to because he works and needs more sleep than me.

Another negative note is that the quantum cybernetic heart I designed needs an update surgery. Sourcing materials, creating parts and creating the new mechanisms required is hard enough in my current mental and physical state. Add the fact I need to be fully concentrated and my hands are starting to shake every time, and this is not looking good.

Also, my nightmares have caused a new symptom to pop up: gradual isolation. I don’t know how gradual the isolation is going to creep up on me or what further symptoms these nightmares have in store for me, but it’s not looking good. Finally, the variety of nightmares I’m getting exposed to now fluctuate constantly, so the paranoia has pretty much set in my mind the moment I go to sleep, which has resulted in poorer sleep quality and a decline in sleep quality – very bad.

sighs.

End personal log, 20th February 2402.
—-
Personal Log, 23rd February 2402.

The last 3 days have been… bad, to sum it up nicely. A more accurate description, and analogy, was that I fell off a mental and psychological cliff since my last previous log.

21st February 2402, one specific nightmare completely turned a positive day upside down. I mean, I can’t even describe the whole thing, only parts of it. And Erwin said I had to go to Sickbay since it looks like my heart got affected during that time – not ideal – on top of blood sweat forming. Since when does blood sweat exist now?!. And sometimes, I wonder why I’m still alive. But, anyways, I digress. What I do know is that: the nightmare was about Eric and his ‘power teens’, that they somehow got their vengeance using quite a lot of… instruments and that I think I had another legal case to battle again. I’m telling you, the Bergvall Incident still wracks me to this day, but the nightmare I had would be worse…

22nd February 2402, I noticed a stalker. Now, I managed to evade him and have an average day. Nothing wrong, right? Nope. A Starfleet security officer came in with Erwin in the evening – turns out the stalker was a body parts smuggler. A body parts smuggler who wanted my quantum cybernetic heart. I swear I wanted to throw something across the quarters. I do praise the security officer for just simply putting my hands behind my back in a clasp – don’t know what would’ve happened otherwise. So, looks like my paranoia is now semi-justified. I expect that to skyrocket even further after today.

And today, I finally underwent my quantum cybernetic heart’s update surgery and have just come back from it – it took up nearly the entire day due to lots of complications, missteps and everything else in between. But, ultimately, it was a success. The updated quantum cybernetic heart has semi-rigid skin in the region in and surrounding it – a strange sensation to feel considering we all don’t want to be like a Borg or an android. But I suppose that’s the price I pay now. The new nano-clicking is actually soothing – I thought it’d be irritable – and is helping to combat my nightmares. The quantum shockwaves, ripples and humming are also helping. So, although I have fallen off a mental and psychological cliff, I’m slowly finding my way back up…

End Personal Log, 23rd February 2402.
—-
Personal Log, 1st March 2402.

The last 3 days have been… uneventful. That’s because, after 3 average days, I’ve had to confine myself to quarters since the 26th of February after that body parts smuggler broke in the middle of the night – I don’t know how – to try and get my heart. Luckily, I was tinkering with my custom phaser because I couldn’t sleep. As a result, we had a staring competition and I won, given that Security were alerted very quickly. Cue my paranoia going into overdrive. Luckily, my brain has plenty of things to do, even when in self-confinement. Kal-Toh, 3D chess, Strategema, tinkering, stargazing/astronomy, mathematics – all of it is keeping me occupied. Right now, my custom phaser is set up, ready for Phase 20 of the tinkering. It’s a lot, but I hope it allows me to get through the last 27 days of my stay here.

Oh, and the nightmares are slowly turning into one type – my family legally disowning me. Maybe it has something to do with my updated quantum cybernetic heart, but we’ll see.

End Personal Log, 1st March 2402.
—-
Personal Log, 15th March 2402.

2 weeks later, and not much has changed. Not getting bored, but Erwin is very much worried about my mental health. I haven’t mentioned him as much in my last personal logs because, well, he’s just been in the background. But, a few days ago, he got stabbed in the abdomen. Nothing major, but I knew I had to come out of self-confinement to meet him in Sickbay. I took the most obscure and most longwinded route I could – I swear my paranoia was nearing its all time peak throughout my stay here during my walk. I entered Sickbay just as they released him. We chatted a little bit about his health before I took him down the same route I used. Erwin just knew why and nonchalantly went along with it.

I swear, since I met him on the 7th of February, we’ve quickly formed a friendship. I don’t know whether I should ask him to join me in going to Earth, but I’ll probably ask in a few days.

But, once again, I digress.

Back to our obscure walk, Erwin kept squeezing my left hand gently whenever my paranoia perked up. And, it turns out, it was justified. Just as we entered our quarters and locked it, I heard running footsteps and a phaser being fired. Bet it was another body parts smuggler who wanted my heart. Another price I have to pay to safeguard my life – being on the radar of such… villainous people like body parts smugglers and sellers.

Now, I just need to survive the last 13 days of my stay here and, hopefully, get Erwin to come with me as a bonus.

sighs.

End Personal Log, 15th March 2402.
—-
Personal Log, 18th March 2402.

Well, happy news – Erwin’s joining me!

Huh, joy – an emotion I’ve tried to suppress. I truly suppose finding Erwin wass the first step for me in my healing process. Speaking of, a few different emotions have now broken free of the anvil I built for so long – fear, concern, anxiety and now, obviously, joy.

Anyways, I digress. Again. I need to cut these out.

