Vice Admiral Belvedere was in the midst of reading a promotion recommendation for a junior officer in the maintenance section when he, along with everyone else in the Fourth Fleet’s command structure, received Vice Admiral Beckett’s warning to “trust only the Fourth Fleet.” The Breen were always causing trouble, as Belvedere knew from his experience during the Battle of Barzan—the only major battle he had participated in during his decades-long career. The last thing the Breen situation needed was the addition of a Dominion fleet on top of it. He still had to sigh, though.

“Must we be so melodramatic?” he muttered as he dismissed the message. He tapped the button his desk to summon his aid and stood up to face the window. A lot of things would need to be done to get the station ready. He heard the door open. “Inform all departments to implement Security Directive Sierra-Bravo-Zero, Mr. Janssen,” he ordered.

“Err. Right away. But… what is that?” a somewhat-familiar, sheepish voice responded. Belvedere turned around and pursed his lips when he saw Ensign Scott Bowens standing there rather than his aid, Lieutenant Commander Janssen. On his first day on the station over a year ago, poor navigation had led Bowens to walk straight into Belvedere’s office, and he’d confused him for his aid at first that time, too. “You might not remember me, sir. I’m—”

“Ensign Scott Bowens. Brother to Commander Harper Bowens. I remember you, Ensign. I’m assuming because I pressed this button and then you appeared… you’re not just wandering into my office?” Belvedere asked, pointing to the intercom.

“No, sir. Mr. Janssen started his shore leave today,” Bowens said, swallowing nervously. “That security protocol sounds serious, though… you know… with a ‘zero’ and all. Should I recall him?” he asked, looking almost hopeful at that idea.

“Security Directive Sierra-Bravo-Zero originated during the Dominion War. It calls for enhanced biometric and physical screenings of everyone entering or leaving the station. Just inform the first officer, and he will take care of it,” Belvedere said.

Bowens looked nervous again, and Belvedere scoffed.

“There is a limit to which your befuddlement is amusing, ensign,” the admiral muttered. He tapped his commbadge. “Attention all department heads, this is the Admiral. Implement Security Directive Sierra-Bravo-Zero immediately and report your progress to Captain Reyes,” he ordered.

Bowens smiled sheepishly. “Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Oh, you’re English… Tea?”

“Ask Janssen to return from shore leave,” Belvedere said.

“Right. Got it,” the young man replied, happy for an excuse to bolt.

The door opened, and Bowens was about to leave, but he backed away and did an odd combination of bow and curtsey. A moment later, Admiral Liam Dahlgren, the Fourth Fleet’s Deputy Commander, stepped through. Along with him was Vice Admiral Elizabeth Hayden, Commandant of the Fourth Fleet Academy. Bowens looked at the two of them and his mouth flapped slightly as he clearly considered offering them a beverage as well, but he failed to make any sound.

“That will be all, Ensign,” Belvedere said, prompting the young man to scurry out of the room. “Admirals, what can I do for you? I hear I’m only supposed to trust in you now.”

Hayden snorted, but Dahlgren didn’t react either way to the quip.

“Good, you read the message, then,” Dahlgren replied. 

“And initiated higher security levels.”

“You’re a step ahead of me, then,” Dahlgren said, offering a genuine, handsome smile that made Belvedere want to distrust him even more. “The Calliburn and Susan B. Anthony are leaving within the hour. Both of them will need their crews supplemented from the starbase.”

“Exeter will also be departing with a contingent of cadets and junior officers,” Hayden added.

“Is the situation really that serious to need two flagships and a training ship pressed into the fray?” Belvedere asked, his brow furrowing.

“We hope that it won’t be—and the cadets will be operating purely in a support role at Farpoint—but this is an all-hands-on-deck situation. We need any ships here in port repaired and sent on their way. Which is why I stopped by in person to tell you we’re going to ask you to do more with less,” Dahlgren explained.

Belvedere nodded. “I appreciate that, Admiral. But don’t worry—Starbase Bravo will see the job done.”

Lieutenant Commander S’Lone tr’Khellian, the commanding officer of the starship USS Victoria “Ole VIc,” had just returned from a secret mission to Dominion territory to the dead planet Romero. The mission had been a success, and S’Lone was feeling relieved and eager to report back to Starbase Bravo. But something was off.

As S’Lone walked through the corridors of the ship, he noticed that many of his crew members seemed lethargic and disoriented. They stumbled as they walked, and their eyes had a vacant, glassy look. S’Lone had seen enough 20th Century Terran zombie movies to recognize the signs.

“What the frack is going on here?” he muttered to himself.

He quickly made his way to the ship’s sick bay, where he found the medical team frantically trying to contain the situation. They had already set up a makeshift quarantine area and were working to isolate the infected crew members.

“What’s happened?” S’Lone demanded.

“Sir, we’re not entirely sure,” said the chief medical officer, a tall, balding man with a stern expression. “But it seems that the soil samples you brought back from Dominion territory may have somehow been contaminated.”

