An opportunity to showcase one’s credentials as a leader rarely came as swiftly as this had for the newly minted executive officer of the Fourth Fleet’s Task Force 17. But here he was, marching through the corridors of power aboard the headquarters for the group, absentmindedly tapping a data PADD against his right thigh as he walked. His stay aboard the Canopus-class starbase would be short, with the Bajoran headed for one of the primary transporter rooms to embark on his first official act as deputy to Captain Andreus Kohl.

Alongside him, and trying her best to keep up with the pace of her new boss, Ensign Dalaa was recording a series of notes and instructions from the Captain, making sure that she could relay them accurately to the more practised hands back in the office. She had, after all, only been on the Captain’s staff for a little over a week and was already getting quite the education.

“Make sure someone regularly touches base with the commanders aboard Elysion, Reliant and Sarek while I’m gone,” the much older Bajoran stopped outside the transporter room. “If you need me, I won’t be out of comm range, but keep me updated when you can. I don’t want any surprises when I return,” he concluded, looking down at his shorter colleague.

“Aye sir, I will.” A nod and a smile from the newly qualified Orion told the Bajoran that he was free to go.

“I’ll only be gone for a couple of hours, the day at most. If the boss needs anything, and unless it is a matter of life or death, take care of it until I return,” he smiled in response, helping to put the young one at ease, before disappearing into the transporter room and leaving the younger officer to make a final note on her data PADD.

Aboard the USS Olympic, Captain Elbon was the first to shuffle into the transporter room.  His gait felt ungainly and his arms hung stiffly by his sides.  Uncomfortably stiff.  As he positioned himself beside the freestanding control console, Elbon looked back to observe Lieutenant Calumn following him into the transporter room.  By comparison, the dress uniform made the diplomatic officer look as if he were posing for a Starfleet recruitment brochure.  Constrained by the layered dress uniform himself, Elbon could only assume his appearance was reminiscent of the low-ranking Va’telo D’jarra of ancient Bajoran times.

As Chief Engineer Theroh strode into the compartment, Elbon blinked at her and forced his face to remain neutral. Seeing a Cardassian garbed in a Starfleet uniform still caused cognitive dissonance in Elbon’s pagh, given Bajor was still occupied by the Cardassians through most of his youth.  He nodded at her congenially, when Theroh moved past Elbon to handle the transporter controls for herself.  He doubted he was able to hide the dimmed light behind his eyes as she passed by him.

“Deep Space 17 is energizing, captain,” Theroh said aloud moments before a pillar of light energized atop the transporter platform.

Accompanying the trademark hum of the transporter system, the bright blue swirls of the transporter beam lit up the bay until a figure materialised on the front pad. A tall man with dirty blonde hair. “Permission to come aboard?” the Bajoran executive officer of the Task Force requested, smiling at the red shirt before him.

“Permission granted,” Elbon replied with a slightly archaic salute.  With that formality completed, his posture softened and he took a step back.  Elbon offered a knowing grin.  “I’d be pretty ungrateful not to, Captain Romaes, considering your efforts to accelerate our repairs and crew rotations.”

Stepping down from the transporter pad, the Bajoran shrugged and slapped his hands against his thighs. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for these old girls. I used to serve on one, you know? Hippocrates, she was called. So vastly different from all my other assignments,” his expression showed the joy he had recalling his past life, long before his current role. “So, who have we here?” he asked, nodding towards two other officers present.

Elbon gestured to each of his companions in turn.  “Please allow me to introduce,” Elbon said, “my chief engineer Lieutenant Theroh and my acting first officer Lieutenant Calumn.”

“Ah!” the Captain grinned, clapping his hands together with glee. “I’m glad you two are here for this,” he continued, “I have some orders that will include this ship. But first, for you, Captain,” he turned to Elbon. “I’m here to terrorise, annoy and judge.”

Elbon shared a raised eyebrow and a nod with Calumn, who silently replied in kind.

“Aye, captain,” Elbon said, returning his pleasant smile to Romaes.  His eyes lit up with curiosity at Romaes’ plain excitement for what was to come next.  “My number one will make all the arrangements.  May I ask what you have in store for us?”