Now, Erwin talked to his parents and they’re finally happy that he has a friend and to let the medical staff take care of them – they’re in their mid-80’s and don’t have long left. I’ve met them twice and, despite my near-sociopath tendencies being more prominent back then, they could see me for who I really was – an immensely broken young man who never got yet needed emotional support.

In the meantime, those nightmares keep haunting me every single night, although not as prominently as before. The frequency has gone down and the yelling no longer occurs – it’s a simple jolt into reality now, so I’ve requested that they switch the heavy-duty soundproofing to something lighter until I leave – hopefully, that gets approved.

I’ll admit, it’s like a supernova has exploded in my mind and me and Erwin are trying to make a new star out of it, a new me, but we’re missing some elements, some key pieces.

Another tangent. Goodness, need to stop going off like that.

Anyways, I’ve been reading up on the Vacaville’s new captain, Lucy Sadakat Nurdan. I personally don’t think we’ll get along, but we’ll just have to see when the ship arrives.

10 days. And, then I’m off to Earth with my best friend…

End Personal Log, 18th March 2402.
—-
Personal Log, 25th March 2402.

It would have been an average and uneventful week – apart from our packing up, which is hectic – if it weren’t for the body parts smugglers. They got bolder every day. Security Officers were suggesting we get a shuttle to leave, but I had to explain that I had some volatile belongings that can only be stored safely on a starship. It was nothing dangerous, of course, but I let them have their assurances by showing them it. They were satisfied after that. Plus, I pointed out that even if there weren’t any volatile belongings, by the time we were done, we’d need a starship’s cargo bay anyways. So, we stayed. Kidnappings, attacks, violence – they tried every single tactic within the book of dishonour. And one of them was a Klingon. It doesn’t make any sense – a true Klingon would be a warrior or at least ply a respectable trade. But this Klingon clearly doesn’t understand the concepts of honour, dignity, respect and everything else that makes the Klingon Empire a warrior-like institution.

As for our packing up, we’re about 70-75% of the way there. Hopefully, we finish before the Vacaville comes.

Now, got to help Erwin pack up his precious painting – very delicate! This will be the last personal loge before I board the Vacaville with Erwin.

End Personal Log, 25th March 2402.
—-
(28th March 2402…)

As Yajat and Erwin stared at the quarters they spent 1.5 months, reminiscing about their time on the starbase, Yajat spoke.

“You know, I never thought I’d be able to heal, make a friend – especially a best friend – and just… be myself with someone without having to reach for my near-sociopathic tendencies.”, Yajat said.

“And I never thought I’d make friends with quite literally Starbase 4’s ‘Antisocial Ghost’, of all people.”, Erwin said.

“Huh?”, Yajat quizzically said.

“Yeah, the entire Starbase has given you that moniker.”, Erwin responded.

“They’ll probably be glad I’m leaving.”, Yajat said whilst shaking his head and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Erwin burst into a fit of laughter. When he recovered, he spoke:

“The first joke you have pulled off successfully. You’re finally understanding the concept of humour.”, he positively said.

“Perhaps. But one small step at a time, Erwin.”, Yajat said.

“Always, Yaj. Always.”, Erwin teased.

“Stop calling me by my truncated first name…”, Yajat said.

“What? I like it. Plus, you need some sort of nickname, and this resonated with me the most.”, Erwin responded.

“You’re never going to stop saying that, are you?”, Yajat questioned.

“No. I’ll keep saying it till my death. And it’ll be mentioned once in my funeral – by you. Mark my words.”, Erwin jubilantly declared.

“Oh, boy.”, Yajat groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose again.

As Erwin burst into another fit of laughter and was recovering from it, a male Security Officer approached them.

SO: “Your belongings are all packed?”
Yajat: “Yes.”
SO: “Good. The Vacaville‘s repairs will be finished in 5 minutes and depart in 10 minutes.”
Yajat: “Thanks for informing us.”

As the Security Officer left Yajat and Erwin, the latter asked Yajat: “We’re going to start a new future together, right?”

Yajat looked one more time at the civilian quarters he called home for 2 months before responding: “Together.”

With that, he left, the quarter’s doors sealing themselves shut.

And as they walked towards the Vacaville‘s docking area, there was one thing that was guaranteed:

Their friendship wasn’t an ordinary one. And each member will fight to the death to protect the other. Their future lied ahead of them, and they were going to go for it together, all the way until the very end…

The door to the turbolift opened, revealing Cadet Oliva Darwin’s stoic expression. She stood looking out into the busy hallway of the upper decks of Starbase Bravo. Darwin gulped hard as she tried to bring her nerves back under her control as she slowly made her way to meet her new mentor.

Lieutenant Commander Aloran was his name. She hadn’t heard of him before but she assumed (based on the name) that he was either half or full Vulcan. Which is an interesting person to choice as her mentor. At least in her eyes.

Aloran had done his best to explore Starbase Bravo in the short time since his arrival and it was the upper decks that had piqued his interest. He felt at ease among the many diplomatic missions on the starbase and with the unhurried pace with which the diplomatic staff went about their business. He had not seen any familiar faces yet, but, with nearly fifty years of friends and contacts in diplomacy, he imagined it would only be a matter of time.

Not that he had spent so much time since his posting in the upper decks out of idle friendship: as an intelligence officer he had a responsibility to cultivate relationships. He had to talk with people, to listen to them, all with the hope that the person might one day prove useful. Or that some small detail might be spoken of that would prove to have significance in the future.

