“Attention on deck!” shouted Mac as Tikva stepped out of the shuttle, the handful of crew members that he’d scrambled together snapping to attention. “Welcome aboard the USS Atlantis Captain Theodoras.”

“Commander MacIntyre, you’re supposed to be on leave,” she shot back with a smile. “How long have you known?”

“Not even a week ma’am. Straight from Memory Alpha to here. Flight Ops was all squirrely, directed me here where…” he smiled, paused, then turned to indicate the primary doors out of the shuttlebay and into the ship proper. “There’s someone who would like to see you, ma’am. On the bridge.”

With a nod of her head, she headed in that direction, hearing Mac dismiss the party behind her and catching up in quick order. Mac on her left, Adelinde on her right, was there a force in the universe that could stop her?

“Tell me Mac, what’s your role in all this?” she asked as they walked down a deserted corridor. Everything was so shiny and new, yet classic lines and design elements remained. A ship of a half-generation ago, but with all the new bells and whistles that could be crammed into her without too many problems.

“Sorry ma’am, orders not to tell just yet.” Amusement radiated off of him and she gave him a filthy glance as they entered a turbolift. He was a big boy with a big secret and so happy he didn’t have to tell. “Bridge,” he ordered of the computer, standing just that little bit straighter and giving her a smile that she didn’t like.

The ride, short as it was from deck six to the bridge, was in silence. As the doors opened, she could make out exactly five people on the bridge waiting for her. One had their back to her, wearing command red and talking with two civilians whom she immediately recognised – her parents. No attention was given to the other two officers, aside from noting a blue and red uniform.

What are they doing here?

Seriously?! Ma? Pa?

Act cool.

She stepped out, Mac clearing his throat behind her to announce their arrival and the unknown person turned around and she immediately straightened her posture and came to attention at the sight of her former captain, now commodore, Ricta Denevan. It was short-lived as he smiled, closed the distance and extended a hand for a solid handshake. “Captain Theodoras, welcome aboard.”

“Cap…Commodore Devenvan, sir, pleasure is mine.” She tossed a momentary glance to her parents, her mother offering a small wave, her father an upwards nod of the head, then back to the commodore. “I was unaware of your promotion sir.”

“Recent thing actually. You would have been in the Delta Quadrant at the time anyway.” His grip was still strong, still confident. But then he let her hand go and held his hand out, the red uniformed ensign stepping forward to place a padd in his hand, which he looked at momentarily then immediately handed it to her. “Captain, as an officer in the Bureau of Personnel, on behalf of Starfleet Operations, I hereby order you to read the contents of his padd out loud for all here to witness.”

She blinked at him a few times, remembering the captain who had wished her all the best when she left the Trafalgar for the Atlantis, the first Atlantis that is. “Hate to see you leave,” he had said then, “but glad they’re giving you your own ship again.” Now he was a commodore, which meant the Trafalgar was in some other hands. A ship she had quite literally saved at personal cost was in someone else’s hands to keep safe.

“Captain, is there a problem?” he asked.

She blinked twice more, her brain still processing all the information, but pushed it aside to look at the padd and the short paragraph on screen.

“I, Captain Tikva Theodoras, hereby directed and required, take upon myself the duties and responsibilities as the commanding officer of the United Federation of Planets Starship Atlantis, NCC-90562, on stardate 77143. I declare,” she paused to look up at Commodore Denevan who was grinning like the cat who stole the cream, “to uphold and maintain the best traditions of the Federation and Starfleet in the discharge of my duties.”

“Computer,” Denevan said as she finished speaking, “transfer all command authorisations to Captain Theodoras and make a note in the official log that I am assigning Commander Charles MacIntyre as her executive officer effective immediately.”

“Acknowledged,” the automated minion intoned. “Captain Theodoras is in command.”

Denevan took the padd back, passing it off to who clearly had to be his yeoman. “First order Captain,” he said, mirth in his voice, “is get this ship launched on time. Dedication plague already says stardate 77170 and you know just how much of a pain it is to get those redone.”

“Aye sir,” she answered.

“Good. Your old crew are all being assigned here, as well as enough personnel to fill out the roster for this ship. The commissioning ceremony is all booked as well, then you’re off for an eight-week shakedown, back to the yard for final fitment and evaluation, and then we’ll turn you loose.” Denevan chuckled briefly to himself. “I don’t think anyone over in Fourth Fleet command is going to be too annoyed I replaced an Argonaut-class with a Sovereign, do you?”

“I suspect they’ll be pleased actually,” she answered.

“Good. Lieutenant Gantzmann,” he turned on Adelinde, who was already at attention. “I have something for you, though I think it best it comes from your captain.” His hand was held out once more, his yeoman filling it with a small black lacquered box, which he handed straight over to Tikva to open and inspect. “For your bravery in leading the rescue of your captain and your mostly peaceful apprehension of the Highcroft Liberation Front, as well as your stellar track record while on assignment in the Delta Quadrant, it is my honour to promote you to the rank of Lieutenant Commander with all the privileges and responsibilities that entails.”

While Tikva had kept it from her face until she turned towards Adeline, the smile was absolutely genuine as she took the silver-rimmed black pip and set it on Adeline’s uniform. “Congratulations Lieutenant Commander,” she said, shook hands and then stepped aside for Denevan and then Mac to do the same.

“Right, those official acts, sorted, how about we relax a bit?” Denevan then stated and with that the official stuffiness in the air seemingly vanished as everyone’s shoulders relaxed and emotions actually presented themselves. “Told you Tikva I wasn’t letting you leave my ship unless it was for nobler things.”

“Tour of the DQ, a galactic crisis, then a regional one, now a new ship. It’s been a whirlwind since Trafalgar Sir.” She was going to say more but her mother, whose height she did not inherit, interrupted by enveloping Tikva in a hug. “Ma, please!” she protested, but no one was seemingly coming to her rescue.

‘What did I teach you?’ came her mother’s voice directly to her mind, the emotions of happiness and slight disappointment laced with them. So happy to see her daughter, disappointed she was talking to her versus simply ‘speaking’ at her.

‘To be polite around others,’ she replied. She waved to her dad who had made his way to introduce himself to Mac. There was a pairing she figured would get along well, especially since she’d gotten Mac motivated once more. ‘Especially Pa.’

“Good girl,” her mother spoke, then mostly turned her loose, holding her upper arms. “Eating well? Taking care of yourself? You look good, aside from that dreadfully unfashionable uniform,” Mikou continued. Then she stopped and smiled. ‘Being taken care of?’ her mother spoke at her privately.

“Ma!” she exclaimed, knowing a blush was forming immediately. “Not the place.”

That was her father’s queue as he excused himself from Mac and stepped over, a hand on his wife’s shoulder, a loving smile to his daughter, who he was only marginally taller then. Ballis Theodoras had been the peacekeeper in the house during her teenage years and looked like it was a skill never lost. “Love, stop teasing our daughter. Hello sweetie.” He then gently pushed his wife’s hands aside for his own, gentler hug. “Your mother and I were invited by Commodore Denevan to the commissioning ceremony but then just this morning he asked us if we wanted to come and see you take command. So proud of you.”

“Thanks, Pa,” Tikva said. “Gonna need some ouzo though, toast this young lady,” she tapped the deck with her foot, “properly.”

“I’ve got four bottles as a gift to you, two for the party and one for the ship.”

“That’s seven Pa, they come in crates of eight.”

“Your father,” Denevan spoke up, “made a compelling argument for my ownership of a bottle. And since you introduced it to me, Captain, I’ve accepted his offer.” He stepped forward, turning to face her parents more than anything. “I do want to apologise Mr and Mrs Theodoras, but I need to brief your daughter and Commander MacIntyre while I’m here. I promise there will be time for you to see your daughter during the week.”

“Must you Commodore?” Mikou started, stopping as Denevan nodded his head softly. “Well then, we shall return planetside. Tikva darling, dinner tonight. Bring your officers along, I’ll book us somewhere to eat.”

“Yes Ma,” she answered, then suffered a kiss on the cheek from both parents before they passed for the turbolift, Denevan’s yeoman trailing them no doubt as an escort. That left the bridge, the nearly empty, unmanned bridge, to the Starfleet officers. “My parents Sir?”

“It’s a mentor’s duty to make a student’s life just miserable enough,” he said with a smirk. “Commander Gantzmann might as well remain for the briefing, as well as Doctor Pisani here,” he finally introduced the blue collared individual who was present. “She’s one of many new doctors you’ll be taking aboard ship. Doctor Terax is still your CMO, but Doctor Pisani here is bridge qualified as of…three weeks ago?”

“Thereabout Sir,” Pisani replied with a mischievous smirk and a sense about her that went with it.

Going to have to watch out for her.

Trouble. Chaos. Did she just check us out?

Well, this is going to be interesting.

“Let’s make for the conference room then,” Denevan said, indicating a particular door. “Patrick will return when he’s seen your parents off the ship.”

Captain’s Log, supplemental.

Just had a rather short conversation with Admiral Harding, Starfleet Sciences, about new orders for Atlantis and diverting to Memory Alpha immediately. As we were speaking, orders from Commodore Ekwueme came through supporting the Admiral’s position. I’ve already given the order to the helm to change course and take us to maximum warp, but the diversion alone is going to cost us the Delta Quadrant for a few months at least. Heck, we won’t even be at Memory Alpha when the wormhole opens.

I’ve already called a senior staff meeting but I can feel the disappointment already. News travels fast and a starship is a close community. Whatever Command us up to, I’m just hoping we can catch the next opening back to the DQ, or anywhere out where this crew excels – pushing at map boundaries.

I was really looking forward to getting a new arm at Guardian dammit.

With Velan’s arrival, the full senior staff was assembled and Tikva saw no reason to delay the confirmation of bad news any further. The confirmation of the orders she’d given the helm went down poorly for a number of the crew, worse for others and amazingly neutral for a couple. Her gaze lingered over Adelinde more than T’Val, since she expected indifference from her Vulcan helmswoman.

“Cap, this is nonsense,” Mac spoke up, the wave of emotions from the others simply given linguistic form with his words. “We’re almost all the way to Guardian now. Two days after that we’ll be in the DQ. Memory Alpha is going to cost us. Surely there has to be another ship that can do whatever Command needs.”

“Mac,” she tried to gesticulate with both hands, then stopped herself, “you’re not saying anything I didn’t already say. Admiral Harding has orders for us and us alone. Something special about our ship apparently.”

Rrr’s thinking rumble, the equivalent to a deep bellied ‘hmm’ in any other species, was a combined experience of feeling and hearing and it always worked to draw attention to the Gaen. “Admiral Harding? Admiral Lucius Harding?” With an affirmative, they continued. “Archaeology and Anthropology at Starfleet Science.”

“Actually,” Gabrielle spoke up, leaning forward so as to be seen by all. “While he’s on the books with Starfleet Science, he’s actually a liaison to the Federation Science Council, specifically the Ancient Civilisations sub-council that specialises in the lost superpowers. Iconians, T’Kon, Preservers, those sorts of powers.”

“We handed over the T’Kon relic when we hit Guardian. They’ve got everything of import from us,” Mac threw out there, then turned back to Tikva. “Cap, there something else to those orders?”

“Wish I knew. Just says best possible speed to Memory Alpha.”

“At our current rate it will take us three days, sixteen hours to arrive.” T’Val’s announcement was the death knell of any hope of making it back to Guardian Station for the Barzan Wormhole back to the Delta Quadrant.

“Well then, that’s that. Everyone dismissed. Oh, and Doctor Terax, could you possibly call ahead to Memory Alpha and see if the hospital there might be able to help?” she asked with a wave of her hand at her left arm.