S’Lone’s heart sank. He had been so focused on completing the mission that he hadn’t thought about the potential risks of bringing back unknown substances.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“It’s spreading quickly, sir,” the CMO replied. “We’ve already lost half the crew, and the other half is showing symptoms.”

S’Lone gritted his teeth. He knew that he was responsible for the safety of his crew, and he had let them down. But he also knew that he couldn’t dwell on his mistakes right now. He had to focus on finding a way to stop the outbreak before it spread any further.

“Get me all the information you have on the soil samples,” he said. “And gather a team to start working on a cure. We need to contain this before it’s too late.”

Over the next few hours, S’Lone worked tirelessly with his medical team to try to isolate the virus and develop a cure. But every time they thought they had made progress, the virus mutated and became even more deadly.

As the hours turned into days, S’Lone watched in horror as more and more of his crew succumbed to the virus. He knew that he was running out of time.

Finally, after four long days of non-stop work, the medical team discovered a breakthrough. They had identified a compound that seemed to be effective in stopping the virus from spreading.

S’Lone ordered the compound to be synthesized immediately, and the medical team began administering it to the infected crew members. It was a race against time, but they were determined to save as many lives as possible.

Over the next few days, the situation on the USS Victoria slowly began to improve. The infected crew members started to recover, and those who had not been infected were able to resume their duties. S’Lone breathed a sigh of relief, but he knew that the aftermath of the outbreak would be felt for a long time to come.

As the ship made its way back to Federation space, S’Lone reflected on the lessons he had learned from the experience. He realized that even the most routine missions could be fraught with danger, and that he needed to be more vigilant in the future. But he also felt a sense of pride in his crew, who had rallied together in the face of adversity and had worked tirelessly to find a solution.

When they finally arrived back at Starfleet’s Starbase Bravo  Command, S’Lone was called in for a debriefing. He knew that he would have to answer for his mistakes, but he was determined to be honest and forthcoming about what had happened.

Over the respectful chatter and hubbub droning through one of Starbase Bravo’s secondary communication centres, the high-pitched tones of Cadet Parze’s voice cut through all other noise.

“Are you kidding me, sir?” Parze could be heard asking.  Standing approximately 5’3″, the Saurian cadet wasn’t immediately visible from across the rings of workstations, but her voice was plainly emerging from one of the entrances.  “You just scanned me and took my blood ninety minutes ago!  I only went for a visit to the head, y’know.”

If someone responded to Parze, they were speaking far more softly and succinctly.  They couldn’t be heard from across the compartment.  But they apparently said something, because Parze’s voice went up an octave when she defensively added, “Okay, I don’t mean you you.  But another you.  Another security officer.  Obviously, that’s what I meant, sir.”

“Oh, there you are Cadet!” Arcturus approaches the security checkpoint, his eyes glancing from her to the security office.  Holding his hand out for the PADD.  “Oh, I see you must have had the same blood transfusion as I did…” he grins as he looks over the record, looking at the security officer.  “She is cleared for entrance.”

“No Sir!  I cannot admit her, Starfleet Policy demands that all individuals prove they are who they say they are by blood test,” said the security officer.

“You also forget that there is a secondary and more preferred way of conducting tests that validate a person’s ID that can’t be faked.  Since I have personally studied Cadet Parze service record, I would know information you do not.  You should give her more credit and respect.  Her parents served on DS12 during the Dominion War providing food to our service people.  Isn’t that right Cadet?  How would you think her 8 siblings would react to such treatment you are giving her?   And lastly officer, do you think the Changelings would take an Cadet with a Major in psychology?   I think not…” He gave a moment of pause to confirm his suspicions about the validity of the Cadet’s personal information.

Parze’s dark reptilian eyes bulged at the depth of Arcturus’ knowledge of her, how thoroughly he had clearly read her service jacket.  That sign of respect from an officer more senior than her –someone she was only assigned to job-shadow for a day— took the fire out of her belly.  She shook her head in defeat.

“All right, all right,” she said to the security officer.  She perked up enough to offer a toothy smile.  “Take my blood.  Just promise you won’t drink it.  Saurian blood is a delicacy on some colony moons.”

As soon as Parze’s identity was confirmed through security directive Sierra-Bravo-Zero, she was allowed full entry into the communication centre.  She took hold of the lower hem of her grey uniform tunic and tugged it smoothly before striding in to join Arcturus.

“Thank you for the assist, sir,” Parze said with a nod.  “My Cadet Squadron Bravo assignments aren’t usually this exciting.  I can’t say I’ve spent much time in the communication section this year.”

He watches her, her response not what he expected but rather impressed that she still went through the blood withdrawal.  “Very good cadet, very good.  Security is just doing their duty and it’s their behind if things wrong.  So why didn’t you correct me with the incorrect information?”

Parze narrowed her eyes thoughtfully at that question and eventually nodded her snout at Brujah.  She trailed half a step behind Brujah as they navigated through the busy communication centre.