But the arboretum was what had brought him here today, and the hope that the colourful variety of nature – the trees, the plants, and the calm water – would be a peaceful environment in which to meet Cadet Darwin. He had been surprised by the request to mentor her so soon after his arrival, but he was pleased – a mild satisfaction – that she had. He had known another Darwin before, the captain of the USS Bower, and that man had played a pivotal part in Aloran’s adjustment to being an officer in Starfleet. He assumed they were not related but the similarity in name had nonetheless brought a feeling of warmth and nostalgia.

He settled into a bench overlooking a small pool of bright blue water, ringed at the edge by colourful blue and green reeds, and began to meditate while he waited for the cadet to arrive.

The doors to the arboretum opened with a hiss as they revealed the deliberate display of nature. Darwin had never understood the purpose of the arboretum when the station was in orbit of a planet. Stepping inside she felt her feet sink as she stepped onto the soft grass. Inhaling she took in the smell of the fresh pine that reminded her of the many hikes her parents took her own in the Tahoe Forest.

Looking around she searched for where her new mentor could be. He was a Vulcan and despite them being a prominent species in the founding of the Federation she had never meet one before. So she figured the fastest was to follow the path.

Aloran’s meditation was brief but grounding, an appropriate preparation for a conversation about the choices of one’s life. Despite the mental exercise, the thought of helping someone younger than himself navigate her choices evoked a subtle, quiet grief. At one time it was an overwhelming feeling, or a feeling he hid from, but now it was something he lived with. And a great deal of the motivation behind agreeing to Darwin’s request.

He looked around, moving his head rather than his eyes, in a slowly sweeping motion with a slight smile, so as to put at ease anyone that he inadvertently caught the gaze of. He turned behind, leaning back on the bench to look at the path behind him, the one leading to the small pool of water and the bench upon which he sat. He caught sight of a young woman walking the path, in the uniform of a Starfleet cadet and with the insignia of the elite squadron stationed on the starbase. He broadened his smile, hoping that it did not look odd for a Vulcan his age to do so, and stood to greet her.

She looked round as she walked. She spotted the aging gentle standing near a bench facing the pond at the center of the arboretum. She grinned internally as she spotted him walking up to him slowly. “Lieutenant Commander Aloran, it’s great to make your acquaintance, sir,” Darwin said as she stretched her hand out to him. She was nervous to say the least.

“Cadet Darwin, thank you for meeting me here”, Aloran gestured to the surroundings, “I have observed that being in nature, such as this is, with the occasional passer-by, are a comfort when meeting for the first time”, he made an exaggerated movement intended to display an interest in their surroundings, “and, may I let you into a secret? I find some enjoyment in these spaces. Will you sit with me? And tell me a little of yourself?”

Darwin looked around nervously as she sat down. She hadn’t talking about herself it was one of her biggest fears when she met someone new. Maybe it was how she grew up. Being the youngest doesn’t always mean you get the most attention.

“Um okay,” she started her voice was shaken as she spoke to him. She hated when people stared at her. “I’m the youngest of six. I have three brothers and a sister or rather,” she paused. “I had two but Hilliard died during the attack on mars. I was three so I don’t really remember her but from what I understand I’m a lot like her.”

She sighed heavily as she looked out to the pond. “At least that’s what everyone tells me,” she said more to herself than to Aloran.

“I have some experience of grief, cadet. We share that bond, and share that bond with many others. But I do not have the experience of being compared to someone that I have little memory of. Perhaps we should walk together, in silence or in conversation?”

Darwin smiled softly as she nodded. “I would like that Commander,” she said in response. Turning she walked along the path following close behind the Vulcan officer. Smiling inwardly she enjoyed the silence and the intermediate conversation the had. It gave her a comforting feeling, a feeling she had not felt since she left Earth on that shuttle a short time ago.

The health of his mind, taken for granted in his youth and now taken seriously in his old age, was a state that to which Aloran would devote as much resources as were available to him. He had almost lost his sanity to grief – and without recognising that fact – and so considered it only logical to share the burden of corroborating that his cognition was functioning appropriately. He had found, late, that counsellors in Starfleet were a pragmatic balance between caring for their patient and having a responsibility to their unit that the patient was performing to the expected standard. How they negotiated between those positions appealed to his curiosity.

Newly arrived on Starbase Bravo, one of the first requests he had submitted was for an appointment with Luna Black, one of the counsellors, in order to establish his need and to acknowledge to his own superiors that he was aware of his unusual background and took appropriate conditions to monitor his mental performance.

He walked along deck 371, nodding to the officers that he encountered – most in the distinct uniform of medical or science personnel – and considered the question as to whether there would be any unusual dynamics when a Vulcan of over a hundred seeks the support of a Human in her twenties. He did not automatically assume that age and wisdom were corroborated, nor that youth could not teach something to old age: it would be illogical to think along such lines. He appreciated that his mind was an open one, even if it had proven to be an unreliable asset on rare occasions.

Arriving at the counselling suite adjacent to the medical centre, he tapped the panel on the door and awaited a confirmation for him to enter Luna’s office.

Inside, Luna had been brushing up on Commander Aloran’s past and previous counselling records. Vulcans were always a little tricky, having much more self-awareness and active input into their own mental state than a lot of other species. They could, sometimes, also be dismissive of assistance from non-Vulcans and from those significantly younger and less experienced. Luna was all of these things by comparison with her patient. But she was well-proven in her abilities and generally liked. With a flutter of nervous wings in her chest she stood from her desk. Soon she would discover just how open Aloran would be to her help, and how capable she was of even offering anything useful.