While gripping and grumbling at the orders from Command hadn’t taken place during the briefing, once everyone had returned to the bridge, those on duty there at any rate, and the captain had passed through to her ready room, it had started and Mac found himself sitting literally and figuratively in the middle of it.

“Just feels like bullshit. The least they could have done is given an explanation for the orders.” He was pretty sure he’d never heard Gabrielle be so dismissive of the orders of Command. “I have a whole list of things I want to do follow up scans on when we get back out there and now they all have to wait months before we can get back out there.”

“Command is prone to keeping orders vague when operational concerns demand it,” Adelinde provided and Mac looked over his shoulder at her with a glare that said ‘not helping’.

“Vague?” Rrr rumbled. “Vague would imply they at least attempted to inform the captain of the reasoning.” They stroked their chin for a moment then continued. “This feels very much like that Omega situation, with orders and no clear reasoning to them.”

“It’s not,” Adelinde quickly added and Mac once more turned to her, trying to read her face. The hardness in the woman’s eyes as she glared at Rrr told him all he needed to know – she believed Tikva’s position about nothing more to the orders.

“Okay, okay,” he finally said, getting to his feet so all could see him properly. “All of this isn’t helping anything.” He turned around to make eye contact with all interested parties, to make sure he was understood. “Command’s orders are likely vague as hell because they aren’t complete. We’re probably being ordered somewhere while someone finishes drafting our proper orders. They know it’s going to take days for us to get there, so they might as well get us moving while they can.”

“What could be so important that only we can do it?” Gabrielle asked.

“Oh, that’s simple,” he said with a smile as he sat back down. “We’re just the best damn looking crew in the galaxy and they want us for one of those fancy science council balls.”

“I highly doubt that,” came a devastating blow from the helm as T’Val spoke up. “The Federation Science Council doesn’t have balls.”

“Was…was that a joke Lieutenant?” Mac asked, looking to the others on the bridge to confirm he had heard what he thought he had heard, the same look of confusion on their faces.

She didn’t even look up from her console, let alone turn around. “A statement of fact.”

“Memory Alpha system in one minute,” T’Val announced, breaking up the quiet of the bridge.

There wasn’t much to do this deep in Federation space at high warp. Monitor comms for distress calls, and watch for anomalies, but otherwise not much to do, which meant the bridge was sparsely populated at the moment. Helm, Ops, someone from Sciences at one of the bridge consoles in conversation with a lab doing calibration work and Mac, sitting in the XO’s seat and getting paperwork done.

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he replied, then keyed the call button to the ready room. No need to speak or deliver a message, he knew Tikva would understand why he’d chimed. “Once we’re at impulse proceed in system at full impulse. Lieutenant Michaels, call ahead and get vectors for orbit.”

“Aye sir,” Michaels replied just as the ready room door opened and Tikva stepped out, reading her own padd which she offered to him as she passed.

“Velan’s having disciplinary issues with De León and Corrin,” she offered as a summary. “Lover’s quarrel impacting work.”

“I’ll talk with Velan and switch their shifts around for a couple of weeks.” He didn’t read the padd, just sat it on his lap with two others. “And let Gavin know as well. See if our ship’s counsellor can’t pull some insights for us.”

“Ugh…Gavin,” Tikva complained.

“You don’t like Gavin?”

“No, he’s a great guy. Just you reminded me that I’ve got a session with him this evening.”

He couldn’t help the eyebrow that rose. “Didn’t you have a session with him yesterday?”

“That was couples counselling,” she offered as the steaking stars on the mainviewer came to a relative stop, no long lines but points. “Adelinde and I actually find it really helpful. Every two weeks, we hit the holodeck for an hour then straight to Gavin’s office. Work the body and mind.”

“Kids these days, so responsible,” Mac chuckled as he shook his head.

“You’re barely older than I am!”

“Ah youth, protesting to their elders.”

Before they could continue, Michaels turned in her seat next to T’Val to face them. “Captain, incoming message from the Robinson. Admiral Harding wishes to come aboard. They’ll be in transporter range in two minutes.”

“We’re a few hours out from Memory Alpha,” Mac said, voicing the obvious fact. “Having a ship waiting for us out here, he must have something important to say.”

“Yah…wonder what.” Tikva shrugged at him, just as confused as he. “Tell the Robinson the admiral is welcome to beam over as soon as they’re in range. Oh and Samantha, message Ch’tkk’va and get him to arrange an escort for the admiral to my ready room.”

“An escort, or should he escort?” she asked for clarification.

“Oh, I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Tikva teased. “Why not ask Ch’tkk’va themselves to escort the admiral.”

It was nearly an hour later when Mac found himself called in from the bridge to the Ready Room, a bridge which was considerably better staffed than it had been. Yes, it was performative art, but Admiralty had to be convinced all ships were running at peak performance at all times, right? Harding had been escorted through the ship, with just enough of a delay to man most bridge stations with staff who really didn’t need to be there at the moment, and shown straight to Tikva’s office and he’d not heard a peep until his summons.

“You called?” he asked, stepping and letting the door close behind him.

“Yah Mac, you might want to take a seat.” He didn’t like Tikva’s tone, the foreboding dripping off it. He certainly didn’t like the look of Admiral Harding.

“So, it’s a good news, bad news situation Mac,” she continued. “First off, the entire crew is getting three weeks R&R. Everyone.” She added the last word as an emphasis to him. Everyone was getting off the ship. The bad news had to be bad.

“That’s ominous in light of bad news,” he offered.

“We’re losing Atlantis.” She didn’t dance around the point, just got straight to it. Before he could protest, she rose a hand, waited for a half-second, and then continued. “Archeology and Anthropology have been studying the T’Kon artefact and came up with a couple of conclusions, namely we’re not likely to dislodge the T’Kon AI sitting dormant in our computer core any time soon.”

“To be fair we haven’t tried a complete wipe and restore, but that would take weeks in a shipyard to manage.”

“That is correct Commander,” Admiral Harding final spoke. The man’s face was a cross between a bull terrier and a collapsed star and despite his size and appearance, his voice was some nasally little thing. It irked him immediately, but he also knew the man’s reputation. Clearly blessed in some regards, cursed in others. “We’ve also concluded that the AI integrated itself with Atlantis as a whole far more than expected. A&A want to attempt to reactivate the AI for interviewing or at least study it, but we’re loathed to lose another starship or even more expansive computing resource within the Federation when we have a perfectly viable platform already.”

“So A&A, a part of Federation Science Council, are taking Atlantis for their own?” he asked.

“Technically the Science Council are taking receipt of the ship from Starfleet Command upon its decommissioning, then entrusting it to a sub-council for research purposes.”

“This ship has just had an engine overhaul, it was refitted only a year ago, the crew were looking forward to getting back to the DQ and Command is going to decommission the ship in it’s prime?” He knew he’d been speaking faster and faster. “Excuse me Admiral, but I feel it’s my duty to point out a mistake when I see it.”

“Mac,” Tikva spoke up before either man could continue. Just her interruption was enough to draw his attention from the Admiral and back to her. “There are other reasons as well, but they’re classified.”

“Omega?”

“What do you know?” Harding snapped out immediately.

“It’s classified such that I don’t know and I don’t like it,” Mac answered truthfully. “This stinks.”

“No argument here,” Tikva said.

“I’m unconcerned with your opinions on the orders Captain, Commander. I am here to do my job, which is secure this vessel for the Science Council. You’ll have the R&R orders on your desk within the hour. You’ll deliver Atlantis to Memory Alpha, specifically a Dr Gork and then have the crew disembark.” Harding paused for a breath. “Transports will be arranged for your crew to a variety of primary transportation hubs to allow them to take their R&R where they wish. New orders will arrive for yourselves and your crew at the earliest Command finishes drafting them.”

There were a few more formalities, some very precise and polite pleasantries and then the admiral was gone, leaving Mac and Tikva alone.

“This ship has years left on the clock,” Mac said breaking the quiet.

“Yeah. But the crazy lady living in the basement is apparently enough of a draw to get us kicked out for new tenants.” She shrugged, rolled her shoulders, and then slumped down. “Call a senior staff meeting Mac. Best we tell them before we break it to the crew.”

“You’re going to have to spill the beans on this Omega bullshit one day you know.”

“Oh no, I’m not doing that. Command gets to brief you on that can of worms. But, once they give you that fourth pip, we’ll talk about this and all that shit in the DQ. Somewhere far away from any prying ears. Over a bottle of something nice.”

“If I get my fourth pip,” he replied, getting to his feet. “An hour?”

“Make it thirty minutes. Rumour mills are prone to self-starting based on some weird quantum information principal I’ve never figured out.” She sat up and smiled at him. “And Mac, you’ll get your fourth pip, if I have to make Admiral and give it to you myself.”

“So, we’re being broken up?” Velan asked after Tikva and Mac had laid out the situation to the senior officers.

The sense she was getting from everyone was disappointment tinged with anger. The specifics she couldn’t place, but everyone’s versions of such feelings overlapped in weird ways and that left Tikva with a weird taste in her mouth that she wasn’t a fan of.

“No one has confirmed that,” she spoke up, “but at the same time it is a real possibility. At a minimum, we aren’t staying on Atlantis that’s for sure.”

“A crew of two hundred suddenly removed from a ship, Personnel is going to scramble to fill in every empty billet within five lightyears from such a boon,” Rrr grumbled out for all to hear. “But then again, random reassignments and odd postings are a…perk of the job.”

“Gee, Rrr, didn’t need the full sales pitch. You had me at random.” Gabrielle Camargo, the youngest officer in the room, was perhaps the only one here not entirely in an emotional pit at the moment. Her entire career had changed by becoming the chief science officer aboard Atlantis and looked only to keep ascending. “But hey, we had fun, right? Chance to go out into the wider fleet and get some new experiences, right?”

“Captain, you sure we can’t protest this?” Velan said, shaking his head. “It’s just folly to take a perfectly good ship out of commission and turn it into a floating science lab.”

“I tried Ra, I really did. But someone with way more pull than I have started all of this. A&A want Atlantis as their personal fiefdom, so off we go.” She breathed in, breathed out, and then offered a smile to her staff. “I’m going to put my money on us not being broken up though. One, they’ll give me a new ship soon enough and as captain, I’ll have some discretion on my senior staff.”

“When they give you a new ship,” Rrr continued. “That could take months, by which time we’ll all be on new assignments.” They slumped like one would expect of a mountainside after heavy rains. “I supposed I should begin preparations for a full disembarkment of crew and materials.”

“A&A have a prize crew arriving tomorrow morning Rrr, with a Chief Bailey who’ll take over once you’re ready to hand over. He’s apparently ex-Starfleet, so you should hopefully be able to get away as quick as everyone else and enjoy your R&R. Operations is also sending a few people over to basically fly the old girl until she’s all moored up somewhere.”

“I…that’s considerate of everyone.” Rrr’s tone changed, genuine surprise she’d heard from them.

“Transport to major hubs for travel, a crew to relieve us all in a hurry. It all seems like someone has a plan,” Adelinde finally spoke up. “I’m with the captain on this, I think the chances of us being broken up are remote. There is something going on.”

“Let’s not equate niceties with,” Dr Terax had started, then stopped with a chime of the comms filling the Briefing Room.

“Captain, a message from Starfleet Command for you. Multiple attachments keyed to your command codes.”

“Thank you, Ensign,” she spoke to the ether, the chime of a closing comm channel soon followed. A look to her staff and every last one of them was looking at her expectantly. Without much of a pause for fanfare, she brought up a few commands on the built-in controls on the briefing table, entered in her command codes and then distributed the orders she found attached to her senior officers, the rest of the crew’s orders going to Mac for eventual distribution.