“Didn’t I?  When I’m deep in my feelings,” Parze answered, “I can’t always notice the details.  My instinct kicks in and I search the widest areas for threats, even if I intellectually know I’m in the relative safety of a starbase.”

“No you didn’t, which is ok cause you are willing to give your blood.  You only have 6 siblings; it is important to always test someone’s mental focus and knowledge.  But this is another story for another time.  You here to learn about communications and I have the privilege of having you for a day.”

“Wait, sorry, what?” Parze interrupted.  She rose her pink scaly hands and waved her palms at Brujah.  “Who’s a Changeling?”

He walked beside her, his lips slightly smiling.  “So you’re a fourth year, I remember that time was so stressful yet exciting because it sent me on a unique journey.  My professor recommended that I should go into communications or social services, what has this year been like for you?”

“As I’m nearing my graduation,” Parze remarked, “I haven’t chosen my scientific specialty.  Based on my studies so far, an instructor suggested I might enjoy communications more than I know.  I told her she was probably wrong, but I figure it’s worth a day, right?  Thank you terribly much, lieutenant, for agreeing to explore with me whatever it is you do all day!”

“Your welcome Lyra, so comm…” At first, it was subtle, nothing that truly grab anyone’s attention.  His monitor glows a slight pink and then red as the signal of an alert courses through the wires and then with a concussive flash of noise and light his station comes alive.  Arcturus’s eyes widen, and quickly and without thought, turns to find a new experienced, a Red Alert.  Stunned at the relative uniqueness of the situation, started at the disturbance, that soul-penetrating sense of the slowness of time.   He watched as the message begins unfolding before him to reveal a unique set of numbers, that are suddenly processed as well into a unique form of alphanumeric word structure.  

March 2401 – 7:00 p.m. – USS Thermodon, Raven Class, enemy discovered, engaged, requires immediate assistance.  Dominion ships in Deneb Sector.  4 Strike Class Dominion ships, 1 Disabled.  In addition, 1 Battlecruiser.  

“Cadet, I need you to turn away right now and not look at my station.” He tapped a few buttons and slid his finger along the console, side-glancing at the supervisor on duty.  Then he turned his attention back to her.

“Alright cadet sorry about that, one of the adventures that need to stay hidden, if you get my drift.  So if you saw anything, you are under orders not to discuss, reveal or otherwise release anything you hear or see today.  Understood?  Now, where were we?  Oh yes…communication…” remarks Arcturus as he begins to cover the operation and responsibilities of a communication officer.

Parze nodded intently at the extensive and detailed responsibilities of a communications officer that Brujah shared with her, even if her bulbous black eyes glassed over slightly.

“Reports every day, huh?” Parze asked to check her understanding.  “Sounds like every day as a Starfleet officer really is just like a day at the academy.”

The manuals all said the mark-XII multi-tiered anti-grav sled was intended to be operated by two: a pilot and a navigator, figuratively-speaking.  The actual operation of the sled was fairly simplistic.  With a subtle nudge here or there by hand, the anti-grav motivators would instinctively shift the sled’s direction or bring it to a halt.  Moreover, the sled’s top speed was hardly faster than a small child.  

Where the troubles arose were when it came to visibility.  The number of shelves on the sled were stacked taller than Lieutenant Elegy Weld himself.  As he tried to manoeuvre the sled single-handedly, he couldn’t see anything happening on the other side of the shelves upon shelves of medical supplies.  Only at the last possible moment did Weld notice he was about to plow the sled into someone and so he yanked the sled back as hard as he could muster.  The suddenness of his yank caused a third of the medical cases to come tumbling  down off the shelves towards him.  He jumped back to avoid the cascade of falling supplies.

Dawa heard the crash of the tumbling shelves from behind the corner and peeked her head out to see the sled that had been about to mow her down drift to a halt without its operator. She dashed out and around the mess to find Elegy in a heap on the ground.

“Gravity has its revenge!” she announced as she crouched next to him and reached a tentative hand out. “I hope nothing is broken, shelves or bones or anything. Did you bump your head? Need help up?”

Accepting Dawa’s hand between both of his own, Elegy groaned as he was helped to his feet.  He dropped his chin to his chest, stretching his neck, and he patted his head and his arms, looking for signs of bleeding.  Blood could be hard to spot in the black expanse of a Starfleet uniform, but upon each inspection, the palms of the Trill’s hands came back dry.  No blood.

While he patted himself, Elegy said, “I suppose I’ve been tempting gravity my whole life.  Grew up on starships, serving aboard a starbase; none of them places gravity is supposed to be.”  He shook his head.  “I think– I think I’m all right.  Thank you kindly, ensign… uh…?”

“Ensign Dawa Vlček,” she announced with a wide smile, then gingerly took one of his hands in a handshake. “I can confirm, no broken fingers here! You should still let me help you pick up these shelves, though, Lieutenant.”