“Come in,” she called.

Aloran entered Luna’s office, “Counsellor. Thank you for seeing me”, he inclined his head, hoping to communicate greeting and an acknowledgement of this professional moment. Each of the Starfleet counsellors he had met had different and distinct styles. It was a curiosity to him how consistent and standardised training in psychology or psychiatry could result in wildly non-standardised approaches. He would ask her about this, but, acknowledging the purpose of his visit to himself, this was not a moment for intellectual adventures. He paused, taking in the atmosphere and decoration of her office. There was an astute aesthetic to the choices – unintrusive but clearly well-considered, with a relaxed warmth that he associated with more residential choices on Earth than the occasionally abrasive simplicity of Starfleet.

Luna nodded. “Of course, sir,” she said. “P… please sit, wherever you find most comfortable. Can I get you a drink of anything?”

“No, thank you, counsellor,” Aloran spoke as he moved to sit on one end of a sofa, “where shall we start? My records are as complete as my own recollection but I have learned that some personal colour is valued by officers in your profession,” he looked around the office and then focused back onto Luna, “do you have much knowledge of grief?”

Straight into it. Normally Luna would have mentioned her stammer to a new patient and would have asked them to ignore it. But Aloran had dove straight in and she adapted to his wishes. The young woman quickly replicated a glass of water for herself and placed it on the coffee table, sitting not directly opposite Aloran but not too near either. Sitting, she considered his question.

“Honestly, um, well, some first hand. But not a lot. Of course we’re all trained on… on it… at Starfleet Medical, the Academy, um. Well. Is that what p… prompted you to make an appointment?”

“Yes,” he paused, “I have found that Starfleet likes its protocol and processes. That is my purpose here, with you, to create an acknowledgement between us. That I have chosen to outline a concern on my formal record that, now many years ago, the grief I experienced because of the murder of my family almost caused me the loss of my cognitive function. It is in my interest, and in Starfleet’s interest, that we avoid any such repeat. I would appreciate your efforts as a fellow guardian of my sanity”.

Aloran gestured, opening his hands in a soft movement to imitate an idea of openness.

Luna nodded, slightly dumfounded inside but she hid it well.

“Yes sir, um, whatever I can do to help. Um, from your records you’ve done a lot of work to regain equilibrium and have a strong command of your own requirements to stay in that equilibrium. Do… you have a specific area you’d like to cover? Any… particular challenges you’re dealing with at the moment?”

“No,”, the Vulcan returned his hands to his lap and smiled slightly, “my endeavour today is,” he smiled softly, enjoying the sensation more than he should, “to alleviate as much as possible any awkwardness between us should I ask for, or your duty compel you, to intervene professionally on my behalf”.

“Oh!” Luna couldn’t hide looking a little relieved. The truth was that Vulcans scared her, from a professional standpoint. While she hadn’t managed to do any damage or even come off as being incompetent in front of one yet, it was an ongoing worry of hers. Relaxing inside, she considered where to take things next.

“That’s um, that’s a good idea. I um, well. I’m a bit of an awkward p… person,” she explained with a slight smile. “So um, don’t think it’s anything to do with you. And p… please ignore my stammer… if you can. It’ll go as I get used to you. Hopefully. Well, um, how have you been finding Starbase Bravo?” She asked. It was a fairly open question that would allow Aloran to pick up on just about anything.

Aloran raised his eyebrow, an expression which, paired with the smile just about leaving his face, gave his manner a momentarily comical flavour. He had assumed that counsellors were the most comfortable in their offices, the place where the hierarchy and control are clearly in their favour. He was curious about the counsellor, and why someone who experiences awkwardness would choose a role that necessitates frequent and intense contact with others – perhaps one emotion was overwhelmed by another, an interest in the mind? A sense of duty? He had concluded that the mind is full of multitudes and inconsistencies, including the minds of many Vulcans.

“The starbase is the perfect place within which to gather information, to talk with many travellers, and to observe the small messages of meaning that so many sentient species communicate without their conscious awareness,” Aloran paused, recognising that the question implied more of taste than of how he found his duties, “and the arboretum is a fine location to meditate. As, I imagine, are these offices. Given that we do not have a pressing need to bolster my sanity, would you indulge me in a curiosity, counsellor? I have wondered how a person in your position balances the responsibility to Starfleet with the responsibility to the individual?”

“Oh, um…” Luna gave this unexpected question a little thought, her large blue eyes resting on the coffee table as she did, as if recalling something past. “Well, we have guidelines but um, I suppose things only need balancing if they’re on opposite sides of an axis,” she said after a few moments. “I don’t think those two are um, opposites? The former usually facilitates the latter and vice versa. In rare cases not, in that case… usually the fleet wins. Um, maybe it sounds harsh, but I’m a Starfleet counsellor. If someone is bad enough mentally to be unfit for duty, either the fleet wishes their stability restored through concern for their wellbeing and we help them back into service, if that’s right for them, or if they pose a risk and are untreatable they’re dismissed. I um, I suppose it could be p… possible that someone of great value to the fleet was being made miserable by staying. In that case losing them would be injurious to the fleet but it would also be injurious to the patient to stay. In that case I’d help them to find what was best for them. We can’t advise on big decisions but we can make suggestions and help patients see the most healthy option. I guess it’s on a case by case basis, but those situations don’t come up often.”

After a brief pause she continued.