“Blah blah blah, two weeks R&R, blah blah, report to the Beta Antares Shipyard,” Camargo spoke up, her eyes still frantically skimming the orders she had.

“In two weeks’ time, report to the Beta Antares Shipyard whereupon you will receive your new billet and orders,” Terax said, reading the entire sentence in question.

Soon enough everyone’s eyes had found the same line on their orders, even Tikva had, though hers read one week, not the two everyone else had, not that she said so out loud.

“Okay, someone definitely is pranking us,” Mac chipped in. “And I’m not sure whether to laugh or to cry.”

It was the better part of an entire day later after that briefing that Adelinde found herself interrupted by a singular force of chaos during her efforts to finish packing her belongings. There had been no chime to inform her someone was at the door, so the entrant to the room could only be one person.

“Hello you,” she offered, not looking up from the box on her bed she was still yet to close.

“Hey you, so, which of these is your go-bag?” Tikva asked.

“Go bag?”

“Yeah, go-bag, as in grabbing it while running out the door off on an adventure.”

“No one has go-bags on this ship. We always beam down with exactly what we need.” She stopped and turned to face Tikva, finding the shorter woman with her tunic half undone like images of off-duty officers in the days of the monstrous red uniforms someone thought looked good. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I thought we could go camping. A beautiful little spot on a world nearby I found when I was first posted on the Jutland. You, me, minimal supplies, camping in paradise, just a short transporter hop to a city of five million on the other side of the world if we change our minds.” Tikva sauntered closer to her, hands coming up to scoop up her own. “Temperate climate, beautiful lake, hot springs a short walk away.”

“And I can only bring a go-bag?” she asked in clarification as a smirk appeared on her face.

“We’re limited on cargo space. All Atlantis’ shuttles are being used for cargo shipping and such, so I’ve arranged an alternative mode of transport.”

She pulled back from Tikva slightly. “I am not riding in a tramp freighter.”

“Oh, promise, not a tramp freighter. Trust me, please.” She’d rarely heard Tikva plead and only ever in private. And she’d not regretted giving in to her yet.

And so, an hour later, having finished her packing, prepped a camping pack and changed into civilian clothes, Adelinde found herself tramping across shuttlebay 1, dodging cargo pallets and crew, a few faces from Atlantis, a large proportion of faces she didn’t recognise and plenty of civilians, heading in a direction the deck chief had pointed her in when she first arrived.

The crowds finally parted and she found herself face to face with the Type 11 shuttle Waihou. “Told you, not a tramp freighter,” Tikva announced as Adelinde appeared through the crowds, waving her towards the shuttle’s main hatch.

“I thought you said all the shuttles were in use,” she stated as approached her girlfriend. “This can hardly be called camping if we’re taking a wannabe runabout.”

“Technical I said all of Atlantis’ shuttles are being used. Waihou was detached to independent duties about oh an hour or so ago.” Tikva led her inside the shuttle where a half dozen crates had been loaded aboard, no doubt the campaign supplies and equipment just from a few short supply codes she read as she passed them.

“Don’t you have to formally hand over the ship?” she asked, closing the hatch as Tikva stepped through to the cockpit of the out-sized shuttle.

“Did it after beaming planetside to see the hospital about my new arm,” she said, waving her left arm around triumphantly. “Told I can crush rocks with this thing if I wanted to. Anyway, all done and dusted and Mac’s doing finishing touches now and he’s off the ship by the end of the hour as well. The whole crew should be off by end of shift.” Tikva’s hands started flying over the controls, bringing the shuttle to life with a control and deftness that Adelinde hadn’t actually seen displayed before. There was natural confidence in Tikva’s actions, a natural talent supported by refinement of training. “Waihou to Control, requesting permission to depart.”

“Control to Waihou, permission granted. Departure vectors have been cleared with Orbital Control, you are clear to depart at your discretion. Maintain impulse speed to marker MAMA then free to navigate. Good luck Waihou and it’s been a pleasure flying with you ma’am.”

“You too Chief Ransom,” Tivka replied before she closed the comms and smiled at her. “Sit down would yah, you’re making me nervous.”

“You? Nervous?” She did as she was told anyway however as Tikva lifted the shuttle off the deck and eased it out of the shuttlebay and into space.

“Yeah, nervous. Don’t get nearly as much practise as I want and I have a reputation to maintain. Can’t ruin it knocking a bunch of crates over on the way out the door.”

“You’ve got this love. Now just fly and take me to this spot of paradise you promised.”

The benefit of a weather control network on the weather of key locales of any given world can’t be better displayed than at the tropical resorts spread all across the surface of Risa. Or the alpine, arboreal and desert resorts either. Weather scheduled on demand for maximal client enjoyment and environmental maintenance.

It was for this reason that Gabrielle had decided to come to Risa for her leave, combined with some spatial relationship values that meant a trip to and from Risa wouldn’t be too difficult and such up to much of her leave. As she’d been boarding the transport she’d run into T’Val and after a few hours of talking, both women had opted to turn their holiday into a joint holiday, mainly at her own insistence and because she knew T’Val would at least be responsible enough for both of them to make sure she got off-world on time.

The morning air around the Grand Haven Risa Resort and Spa had that crisp, cool and humid feel following a brief pre-dawn squall that delivered a perfectly regulated amount of rain to help with the flora across the entire island. A gentle warm breeze was already starting to blow through, right on schedule, such that within the hour Gabrielle knew the beaches would be packed as the temperature climbed to an absolutely perfect point.

Right now however her attention was on breakfast which she was sharing with none other than T’Val on the balcony of the unit they were sharing. “Okay, I’m going to admit, I was under the impression Vulcan food was supposed to be bland and boring. Nutritionally satisfactory and nothing more. But this,” she said, using her spoon to indicate the bowl in front of her, “this is delicious girl.”

“It is also,” T’Val said blandly, “nutritionally satisfactory. Just because it is desirable to be so, there is no reason why it can’t be flavoursome. Vulcans have a refined sense of taste and most would prefer a delicate flavour profile.”

The bowls of breakfast that T’Val had prepared for both of them were at their core cereal, yoghurt and mixed fruits, but all of Vulcan origin. There were of course additional spices and flavours added to bring additional profiles to the meal that Gabrielle would have expected more from her human or Denobulan friends, not Vulcans.

“Most? Are you saying you’re more…flavour experimental?” she asked before another mouthful of the simple but incredibly tasteful breakfast.

“I have found my time on Earth and aboard Starfleet vessels enlightening as to expanded palettes,” T’Val answered. “I am particularly fond of certain cuisines and find myself more and more experimenting with traditional Vulcan dishes.”

She stopped and looked at her Vulcan companion, an eyebrow-raising, saving her follow up until, by the manners taught to her by her grandmother, she’d finished chewing. “And how would you rate your culinary skills?”

“Adequate to satisfy my needs.”

“If this is adequate, then you’re going to make someone a very happy person one day by food alone.” She offered T’Val a cheeky grin before looking back at the nearly empty bowl. “Tasty, filling, low GI. I could eat this most mornings honestly.”

“I would be happy to continue making breakfast for the rest of our trip.”

And so, as breakfast wrapped up and both women ventured forth from the resort to the small tourist trap town that served no less than a dozen resorts, the weather naturally improved. Slightly patchy skies, gentle warm breeze, humidity just right – perfect beach weather on demand. “You still haven’t told me why you were coming to Risa for your leave. Don’t Vulcans take their leave at say, places of contemplation and mediative calm?” Gabrielle asked as they perused a beachside market., dozens and dozens of stalls hawking wares from the blatantly typical to unique hand-crafted treasures.

“A stereotype,” T’Val replied as she inspected a small hand-carved animal totem. “I desired to broaden my experiences with a warm, tropical environment. It was only logical to choose Risa for its proximity to Memory Alpha and Beta Antares. Also, aren’t you essentially meditating while getting a tan?”

“Yes, no, maybe?” she found herself running through the responses. “It’s…relaxing. Turn your brain off, enjoy the sunshine, let the world just flow around you.”

“While exposing yourself to potentially harmful levels of UV radiation is illogical, you have described in crude terms, meditation.” T’Val stopped, setting the totem down. “Perhaps I shall join you this morning. Try a different form of meditation.”

“Okay, but there’s another part of it called Mai Tais. And no, I won’t accept drinking alcohol as illogical, it’s part of the experience.”

Hours later and both women were appropriately attired for the sun. Loungers had been claimed, drinks requested from staff and supplied. And supplied again, and again. “If the purpose of this endeavour was to lay in the sun and get drunk, there are more efficient methods towards intoxication,” T’Val opined after Gabrielle ordered another drink from a passing staff member of the resort.

“It’s not, but I find it helps. The purpose is to empty your mind, enjoy the sun, get a tan and perhaps, just perhaps get some desirable attention.”

“Ah, mating rituals.”

“Got it on one,” Gabrielle added. “I haven’t been this drunk in years. Been too busy with my career and shore leave was usually over before I fully decompressed.”

“Your mental wellbeing is important to your efficacy. You should perhaps prioritise it more.” As a staff member walked past, it was T’Val that waved at the woman. “Your most intoxicating beverage please,” she asked.

With those words, Gabrielle opened her eyes to look at her companion, disbelief on her face as the Risian woman walked away with the order. “Most intoxicating?”

“I am conducting an impromptu experiment on altered behavioural and perceptive states. I would like to see if perhaps they would improve the overall experience, inspired by the general level of alcoholic consumption.”

“And this experiment started when?” she asked of T’Val.

“Just now.”

She stared at T’Val for a moment more, then smiled and laid back down fully on the lounger. “I am not going to match a Vulcan drink for drink, but girl, we are going out tonight.”

“Not matching drinks would be a logical choice. Your tolerance will be less than mine,” T’Val replied as both women went back to just relaxing in the sun.

Day became evening, became night, became morning again and Gabrielle, nursing an actual hangover when she emerged from her room, found T’Val already sitting on the balcony with breakfast. With a muttering of thanks as she sat down, she spotted two pills next to her orange juice and recognising them from many nights of misbegotten youth, scoffed them with a mouthful of juice. “I both love and hate you right now.”

“It was your inebriated decision to eventually try and match me drink for drink,” T’Val said over her morning cup of tea.

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Gabrielle said, willing the anti-intoxicants to work faster. “Wait, why is there a third bowl?”

“You had a lot to drink,” T’Val answered, deadpanned.

“Aw shit,” Gabrielle said, as the rest of last night came back to her. “Wait…”

“I had…enough to hinder logical decision making.”

Silence fell over both women momentarily. “Let’s uh, never talk of this again,” Gabrielle said after a minute.

“Talk about what?” came a third voice as a prime specimen of Risian masculinity emerged onto the balcony, fresh from a shower by the look of things.

“Shoot me,” Gabrielle muttered, her cheeks flushing as breakfast became an all-consuming matter at this time.

While Atlantis was still full of life, Mac looked across the shuttlebay one last time at a crew whom he didn’t know. Everyone had already departed, gone on the leave generously granted to them as a way to clear them off the ship in a hurry. He was the last man standing, having weaselled Tikva’s different orders out of her and insisting she gets off the ship immediately to enjoy what little leave she had.  A sad shake of his head and he stepped aboard the waiting shuttlecraft with his more immediate belongings.

Like so much of the crew’s belongings, containers with his stuff were sitting in stacks, waiting for a transport to collect the whole lot and take it to Beta Antares to catch up with everyone as they returned to duty. His bags were some clothes, a spare uniform just in case, toiletries and a few padds with coursework he was still working. No point in letting good transit time go to waste.