“An inspection, Captain. I’m here to inspect, critique and judge the refit and restaffing of the Olympic,” a playful smile crept across the Bajoran’s face as Romaes gestured for his counterpart to lead the way from the transporter bay while elaborating further. “Olympic will be my first opportunity to do this from the other side.”

After nodding twice, Elbon raised an intrigued eyebrow as he pivoted on his heel and moved towards the double doors.  His movement triggered the internal sensors that caused the doors to pull apart, revealing the wide passageways that circled the transporter hub at the aft of the Olympic’s engineering hull.  Elbon clapped Calumn on the shoulder as he walked past.

“My number one has some experience as a prosecutor in JAG,” Elbon remarked wryly, “but I’m a lapsed counselor here.  I appreciate the faith you, Captain Kohl and Captain Taes have put in me to take command of the Olympic.  For a little while, at least.”

Romaes waved a hand. “Don’t be silly. You’ve earned this, not us; the decision was easy,” the Bajoran grinned, “but not for Taes I’m guessing,” he smirked.  “I’m going to need some quarters for myself and, if you can spare anyone, an adjutant or yeoman from your staff would be well received,” the TFXO requested.

Nodding as he spoke, Elbon replied, “Easily done.”  –He swept a hand to the right, indicating a change in direction as they approached a corridor intersection– “Some starships boldly go, but our remit is hospitality and diplomacy.  That does bring to mind an awkward topic, captain. A large contingent of our crew are civilian scientists from the Romulan Free State.”

Elbon lowered his voice to ask, “How… transparent should we be in front of the Romulans, captain?”

“As glass Captain,” Romaes shrugged, a grin on his face. “We have nothing to hide here, and if they are to become true partners in our exploration of the expanse, we need to earn their trust,” he told, hands on hips.

The smile Elbon offered in return was wan at best.  “Ah, much the same as Captain Taes’ intention aboard the Sarek then.  Understood.”  He nodded at Romaes.  “Shall we begin on the bridge?” Elbon asked.

Elbon raised an open hand at the doors to the turbolift, as they approached.  The double doors pulled apart, revealing a turbolift car that was brightly lit and easily twice the size as those on an average Starfleet cruiser.

Entering the lift, the visitor gladly stepped inside the car but stopped in his tracks and looked at the two officers who had been accompanying them. “Would you two mind giving the Captain and me a minute or two? There’s something sensitive we need to discuss,” Romaes requested in the politest way he could, but his expression suggested it was less of a suggestion and more of an order.

Both officers plainly felt the weight of their pips enough to take his meaning.  Calum and Theroh each nodded at Romaes and “yes sir’ed and turned left to find another turbolift.

Elbon, meanwhile, stepped onto the turbolift and requested that the computer take them to the “Bridge.”  He cleared his throat and he fixed his gaze on Romaes.  “I should have guessed you came aboard for more than an inspection,” Elbon said.

“You’re not going to like what I have to say,” Romaes confessed with a nod to the man, leaning against the aft wall of the turbo lift. “I don’t even understand these orders myself, but Starfleet Command wants you to travel to a predetermined set of coordinates along the Romulan border and wait there,” the elder Bajoran told, clearly uncomfortable as he spoke and delivered the peculiar orders.

Elbon blinked.  He looked to the left, watching the scrolling lights that indicated the turbolift was travelling towards the sphere section of the ship.  When he met Romaes’ eyes again, Elbon grinned in a manner plainly intended to disarm.  “I’ve received worse orders, captain,” he remarked.  “Are we to rendezvous with a Romulan Free State science ship?”

Romaes simply shrugged. “This is what worries me,” he whispered, even though there was clearly only the two of them present in the lift, “I have no idea what you are to do when you get there, other than sit and wait.”

“That… hmm,” Elbon responded haltingly.  He put a hand on his hip and the flashing lights in the turbolift car shifted as the car switched tracks from horizontal to vertical travel.  Taking a deep breath, Elbon posed, “Perhaps Fleet Command doesn’t entirely trust me yet?  I have been insistent on keeping Commander Holmgren aboard as our Chief Science Officer despite his… lapse in judgement.”