“Sorry, that um th… that was quite a long answer,” she said with a self conscious smile, looking back at the coffee table as if with a little shame.

“Curious. Starfleet medical regulations are explicit and yet you outline a process of interpretation and judgement. Perhaps the judgement you exercise – dealing with consciousness – is closer to those of command decisions than a physical health practitioner? And yet,” Aloran paused, hoping that the counsellor would look up from the coffee table, “you exhibit behaviours of anxiety while simultaneously performing duties that are interpersonally demanding. Why is that?”

“I er…”

Luna felt extremely on the spot. She should have expected it. She did expect it. But it didn’t make things easier. The only way was to power forward and explain, rather than letting her anxiety get the best of her.

“Um, well.” Luna frowned a bit gathering herself. When she did look up it was at Aloran’s chin, not right in the face.

“There are a lot of reasons. But mostly, I’m very interested in psychology and sociology. What makes people think how they do. Nobody does anything without a reason. But to others sometimes the reason is totally uh,  unfathomable? Unreasonable? It’s like um, it’s a big mystery I guess and I just find it fascinating to unpack it. What makes us all different. Hear all the stories of people’s experiences, see how being from somewhere, being one species or another, upbringing, family values, influences, how it affects the course of our lives…”

Luna took a deep breath, considering how far to go down the Rabbit hole. Her journey to counselling was highly personal and the appointment wasn’t about her. But it was nice to be asked about herself for once, even if that wasn’t what she was there for.

“I… don’t see my nervousness as a problem. I mean, it has b… been a p… p… a-problem, getting distress calls off when things get crazy and I’m stammering, clearly I’m not cut out for security…” Luna joked. “Um, b… but the causes of my stammer from when I was young make me see… what things can be like for patients. I’m not a psychologist or a psychiatrist or a Doctor. I’m not intimidating… at all. I’m just a counsellor. Who’s been where a lot of my patients are. Besides, being in a room with a patient is a lot less scary than being on the Bridge of a ship, or negotiating with an alien species or being on an away team on some dangerous planet. And if shy stammering Luna from Setlik two can become a Lieutenant in Starfleet then my patients can achieve just about anything, can’t they?”

Finally Luna looked Aloran properly in the face. In the cosy lighting of her office she saw the softness in his eyes. There was a unique kind of pain she had read about in his file that made him not only a professional curiosity but someone less intimidating than a lot of his species. Being entirely unintimidating was one of Luna’s fortes as a counsellor. There was a similarity between them and somehow that made her happy. Finally, she smiled.

Luna walked back into her counselling suite, padd in hand. It seemed having met her next patient outside of Counselling before-hand wasn’t a conflict of interest, at least not yet. They were only acquaintances, although Luna had been told to let the higher-ups know if that changed. With a sigh the padd was placed on her desk and, sitting at the computer terminal, she checked the file over again.

Counsellors aboard Starbase Bravo tended to have specialisms. Luna often handled fairly PG13 and family-oriented things, such as children, couples counselling, and group therapy, but there was still plenty of variety. She was also a specialist in personality disorders, and while she loved the subject, it was a double-edged sword, as she had recently discovered. The variety of work on Starbase Bravo was obvious by her impending first-ever appointment with a Romulan patient. Luna hoped her limited knowledge of the Rihannsu wouldn’t cause any offence.

Having attended enough counseling sessions during her Federation in processing, Hilea sat randomly on one side of the office. She wore an immaculate uniform and ultra-thin gloves, so dark green they looked almost black. Her amber eyes were inquisitive and bright.

Hilea smiled just a bit, enough for Luna to notice. “Good day, Luna. This is a surprising coincidence, or you requested me. Not an accusation, mind you, just banter. Being requested would be flattery, I suspect. ”

Placing a wrapped bag on the table, she added, “Mexican wedding cookies. They came up in the database. Please help me eat them.” She said, her smile growing a bit.

Luna rose from her desk as Hilea came in and offered her usual slightly uncertain smile.

“Ooh! Um, I don’t think a patient ever b… brought cookies before,” she observed, crossing to the seating area and inspecting Hilea’s handywork with curiosity. “I um, well. A counsellor must be honest with her patient. It was chance, um, actually. I checked just now, I told my b… my boss that I know you… it’s not a problem. Starship counsellors know their patients well so… same for the Starbase. It’s fine. Can I get you something to drink?” This was a brighter start than most appointments, and Hilea’s approachable disposition guided the oft-timid Luna into a comfortable place.

“Yes, please. A mug of dark hot chocolate. Thank you.” Whether you are my counslor or not, or spheres of unfluence parallel somewhat. Might as well be with someone I already know and immediately don’t hate.” Hilea teased, adding enough of a smirk to get Luna’s recognition.

Taking the mug from Luna, Hilea wasted no time. So how much of my personal history do you have access to? ” She asked point-blank.

Not wishing to be rude, Luna leant forward after sitting and unwrapped the cookies, looking up at Hilea’s Amber eyes piercing the cosy lighting of the counselling suite.

“Well, um, we um, we have, um, well. Everything Starfleet knows about you, I know. Everything official anyway. In the same way you probably know stuff about me… I’d rather you didn’t? Or um, you could. If you read my medical file,” Luna responded with her typical uncertainty.

Hilea actually laughed at that. “A Romulan you would not need to even voice that thought If they didn’t already have it commited to memory, their subordinates has.  My sense of honor has been tempered a bit shall we say. The thought actually hadn’t occurred to me, in my past, that would not have happened. Just for different reasons that my differently enlightened brothers and sisters would scrutinize your records.”