But there was a single exception to all this, a prized possession tucked under his arm – Atlantis’ dedication plaque. He’d spoken with Dr Gork, the Tellarite who was taking over here and at the end of it asked if he could take it with him. A momento of a ship he’d spent a few good years on, hoped to captain one day, been stuck as XO under a hotshot, actually learned to get out of rut. He needed the reminder.

“Where to Commander?” the lieutenant at the shuttle’s controls asked as the hatch started to close. “Orders are to take you wherever you want as long as I can get back in four days.”

The shuttle wasn’t big enough for that to be Mac’s greatest desire. A couple of days in this shuttle would be near torture. He gave a small huff as he set his bags down, sitting the plaque on top and stepped forward to sit in the empty seat opposite the young man. “Beta Antares Shipyard if you will.”

“Sir? I was told you had leave. No good holiday spots there.”

“Where I go on leave Lieutenant is my own business.” He wasn’t in the mood to discuss the finer details with someone not even on his crew.

“Aye sir, Beta Antares Shipyard.” Hands flew over the controls; conversations were had with control and the shuttle Cleary was on its way. “Course set sir. Should take about twenty-eight hours at max speed.”

“Very well,” he said, resting his head on the chair’s headrest, his eyes closing. “I’m going to take a nap, wake me if anything interesting happens.”

It took a while for Mac to finally drift off but eventually, the quiet monotonous sound of a shuttle at warp speed lulled him into sleep where his subconscious had laid an ambush for him. He was back on Atlantis, the Ready Room to be precise, with the view outside familiar but escaping him for now.

Captain Darius Dexter, a man well past his best years was sitting behind the desk. “It’s just a minor refit MacIntyre,” the said in his dull but deep tenor. “Ship will be in and out of the yard in three months. But as it stands, you’re going to be in charge during the refit.”

“Me sir?” he said. He wasn’t Commander MacIntryre, but Lieutenant Commander Stuck-in-a-rut MacIntyre. A man who much like Dexter had just been going through the motions of their responsibilities for the last few years as Atlantis had done one patrol tour after another with barely anything of great interest to report.

“Yes, you MacIntyre. It turns out that the centre seat really is a younger person’s game.”

“Sir?” he asked once more. It hurt him to recall how long it took him to process anything outside of the daily routine just a year ago. On reflection, he had to admit that the Delta Quadrant had been good for him. It had broken the routine, given him something new. And a new captain who had given him a kick in the backside he rightly needed.

“I’m taking an earlier retirement. The wife is likely going to hate seeing me when I get back to New Paris, but that’s a fight for another day.” Dexter rose to his feet and walked around the desk. “Three months of refit, then they’ll put the old girl back on patrol. Play your cards right over the refit and the Admiralty will likely pull the chair out for you since you know the crew and our stomping grounds well enough.”

“Respectfully sir, you’ve still got a few good years left in you.”

“Flatter,” Dexter said with a chuckle and a hearty pat on the shoulder. “But no, no I don’t think so.”

As was the nature of dreams, some facts were lost on recollection, but Mac could recall a period, months after that meeting with his old friend, where he was on the bridge. Atlantis was free of the docks, but not the dockyard, waiting for recalled or replacement crew, assigned supplies and replacement shuttles even. It was all routine, expected behaviours. Easy work. And it was all interrupted with the arrival of a singular woman stepping out on the bridge.

A full commander in command red, shorter and younger than him with a spring in her step. He didn’t know her name at that point, that was just about to happen, but he immediately knew she meant trouble for his plans and hopes of command of the Atlantis.

Turns out the best thing to happen for his career

As he was walking over to her, about to introduce himself, everything fell apart. It was a sudden and horrible lurch, the diaphanous bubble of the dream popping and dumping him right back into the shuttle Cleary, the stars still streaking past outside. A handful of alarms were blaring, but his pilot was already in the process of silencing them.

“Sorry sir, subspace shear. Sensors didn’t see it till we ran right through it.” The young man wasn’t panicking but taking his time to check his panels, making sure everything was okay with the shuttle.

“Status?” he asked, a quick rub of his eyes as he forced himself up in his chair.

“Still at warp, though currently on warp four. Just making sure everything checks out before accelerating again.”

“Very good.” He shook his head, clearing more cobwebs. He was not a morning person and never intended to be. Red alert sirens would have woken him straight up, a trained behaviour, but this wasn’t a dire emergency and his brain knew that, so was taking its time. “How long was I out for?”

“Four hours sir.”

He sighed. His chance at sleep was ruined for now, the lieutenant had the shuttle under control and he was just a passenger. At least he had his course work and a small replicator. “Drink lieutenant?”

“Coffee please.”

Hours passed, sleep was had, a turn at the helm to let the other man sleep on the flip-out seats in the back. As the Cleary arrived at Mac’s intended destination. When they had identified themselves there had been a longer the normal pause in the response from flight operations before they’d been given an assigned flight path. Mac’s challenge that he wanted to see the Yardmaster at the control hub was answered with a reiteration of their flight path in that friendly but firm ‘there will be no speaking to the manager today’ tone.

“That was…odd,” the Lieutenant, Danvers as he’d learned when he finally asked the man, said while checking the course. “Normally it’s straight into the hub, then you’d take a pod elsewhere, or just beam around the yard.”

“Last few days have been odd for me Lieutenant,” he answered.

It took nearly another fifteen minutes to get closer to their destination with speed restrictions and having to stick to designated flight paths around the slipways. Eventually, they came to a cluster of slips, all berthing capital vessels of some description.

“That one,” Danvers said as he pointed one of them out. “That’s where we’re headed.”

He squinted, trying to read the registry of the ship they were heading for and gave up. The distance was just too far and his patience wouldn’t let him wait till he could. He tapped at the controls in front of him, bringing up a zoomed-in portion of the ship’s hull.

In Lieutenant Danvers’ report of the flight, he took ferrying Commander Charles MacIntyre to his intended destination, he cited that nothing outside of the ordinary aside from a singular navigational issue occurred. He did point out however that as they neared their destination there was a two-minute period where Commander MacIntyre used a comprehensive list of expletives before they touched down in the destination ship’s main shuttle bay.

“Sorry Lieutenant,” Mac had offered by way of apology. “Needed to get that out of my system.”

“So, shore leave then back to Beta Antares?” Matt asked as he sat down on one of the circled couches that his extended group of friends had all claimed.

All of them were in civilian garb, had a travel bag with them and were presently located in the Edward Maxwell Spaceport that orbited Memory Alpha. The place buzzed with the mass of people moving through the place, the handful of small businesses that catered to travellers and the occasional PA call for passengers.

“Looks like it,” Chuck responded. “Man, Command best not be breaking up the crew. We’re nowhere near finished with your campaign Matt.”

“Yah. Playing over subspace isn’t going to be terribly feasible, is it?” Wy’ryn asked and everyone’s attention turned to Kelly, who was at Matt’s left.

“Don’t look at me, I just do ship-based comms. You want someone who does Federation-wide communications.” She offered a wry smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “Or who can get you access to Starfleet’s high-priority channels.”

“Oh man,” Linal Nerys, looked up from the padd she was reading. “Can you imagine us getting priority over some admiral for a gaming session?”

“’Sorry Admiral, all channels to that sector are busy. There’s a group conference between five ships across the Federation right now.’” Hito said, imitating a stuffy officer, then pinched his nose for the next piece. “’Then break into those channels and find out what the hell is going on!’”

“Oh god no, I am not having a member of the brass joining my game. No way, not happening,” Matt said around a laugh. “One bad call and off I go to the Armagosa Array.”

They all got a slight laugh out of that and small talk ensued for another half hour till a call for a ship that was boarding pulled Solan and Hito away, then another call pulled Wy’run right after. Goodbyes were said, corrections of ‘for now’ added, hugs and handshakes all around then there were five left.

“So Matt, Kelly, where are you two going?” Nerys asked, though it was less a friendly question and more the start of an interrogation as her eyes settled on Matt.

He considered her a friend, a good friend at that, but one that was overly protective of Kelly, her best friend, and had become somewhat testy since he and Kelly had started dating a few months back. He learned they’d been friends since the Academy and that Nerys had difficulty making friends, so he kind of understood her change in demeanour. She didn’t want a friend taken away and every time he’d tried to placate that concern, she’d rebuffed him.

“I’m taking him to Arcturus,” Kelly said, as she leaned sideways to push her shoulder into him. “My folks are meeting us there so that Pa can see if he’s a good man.”

“Wait wait wait, I thought you said it was a holiday, yes?” he asked as he turned to Kelly with a look of horror on his face. Meeting the parents was a serious thing and he was not ready for that. Not by a long shot.

“And it will be,” she responded with a smile that took over her whole face and made him forgive her straight away. That smile that could always bring him out of a bad mood was just one of the many reasons why he had forced himself to ask her out. “But Ma and Pa will be there and Pa is a traditionalist. He wants to sit you down, talk with you and see if you’re a good man.”

“If you’re Pa says he’s a good man, I’ll take it,” Nerys said with a shrug.

“Hold up,” Jessica said leaning forward. “You know Kelly’s dad?”

“Yeah, she took me to their ranch while I was at the Academy. He’s…something else.” Nerys stumped was new to the group and she was obviously struggling for words. “He’s not a man of the Prophets, but…he’s wiser than any Vedak I’ve ever met.”

Kelly chuckled and gave Jessica a smile. “Pa’s a trained psychologist and medicine man. Nerys here had a small crisis of faith and I took her to see Pa. They went for a two-day trek and I got my friend back.”

“That sounds like a story Nerys, you’ll have to tell me about it,” Jessica said with obvious interest.

“Or not,” Nerys snapped back, then slumped slightly. “Sorry, that was rude. But no, I don’t think I will.”

“Sounds enlightening,” Chuck said, then immediately raised his hands defensively when Nerys turned on him. “Nothing by it, statement of fact. Total respect for however you discover who you are.”

Nerys glared at him for a moment longer, then slumped completely in her seat, crossing her arms. “This is going to be a long trip.”

“Oh, where you going?” Matt found himself asking before he even knew he was doing it.

“Chuck talked me into going to Inferna to do some rock climbing. Figured it would be good exercise and a chance to meet his fellow people,” Nerys said without looking up.

“My people? I’m from Proxima,” Chuck responded with confusion and glanced at everyone else for a possible explanation.

“She keeps saying you have rocks for brains,” Kelly said.

“Well, I mean I do…but…wait…is that a joke? Rocks for brains, rock climbing…Nerys, that’s bad. Like actually bad.” Chuck’s face cringed as he said that. “We’ve really got to work on your humour.”

“It works better in Bajoran,” Nerys explained.

The chimes of the PA echoed through the passenger hall before a voice rang out from nowhere and everywhere at once. “Good evening passengers. Would all passengers departing for Arcturus on Th’Shan Transtellar Lines flight 459 please report to concourse three for immediate boarding. Th’Shan Transtellar flight 459 for Arcturus is now boarding at concourse three.”

“Well, that’s us,” he said, standing up just as Kelly was doing the same. “You lot all take care, okay? See you all at Beta Antares. I’ll try and sort out a close of chapter session just in case we need to put a pin in the game.”

Chuck was on his feet and wrapped both him and Kelly in a hug. “Take care of him, Kelly, he’s a weak little science nerd after all.”

Then it was Nerys, who gave Kelly a hug, him a punch in the arm, then a hug. “Watch out for Ma, she’s a trickster,” Nerys whispered in his ear.