After shaking her hand, Weld warmly remarked, “Thank you kindly, Ensign Vlček.  I’m certainly not too proud to accept your help.  I’ve made rather a lot of mess of these supplies.”  –He looked around at the metallic cases of medical equipment and pharmaceuticals, none of which looked critically damaged– “But before you begin, I should ask: have you been tempting gravity overly much before now?”

“Well, I grew up on a moon, and I just spent the last week planet-side, so if you ever need a consult on real gravity I can fill you in on its practical effects,” she said with a laugh.

After gathering up an armful of hypospray cases, Weld clutched them close to his chest until he could gingerly slide them onto one of the anti-grav sled’s many empty shelves.  He took a step back and then he took a breath.  Ponderously, Weld scrunched up one of his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Weld said, “I can’t remember the last time I took any time away from the starbase…”

“Why are you operating this thing all by yourself anyway?” asked Dawa, wondering to herself if the tension in his posture was from the fall or from stress.

Answering the question as broadly as possible to begin, Weld said, “We’re re-stocking the medical ship Hippocrates while it’s undergoing repairs in the base.” –He gathered up another armful of supplies– “I got frustrated with pointing and clicking at holograms, so I needed to use my body.  I figured it would give me a new insight into what was starting to feel like arbitrary decisions about supply ratios.”

“Well, I might have a thing or two to say about the ratio of supplies you’re trying to carry solo. As a Starfighter Pilot, I think I’m more than qualified to manoeuver this sled if you’d like to navigate for me.”

Weld found himself nodding at Dawa’s offer to drive the sled while he loaded another stack of vascular regenerator emitters onto the sled.  He got them settled on a shelf before he acknowledged her superior skill.

“You’re most certainly more qualified than me, ensign,” Weld said.  He frowned as another thought visibly crossed over his field of vision.  “Although I hope I’m not distracting you from a more critical duty?”

“Nothing critical, no!” Dawa picked up the last piece of something-or-other – she couldn’t identify most of the supplies, but this one was at least lighter than the rest – and handed it to Elegy to stack at the top of the reassembled shelves.

“I’m off duty and was headed to my quarters to read the latest reports about whatever it is the Fourth Fleet is doing in the Deneb Sector, but I doubt the situation will change that much in the time it takes me to get you and your goods to your destination.”

She drove the point home by hopping onto the sled and reactivating the control panel. “Although if that’s where the Hippocrates is headed, maybe you can fill me in on the scuttlebutt on the way!”

Striding ahead of the sled, Weld gestured with his hands when it was safe for Dawa to glide it forward.  He turned back long enough to engage in said scuttlebutt.

Weld confirmed Dawa’s suspicion, by saying, “The repair of the Hippocrates has, indeed, been prioritised to get her healing hands into the Deneb Sector.  I’ve read reports of the Breen testing our border patrols, destroying our automated subspace relays and outright engaging with Task Group 514.”

“All from the cockpit of old Jem’Hadar fighters is what I heard,” said Dawa. “Doesn’t make much sense to me. Why would they be hauling out old scrap like that for an offensive? Why would they be on such an ambitious offensive at all if they’re reduced to using another species’ leftovers? No matter how many times I yell at the FNN reports they don’t answer back, though!”

“As puzzling as that is,” Weld added, raising a finger as another thought came to him, “there is a clear need in the Deneb Sector.  We’ve been asked to evacuate patients from certain hospitals in and around the Deneb Sector.  There’s a group of sensitive patients I’d like to oversee myself upon their arrival to Starbase Bravo.  I have need of a savvy pilot for the rendezvous.”

“Well, then it’s a good thing you almost ran over me today! I’ve got nothing but routine patrols on my schedule for a while. If you put in a request with my squad leader you’ll have the savviest operator of heavy space machinery this station has to offer at your disposal.”

As the transport ship door opens onto Starbase Bravo, Landen Monters steps onto the sprawling platform. Starfleet personnel, merchants, and civilians of countless species, all busily going about their lives with a clear, awe-inspiring and disorienting purpose. His gaze falls upon alien species and cultures he had only studied in books.

His eyes dart between the various security officers as they bounce through the crowd, each with their purpose and direction. Meanwhile, he stands stationary and overwhelmed. His two travel acquaintances, who had seemed so friendly during the journey, were not set to disembark here. It was a shame, as he so desperately yearned for a cordial guide right about now. Others leave the transport, moving with swift and sure steps that suggest familiarity with Starbase Bravo. Their confidence strikes him, and he feels a pang of envy.

He scans the crowd nervously, unable to shake off the unnerving feeling of being watched. He’s an outsider here, and his inactivity in this bustling beehive of activity only accentuates this fact. As he hovers in place, he can’t help but imagine unseen eyes on him, wondering why he’s just standing there, and this sends a fresh wave of anxiety washing over him.

A security officer briskly approaches him and impatiently asks, “Name and purpose of visit?” Monters’ is caught off guard by the officer’s frantic attitude and cold demeanour, so it takes a few milliseconds longer to answer, “Err, Landen Monters. I’ve been assigned to Starbase Bravo as a Science Officer and….” As Monters explains, the officer nods impatiently, looks him up and down, and pokes at his PADD. And before he could finish answering the question, the officer cuts him off, “Very well”, and heads directly to a different passenger.