Shaking his head, the TFXO disagreed. “If that’s the case, then they don’t trust me either. I know all you do now,” Romaes echoed the younger Bajoran’s stance. “Look, I know your background Elbon. What are your reasoned sensibilities telling you?” the Captain queried, hinting to his subordinate’s past life.

Elbon squinted and he rubbed the back of his neck.  “The simplest explanation,” he said, mostly thinking out loud, “would be we’re heading to the border in aid of our Romulan Free State contingent for a matter that only concerns them.”  –He shook his head– “But that doesn’t explain why command wouldn’t tell you the priorities.”

“Let’s forget about that part,” Romaes shrugged. In truth, there was no reason for him to know since he was but a messenger on this occasion. “What you can do is work towards that simple explanation of yours, and ensure that you keep on your toes. You’ll probably be caught with your pants down,” he suggested with a smirk, “but how low depends on how prepared you get yourself and your crew.”

As soon as the turbolift came to a halt, the double doors parted, opened up to the white bulkheads and purple carpeting on the main bridge.  Elbon was the first to stride into his new command centre, his new home.

“We’re on a mission of hospitality, like I said,” Elbon remarked.  “Academics only like to fight with their words or the ranking of author names in a published article.  As long as our replicators are stocked with Romulan recipes and our liquor cabinets are full, we can smooth out the edges of any mission you may have for us.”

Smiling as he stepped out into the brightly lit room, the visiting Captain took in a deep breath. Nothing in the galaxy had the same effect as inhaling the smell of a bridge the first time you stepped on it. This ship was no different, and it was intoxicating. “You’ve got yourself a fine ship here, Elbon,” Romaes smiled. “Sure, the Sovereign is the backbone of the fleet, and ships like the Odyssey, Ross and Sarek might be more up-to-date, but they’re stale; metallic. This ship is a thing of beauty” His smile was genuine and heartfelt as he took in the sight around them.

“Whatever you have to do out there…” the Bajoran looked at his compatriot wistfully, “look after her and your people.”

The sound of the life support systems was all Holmgren could hear.  Most days, it offered a soothing, if forgettable, white noise.   On this day, the sound of cycling air washed over Holmgren with all the intensity of river rapids.  His gaze had become lost somewhere in the middle distance; the noise was so intense, his other senses faded to the background.  His mind wandered, imagining his body being sucked into the life support system and tumbling through the pipes and tubes that connected the counseling office to the atmospheric processor units.

Holmgren blinked.

He took a breath.

“I’m sorry, doctor,” Holmgren remarked, “did you say something?”

Dr. Binshou Ang adjusted his reading glasses and made a note on his PADD about the patient’s reduced audiovisual awareness. Holmgren had no apparent notion of the intense scrutiny he’d been under for the past minute and a half. “I said that your medical record makes no mention of any dissociative disorders–in fact, no mental disorders of any kind–before your coma last year. Would you say that’s accurate, or are the records incomplete?”

Holmgren started to answer, “I’d say…” but he quickly trailed off.  His gaze wandered to the overhead, losing himself in thought, and he drummed his fingers on the side of the armchair where he was sitting.

Blinking, Holmgren met Binshou’s eyes to continue, “I’d say the records are complete.  Until last year, I’m afraid I mostly looked at counselors as a friend whose birthday you don’t have to remember.”

Binshou chuckled. “My birthday’s in the fall, otherwise I’d be tempted to submit a reminder to your personal calendar.” He paused for a beat, and seeing that Holmgren’s gaze still appeared focused, he pressed on. “In the period between recovering from your coma and the attack on the Olympic, do you recall any feelings of disorientation? As if you’d lost time, or forgotten something especially important or commonplace?”

Through a thoughtful frown, Holmgren nodded at Binshou.  “Feelings of disorientation were the norm when I first returned to duty aboard D-S-17.  Moreso in the afternoon than the morning; probably exacerbated by fatigue if I wasn’t taking enough breaks.  Since I took command of the Olympic, those feelings have been less frequent.  Maybe once a week, instead of once a day.  Usually when I first wake up or in the late evening.”