She sipped her cocoa, savoring the less sugary, hard-hitting dark chocolate. “To be frank, this is more a yearly certification requirement. Though I know some of the former counselors have suggested far more therapy considering my past and the current political situation.” She paused, taking another sip of the mug before continuing. “I can see through the ones that don’t bother to hide the disdain. Luckily, most people are open or becoming more so.”

“Well,” Luna responded quickly, “in Starfleet counselling is to help. So um, if you need it, for recertification, or if you make a mistake and mess something up, if people can see you’re not doing well then maybe? And of course you always can if you want to. B… b… but otherwise we um, trust people to um, well to just recognise when they need help. Try not to make it stigmatised. All part of the whole Starfleet… Federation… supposed to be all good things kinda vibe thing we have going? It’s a shame when people ruin it with being mean. Do you get that a lot from people?”

“I find it interesting in the sense of every organization has propaganda. Some is just more palatable.” Hilea offered honestly. “Experience has taught me people are people when treated properly. It should be that easy.” She paused, “It isn’t something I spend time thinking of. Besides, no cookies for them.” Hilea added with a chuckle.

Luna smiled and took a cookie, giving it an experimental bite.

“Mmm! They’re missing out,” she commented after swallowing. “Now um, I was l… looking through your file. The psych eval you did when you qualified as a Starfleet doctor was um, informative? You’ve been through a lot, seen lots of combat. Does that… stick with you?”

“Do I dwell on the negative, you mean.” Hilea countered. “The images come back from time to time, but it is starting to seem like another life.” She semiconsciously rubbed the brand from the Dominion War. Stopping her hand, she added, “Thank you, they are nice and light. Glad you enjoy them.”

Luna nodded. She meant more haunting than dwelling, but if Hilea was doing well in that regard, she deemed it less necessary to press any further. She nodded, still experiencing the sweetness of the biscuit on her tongue.

“Now, um, I’d like to touch on integration. You have already touched on some mild issues already. How do you feel you are settling into life in the Federation?” Luna asked. Any cultural grating points?”

Instantly, Hilea responded. “Banning coffee would be a start.” She teased. “Such a nasty burnt fluid.” Her nose even wrinkled in response. “I am somewhat used to it, and the nasal suppressants help: the vile solution seems to be omnipresent. ”

Hilea paused, thinking about the time she had had to adjust. “Culturally, it has and continues to be difficult making friends. My former culture isn’t one for honesty. Political officers being standard issue, it can foster careless habits. Romulans don’t make much small talk.”

Luna nodded. She was hoping for slightly more verbose answers, but Hilea was guarded and that was very understandable, given the circumstances of her past. She asked another question, hoping her patient wouldn’t find the probing intrusive.

“So do you think that comes more from you? Or more from people here being a bit wary? Or both?” She asked.

Hilea thought about the question. “The assignment I received was helping to rebuild the Utopia Planetia shipyards. A posting that was innocuous enough, but easily for anything to keep and eye on me.” She flexed her balled right hand, the soft glove just touching the tip of one of her lips.

As for friends, initially, myself, more often than not. Cultural differences, being too involved in establishing my worth to the Federation. Unused to…everything.” She paused, setting down the mug.”

“More recently, it seems to have been far easier. A mishap during the refit of this vessel introduced me to my neighbor in a most interesting way. Rock music blaring through the misinstalled wall panel between our quarters. Then there is you.” Hilea said.

“Mmm,” Luna nodded again as she listened. “Have you treated many people since you arrived?”

“It took an accident to make that happen. Not that I was averse to it, but it was made clear to me that my privileges would not extend to performing Medical procedures. A parting gift from my former government. After that, Medical tested me out and recertified me as a field medic so I could work my way back to my doctorate.”

She got up and recycled her cocoa. “Would you like something while I am up?”

Luna had read about this, of course, but hearing Hilea speak of it made the reality of it more prominent to the Counsellor.

“I um, no thanks. Um,” Luna watched Hilea as she moved about her office. “Okay so I’ll say a phrase that I try to avoid, b… because it’s… awful… but… how does that make you feel? What they did?”

The cup whirled into existence. She remembered the first time that question was asked. Time had slowed as her brain raced, as Hilea’s mind focused and understood what the therapists always asked her. Turning back, she sat down, looking straight towards but through Luna. Violated, angry, depressed, dirty.” Hilea said.

Mostly anger and the need for retribution. My mother always said I was born with too much Fire. Using the word in a religious sense. They branded and processed us like cattle.” Hilea’s face recovered and her gaze shifted so Luna saw her amber eyes. “Over the years, I have also realized that we weren’t the animals and the wasted energy spent on such beings is fruitless.”

Looking around, she added with a quip, “Similar to this monotone room, fruitless. Can I add a flowering or colored plant?” A slight smirk appeared on Hilea’s face.

Luna looked about the space. She’d tried to make it more comfortable, pillows, throws, a nice textile tissue box cover, but an interior designer she was not.

“Oh um, if you think it would feel more welcoming…” The counsellor was a little lost for a moment before picking up the threads of the session. Hilea obviously knew herself and was adept at answering but closing a topic at the same time. Luna squirmed a little mentally, she wasn’t sure where to go next.

“How so you find your colleagues at the hospital?” She asked, after a flash of inspiration. “Any acquaintances there? How do they treat you?”