Monters feels an intense wave of vulnerability with no welcoming committee and the minutes stretching out uncomfortably. He nervously pulls out his PADD, thumbing through the data with a furrowed brow to look like he belongs. Yet, despite confirming he’s in the right place at the right time, his pulse rate refuses to slow.

His heart feels heavy in his chest as the initial excitement of his new posting gives way to a stark reality – he is alone, far from home, and entirely out of his comfort zone. He had imagined an escort or at least a colleague to meet him, but the bustling platform offered no such comfort. Finally, after about 10 minutes, he watches the final few stragglers leave the area. He’s all alone now, with nothing but the hum of the environment.

Monters tightens his grip around his PADD and luggage, taking a moment to compose himself. With that, he fingers through the PADD to locate floor plans on Starbase Bravo. The goal was to get his bearings and find his way to a safe space, his new quarters.

He heads towards the largest of the three doors dotted around the bay, noting that most people left through it. Then, stepping through the doorway’s threshold, he slowly edges down the corridor, one eye on the PADD and the other on the ground.

Despite the unnerving newness of his surroundings, Monters finds a strange sense of exhilaration starting to take over. It’s a different world, far removed from the ordinary, predictable life at Starfleet Academy. This promise of the unknown, the mystery, sets his pulse racing with a thrill that isn’t entirely unpleasant. He reminds himself that he’s here to solve puzzles and find answers. Starbase Bravo is nothing but a giant puzzle waiting to be deciphered.

Before long, he finds himself standing in front of his assigned quarters. The door slides open with an uncomfortable whine, revealing a compact, utilitarian space that is to be his new home. The quarters are neat and clean but decidedly impersonal and oddly devoid of windows.

For a brief moment, a wave of isolation creeps upon him again. His previous quarters at Starfleet Academy, while equally stark, had offered a view of the bustling grounds. However, the lack of a window is a metaphor for his current state – cut off, isolated, surrounded by steel and machinery, but devoid of familiar human touch. But then, he shakes off the feeling, reminding himself that this is another challenge to meet.

Feeling somewhat drained, Monters places his carry case on the stark metal bed, its dull thud echoing in the small room. As he unzips the case, a small envelope sits inside. His heart skips a beat as he recognises the familiar handwriting – a letter from his mother. As he opens the envelope, warmth washes over him, offering a small but significant tether to the home he left behind. Even amidst the steel and stars, some things, he realises, remain unchanged.

He sets his PADD down on a sleek, minimalist desk in the room, and it flickers to life, displaying the schedule and information he needs to familiarise himself with. Landen’s analytical mind kicks into gear as he meticulously reviews each item on his agenda for the next day.

First, he reviews the details of the departmental briefing he is expected to attend. The intriguing topic involves the analysis of recent encoded communications intercepted at Starbase Bravo. Landen makes notes, jotting down questions and ideas that come to mind.

Next, he studies the protocols and security measures specific to Starbase Bravo. There is a recent overhaul based on current events in the sector. That would certainly explain the cold welcome. As a Science Officer, he must be well-versed in his field and understand the overall security infrastructure.

The evening stretches on, with Landen engrossed in his studies. Occasionally, he takes a break to pace around the small quarters, his mind still processing the flood of information. In these moments, he glances at the letter from his mother, feeling a pang of homesickness but also a renewed sense of determination. Her words remind him of his purpose and the challenges he has already overcome to reach this point.

As the night wears on, Landen realises the need for rest. He changes into comfortable sleepwear and lies down on the narrow bed. In the gentle hum of his quarters, he reflects on the journey that brought him here, the dreams he nurtured, and the aspirations that burn within him.

With a final thought of gratitude for the opportunity to serve on Starbase Bravo, Landen’s eyelids grow heavy, and sleep begins to claim him. Yet, as he drifts off, he believes tomorrow is a new day, full of possibilities and opportunities to make his mark on the Starbase and the vast reaches of space.

In the short amount of time since Dalaa had successfully completed her training at the Academy complex on Mellstoxx III, the young Orion had already been on assignment, only to return once more to the place she had called home for quite some time now. Whilst visiting the planet, and now she had a single silver pip on her uniform, she had been invited to take a tour of the command and control facility beneath the surface and give her input on some of the systems that were being suggested for upgrade.

Her return to the station had been delayed by some routine diagnostics of transporter systems, so instead, she had made her way to the runabout facility and bartered transport aboard the next shuttle out. Whenever that would be.

“Sorry Ensign,” Cadet Mianaai said to the engineering officer beside her as she stood at the rear of the shuttle, its access ramp still open, “but flight control said we’re waiting on one more.” Her attention then turned from Ensign Hale to sweeping her gaze back and forth across the open flight field. It was a flurry of commotion, with shuttles, runabouts and cargo lifters engaged in the activities needed to transport cargo and personnel to space. “But we’ll get you and your cargo directly to Hippocrates.”

