Lieutenant Charlotte Callista Farnsworth would not have been recognizable out of her uniform; save for her unique purple “Peter Pan-like” style haircut she always wore. In her private life, people called her Charlie. It was a nickname an old boyfriend had started, and somehow it just seemed to stick. She didn’t mind the homogenization of her name. It was a cute nickname, and Charlie liked to play off of things that made her appear cute.

Charlie was the self-proclaimed “Mistress of Disguises.” Often was the time she would allow people to form misconceptions about her based off of her appearance. Secretly, she liked to dress up, wear extravagant makeup, clothing; anything that would get her noticed.

Inside, she was calculating, keen, and quick with her instincts.

All of her life, Charlie had been brilliant. Her brilliant life had begun filching personal belongings of others, when she was a child. She had not done this for lack of food, clothing, or warmth. She stole things because she’d enjoyed it. Like so many brilliant prodigy level children, she often had had difficulty finding challenge in her daily life.

Had she not been caught by one Petty Officer Dick Sullivan, a senior serving member of Starfleet at Jupiter Station, she might very well missed her opportunity to join Starfleet.

Charlie had always had an aptitude for engineering. In primary school, she had shown mechanical aptitude; her scores were exemplary. This trend continued on through secondary and finally when she was sponsored into Starfleet Academy. She might have joined the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, save for the fact that she had ambitions to command.

Now she sat waiting at her favorite table in the back of the 602 Club, for the arrival of her old friend Sullivan. She’d had good news to share, and “Sully” as everyone called him, was the first person she wanted to share it with.

Charlie sat sideways in her chair, as she always had. Her body posture was unorthodox, leaning her right arm over the chairs back, and her actual spine resting comfortably against the brick wall she was adjacent to.

Slowly she sipped on the Arcanis lager that had become her favorite vice. It had gotten a little warm in the afternoon in the club, and so she had removed her leather jacket and flung across her perfectly crossed knees. Etiquette was the rule of law to her, and even in pants, a true lady sat properly, revealing nothing.

Sully walked into the bar. The great old friend, who had served as her mentor for so long, had aged with the passage of time. His steely blue eyes had faded, after so many years of staring at view screens. His dark salt and peppered hair, was now mostly white. He looked old. He was seasoned, but not weary. Every wrinkle in his face reflected another year survived in the world.

He was an avuncular, dear sweet old man, and the closest thing Charlie would ever have to a father.

Immediately upon seeing her, he approached her table; his arms stretched wide for a hug.

“C’mon, kid, bring the shuttle in for a hug on landing pad Sully!” He said, as Charlie stood up from her chair.

Charlie was short, somewhere around 1.65 meters, and Sully, somewhere around 1.83 meters. With massive bear-like arms, he wrapped himself around the tiny young woman, and lifted her off her feet. His embrace was a tender warm loving hug. The grapple had been so unexpected, it had left her no time to put her jacket down, and it fell to the floor as a result.

Charlie allowed herself a giddy childlike squeak of happiness.

“Sully!” She said, in happy affectation.

Sully dropped her back to her feet and looked into the eyes of his former apprentice.

“Look at you kid, with your purple hair.” He said, pulling an extinguished cigar from his uniform pocket and placing it in his mouth for the flavor.

“You like it?” Charlie asked, genuinely seeking his approval.

Sully looked back at the young woman, and they sat together at the table, across from one another.

“Love it!” He said, “You always knew your style and you never let anyone bark you up a tree.”

Charlie shook her head. Chief Petty Officer Dick Sullivan was a salty old sea dog, and full of useful old platitudes what she had come to think of as “Sully-isms.”

Sully chomped a bit at his cigar, picked up a lit candle from the table, lit the cigar, and returned the candle to its proper place.

“So, what’s the good word, kid?” He asked.

Charlie got right down to business. Leaning towards him, she was bursting with excitement.

“I got my first command, Sully.” She said, with a low tone, almost as if she were preserving a secret.

Sully’s eyes widened with approval and genuine envy.

“Well, I’ll be go-to-hell!” He said, clapping her on the shoulder. “I knew you could do it, kid. Let me guess, they gave you a Galaxy?”