“Mmhmm.” Binshou scribbled some quick notes on his PADD with a stylus. “Tell me about your interactions with your family since your coma. Have they felt strained, or are they grounding for you? Possibly both?”

Nodding gently, Holmgren crossed his arms over his abdomen.  “Lalla, my girls, they’ve been my tether to the man I used to be.  When I couldn’t… concentrate the way I used to, when I couldn’t always remember specific words, they always knew how to melt the embarrassment and frustration away.  They reminded me how little the small mistakes mattered.  I don’t… I don’t think I would still be in Starfleet if it wasn’t for them.”

Binshou smiled as he continued to jot down notes. “That’s great, that you have their support and that you can accept their support. We’ve learned a lot about the way strong interpersonal bonds can strengthen neural pathways in the past couple of centuries. Has it been difficult, been separated from them recently?”

“It’s been difficult and it’s been…” Holmgren trailed off, bobbing his head from side to side.  He leaned forward in his seat and he whispered, “It’s been helpful too.”  His eyes widened in a pained expression, having said that.  Sinking back in his chair, he explained, “I feel guilty not having them here, but I would have felt just as guilty having them here and neglecting them, while I learn” –he corrected his tense– “while I was learning all I thought I needed to know about commanding Olympic.”

Binshou paused and nodded. There was a thread in Holmgren’s statement that needed picking at if he could set the family issue gently aside. “That’s not an uncommon sentiment in Starfleet, broadly speaking,” he reassured. “If there were an easy compromise between wanting to keep one’s family close and wanting to keep them away for their own wellbeing we could make half the counselors in Starfleet redundant.

“But your first command, right on the heels of having your consciousness transferred and the subsequent coma.” There was a question in there–a fairly indignant one–that needed to be answered by the people who had put Holmgren in command in the first place, but the phrasing and intensity of that question would depend very much on how the rest of the session went. “That surely must have made for a steep learning curve. What made you want to take on the challenge?”

“I wanted to captain a science ship because it was the scariest option,” Holmgren answered insistently.  “If I kept doing the same thing I’ve been doing for a decade, that would mean I’m not growing and enriching myself as a being.  Working as a science officer hasn’t had the same spark that it used to– not since Camus Two.  How can I be worthy as a twenty-fifth century human if I’m not pushing myself with a growth mind-set?”

“Hmm. So was command a goal of yours upon entering Starfleet, or did that ambition come later?”

Holmgren opened his mouth and then he squinted and he sighed.  Trying again, he said, “There wasn’t a desire to command a starship exactly.  It was more… You know, before you join Starfleet, you can’t accurately imagine what it’s going to be like.  All I had was the iconography and the newsfeeds and the holo-novels.  I craved that old-school role of being the Executive Officer slash Science Officer.  Command through intellect.  That trusted second opinion.”  –Holmgren shrugged– “I lost that dream somewhere along the way.  By the time serving my duty as a science officer felt so misaligned, so Sisyphean, it felt natural to reconnect with that goal.”

Binshou tapped his stylus rapidly against his chin before stabbing his PADD with it, bringing up Holmgren’s personnel file in one corner of the screen. “How did you reconnect with that goal? Did you put in a request for a command or did the fleet offer one?”

“My mentor tapped me on the shoulder for Sarek Squadron,” Holmgren replied.  He paused, his eyes following Binshou’s movements and facial expressions.  “My performance ratings were good; medical had declared me fit for duty.  Captain Taes said she hoped I would discover all of hidden depths of meaning in starship command that she had uncovered for herself.  She said she wished someone had done the same for her sooner.  I was… I was too impulsive.  I hardly even thought it through.  I normally live by pro and con lists, but I was too excited to want something, to genuinely want something new.”

Holmgren’s gaze drifted again, his thoughts drifting back to what Taes had said to him that day, drifting back to his last day in command of the USS Olympic.

“I wonder what I’ll want next…”