“During the incident at Utopia Planetia, the medical staff was quite receptive, though perhaps too astonished at first. Mix that in with past trauma, and it is a small wonder I open up to anyone, ever. They treated me more fairly than I expected. So it was immediately suspect in my mind. ” She said, sipping her cocoa and examining the plants in the corner.

“That took a few counseling sessions to unpack. I had to find someone I could trust enough to pull back the blanket. But back to your question. To their credit, the staff treated me more than fairly.  At the surgical rotation, the food patients’ families brought in, I started to do a bit of cooking myself, and the brownies were always welcome. Which was a turning point. I believe the quote I heard the most, “She baked these herself? Hmm, she can’t be all bad. But said in jest, I suspect.”

Luna looked a little sad at this. It was a shame Hilea couldn’t take people at face value, but this was no failing of hers. On the contrary it was indicative of how she had been treated before coming to the Federation. Perhaps she could assist. But helping a naturally suspicious person and a doctor to boot wouldn’t be as simple as some C.B.T. coaching.

“Um, I think it’d be worth trying to actively remind yourself that these people around you are Federation, rather than Romulans. I know that you know that, but some active, mindful re-enforcement might help you to change your assumptions… your very understandable assumptions given what you’ve b… been through. I know… the Federation aren’t perfect and I know… some people will be suspicious. But mostly we are, or should be used to dealing with all kinds of cultures and races. I’m sorry some of the other officers here haven’t b… been as welcoming as they should. And they have their reasons, good or bad. B… but I’d like you to try to be mindful going forward of the assumptions that you’re making going into new acquaintances. Whether it’s expecting subversion or ostracization, or expecting to be treated like any other colleague. I’ve… I’ve found that a lot of people will simply fall into line if they are met with pure confidence by someone unconventional, but if that person projects anxiety or suspicion people around will pick up on that. Does that make sense?”

“It’s something of a work in progress,” Hilea said smiling weakly. “Oh, people suck. A person can be genuine, such as yourself. Don’t get me thinking on that dark path.” Hilea said, her face changing in anger. “I’m mad at myself, not you, Luna. Growing up Rihannsu, the Universal forces running through everything aren’t always truth, honesty, and compassion.” She looked at Luna hard for a few seconds. Then she calmly said, “Please retrieve a medkit.”

Hilea sat on one of the couches, starting to remove her uniform tunic. Underneath were long-sleeved silk thermals.

“Um, why?” Luna asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I am finally deciding on something I have been, as humans say, on the fence about. The threat from the Tal Shair has always been omnipresent in my psyche. However, given the time  that has passed and the reality of the power vacuum, it is time to heal.”

Taking off the thin leather gloves, she folded them carefully and placed them on top of her tunic. Hilea slipped her left arm outside the thermal top, exposing the thoroughly scarred Romulan branding under the left shoulder blade. “I was considering a tattoo, but I want it gone,” Hilea said with finality, power in her voice.

“They burnt my name,” Hilea said, the Fire present in her eyes, anger obvious in her tone and body language. Her fists were balled up tightly. “They want to give me Fire, I will use it to forge my defense for my heart.”

Turning to Luna, she offered, “Burning of the name is to be declared unworthy of recognition, honor, or even existence. It’s an extreme punishment, reserved for actions that are considered disgraceful or unforgivable.”

Luna’s insides were filled with a mix of different emotions, pulling her in very opposite directions. For now she stayed seated and tried to remain unflustered by this unexpected move. She failed.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said earnestly. “B… b… but um, maybe you should g… go to the hospital for that? It’s um, it’s not far… um…”

She knows that Luna, she works there.

“Neither is the tattoo salon,” Hilea responded as she put her clothing right. Recycling her mug, half full, Hilea sat back down. “Thank you for your time, Luna.” She didn’t look upset, but inside, a different story was unfolding. With finality, she put her gloves back on, making sure the uniform was perfect.

Completely uncertain of what to do, Luna quickly composed five possible responses in her mind, all of them dismissed as useless. Then after an awkward pause that went on a little too long, an idea was manifest.

“Why don’t we go together?” She asked. “To have it removed. I’ll come as a friend.”

“A solid proposal.” Hilea replied. “Then maybe a drink and not hot chocolate.” A slight smile crept across Hilea’s face.

Thompson had been given a rare day off and for once she had planned to take advantage of the time off. She decided she was going to go to the holodeck and do some ziplining. She had reserved the holodeck and was excited for some time away. She activated one of her favorite programs, which was an intense all day ziplining course through the hills of West Virginia.

Though she was not from the area she had been introduced years back by a few friends and now it was one of the best escapes. The doors whooshed open to the holodeck where Thompson was hit by the outdoors with many smells coming to her nose and the noise of birds above the tree line. She smiled as the cool autumn air hit her face. She walked down the path heading for the beginning of the course.

Her eyes shut as she took a moment to relax for the first time in months. Her thoughts were interrupted by what she thought was the opening of the door to the holodeck. She didn’t turn around still trying to focus on the serene peace.

Jade entered the room and immediately halted. She had expected the room to be empty but instead found the room occupied and currently in use. Feeling her cheeks turn hot, she thoughtlessly reached up and rubbed her cheek before tucking some rogue strands of hair behind her right ear. She was super embarrassed and prayed that it wasn’t readily visible across her face.