Both Charlie and Sully gave a sarcastic chuckle. She was only a lieutenant. Such things simply were not done. Sully had known that, he was merely busting the young girl’s chops for amusement.

“Hardly…” she paused. This time a genuine look of something serious passed her face.

Sully made notice of her troubled expression and so too, his face changed to match hers.

“What? They didn’t give you a damned Oberth, did they? I hate those ships. They practically lose warp field containment if you fart sideways.”

Normally Charlie would have laughed at the older man’s salty language, but the truth of the situation stuck with her. She needed his guidance, and she needed it now.

“…They gave me a Raven class, Sully.” She said.

Sully saw the pieces, but not the completed puzzle. He didn’t quite get the dilemma.

“So? Ravens are damned fined ships to start a career on.” He said shrugging.

Charlie paused, the next sentence she would speak to him would require little to no explanation.

She took a deep breath and her expression was clearly rattled.

“They gave me the Feuos, Sully.” She explained.

Sully scratched his beard. Now he understood the situation.

“Wasn’t that supposed to be Nate’s ship?” He asked.

Quietly, she responded with nothing but a slow nod of the head.

Now Sully grasped the magnitude of her feelings.

Lieutenant Commander Nate Wilmer, a mutual acquaintance of them both, had been in line for command for years. After years of service in intelligence, and on various vessels, he had been earmarked for command of a Raven some time ago, but had been held back for various reasons.

To make matters worse, Charlie had been romantically involved with Nate, on and off, for many, many years. Their latest romantic tryst, once again had ended badly, with them separating over long-distance subspace, flinging insults and damaging nothing but each other’s pride.

“He’s going to be so angry when he finds out, Sully.” She said, with genuine concern for Nate’s feelings.

Sully reached across the table and held her hand.

“This joyous day ain’t about anybody else but you, kid. Don’t let any history get in the way of that. You let old Sully worry about how to deal with Nate.” He said with sage wisdom.

Charlie smiled. Sully always knew the right thing to say.

She asked one more favor of him.

“Come with me, Sully.” She said pleadingly, “I know you’re close to retirement. But just one last time, it would mean the world to me if you come out on my very first mission as Captain.”

Sully hesitated only as long as it took to wink at the young woman, and squeeze her hand in acceptance.

“One last time, just for your kid.” He said with the love of a governing father, “Old Sully will always have your back.”

Marie Benedicte was something of a priss when it came to her personal behavior. She was prudish, not prone to socialization, some might even say awkward and introverted. But when it came time for shore leave, there was one thing she loved to do above all others. Marie Benedicte loved to sun bathe.

Marie lay prone on a beach chair, somewhere on the sandy shores of Costa Rica. In her red and blue one piece swimsuit, sunglasses comfortably over her eyes, she absorbed every beautiful ray of sunshine. Marie had spent a majority of her teenage years living in Brazil, and she’d loved every minute of it. Though not currently in her home, she absorbed every tropical environment she could find herself in.

Which was why when the golden haired beauty had applied to Starfleet Academy, she had literally no clue San Francisco would be so frequently cold, overcast and rainy.

Once she had graduated and been placed onboard various Starfleet vessels, she found space too was equally cold, barren, and devoid of the nourishing rays of sunlight which she so frequently enjoyed.

And when someone stepped between her and her glowing rays on her first shore leave in months, she was quick to find herself annoyed.

“Excuse me…” She said, pulling the sunglasses down the bridge of her nose, “You’re in my sun.”

Lt. Charlie Farnsworth, found herself precariously positioned between Sol and the bathing beauty.

“I know,” Charlie said in an authoritative tone, “You can just call me Captain Buzzkill.”

Marie completely removed her sunglasses now, and squinting up with her deep blue eyes, took the woman in, for all in all.

From her seated position in the chair, all she saw was purple hair, a command uniform, and equivalent set of Lieutenants pips.

Mistakenly believing herself to be addressing someone of similar rank was Marie’s first mistake, but certainly not her last.

“Purple hair.” She said with an apparent sarcastic tone on her lips, “I dyed my hair purple once… when I was twelve.”