Jessica was last with a light hug for both of them. “Travel safe, catch you in a couple of weeks.”

That done, extended goodbyes were had as they left their friends before shouting became socially obnoxious, leaving Matt and Kelly to walk the spaceport hand in hand. Outside the vacuum of space was filled with the collection of ships going back and forth, but most of the windows were filled with starliners in their magnificence at concourse docks.

Many of the ships were smaller vessels, flitting between nearby worlds and colonies, but then the large liners dwarfed those, some even dwarfing Starfleet vessels, intended for the shipment of passengers and cargo between the stars.

“You’ll be fine,” Kelly reassured him with a squeeze of his hand. “Ma and Pa just want to make sure you’re a good sort in person.”

“Thanks babe,” he said. “But maybe next time give me a bit more warning we’re seeing your folks?”

“Still got a couple of days. A couple of days with no roommates to schedule around,” she said, punctuated with a kiss on his cheek.

“I’m not going to get to plan that session, am I?”

“Nope,” she answered and then pulled him along the concourse to the check-in.

“What are you doing?” Adelinde asked as she neared Tikva, standing hip-deep in the lake that they had decided to camp around for the few days they’d get.

She’d excused herself for a bit to check on the shuttle, seeing as how’d they’d need to get underway by tomorrow evening to make Beta Antares on time according to Tikva’s differing orders. Returning to camp however she found Tikva gone, an arrow drawn in the dirt of their campsite towards the lake in lieu. Gone too were a survival knife and a sturdy enough branch they had collected the day before, which was now lashed together and in Tikva’s hands.

“Fishing,” came the reply from the shorter woman, standing still in the water, waiting patiently.

“Not with that spear,” Adelinde replied, just watching.

Both women had opted for simple shorts and shirts, rugged outdoor boots and simple enough hairstyles with single hair ties for now. All functional, comfortable and practical. It only took Adelinde a moment to spot Tikva’s boots and move to collect them from the ground.

A splash, a curse, wading through water to collect the spear and then muttering as someone returned to shore, now completely drenched from a slight slip. “Bet you’re just loving this,” Tikva muttered as she drove the spear butt into the sandy shore.

“You, soaked head to toe,” Adelinde said with a smirk as she made an exaggerated effort of looking Tikva lover over. “It’s a good look, but not very practical.”

“Haha,” came the reply. “If this spear is wrong, how would you do it then?”

“Not with a knife on the end, but a fork.” She handed the boots over and took the spear, undoing the remarkably proficient binding of rope and knot that kept the branch and knife together. “Fish are small, you’re better off with a series of small prongs on the end to cover a bit more area.”

“Excuse me for trying,” Tikva said, clearly not in the best of moods, her tone dismissive.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I don’t appreciate the tone when I’m just trying to help.” As Tikva made to pass her, heading back for camp, she dropped the branch down to bar her path, grip holding it parallel to the ground. “Love…”

“I…fuck, fine. I’m pissed off. It’s why I came out here. Me, the lake, the universe I could try and stab with a spear.” Tikva dropped her boots and turned away for a few steps to pace. “Our orders are all weird, some desk jockey scientist stole my ship and I’m not even sure if I’ve got a command to even request you for as my tactical officer.”

“You’ll have a command soon enough. The Admiralty isn’t going to bench a young captain for long at all.” She twirled the branch like the spear it imitated, replanted the butt in the sand and crossed her arms. “Why else would your orders be shorter than anyone else’s anyway?”

“Any number of reasons. Someone wanting to debrief me about that AI on Atlantis, or to break the bad news about fresh commands. Oh, or pulling me back for all those super-secret in person captain briefings I just know I’m behind on.” Tikva’s pacing hadn’t stopped, but gesticulating while venting had started as arms waved about. “And it gets worse when no one will tell me what’s going on!”

“Maybe they don’t want to ruin the surprise,” she offered.

“Or maybe someone from Medical is finally going to pull some bullshit and bench me because of that bullshit on Highcroft.”  Tikva stopped and turned on Adelinde. “Fucking HLF.”

“You know, I think you’re working yourself up,” she said with a shrug.

“Maybe, maybe not. Medical did try it at first when Jutland was almost blown up from under Captain Denevan. And they tried to blame the Tearkin Incident on…” her words came to a stop when Adelinde cupped her face with her hands suddenly and just kissed her. Those same hands moved then to wrap around Tikva who just swooned in them.

Eventually, the kiss broke and Adelinde offered a wry smile. “Still angry?”

“Wha?” Tikva offered, then a smile and a non-committal nod of her head. “Yeah, I am, but…thank you.”

“Do the same for me?” she asked.

“I’d have to grow so, so much. Seriously, what did your parents feed you?”

Adelinde smiled before gently turning Tikva loose and then looking down at her clothing, now damp from the close contact. “Well, now I’ve done it,” she said, accepting full responsibility. “Swim and let our clothes dry on the beach here?”

“Oh, that sounds fantastic.”

As the day eventually passed into night, both women had retreated eventually for one of the nearby natural hot pools that Tikva had promised and delivered. A portable lamp lit the little space the pool was hidden in, though a clear view of the sky and the three moons provided a decent amount of light anyway.

Her arms wrapped around Tikva, Adelinde was just resting her head back, watching the stars, content in the warm waters with her lover. No worries, no concerns, just bliss and relaxation.

“What do we do if Command does break us up?” Tikva finally asked, breaking the silence that had up till now only been interrupted by the sounds of a forest at night.

“We deal with it best we can,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, but I’m enjoying us,” Tikva countered.

“We’ll deal with it love.”

“How,” Tikva said, wriggling in her arms slightly, “can you be so calm about this?”

“Because I’m sitting in a hot pool, I’ve got you in my arms, I’ve had two glasses of wine with dinner and I’ve always been the calm, mostly stoic type.”

Silence descended once more for a while before Tikva ruined it once more. “Not what I heard or saw on Highcroft.”

“That was…unique.” She kept her response to a minimum because she didn’t want to go into her, internally or with Tikva at the moment, but would require more to prevent. “I’d rather not talk about it now though.”

There was that tension in the air, she could feel it, of someone wanting to ask, to probe, then it faded as Tikva settled back down. “Another time then.”

“Another time,” she echoed, then pulled Tikva back into her arms. “Soon yah?”

“Counselling session maybe?”

“Did you just suggest we have a session together?” she asked, giving Tikva a squeeze and kiss on the cheek she was answered in the affirmative.

Nearly an hour passed before something caught their attention, both women content to just watch the stars in their private little corner of the universe. A singular streak of light momentarily appeared in the heavens, terminating not in the orange-red flare of a meteor, but just stopping in the heavens as another speck of light, hanging over the world and blending in with the movement of satellites and other ships in orbit. “Wonder who that was?” Tikva asked.

“Someone on an adventure probably. Speaking of, we should hit the sack if we want to get that walk in tomorrow before we leave.”

“Screw the walk, I’m comfy right here. I’ve got you and the infinity majesty of the cosmos before me,” Tikva said. “What more could I want?”

“A tall ship and a star to steer her by,” Adelinde answered.

“Shuttle Waihou, this is USS Wellington, please acknowledge.”

“Did they say Wellington?” Tikva asked as she flew the shuttle Waihou through the orbital traffic of Peridot, which normally wouldn’t have been an issue around any other world if not for a ring system that forced ships to congregate in lower orbits and tighter to each other. “The Wellington?”

She was aware of Adelinde tapping at controls and turning to face a monitor just off to her side, high enough that she could make out a face in her peripheral vision, but that was it. “Waihou here Wellington,” she responded with professional ease.

“Bug,” came a voice and name that got Tikva’s immediate attention as she turned to face the screen, “Bay 1, now.” The woman on the screen smiled, gave a wink and then closed the comm channel just as collision alarms started to chirp away their very early and gentle reminder that ‘something big is in front of you’.

Directly in front, an Odyssey-class ship was rising into their flight path, its primary shuttlebay doors wide open and approach lights around the bay opening blinking their welcome.

She turned her attention away from the console, once the alerts were silenced, back to Adelinde. “What did you do?”

“I paid attention to a local fleet dispatch about ship movements, noticed the Wellington was nearby and heading for the Cardassian border. Then I remembered you said one of your friends was XO aboard, so I called to ask for a lift to Beta Antares. Two days stuck in a shuttle, or a little under a day hitching a ride.” Adelinde shrugged, stood, took the step she needed to kiss Tikva on the forehead and walked towards the back of the shuttle. “I’m going to get a jacket. Want anything?”

“Yah, my big boots so I can kick you and Rhea!” she shouted back as she set the Type 11 shuttle on its way. “Could have just told me!”

“Surprise!” came a muffled response. “And Rhea?”

“Rhea. As in ray, sunshine of,” Tikva clarified as she set the Waihou on its new course and then acknowledged a request from flight control for tractor assistance, essentially handing control of the shuttle over. Automatics engaged she turned around to see Adelinde had dutifully brought out her service boots, not the tramping ones she’d been clomping about in.

“These should be a bit quieter on the deck plating.”

“What if I want people to hear me approaching?” she countered.

“Then that’s up to you.” Adelinde’s attention turned to the controls momentarily, a curious look at Tikva when she spotted the autopilot, but didn’t question it as they entered into the shuttlebay, small tractors moving the shuttle to a parking bay and even turning it around for departure. “Did Commander Garland call you Bug?”

“Ugh, yes. Yes, she did.” She could feel the amusement radiating from Adelinde, which always reminded her of blueberries. The association with emotional states and food, her mother warned, was an early one apparently and she had her dad to blame for blueberries. Overexposure to his delighted amusement as a baby whenever he fed her blueberries apparently. “Seriously, everyone is like twenty centimetres taller than me at least.”

This statement was born out just two minutes later as both Tikva and Adelinde crossed the cavernous shuttlebay, to be met by none other than one Rachel Garland, the most junior executive officer of any Odyssey-class starship in the fleet. While she didn’t carry the same physicality as Adelinde Gantzmann, she was at first glance an equal in height and towered over Tikva.

“Rachel Garland,” she introduced herself to Adelinde with an extended hand. “Welcome aboard.”

“Pleasure to be here ma’am,” Adelinde responded with a dutiful smile. “And thank you for accepting my request.”

“All in all, it’ll be about a three-hour detour off of our original course to go pick up Captain Perkins anyway.” Rachel’s hand now free she turned to Tikva and her smile completely took over her face. “God I’ve missed you Bug!” And before Tikva could respond she was swept up in a very unprofessional hug which she returned, both women giving their best to try and squeeze the other to death seemingly before she was set down, though Rachel’s hands clasped Tikva’s upper arms. “Sorry, Captain Bug.”

“Damn straight!” Tikva answered, the infectious grin taking over her face. “How yah been Rhea?”

“Oh, chasing you,” Rachel responded as she turned her head slightly, bringing her collar front and center and the now clearly evident four pips, which elicited a gasp and another hug.

Tikva’s eyes went to Adelinde as she held her friend, mouthed ‘thank you love’ and gave her a wink before she was let go.

“Right, well now that I have guests aboard that I need to entertain, shall I take you lovely ladies on a tour of this here ship, culminating in a sampling of some fine beverages in one of our many fine lounges?” Rachel asked, a flourish of her hand indicating the doors into the ship proper.

“Thought you’d never ask Rhea,” Tikva answered, hooked a hand inside Adelinde’s elbow and started walking. “So, how’s what’s his name?” she asked as they passed the doors.