“Oh…I am so sorry!” She called out to the woman before her. “I didn’t realize this holodeck was reserved. I asked about using it and was informed it was available. Obviously, there has been some type of miscommunication. Please forgive me and I will leave you to it,” Jade spoke a little too quickly. She tended to get like this when she was nervous. She grabbed a hold of her bag and adjusted it a littler higher on her shoulder and then turned to leave.

Thompson looked back to see the newcomer someone she had never seen before. She put up two hands and smiled “It’s ok. Sometimes the system seems to not register the information as it is required.” She thought for a moment “You look like your wanting to do something outdoors…would you want to join me?”

Jade stopped walking and stood there. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Of course, she had come here to do the very same thing but she didn’t want to intrude. But she had really looked forward to this time and she really could benefit from “spending some time outdoors.” She turned back towards the woman before speaking. “If it’s not too much, I’d love to join you. I don’t want to intrude or anything though. I’m Jade by the way,” she spoke as she slowly approached the woman.

“Oh my apologies I am Sonja Thompson, Lieutenant JG in the Promenade Security division.”

Jade gave her a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m also a Lieutenant Junior Grade. I’m currently serving a deck officer working my way towards JAG specialist. I take it you are a fellow lover of the outdoors. I love to come here and take a breath, if you know what I mean.”

Thompson smiled and nodded “While I have never been here in real life this is one of my favorite places to come. I have multiple programs around here. I was planning to do a long round of ziplining if you would want to join. Most people won’t do it because they’re scared of heights.”

“That sounds fantastic actually. I’d love to join. It sounds like just what I needed. I’m not going to say that I’m fearless but I have never been one to be afraid of heights.” Jade spoke as she softly placed her bag on the ground beside her. “Lead the way,” she said as she approached and then stopped right in front of the other woman.

Thompson nodded and made the way to the beginning of the course and helped Jade get into the harness for the course. She turned and gestured to the beautiful view of the mountains and valleys they were about to traverse. “So have you ever done this before? Ziplining is tons of fun, but you can’t be scared of heights to be able to do this. Its a quick and exhilarating feeling and something I love.”

“I have been ziplining before. It’s one of my favorite things to do actually. Sadly, I haven’t had a chance to enjoy it lately. I’m glad I’ve finally been able to have some free time to enjoy it again,” Jade finished fastening the harness and securing herself as she spoke.

Thompson smirked “I think you will enjoy this one. It is one of my favorites and one I have done in person, but I also come back to it because of the thrill level and the beautiful views it provides.”

“Sounds perfect. I could use a little bit of thriller right now. You ready to go?” Jade smiled as she spoke.

Thompson nodded “Let’s do it!”

Jade nodded at Thompson and then took a second to take a deep breath and calm herself. She rocked back and forth on her feet for a few seconds and then let go. Her smile was huge as she ziplined through the terrain.  This was just what she needed and she had hopefully even made a new friend in the process.

“That went really well,” Ryke said after the last of the students headed out the door, handing Luna a cold water from the replicator in the corner.

Grabbing one for himself, he snapped the lid off and downed half of it in two long swallows. He’d spent the last hour snarling and generally acting like a complete arrogant asshole, then having students hit him or throw him on the floor.

Not one of them, including Luna, had refused to do so… so the session was definitely a roaring success.

“How are you feeling now? Still good?” he checked in with her.

Luna took the water gratefully and cracked it open.

“Tired,” she admitted after taking a sip. “I um, I don’t spend many mornings throwing people on the floor. I haven’t been this tired since I left the Academy. B… but I’m okay. Um, maybe …because I know you won’t really hurt me? Not that this isn’t good training. Great training! B… but… do you think um, psychologically there’s a difference when I know… I know you don’t mean it?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “The limbic system kicks in and overrides your higher reasoning, dropping you into the fight or flight response. So no, I don’t think so. I think you’re making real progress here.”

“Thanks!” Luna smiled, not one of her usual nervous closed-mouth ones, but a proper smile showing her large, slightly mousey front teeth. The compliment overrode any embarrassment she might feel about being corrected. Ryke after all was much more experienced in matters of imminent peril than she. He handled a lot more difficult patients, after all. Luna took another drink of water. “It’s um, easier when the teacher is a counsellor. I don’t have to worry about um… looking a bit… um, nerdy? I guess? In front of the security officers…?” Luna grimaced slightly, clearly that had happened to her before. But even if Ryke thought she was nerdy, at least he knew she was good at her job and that gave her some buoyed confidence.

Ryke smiled.

“Those guys? I can guarantee that they have their own share of moments they’d like everyone to forget from when they were learning. Me? The first time I threw a punch, I broke these three knuckles.” He clenched his fist to show her. There was still a scar across one of them.

“It hurt but then I tried to play the hard man… walked around the corner and invented about seventeen new swear-words. I think half were in klingon.”

Luna chuckled. She could only imagine the kind of ferocity, the anger, the physicality that led to a situation like that. She had witnessed some similar things from her brothers on Setlik II. It was all alien to her as any physical confrontation was. She almost said as much, but then concluded Ryke would know that. She might even have said it before. Her nervous mind swap looking for a response and grabbed at the first salient question.

“How old were you?”

Ryke wrinkled his nose as he stretched out his hamstrings, thinking back. “Probably about fourteen?”

Yeah, that sounded great didn’t it… admitting to violence at such a young age.

He half-chuckled, and added, “Needless to say, I learned to throw a punch properly very quickly after that. Nothing like healing up a few broken knuckles the old-fashioned way to incentivise you! Now, shall we have another go at it? Take things up a notch?”