Charlie let the insult slide.

One, you get one… she thought to herself.

Marie stood up, since it was fairly obvious that Cap’n Buzzkill had no intention of moving or introducing herself.

Marie was only a couple of inches taller than Charlie, but with her hands folded on her hips, and the sand slowly sucking her feet downward, Charlie suddenly felt the blonde woman towering over her. Marie’s presence was strong and briefly Charlie wondered if Marie might push her down for not getting out of her way.

“Fine. I’ll move. It’s a big beach…” Marie said.

Charlie let the play on words enter her mind for a moment. I’m looking at a big beach alright, she thought to herself.

“I’m Lieutenant Charlotte Farnsworth,” She said with an outstretched hand, “I’m the new Captain of the Feuos.”

Marie did not shake her hand. Instead, she looked down at the slightly shorter girl with a myriad of expressions, and a wrinkled up nose that implied she was either a liar, drunk, or standing on the wrong beach.

“You are not…” Marie said in a corrective tone, “I read the dock masters assignment list. The Feuos is supposed to be commanded by a Lieutenant Commander Nate Wilmer.”

Charlie winced to herself, without shaking her implacable expression of command presence. There was that name again; his name. She began to realize she was going to have to explain herself a lot in the coming days, to people she hardly knew.

“Change of plans. You might want to check your orders again.” She said with a smile of assuredness.

Charlie pulled a small PADD that had been tucked away under her left arm, and thrust it under the young woman’s nose for her to examine at her leisure.

“The Feuos has been pushed up on the missions list. Starfleet needs someone to take point on the team immediately. Commander Wilmer wasn’t available and I was next in line.” She explained.

Marie read the orders in horror and silence, as Charlie continued.

“The Feuos is experiencing a minor power fluctuation on her starboard ventral Bussard collector. It’s probably nothing, but I wanted it squared away before we pull out of dock this afternoon.”

Marie’s golden skin went from tan, to ghost white in mere seconds. Not only had she realized that she had been in fact talking to her new boss, but that she had been rude, surly, and by Starfleet standards, insubordinate.

“T-this… this afternoon?” Marie choked on the question.

Charlie turned her back, somewhat accidentally kicking sand in Marie’s direction as she walked away.

“You’ve been recalled to duty as Chief Engineer, immediately, Lieutenant.” She said, “Shore leave has been cancelled.”

Charlie began to walk back in the direction from which she had come, towards the beam out site. Marie could do nothing but watch her walk away. Suddenly she found herself worrying about her future in Starfleet.

“You can keep the PADD.” Charlie said, already far in the distance.

Charlie’s last words to Marie were mumbled, and quiet. Thankfully, for Marie’s sake, they had been obscured by the roaring sounds of ocean, and crashing surf.

“See you on the ship, lil’ miss sunshine.”

In space the diminutive Raven class USS Feuos came along side the Excelsior class USS Crazy Horse, at a continually slowing speed. Operating only on maneuvering thrusters, the ships matched one anothers velocity, and eventually came to station keeping.

Aboard the bridge of the Feuos, Captain Farnsworth awaited the transfer of her newest crew member, a Cardassian, and former member of the Obsidian Order - Gionna.

USS Crazy Horse, Officer’s Lounge-

Gionna had been granted amnesty by the Federation in exchange for sensitive information pertaining to several potentially dilithium rich worlds that were located inside the Helaspont Nebula. In exchange for this information, Gionna would be granted an honorary rank of Lieutenant junior grade, within the sciences division.

However, even twenty five years after the end of the Dominion War, many Starfleet officers held prejudices towards Cardassians, and some saw their service aboard a Starfleet ship as an insult.

Ensign Michael Prol sat across to Gionna sharing a bottle of kanar. Prol was the half-Cardassian son of a traitor. He had never seen Cardassia,  nor any chance to interact with other Cardassians.  Growing up he was always the outsider, despite their very different backgrounds and age that was the one unifying factor. 

“I have enjoyed getting to know you Lieutenant,” Prol said looking out the massive window and seeing a Raven-class along side them.