Ethan must’ve still been in shock because he didn’t even hear the young Cadet address him. He still couldn’t believe what he read as he looked through the mission briefing this morning. He had set down his raktajino and rubbed his eyes, taking another look at the PADD just to make sure he wasn’t reading it wrong or was dreaming. The Dominion and Breen are attacking… again. He always heard about the Dominion war from fellow officers, and studied it in the academy of course, but it was something entirely different to know that you were going to be reliving that bloodied piece of history for yourself. 

“I think that’s her there,” Katlyn said, waving an arm at the Orion officer approaching. “Ensign Dalaa, over here!” She kept waving until the Orion woman noticed and started on her way over. “Cadet Mianaai, ma’am, I’ll be your pilot up to Bravo,” she introduced herself as Dalaa stepped onto the loading ramp. “Sorry for the cargo,” she didn’t need to indicate to the pallet consuming nearly the entirety of the small shuttle rear compartment, “but no one leaves the surface today without hauling something.”

Ethan didn’t recognize the other ensign that was hitching a ride with them to Starbase Bravo, but the more the merrier, especially given this sector’s situation. He nodded slightly to the ensign to acknowledge her before refocusing his attention on his new assignment to the Hippocrates repair team. Ethan picked up his tools and belongings, throwing the strap over his shoulder, “No complaints here, so long as you get us to the station in one piece.”

Making her way across to the Cadet who had accosted her from a distance, the young Orion wore the red of the command division with great pride, her duffle slung over her shoulder, data PADD in hand. “No apologies necessary,” Dalaa smiled as she came to a stop. “Name’s Dalaa. Strategic Operations,” she introduced herself to the two officers more formally.

“Welcome aboard shuttle 84,” Katlyn said as she waited just long enough for Dalaa to enter the shuttle before tapping at the control to raise the back hatch and seal the shuttle. With a quick shuffle past the two pallets secured in the back, she made her way into the pilot’s seat, finishing off the last few steps of pre-flight and getting permission from traffic control before evening touching the flight controls. All of her actions were textbook, even how she addressed the flight controllers, taking the shuttle to the skies and along her departure vectors with exacting precision. “I know I’m supposed to be delivering you to the main concourse Ensign Dalaa, but we’ll be stopping by the shipyards to unload cargo and Ensign Hale before moving along. You’re welcome to get off at the shipyard if you wish though.”

Ethan nodded as he made himself comfortable inside the shuttle, still thinking about the briefing and news. He usually was a bit more formal than this, but today has him off his game. He listened to the shuttle pilot addressing Ensign Dalaa about her destination, then thought he’d offer his own opinion, “The more the merrier on the Hippocrates, from what I read, looks to be a real mess up there.” He offered Dalaa a smile, mustering up some courage to be friendly even on a day like today.

“I’m told there is some greater plan for me,” the young Orion shrugged, relaxing into the chair behind the piloting area. “As much as I’d like to get out there, I think I’ve got a few things to handle on the station before they tell me whatever that grand plan is. I’ll disembark at the shipyards and make my way to Observation Lounge 3. A Lieutenant Elegy Weld will be waiting for me,” she revealed. As much as she wanted to be out there with her Starfleet brothers and sisters, her strategic mind was needed elsewhere (apparently). If that meant she had to stay behind in order to play her part, that was what she would do.

Ethan shrugged his shoulders and smiled, “Well, if you ever get bored or run out of things to do, you know where to find me.” He wasn’t surprised he hadn’t met her or the lieutenant that she was mentioning, but then again, Bravo was a huge place with people coming and going every day. When he first arrived, he worked overtime trying to learn everyone’s names and positions, but since the duty rosters shifted so often, it ended up being a futile endeavor. He’s since learned to just go with the flow.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” the master strategist nodded respectfully. “So, have either of you been stationed here for long?” she asked, trying to make small talk with her colleagues.

“Mellstoxx Academy since I signed up,” Katlyn said as she eased the shuttle past the boundaries of the planet’s atmosphere, blue fading to black in a steady progression as the shuttle rose in its steep climb. “Don’t know where I’ll be off to once I graduate mind you.” Confirming their vectors towards the starbase in orbit, she handed the lion’s share of the work over to the autopilot, trusting it to get them to the station’s outer boundaries without too much difficulty. “Hoping a posting with a couple of my fellow cadets at least. You know, familiar faces.”

“As for me, I’ve been here for only a couple of months.” Ethan added as Katlyn finished up. “How do you all like being stationed here on Bravo versus a starship posting?” He looked down to his feet before continuing, “I admit, I was pretty jealous at first, I was the only one in my friend circle who got a starbase assignment, everyone else got starships exploring new frontiers.”