A few hours later, many questions asked, much walking and talking had, all three found themselves in a lounge named The Hideaway. The entry door had been rather unassuming from the outside, just another door along a corridor of the ship, leading into a space not much bigger than twice Tikva’s old quarters. A small bar took up a short wall, shelves behind housing nigh-uncountable bottles of all sizes, shapes and colours. Couches and seats were spread around the space seemingly haphazardly forming little knots of space for intimate gatherings while leaving tight walkways for those moving about.

The lighting was dim, mostly provided either by the trailing starlight outside or faint orange lights hanging from the ceiling over each of the knots of seats. The darker tones and warm colours used throughout all combined to give the place a mellow, hushed and laid back atmosphere.

“Wine for the refined tastes,” Rachel said as she handed a large glass of white wine to Adelinde, then. “And a Sunshine Surprise for the simple tastes,” she said with a smirk as she handed over a glass that was faintly shimmering orange, fading to red as her fingers left the glass, to Tikva.

“Oh, come on, I like it. Doesn’t make it simple,” Tikva protested, the drink now fading to a dark blue, its shimmer lost. Only then did she take a sip, an approving sigh following. “Perfect as always.”

“A play on a Samarian Sunset I take it?” Adelinde asked of both. “But in reverse?”

“Took Rhea here three years at the Academy to perfect this.” Tikva’s grin at the joy of the drink in her hands was absolute. “And I’m only having the one!”

“Never said I was making you another,” Rachel responded, her attention turning to Adelinde, who she saluted with a glass of her own. “Samarian Sunset is more like an inspiration. First, imagine it in reverse, then make it happen.”

Adelinde chuckled briefly. “I imagine the second step is the hardest.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” Rachel answered. “So, now we’ve got drinks in hand, we’re away from the rest of the prying ears aboard this ship,” the lounge, she confirmed with another twist of her head, being empty, “I’m just going to come out and say it. Tik, dear, love, friend, you have a type.”

“Oh really?” Adelinde responded as even in the dim light they could both make out Tikva’s blush. “Do tell.”

“Tall, broad-shouldered amazons have always been Tikva’s type. She hates being looked down on, but just loves a strong woman.” Rachel’s smile took on a decidedly evil slant as she shifted in her seat to lean in Adelinde’s direction. “Let me guess, you had to ask her out, didn’t you?”

Killing her is always an option. Slowly. Painfully.

No, it’s not. She is our friend. Best friend even.

Just a little bit? Stop her talking? Maybe a broken jaw?

No! Besides, Ade would stop us.

Oh! More reason to try!

Shut up Primitive-Tikva! You don’t get to vote!

“She invited me to a training program actually and passions were somewhat elevated,” Adelinde answered, somewhat clinically, though with a slight smirk on her own face. “I had noticed her rather unsubtle glances for a few weeks before then. Suffice to say I made a move and we retired to more intimate settings.”

“And you haven’t torpedoed it yet Bug?” Rachel teased.

“I insisted we have couples counselling since it’s a command relationship after all,” Adelinde answered. “And to help keep the lines of communication open at all times.”

“Damn Bug, you found a keeper.” Rachel took a sip of her drink, leaned back with one leg crossed over the other and looked both of the other women over. “Don’t ever let her go, I like her,” she said with a finger pointed at Adelinde.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Tikva said with a smile. “Gonna fight whoever issues orders to break us up.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Rachel said.

Both Adelinde and Tikva looked to each other, then back to Rachel, almost in unison saying “What have you heard?”

“Nothing I’m allowed to divulge at this time, but…” Rachel drew it out, even sipping at her drink again before continuing. “Beta Antares is a shipyard sweetie, and the entire Atlantis crew, plus a few hundred other personnel lately have all had orders to get themselves there in a week’s time. The same day, same time. Seems coincidental don’t you think?”

She couldn’t hear anything said by Rachel or Adelinde as her own mind raced away with that tidbit of information, putting together all sorts of combinations from the few pieces she had. She knew her crew were assembling there, which had hinted at a new ship possibly, but more personnel helped solidify that idea.

It’s a new ship.

Has to be.

Nothing else makes sense. Well, aside from a task force of smaller ships. A constellation of Novas? A rattle of Sabers? A river of…

We get it, thanks for that.

We just made captain not too long ago, they aren’t going to give us a task force. It’s a single ship.

Hundreds of people? So not another light cruiser then. They’re pulling out a cruiser seat at a minimum.

New ship? New big ship?

Yes Excitement, new ship.

Yes!

“Love?”

“What?” Tikva snapped back, as Adelinde was reaching for her. “Sorry, lost in thought.”

“You still talking to yourself Bug?” Rachel asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What? No!” she snapped back quickly. “Ade…it’s a new ship. Cruiser at least. Century? Luna maybe?” She downed her drink with little thought. “I need another drink.” As she stood, Adelinde’s hand caught her arm and she smiled. “New ship.”

“I heard you,” Adelinde said calmly. “Just, save the celebrating till after it’s confirmed perhaps?”

“She’s right Bug. They could be giving you a garbage scow,” Rachel added. “Save the real celebration for what comes, yah?”

“Fine, fine.” She still departed for the bar to make her own drink, to spend some time looking over the varied labels and bottles, pulling up a cocktail list to find something to drink with what was on offer. But as she left, she couldn’t help but hear one question that helped inform her choice for something strong. Her oldest, dearest, pain in the ass friend and her girlfriend were talking and that wasn’t good.

“So,” Adelinde had started. “Do you call her Bug because of the height thing, or because Tikva easily shortens to Tik?”

After a night of drinking and then being half-carried to guest quarters, as she recalled it anyway, Tikva had slept like a log. Stirring groggily from sleep she found a large glass of water and two white pills waiting for her on the bedside table. Someone else was already up and about clearly, from the sounds of movement out in the lounge space.

Taking what had clearly been set aside by Adelinde, she waited for the anti-intoxicant to kick in, helped no doubt by the water in which she could taste the dissolved electrolyte solution that had been added. A minute passed, then another before she got to her feet and stumbled in the direction of the door, taking note but not caring for her current state of dress in just her underwear and a black shirt that simply read ‘TRA’ on the front. After all, only Adelinde should be there.

Which of course meant that the universe was being cruel to her when she found Adelinde and Rachel both around the table, both in uniform and both clearly conspiring with each other over something. Her displeasure at that minor discovery was instantly set aside at the scent of coffee and she stumbled over to the empty chair and sat herself down with but a grumble to both, then another that vaguely sounded like ‘thank you’ when a cup was set down in front of her.

“Seriously Bug,” Rachel started in on her, “how can you still be this terrible in the morning?”

Hate. Her.

Hate.

Hate.

Morning!

Hate! You!

“Ah, so it’s consistent then?” Adelinde asked as she stood, planted a kiss on Tikva’s cheek and went to the replicator.

“Her mother told us all she’s always been terrible in the morning. Two years as her roommate confirmed that for me without a doubt.”

“Leave me alone,” Tikva grumbled over the cup of liquid ambrosia, attempting to attain her normal lofty self via imbibing the nectar of the gods themselves. “Too early for murder.”

“That’s not changed then. Came to have breakfast with you and Adelinde here and surprise surprise you’re still in bed.” Rachel set her cup down and stood herself. “Few more hours before we arrive at Beta Antares hun,” she said with a hand resting gently on Tikva’s shoulder. “Come up to the bridge when you’re ready, want to catch up with my girl yah?”

Tikva patted at Rachel’s hand a couple of times, then it was gone, the taller woman offering her salutations to Adelinde and departing just as breakfast was set before her.

“Your friend seems a bit…casual with you.” The emotions that came with that statement got Tikva’s attention and she looked to Adelinde as she sat back down. She couldn’t place them and Adelinde’s expression didn’t help either. She hadn’t realised how comfortable she had gotten knowing at least her partner’s emotional state, a confusing signal like this was off putting.

“Are you worried? Concerned?” she asked tentatively, concern clearly on her face.

“I…I’m not sure,” Adelinde answered. “I don’t rightly know how I feel about it, to be honest.”

“Oh love,” she said with a smile, setting the coffee down. “Rachel is just…gregarious. And she’s always been one to express comfort with physical contact.” She stood, moved around the table and made a deal of getting Adelinde to scoot back so she could sit in her lap, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You have nothing to worry about with her.” And with that, she gave Adelinde a slight squeeze before kissing her on the cheek, then below the ear, to her neck.

“Not your type?” Adelinde asked, wrapping her arms around Tikva.

“Hmm…nope. Never even crossed my mind. Tall, lanky, blonde…nope,” she answered, a few more kisses for good measure before she delivered one to Adelinde’s lips, staying there for a few moments of eternity before parting. “She’s an old friend, nothing more.”

Those words, her actions, they all seemed to have settled Adelinde back to her normal state of quiet happiness, with just a touch of…before she could place the emotion the hand was on the back of her neck, pulling her in for another kiss. She melted into it, into Adelinde’s hands as they went for the hem of her shirt. But as quickly as things started, they petered off as she pushed herself off of Adelinde with giggles spilling forth. “Don’t! I actually need to start my day and we don’t have time.”

“We’ve got hours,” came the reply as Adelinde reached out, not seriously though, just teasing, offering.

“Let me have a shower, then breakfast,” Tikva said with a pointed finger at the bowl of food that had been brought over for her. “Then I’ll reconsider.”

“Yes ma’am,” Adelinde said with a smirk.

Oh, come on! No need to reconsider!

She does look good in a uniform. And that kiss.

Do it!

She stopped at the door to the bedroom, hesitated a moment, then stripped off her top, whistled and threw it at Adelinde as she slipped around the door. The footsteps behind her said the message was received.

It would be over an hour before Captain Theodoras and Lieutenant Gantzmann both arrived on the bridge of the USS Wellington. Calling it a bridge was technically true, but the bridge of an Odyssey-class starship was more like a control center than a starship bridge. Spacious, well lit, perhaps overly so in both of those categories. Tikva had stopped as soon as she stepped out of the turbolift, eyes roving the bridge, taking in all the…shiny.

Okay, it’s not bad.

Not bad? It’s gorgeous.

Get fit going from station to station though. It’s huge. Ostentatious even.

Well yeah, but it’s meant to be showy.

“Took your time,” Rachel said from the center seat when she spotted them both. “Perkins, you have the conn, I’ll be in the ready room.” She waved both newcomers to follow and soon enough they had left the overly impressive bridge for a ready room far more Tikva’s speed. Still large, still expansive, but not large enough to hold a dance competition within.

“Another hour,” Rachel started as the doors closed and she took the single-seat behind the desk, “and we’d be getting ready to throw you overboard.”

“Really? Are you seriously running this ship flat out to get rid of me so quickly?” Tikva asked, taking a seat.

“Aw Bug, I’d bring the ship to a halt if I thought I could steal you away for a few days to catch up. Heck, I’d go rogue if I could meet up with Matt and Zillia, but that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

“Why? What’s up?”

Rachel smiled, grabbed a PADD, brought something up on it and slid it across the table. “Matt’s gone and got his own ship. Been assigned to the Tamarian border even. Goodwill missions and all that jazz. And no, we’re not running flat out for you. Wellington’s orders changed slightly last night and we need to hurry along to pick up Captain Perkins as quick as we can.”

There was no message to the Fantastic Four on the PADD, just an official dispatch from Command announcing new captain assignments, Matthew Dayton’s name highlighted on it. USS S’lun – Commander Matthew Dayton. A file photo confirmed it was him.

“He’s always wanted a diplomatic assignment. S’lun, that’s an old Vulcan diplomat yah?”

“Negotiated one of the early Vulcan-Andorian treaties,” Adelinde added. “I believe it lasted all of three months, but for its time was remarkable.” She shrugged when both Tikva and Rachel looked at her. “Pub quiz question once.”