Gionna watching the swirling amber colored liquid in her glass. She hadn't enjoyed a good vintage glass of the beverage since her self-imposed exile from Cardassia. The flavor was rich and intoxicating. However, she was more fascinated with the swirling motion, than the consumption of it. The downward spiral reminded her of her recent career choices, and how it had sent her personal life into abysmal mess.

She could not believe she had decided to work for Starfleet in exchange for personal freedom. She wondered what had caused her to sink so low. Once, she had been one of the top agents of the order. There was a time in her career when she could have worked a confession out of a prisoner, with just a mere threat of torture. Now she was trading secrets with the enemy.

“Interesting year.” She said, examining the bottle. “How can you wear that uniform? Doesn't it make your skin crawl?”

She asked.

“I suppose I will be made to wear one too?”

He shrugged, he didn't know what to say about that.  He didn't know a life outside of the Federation. Luna, the Academy, and now here. That was the only life he knew. Cardassia was some mythical place far away and only in his father’s stories.

“I suppose it would be harder for you. My father struggled at first. Mostly because the intelligence he was giving to Starfleet meant the death of fellow Cardassians.  I know he feels guilty about that.  Not betraying the Dominion or Dukat, but getting other Cardassians killed. He always said he was a coward, and wanted me not to follow in his footsteps.   So, I didn't.”

Gionna stood, and straightened out her clothing. The time for self indulgence was over. It was time to commit to the path she'd chosen.

“I intended no insult. Cardassia's fate was sealed long before your father or I made our choices. The next time you see your father, remind him that the actions he took were to save our perfect union, not condemn it.”

She stopped just before heading to the door, and turned back towards Michael.

“The uniform looks good on you. You are a credit to it. Remember, no matter what colors you wear, you are always Cardassian.” She said. “Shall we go?”

He nodded, “I'll walk you to the transporter.”  They walked in silence for several moments.  Just outside the transporter room Prol spoke, “I am glad to have met you.  I only wish it wasn't under such a short duration.”

Gionna turned before heading into the transporter room, and looked at him.

“Indeed,” she said, “What is the human expression? We are all one big happy fleet. Perhaps you and I will serve together in the future?”

She did not shake hands. However, practicing the venerated respect of their mutual history, she bowed deeply to him. He was a good young man. She hoped to see him again.

Prol bowed in return,  and turned and headed for engineering wondering if this was one of those encounters that came and went to never be seen again.  He hoped not.

Captain Órlaith Murphy stood on the bridge of the USS Feuos  flanked by her operations chief, Lieutenant Commander Erin Hayden, and her Chief Medical Officer Doctor T’Lar. 

“It’s a fine first command you got here Captain,” Órlaith said to Captain Farnsworth. “I have to admit I’m a bit jealous. I had to actually make captain before I took the center seat.”

Charlie was proud of her modest bridge. All Raven class starships were small in general, not much larger than a Runabout, but Feuos had a lived-in feel to it. Her command was her own, and she viewed it as a stepping stone to great things and larger commands.

With a smile, she blew a lock of her purple bangs out of her eyes, and nodded to the visiting Captain.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She said with a smile, “I’m proud of her as well. Perhaps someday there’ll be time for me to tour the Crazy Horse, as well.”

“Of course Órlaith replied,  ”though it isn’t much to look at unless you like a early 24th Century astedics.”

“I understand you do not have a chief medical officer,” T’Lar inquired.

Charlie nodded. Leaving space dock without a chief medical officer had not been preferred; in fact it was downright dangerous. However, the sudden urgency of the mission had required that the ship leave immediately.

“Yes, Starfleet pushed up the priority of the mission. They even changed the original commanding officer of the assignment due to the lack of time available.” She said with a sigh, “We have an EMH, of course, but I’d feel more comfortable having a flesh and blood individual caring for our crew. I don’t suppose you have any spare doctors handy, willing to downgrade their accommodation size?”

She was joking of course, nor did she assume that the other Captain was implying such an offer. However, Charlie was intrigued. Perhaps her fellow captain had a suggestion that would improve their situation, that Charlie herself had not considered.