Dalaa smirked as she sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest, using her feet to rock from side to side gently. “It’s a lot easier for me to do my job on a starbase. On a starship, we’re confined to more local, real-time stuff, rather than more galaxy-wide implications of our role,” the strategist advised them, “but sometimes I wonder if it’s wise to put little me on such a large base. I get lost in my own quarters sometimes!”

“Just finishing up training myself,” Katlyn said. “Few lessons on the station and a chance to fly. And we get to pad out of flight hours whenever flight control needs a lot of extra pilots.” She responded to a query from the controls, a series of bleeps designed to get her attention. “We’re entering Bravo airspace now. I’ll have you all onboard in just a moment.”

“Thank you Cadet.” Ethan said, slowly gathering his things. He got up and moved to the front of the shuttle behind Katlyn’s seat to watch her bring the shuttle in. He then looked at both Katlyn and Dalaa and said, “Been a pleasure sharing a shuttle with you two, maybe we’ll run into each other on the station. Always good to make new friends.” He said, offering a smile to them both. 

Dalaa had always been told that life in intelligence and the strategic operations sector left little time for friends, but perhaps it was time to buck the trend. As the shuttle slipped into position, she watched as the two other occupants of the cockpit conversed, a smile forming in the crease of her mouth.

People weren’t so bad after all.

Dawa hummed to herself, a tune she couldn’t place, as she meandered around her quarters and poked at the furnishings and pre-installed tchotchkes. Her new roommate was due to arrive at any time, and the anticipation had completely ruined her ability to focus on anything, so she settled on making sure all the cleaning bots had completed their tasks correctly (they had).

Her own meager belongings were stashed on the wall and shelf next to her bed, but she had a single plant on a low table in the center of the common area. Ideally, it wouldn’t be hers for much longer; she’d procured it from Joshua’s vast collection when she’d asked his suggestion for a nice, easy-to-care-for plant to present to an unknown roommate who may or may not know the first thing about horticulture. Hopefully, it would be well-received.

Scooting down the corridor dragging her belongings behind her, a young Orion looked more than a little flustered as she nearly collapsed into the doorway of what (she hoped) was finally the right address. She’d tried three separate quarters already and none of them had been hers – much to her embarrassment. Dropping the strap of her duffel bag, she took a deep breath and then slammed a hand onto the wall controls.

Dawa literally jumped at the sound of the chime and trotted across the room to manually disengage the lock, so that she was face-to-face with the stranger when the doors slid open. “Hi! I’m Dawa Vlček!”

She restrained herself from actually hopping up and down in excitement when she saw the young woman’s luggage. “You must be my new roommate! Can I help you with your bag?”

This new woman, supposedly her roommate, was a bit of an assault on the green-skinned youngster’s senses, but that didn’t matter to her anymore. She was home, and she couldn’t wait to sit down and put her feet up. “Ummm, sure? If you wouldn’t mind?” she smiled sheepishly. “I’m Dalaa,” she added whilst stepping aside to accept the gracious offer.

“Nice to meet you, Dalaa. Ha! Dalaa and Dawa, that might get confusing.”

Dawa lifted the duffel bag with a grunt and marched it over to the previously-empty bedroom. “I’ll just put this on the bed for ya,” she called over her shoulder. “There’s a small replicator to your right if you want a drink.”

There was a soft whump sound of the bag on the bed, then Dawa darted back out of the room, still talking. “Your tattoos are beautiful, by the way! Do they mean anything?”

Dalaa looked a little overwhelmed at the continued interest in her by this new roommate of hers, but in a way, it was actually quite… nice? She felt this way because she wasn’t used to people being so amenable to her, and it was actually a refreshing change, even if she wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with it all. Running a finger under her dark, red lips, the Orion coyly smiled.

“They’re a celebration,” she told,  “in honor of my heritage, and my ability to escape the slavery of my ancestors.” Gesturing to the small diamonds beneath her eyes, her coy smile was replaced with a genuine beam of excitement. “These are the most recent,” she added, “honoring my immediate family members that I hope to liberate in the years to come.”

Dawa was finally rendered speechless for a brief moment as she tried to process the implication of Dalaa’s words. “Wow,” she said, fidgeting her hands in front of her. “That is some heavy stuff.”

Unsure of how to properly respond, she reminded herself: ‘When in doubt, be sincere.’ “Well, Dalaa,” she said, “I sincerely hope you do.”

Not wanting to draw the moment out into awkwardness, she quickly turned back to the center table and retrieved the plant she’d left there. “By the way, this is for you! It’s a welcome gift! If you want it. It’s an Earth plant called Zamioculcas zamiifolia. My friend Josh, who’s a big plant geek, says it’s really easy to take care of.”

Reaching out, Dalaa took the gift and smiled in thanks, before a sudden realization dawned. “I’ve never had to keep anything alive before,” she smirked, “other than myself of course. Thank you. That’s very thoughtful. I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you…”

“That’s fine!” Dawa waved her hand in dismissal. “Your presence is plenty enough! I’ll tell you what, if you really want to, you can pay me back by hitting up one of the bars or holosuites with me later. It would be great to finally have another friend on the station! None of my squad members are interested in ‘fraternizing’,”—she emphasized the word with air quotes—”Outside of duty hours. And Josh is great, but our schedules conflict a lot, plus I need more than one person to socialize with, or else I risk completely sapping their life force! Metaphorically speaking, of course.