“Geez, everyone learns weird shit that way, don’t they?” Rachel said with a chuckle.

“Don’t remind me,” Tikva said around chuckles of her own. “We got asked to stop showing up at what, four pubs, all for winning to many times in a row?”

“Five.”

“Five?” Tikva echoed.

“Remember that little joint out in Oakland, had the beer garden with the holographic sky because of all the tall buildings around it.”

“Oz?” Adelinde asked, getting an affirmative from both of the other women. “That was your team that got kicked out of there? They told stories but never gave much in the way of details outside of ‘Starfleet brats’.”

As the hour passed old friends were given the chance to just sit back and talk, reminisce about good times, discuss plans for the future, and give details to missions not recorded in official logs, those they could discuss with Adelinde present that is. But eventually, all things must end, their time heralded by a chime at the door and a lieutenant dutifully informing them they’d be dropping out of warp in ten minutes.

“I’d come see you off Bug, but then I’d probably jump ship with you,” Rachel said, then wrapped her arms around Tikva for one last hug in the privacy of the ready room. “Miss you so much.”

“Miss you too Rhea,” Tikva responded. “Just keep being awesome yah?”

“I will.” Rachel turned Tikva loose, then without any warning pulled Adelinde into a hug as well, shock on the younger woman’s face for a moment before tentatively returning the hug. “You take care of my Bug, won’t you?”

“I promise,” Adelinde replied.

“Good.” Rachel held on for a moment longer. “She clearly deserves you.” With that, she turned Adelinde loose with a warm smile. “Right, you two, get off my ship.”

Ten minutes later, with the Waihou once more free and clear on its own, Tikva watched as the Wellington’s running lights flickered in a unique pattern before the ship jumped to warp. “Thank you, love,” she said, still staring at the empty spot in space where a ship had just been.

“For what?”

“For doing that. I haven’t seen any of the Fantastic Four in person since the Academy and you gave me a few hours with Rhea.” Tikva shook her head, wiped at an eye and then inputted a course, sending Waihou towards the Beta Antares Shipyards.

“No worries love.” Adelinde smiled, catching the upturn of Tikva’s own lips in profile. “I’ll let the station know we’re inbound.”

Much like a week earlier for other parties, flight instructions for the Waihou had been delayed, then confusing in their complexity. Unlike previously neither Tikva nor Adelinde challenged them. If Flight Ops around one of the busiest shipyards in the Federation wanted to send you on a scenic tour of the slipways, who were they to challenge that?

“Must be some admiral wanting to meet me in person who’s currently inspecting some construction,” Tikva chipped in as they abided by flight rules and pathways, slowing all the way down to thruster rated speeds as they fell in behind a workerbee hauling containers of equipment.

“Slipway 91 is dead ahead. Looks like our friend here is going there as well,” Adelinde added.

“Geez, look at all this new construction.” Tikva was sitting forward in her seat, craning to look out the forward windows at the new ships, most of those in sight looking complete from an outsider’s perspective. “Luna, Luna, Century, Sovereign…” She sat back down. “Oh boy, always wanted to tour one of those.”

“Now’s your chance.” Adelinde’s fingers tapped at a flashing light before her. “Waihou here.”

“Waihou, slipway control here. Please slow to ten kph and prepare for tractor assist,” came a rather bland, if not bored sounding voice.

“Waihou acknowledges,” she replied as Tikva slowed the shuttle even further, the distance opening between them and the workerbee.

“Wonder what ship this is,” Tikva stated as she once more sat forward, craning to catch the ship’s registry and name on the inside of the starboard nacelle. “NCC-90562,” she said confidently. “Why is the name always so small on the nacelles?”

“Registry is more important,” Adelinde responded.

“No…No!” Tikva exclaimed, a hand covering her mouth. “Fucking yes!” she shouted a mere moment later.

Right there, just above the registry number on the nacelle, in much finer print, though each letter was easily the height of a person up close, simply read:

‘U.S.S. Atlantis’.

For all it’s worth, the new Atlantis was essentially a ghost ship at the moment. Engineers from the yard were still pouring over the ship with finishing details, but they were visitors, coming and going as their shifts demanded. Barely sixty permanent crew were living aboard the ship at the moment, all in sections well completed, their purpose being to have things ready for the influx of crew over the next week, hence the predominance of yellow as they formed the nucleus of the new ship’s Quartermaster’s Office and other associated Operations sub-groups.

Though those same faces were getting very common as they scurried back and forth around the ship, personal effects arriving already and being transported to quarters to await the arrival of their owners. “Coming through,” one young woman said aloud from behind a pallet of crates. “Sorry Captain,” she followed up when she recognised finally who she had just warned and pushed past in the pursuit of her activities.

“Tik is,” Adelinde said as they walked down a corridor on deck five after giving the other woman a chance to get out of earshot, “more respectful and safer for casual public use, yes?”

“Yes love,” she said aloud, sounding emotionally exhausted after five hours of briefings with Commodore Denevan., then another hour of reminiscing. “Still going to call you Guns on the bridge, but what about…Adele?” They’d surprisingly never talked shorter versions of their names for each other, having just assumed the ‘conventional’ nicknames one did for their significant other.

But at the mention of Adele, she could taste the emotional distaste from Adelinde and it made her cringe. “Okay, not Adele.”

“No,” the taller woman said. “I had a cousin Adele. Horrible person. I know Ferengi with bigger hearts than her.” They walked another five seconds in silence. “Lin.”

“Now that felt nice,” she responded to Adelinde’s emotional flare as she said that name. “Who started using that?”

“Family,” was the only response she got.

Awww…family!

Family is serious. Are we ready for serious?

No!

Yes!

With Adelinde? Yah…

“That’s…gods I love you,” Tikva said, slipping a hand into the crook of Adelinde’s arm. “Deck five, section one. Captain’s Mess.” They stopped in front of a door at the apex of a curved corridor, side by side inspecting the mostly non-descript door. “I’ve got a mess,” she said matter-of-factly.

“You are a mess,” Adelinde snapped back.

“Insubordination is a court-martial offence.”

“Only if I wasn’t speaking the truth. Your honour,” Adelinde continued, “I shall attempt to demonstrate.” She was cut off as Tikva pulled on her arm to drag her along the corridor with a laugh. “I wasn’t finished with opening arguments.”

“Save them for later.”

Tikva stopped only two doors starboard from the Captain’s Mess, reached out to press her thumb on the panel beside the door and was rewarded with the cabin beyond, which looked right out of the showroom demo floor. Everything was pristine, clean, immaculate. A small pile of crates, neatly organised, occupied the middle of the expansive room.

“Wow…this is…huge compared to my old quarters,” she finally got out as she let go of Adelinde and started to slowly explore. “And not much bigger than the senior officer quarters.” The door separating the living space from the bedroom slid open and Tikva disappeared, followed by the sounds of someone calling on a bed. “Okay, this, this is too much.”

“Privilege of a capital ship Bug,” Adelinde said as she followed, finding Tikva laying on her front, just splayed out on the bed. “Don’t get comfortable, we have dinner with your parents in an hour.”

“What’s that? A distress call? And we’re the only ship in the sector that can help?” Tikva rolled over, then made the worst effort of sitting up. “Blow the mooring lines, full impulse till we clear the yard and take us to warp.”

“By the time the warp core is even online from a cold start we’d be running late.” Adelinde was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. “Besides, shouldn’t I meet the folks at some point? Properly.”

“Yeah,” came the defeated admission. “But trust me, ditch the uniform for dinner.” She held her hand out for an assist to her feet, then pulled herself in close to Adelinde, hugging her. “I’ll come and find you when I’m ready.”

“Shouldn’t be hard, my quarters are on the opposite side of the deck.”

An hour later found Tikva and Adelinde both locating Transporter Room 1, the only manned transporter on the ship aside from a cargo platform. A single bored-looking Ensign manned the controls with Mac and the new doctor, Blake Pisani, chatting up a storm apparently, which died almost immediately. All had opted for a dress-casual look, with the only exception to the general trend being Blake with a leather jacket versus Adelinde and Mac’s dress jacket and her own black bolero jacket.

After a quick check, everyone was ready and before much longer, they were in a municipal transport facility not far from a rooftop restaurant that one Mikou Theodoras had booked a table at. “Right, grounds rules before we go in,” she said, turning on everyone who all came up short. “Do not try and match my father drink for drink, he will destroy you.” She felt, tasted, the amusement from Blake. “Do not engage with my mother about my love life. That is a conversation for me and her.” More amusement from the new doctor who seemed good at keeping it from her face at least. Adelinde on the other hand became suddenly very difficult to read.

Like someone had been practising? That was telling.

“That’s it I think.” She turned, gently grabbed Adelinde’s hand and headed for the maître de, just catching Blake speaking with Mac.

“Are they?” the doctor said.

“Yup.”

“No problems I should know about?”

“They keep it professional, but Adelinde did shoot Tikva’s arm off recently.” Mac’s faint amusement could be felt and she almost turned around to see Blake’s expression but thought better of it.

As they were shown upstairs and through the restaurant to a table on the balcony, overlooking the river that ran through this particular city, holding hands with Adelinde didn’t escape the notice of either of her parents. Her father’s only tell was a slight raising of an eyebrow, her mother on the other hand was less reserved.

‘Ah, so, you are being taken care,’ came her mother’s words without voice. ‘Is she your imzadi?’

“Evening Ma, Pa,” she herself said aloud as they neared the table, both her parents rising to their feet. ‘Be polite,’ she spoke to her mother, doing her best to impersonate the woman. “Thank you for organising this meal.”

“Ah my sweet dear,” her mother said, her attention on the others, “it is the least I could do. Please, please, sit. Some food should be arriving momentarily for the table.” And with those words, everyone settled into a seat, light conversation quickly starting up as proper introductions were had, her parents many nights hosting dinners giving them the skills needed to make everyone at ease.

For a transplant from Betazed, fleeing her family and obligations that stifled her, Mikou Theodoras hadn’t just married a Greek man for love, but the entire Greek culture seemingly. This went so far as to show it off when she could, such as arranging their dining locale to be a Greek restaurant and making sure everyone knew just what it was they were thinking about on the menu. Back home it never would have been a problem, after all everyone who ever came for dinner was already steeped in the culture.

But it had slowly gotten a bit much for Tikva, whose excuse for getting a breather from her mother had been to head for the bar to get a drink for herself and Adelinde after asking. What she hadn’t counted on was the new doctor arriving shortly after.

“Your mother is a piece of work,” the new woman said as she stepped up beside Tikva, tossing her order in quick succession to a bartender. “Let me guess, she’s the Betazed and she loves to host.”

“Got it in one. Blake right?” she asked.

“At your service. You need to fake a medical emergency, just give me the nod. Tarkellian Death Flu, Romulan Brain Fungus, good old fashion heart attack.” As Blake’s order hadn’t been a couple of cocktails, but two beers, it arrived in quick order. “Charles, he taken?”

She stopped, blinked twice at that question, then looked at the two beers, back to Blake, whose expression was clearly quizzing her for an answer. “Mac. At least everyone calls him that. And I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Blake grabbed both bottles. “Just say the word Captain, I’ll get you out of here.” And with that, she was gone.

The quiet, just watching the barkeep finish her and Adelinde’s drink, was short-lived before her mother approached, thankfully without comment until she was side by side. “Hello darling.” No longer the host of the party, the conversation driver, but a mother talking to her daughter. “Dessert should be arriving shortly.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it,” she replied, nodding her thanks as both drinks were set before her. “But that’s not why you’re here.”