The Vulcan doctor raised an eyebrow at that.   Humans are not logical, she reminded herself. “I should go down to the medical bay and do an inventory.  Our medical supplies are a little low, but if we return to Starbase 86 I should be able to spare adequate quantities.”

Charlie smiled and walked alongside the Vulcan doctor. With an outstretched hand, she offered a gesture of continued company. She enjoyed watching Vulcan’s raise their brows at the concept of implied humor. It entertained her beyond belief. Though she ultimately respected the mental disciplines required to attain such mental acumen, she found their lack of social graces amusing to say the least.

“Please, allow me to walk with you. ” Charlie said with a smile, “We, of course, welcome any medical assistance you can offer, be it in the form of extra supplies, or any suggestions you might have.”

She loved the unity of Starfleet. No one was ever alone in the fleet; no individual ever truly on their own, no ship short changed. They were all family.

T’Lar nodded, “Of course Captain.”

The operations chief, Commander Hayden, spoke up as the quartet headed for the medical bay, “Do you know of any other supplies you need? Spare parts? Fuel? I’m sure Lt. Washington can get you anything you need.”

There was no shortage of things she required, the least of which being a trained medical professional at her ships disposal. However, for the moment, she would gratefully settle for extra dermal regenerators and hypo-sprays.

Lieutenant Shrin entered one of the Raven-class’ labs with an achievement artifact.  The Andorian woman’s antennae flicked the air sensing her surroundings. 

“Aww, Lieutenant,” she said approaching Gionna carrying an artifact in the shape of a decahedon.  It had markings on the face and at the top a recessed panel that glowed in a soft blue. “I… we have a bit of a puzzle and since you were here I thought a fresh mind might help us solve a rather large problem.”

Gionna examined the artifact. It was definitely unique and she had never seen anything quite like it before. On Cardassia Prime she’d had access to all manner of objet d’art which had been collected from the various worlds that belonged to the Cardassian Union. Her eyes keenly fixed to the object, studying its design and surface profile in great detail. She had what the humans called an eidetic memory. 30 seconds of staring at the object and she would never forget it.

“Intriguing.” Gionna said, “Where did you find it?”

“At a dig on Je’lon IV.  We estimate it to be nearly 2,000 years old.  We have determined most of the markings are star charts for Earth, and the inscription is in ancient Welsh.” She checked the PADD and read from it,  “Beyond the gateway in Avalon, reigns Aurthur, King of the Britons and his Knights of the Round Table.  With Merlin’s staff, lightning of time, bridges the distance between time and space.”

Shrin let that sink in before continuing,  “It uh… Well, it made our Captain and XO dissappear.   Starfleet has declared them dead and said the device desentigrated them, but I find no evidence of that. We were initially able to activate it with a tachyon pulse,  but nothing since.”

Gionna’s very first thought was that it might be a micro-transporter of some sort. Taking a tricorder from a nearby workstation she began to scan for the presence of tachyons or other quantum variables that might have an association with subspace fissures, natural wormhole phenomena, or teleportation of any kind. The inscription written in an ancient Earth language also fascinated her.

She was not an expert in Earth mythological stories, and yet even she had heard the legends of Avalon, Merlin or Myrddin as he was known in its derivative Earth language. Gionna began to wonder now if perhaps legends of fantasy were now somehow based in fact.

“In its dormant state, I am not detecting any emissions of any kind. Has it been exposed to various stimuli radiation forms? I would be curious how it might react if introduced to a neutrino field.”

“Just the tachyon pulse.   When we found it it was emitting low levels of gamma rays.  Now it’s… well this.” Shrin replied.

“I would recommend scanning it with a coherent tetryon beam.” Gionna suggested. “It is only a hunch, of course… but since the device, as you say, made your Captain and first officer disappear, it suggests to me that the device may be designed to activate when in proximity of life-signs. A coherent tetryon beam could be rigged to send a false bio-signature, which would then possibly activate the device, but without the risk of life. But as I said, that’s just a hunch.”

The Andorian’s antennae started to twitch in excitement,  “I had not thought of that.  None of us have.  You’re right that might be the case.  Does the Feuos have a tetryon emitter, or do we need to return to the Crazy Horse?”

Gionna gave a small indication of a smile. Like many Cardassians, she was excellent at concealing her true feelings. However, after a quick walk to her personal storage locker, she returned with a medium sized scanner of Cardassian design. It appeared to be heavy, requiring two hands to hold.

“This is not standard Starfleet issue; rather a multifaceted emitter array, similar to the MIDAS design. This however, requires no Mutara gasses to operate. It’s miniaturized tech that we Cardassians… appropriated from Starfleet and improved upon. It should be capable of reproducing a coherent tetryon beam.”

Shrin grinned with excitement.   After almost a year of nothing and banging her head against the wall she was excited to have a new option.  Taping her combadge, “Lt. Shrin, to Lt. Washington.”

“Go ahead,” a disembodied male voice came back.

“Marcus could you beam the tachyon emitter to my location?”

There was a pause,  “Yeah, it’s on its way.”

A moment later a tachyon emitter was beamed less than a meter from her.  “Okay,” Shrin started as she set the artifact on a table. “Put your tetryon thing over there about 1.5 meters,” She instructed excitedly as she started to set up her own device pointing at the artifact.

Gionna took only a few moments to properly calibrate the device, set it up at the instructed distance and make sure that everyone, including herself was safely out of the way. With a nod, she indicated that the device was fully functional and ready.

“Ready?” Shrin asked.

“On your mark.” Gionna replied with a coordinated raised finger.

With tricorder in hand she flipped the switch on the tachyon emitter.   For a second the artifact started to power up, but then just as suddenly as it did it returned to a dormant state.

Disappointed Shrin’s fingers danced over rhe tricorder, “I thought it was going to work.”

Gionna cocked her head to one side, in obvious defeat.

“As was I.” She said.

“Wait… what if?  Your emitter is just emitting general life signs.  Can you adjust it to read human?”

Gionna smiled and became suddenly proud of her Cardassian technical achievement.

“I can mimic the life signs of a Rectyne monopod, if so required….” She said with a humorous expression on her face, “Human life signs will be simple by comparison.”

Gionna accessed the baseline bio-data held by Starfleet medical computers aboard the ship. It required only a minor adjustment to the tetryon beam to allow it reproduce those lifesigns without flaw.

The tetryon beam altered its hue slightly, turning to a deep purple emission light beam. A moment of strange energy fluctuation occurred; the lights in the room dimmed for a moment, probably from interference created from the device’s activation. Before anyone could comment, or even move reflexively, the purple tetryon beam ricocheted, fed-back on itself, and struck the tachyon emitter.

A quiet deafness filled the room; everyone’s eardrums felt an adjustment of pressure, and the tachyon emitter disappeared in an instant.

“It would seem…” Gionna said, “We have achieved some small measure of success…”

“It seems so,” Shrin replied meditatively. “To what end I cannot say.  Is there anything useful on thr lab sensors?”

Gionna went a nearby monitor and read the active sensor data that was collected by the ships internal sensors.

“Though I cannot tell you exactly where the tachyon emitter went to, I can definitely say it was not vaporized. Sensors also seem to indicate that a directional vortex was opened. It’s exit vector is set, and can only flow in one direction, but I can definitely tell you, that this machine does not disintegrate anything. Rather it sends it… away.”

“Like a one way wormhole,” Shrin said thinking.

“Exactly,” Gionna confirmed with a quick nod of her head.

“Can you send the sensor data to the Crazy Horse.   Thank you,  this has been most productive. We have been staring at this problem for months.”

Gionna wasn’t used to sharing information open and freely. That was the first obvious change between her time in the Obsidian Order and her service to Starfleet. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. It felt strange, but it felt good. A cooperative effort had been made, and perhaps positive things would be the result. If this is what Gionna had to look forward to by continuing to serve Starfleet, then that was something she could be proud of.

On the bridge of the USS Feuos Cadet McCloud sat next to the new tactical officer. McCloud was a senior at Starfleet Academy and was earning his deep space assignment credits by working as helmsman of the Feuos. Normally such credits were accumulated during ones sophomore year at the academy. However, a computer error had incorrectly caused McCloud to go that entire year without an assignment. Assignments came, assignments went. Eventually, the situation was remedied by rescheduling the Feuos to his senior year.