“I wanted to talk about you.” Her mother’s smile was genuine and loving. “And your girlfriend.” The pause lasted only a moment. “But you’re a wilful one, aren’t you?”

“Wonder where I get that from?” she teased her mother. “Grandmama still only talking to you once a year?”

“Ever since you left home for the Academy I’m lucky if she calls me once every two years.” There was sorrow in those words, of a mother-daughter relationship lost over the decisions of two powerful wills refusing to back down. “But yes, the women of our family have always been committed to their decisions.”

“And what do you think of this one?” She nodded towards Adelinde who was busy discussing something with her father, getting a deep laugh from the man that filled the restaurant and likely carried across the river.

“Does she make you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Does she treat you well?”

“Better than I treat myself.”

“She going to give me grandchildren?”

Tikva couldn’t help but laugh out loud herself at that, her mother joining her a moment later, before both settled down, Tikva barely getting out the short answer of “No.”

“You’d make wonderful babies,” Mikou followed up. “And there are a variety of medical procedures…”

“Ma, please, stop.” She held up her hands to stop her mother from speaking. “It’s still a young relationship, please stop planning how many kids I might have.”

“I just want the best for you dear,” Mikou said, lowering her daughter’s hands. “And I want to catch up with my daughter, get to know this latest Amazon of yours and make sure you and I don’t end up like my mother and myself.”

She stood there, looking at her mother for a moment, feeling the concern radiating from her, but the love that drove it as well. Then she reached forward and hugged her mother. “I’ve got a week, of course, I was going all my spare time with you and Pa.”

“Not all of it I hope,” her mother teased. “Keeping your imzadi takes effort after all.”

With that Tikva turned her mother loose, blushing, collecting the cocktails in quick succession. “Nope! Not having this conversation! Did you say dessert was nearly ready?” And with that, she left her mother giggling at the bar as she hoped that by the time she reached the table, her blush would have at least receded from her entire face.

To survive a commissioning party, physically, mentally or spiritually, one had to pace themselves. Such events were marathons, not sprints. Dignitaries who all want to put their stamp on the launch of a starship, or rub shoulders with others who do would drain the will to live of anyone they came into contact with that wasn’t of the same sub-taxonomical class as themselves. It wasn’t limited to politicians either, but Starfleet brass who wanted to impart their ‘infinite wisdom’ earned during the trails of their youth.

Then came the families invited along as well. They ranged from those not turning up an opportunity for free drinks and a chance to meet movers and shakers they never would otherwise, to those simply basking in the joy of their own family member at being assigned to a brand-new ship, to those that worked hard to let everyone else know that the success of their progeny was, in fact, their own success. And unfortunately, you had to be polite and not clarify that Lieutenant Such-and-such had actually worked their backside off, not them.

Then there was the wait staff. Those vile, evil, pernicious delivers of alcohol through the main event and the elbow-rubbing afterwards. And no, not synthehol, thank you Commodore Denevan, but actual alcohol. They were animated by a singular directive from whatever demon dispatched them – to make sure everyone had a drink that wanted on, to fetch custom orders and ensure that everyone was socially lubricated.

At least they had the good sense to help those that may have imbibed too much and perhaps switch them over to some other liquid refreshments.

One Captain Tikva Theodoras however had been at the centre of this particular maelstrom of social engagement that was not at all helped by her gregarious and engaging mother, happy to entertain admirals and politicians she had only met a few hours ago. Some of them looked happy, engaged even, but even she could taste the feeling of them wanting to escape but unable to find the polite way of doing so. She could sense her mother’s joy at that, her only comment to Tikva being ‘I’m saving you from talking to them sweetie’.

Vile woman. ‘Love you Ma!’

Hate her.

Yeah, but we love her.

Oh yeah, she’s Ma after all. But still…mother’s right?

Then came the other side of the conspiratorial coin – her father. Sure enough, he had brought enough ouzo for the party. And tonight, after many nights and dinner on more than a few occasions with the few officers of the Atlantis present, he was going to make sure everyone drank. First was the celebratory shot to toast the Atlantis as the traditional bottle of wine shattered across the hull. Some vintage from a vineyard here in system she’d been told. Then the shot to the crew, then another to her officers, then to each officer that Ballis Theodoras had been able to rope into his drinking.

Her father was a happy drunk, if he got there. Born with stamina that would make the gods proud, he’d likely be ‘tipsy’ when everyone else had been admitted to sickbay. And he wasn’t letting his only daughter off lightly either. “You only get to launch a ship once,” he had said to Tikva while refilling her glass. “And I rarely get to drink and be merry with my kóri anymore since you launched yourself into the heavens.”

So, in the end she’d obliged her father, she’d been thankful for her father, she’d dealt with politicians who wanted to say their piece, brass who wanted to do the same and many other names and faces she was bound to forget thanks to fleeting encounters and the wonders of ouzo. She’d watched her senior officers file out after a socially acceptable time, having briefed them earlier in the day and given them permission so they could slip aboard and prepare for departure.

She’d have to cover their retreat. She and a newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Adelinde Gantzmann, who unfortunately wasn’t allowed to be armed. How else were they supposed to fight their way out if the politicians wouldn’t stop talking?

“Captain,” Commodore Ricta Denevan spoke as he approached Ballis’ drinking station, where she’d encamped herself with her father and the ouzo. She nodded respectfully at him, then the glass her father set in front of him and then filled. The hint was taken, the glass raised in salute, to which she joined, her father too, and knocked back.

She watched Denevan twitch slightly before setting the glass down with a slight smile. “I see your senior officers have left you to cover their retreat. Some very nervous looking junior officers out there looking for guidance.”

“Traitors and insubordinates every last one of them Sir,” she replied. “They’re making Atlantis ready for departure right now.”

“Perhaps then Captain, your last speech then for the dignitaries and you can bring some relief to your junior officers by getting out of here?” He looked back across the room and she could see what he meant. Not all of Atlantis’ officers were present, but a lottery had been held and those present were looking rather concerned for their lives.

Here we have the junior officers, separated from the guidance of an elder officer, huddling in packs for protection from the likes of predatory dignitaries and brass.

Wait, I thought Documentary had disappeared?

Behold, the magnificent Captain reappears, to talk down the predators and guide the wayward junior officers to the safety of their assigned billet.

Aw crap…

She nodded in the affirmative, took one last mouth of liquid courage from her father, a quick kiss on the cheek, and then went for the podium that she’d already spoken from earlier in the day. Just her presence there had the desired effect as conversations quieted down, attention turned her way and she could taste anticipation from all gathered.

‘Be magnificent sweet child, be magnificent,’ her mother spoke to her.

“Gathered dignitaries, officers of Starfleet and the Atlantis, families and friends,” she started, the introduction a good chance to gather one’s thoughts one last time. “You’ve already heard me talk about the legacy of the name Atlantis, from an intellectual thought exercise by Plato, to the misinterpreted narrative as historical fact, a supposed utopia sunk beneath the waves, the inspiration of a better world for dreamers and poets over the centuries. Then we have the ships Atlantis, starting with sailing vessels, Earth’s first reusable orbiters, through to starships of the United Earth and later Federation Starfleet.”

She paused for a moment, then looked to her officers who all seemed to straighten under her scrutiny a little. She couldn’t help but smile as they seemed…proud of themselves?

“I was lucky enough to be the commander of one Atlantis and under the grand auspice of those who went before me,” her attention turned to her former captain, offering Denevan a nod, “I am in command of another. We have commissioned this fine vessel in grandiose tradition, but to complete the process, one final thing must take place.”

Again, her attention went to the junior officers and she smiled. “Report to your stations and make ready for immediate departure.”

“Aye aye, ma’am!” came the response and the officers, their dress uniforms immaculate, filed out of the room in silence. They’d have the good grace to wait till at least two doors separated them from this room before they started to talk amongst themselves.

“If you’ll excuse me, on that note, I should report to my own station. Please, enjoy your evening,” she finished, then stepped away from the podium and towards her parents and Adelinde as well. “Ma, Pa, I do have to go.”

“I know sweetie,” Mikou said. “You take care of yourself out there.”

“Pah! She’s got this one to do that for her,” Ballis said as he wrapped an arm around Adelinde’s shoulders in a rather familiar way. A familial way actually. “You take care of my daughter, you hear me?”

“Of course, sir,” Adelinde said. “I’ll only shoot her when I have to.”

“Ha! Love it!” Ballis exclaimed. “Now love, you take care of her as well, yah?” he directed to Tikva, and she smiled back at him. “That’s my girl.”

A solid and reaffirming family hug, to which Adelinde nearly escaped before being pulled in by her father, settled the matter and with last goodbyes, they finally extracted themselves from the pageantry and officiousness of the commissioning party.

“I am drunk,” Tikva finally admitted as they neared the nearest transporter.

“You’re walking fine,” Adelinde replied. “Besides, didn’t you warn us all not to match your father’s drink for drink?”

“Don’t remind me,” Tikva muttered.

Only a few minutes later both women were stepping out of a turbolift and onto the bridge of the USS Atlantis, her senior staff all manning stations on the bridge and all of them having changed out of their dress uniforms.

Lucky for some.

“Catch,” Mac said, then lobbed something in Tikva’s direction, her own hand coming up to catch the tumbling awkward object. There were three keys and a Starfleet delta all connected to each other by a ring they could all easily slide around, which had contributed to the tumble. She looked at it in her hand, blinked once, then back to Mac. “Keys to the ship.”

The keyring slipped over a finger, she held her hand up to let them dangle, visible to all. “New Atlantis tradition, is it?”

“I like it,” Gabrielle said from Sciences. “New ship, new totems, right?”

“Works for me,” Rrr muttered from Ops. “All systems in the green Captain.”

“Warp and impulse engines are reporting ready,” T’Val said from the helm.

Taking a deep breath in, soaking up that new starship smell, which was more imagined than anything else, Tikva walked around the bridge towards the centre seat. She looked at it, studied it, and contemplated it. Her chair. She’d sat in more than a few centre seats now, but this was her first capital ship.

A glance upward and she saw Adelinde at tactical, built into the arch running behind the command chairs. Ch’tkk’va, her now independent chief of security, separate from tactical, was there as well, a perfectly reasonable stand-in for a tactical officer.

Then she turned and sat herself down, making a show of it for everyone on the bridge that the captain had now taken command. Her hand found the familiar controls on the right, tapping the comm button straight to Engineering. “Mr Velan, how’s she looking.”

“If I said I was in love Captain, I’d be underselling it,” her Efrosian chief engineer said, the smile evident in his voice. “Normally out of dock I’d say be gentle with her, but if you want, I can give you all the way to the red line right now. She’s rearing for it.”

“No need for that Ra. We’ll keep it sensible.”

“Aye aye, ma’am. Have fun with her. Velan out.” The comm channel closed and Tikva smiled.

“Mac, would you like to get us ready please?” she asked her XO as he sat himself down to her left.

“Secure all airlocks, release all moorings and umbilicals. Helm, set course zero mark zero, full thrusters on the captain’s order.”

Rrr and T’Val both turned their work, though Rrr’s was probably the more onerous of the two tasks, even if he’d only been a few button presses away from completing tasks already set in motion hours ago. “All airlocks secure, mooring and umbilicals have been cleared. Yard Ops has cleared us for departure.”

Tikva had waited, finding a new nervous tick with the new keys in her hand, twirling them around a finger, catching them on each rotation, then setting them in motion once more. But then attention once more returned to her, from Mac this time. She looked at him, caught the keys, gave a smirk and sat back, displaying comfort and confidence, the former of which was just a bit harder in a dress tunic. “Let’s go find an adventure. Lieutenant T’Val, páme.”