McCloud was a brilliant pilot, and some might have said extremely attractive. His hair was bleach blonde and well kept, his skin was tan, and he had a slightly trim physique, accentuated with muscular definition.

Next to him, the tactical officer Lieutenant Sinclair Fisher was a quiet girl. She wasn’t one for conversation, even under the best circumstances. Sinclair, or “Clair” as she would’ve been called by her friends, was introverted and shy. She’d graduated from Starfleet Academy a few years prior to receiving the Feuos as her assignment. Her years at the academy were not filled with socialization and friends. Instead, she’d focused on her studies, and her physical skills. She had played sports and was excellent at baseball. Her natural predisposition to physical attunement had been her focus.

However, no matter how many physical activities she had filled her time with, nothing inside could hide the hideous longing that had grown within her. She was despondent and sad. The longer she had built the wall around herself, the less and less approachable she had appeared to those on the outside.

McCloud entered minor course corrections into the helm. They were scheduled to first class M asteroid near the Helaspont nebula. It was here they would plot a deeper course according to the information provided by the former Cardassian spy: Gionna.

For the first time in her life, the silence on the bridge was just a little too much for Sinclair. Whether it was the continuous repetitive beeping of computers or sensors, or because she was sitting so close to someone so attractive, she couldn’t stand the silence. McCloud had spoken even fewer words to her than she normally spoke to others – she could stand no more.

Her mouth opened, and the words just fell out.

“Your name…” The sentence was incomplete, and it didn’t even make sense to her.

McCloud looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Apparently the half speak had made some sense to him, because he answered it with a single word.

“McCloud.” He said, in a low, unfriendly tone.

For some reason his voice struck Sinclair as deeply as his handsome appearance, and she found herself regretting hearing him speak at all. Her heart skipped a beat, and she was dry in the mouth and nervous. Her skin was sickly and a bit pale.

“I-I mean, yeah I know…” She said, over explaining herself, “I saw the roster… and your name… your first name is just listed as N. N McCloud.”

McCloud’s eyes just squinted at her like he wanted her to die.

“I know my own name.” He said, like a scorpion spat its venom.

Sinclair suddenly felt very stupid and her eyes rolled back and fluttered a bit.

“Right, I mean… yes, of course you do. I was…” She stammered.

McCloud was cold and mean and indifferent to the struggle she was apparently having with her social anxiety.

“You were what?” He said, with no mercy.

Sinclair gathered herself.

“…I-I was wondering what…what does the N stand for?” She said, even managing to complete her thought with a caring and genuine smile.

She’d done it. She felt accomplished and good. Her social anxiety had not beaten her. She started a conversation, the anxiety had not won. She’d gotten the thought out, she’d come out of her shell, she’d challenged herself, and rose up to meet it. The sentence wasn’t good, it was poorly executed, but today she’d done it. And she felt like maybe it was the beginning of getting control of her social anxiety once and for all.

And McCloud opened his mouth to reply. And for a moment, he smiled a deep smile at her. A smile she hoped would lead to friendship and new conversations.

…A smile she misread.

The smile was an open invitation to a sucker punch, an invitation to relax that only led to a promontory of unexpected disappointment and cruelty.

“It stands for… none of your business.” He said, dropping the smile in a moment, and turning back toward the helm.

Sinclair became instantly apologetic; the anxiety returned and quickly became tremors and stammering magnified by failure.

“I…I’m sorry…I’m just… so… I just wanted to talk…” She said, almost crying now.

McCloud was more than a jerk. And her discomfort meant nothing to him.

“Are you really that desperate?” He said with cold rejection. “Do your job and leave me alone.”

Sinclair couldn’t leave her station fast enough. She ran to the back of the bridge, into the corridor. Had they not been the only two officers on the bridge, someone else might have said something. Someone might have intervened.

However, they were alone, and McCloud got away with it.

They were alone, and no one felt more alone than Sinclair Fisher.

She was alone, the anxiety had won. And she would always be alone. And the tears came…