“Oh, and protip: you can program one of the cleaning bots to automatically water that li’l guy for you! Some people consider that cheating, but I say if you’re gonna cheat anything you might as well cheat death!”

At that moment, the strangest thing happened. It was as if the young Orion’s enter demeanour changed with the smile that filled her green-skinned face. “Later?” she shook her head. ”Why wait? I’m not due on duty again until tomorrow and I’m told there is a whole station of eligible young adults that can have the life force sapped from them after a drink or two…” with that, Dalaa grabbed her new roomie by the hand and dragged her towards the door.

“Oooooookay! Well!” Dawa allowed herself to be dragged along and out the door by her reinvigorated roommate. “I thought you might need to rest up first, but now is good!”

She wasn’t sure if Dalaa was being facetious and following up on her hyperbole, or if the woman just didn’t understand metaphors and was actually ready to wreak havoc via life energy (she’d heard conflicting accounts of questionable veracity about Orion women), but she was exited to find out.

A holographic emblem gently rotated over the conference table while the audio-only communique played back.  The emblem was symbolic of a hand and a white bird, both reaching for a sun.  There was something aspirational about the imagery.  Leaning over the table, Lieutenant Elegy Weld’s gaze landed nowhere near the emblem.  As he listened to the recording for a second time, he tapped reminders for himself –logistical preparations– onto a holographic PADD.

Joining the Lieutenant in Observation Lounge Three would be the newest member of the station’s Strategic Operations team if only she could find the blasted place. This wasn’t her first time aboard the station, but there were still people she’d never met, and places she had never been. For a strategist who made knowledge her business, the young Orion was more than a little frustrated when she eventually arrived at the meeting place. “Sorry I’m late Lieutenant,” she apologised, standing just inside the door of the lounge until she was welcomed in.

“It’s no trouble at all, ensign,” Weld said automatically.  His gaze remained on his PADD, typing in the trail-end of a thought he’d started when Dalaa walked in.  He looked up at her for a moment and then typed in the rest of his sentence.  As he finished the note, he offered, “I’m Lieutenant Weld, Bravo’s deputy director of psychiatry.  I don’t believe we’ve been introduced before?”

“Ensign Dalaa,” the Orion smiled, moving closer to him, trying to eye what he was working on. “Strategic Operations,” she added, so that he knew what exactly her purpose was. “I was advised that you needed me for something?”

Weld sat back in his chair and he raised his chin, finally meeting Dalaa’s eyes properly.  He spared no attention to his notes when he nodded at her question and he offered up his answer.

“Advice, Ensign Daala,” Weld replied.  “I could use your strategic counsel.”  — He double-tapped a contact on his PADD and a hologram of a planet appeared over the table– “The mental health facility on the Elba Two colony has requested Starbase Bravo take carriage and care of 70 percent of their patients.  I’m told their entire staff have been refocused on emergency psychiatry: they’ve received an influx of patients from the Breen border skirmish spilling deeper into the Deneb Sector.  Have you read similar reports?”

She’d only been aboard a short while, and already she had been sought out for her opinion on a matter of importance. Her heart began to race with excitement. This was what the diminutive woman lived for; showing off her skills and making a difference. It didn’t matter where she was, whether it was in the field or some briefing room. His words, however, confused her somewhat.

“Breen border skirmish?” she inquired. “Surely you must be up to date with the latest intelligence indicating it is far more than that?” She didn’t wait for an answer before she moved to the nearest monitor and input her clearance codes, bringing up a Deneb sector map. “Dominion forces have struck the sector en masse, supported by their rekindled alliance with the Breen. Emergency psychiatry is the least of our worries out there,” she concluded, arms folded across her chest.

Weld had been perched on the edge of his chair, attentively leaning into the conference table as much as his conversation with Dawaa.  His posture changed when she said that word.  He slumped back in his chair as if Dawaa had punched him.  His arms hung limply by his sides and he blinked heavily, his eyes not perfectly in sync.

“S-sorry,” Weld sputtered out.  “The Domin-what?”

‘You blue shirts really need to get out into the real world some more,’ is what the Orion was desperate to say, but as she had been reminded on many an occasion, discretion was the better part of valour. Instead, she pulled up countless holographic displays of maps, skirmish reports and refugee lists from those planets that had fallen during the early days. “It’s early days, but there is a definite Dominion presence out there. And that changes everything,” she advised the Lieutenant. “The influx of patients they are seeing is not from a skirmish, but from a war,” she concluded, standing with arms folded, defiant.

Shaking his head, Weld remarked, “This is why there’s no ‘I’ in Starfleet.  Your analytical prowess is going to be all the more necessary to our medical team.”  –He perked up in the chair, straightening his posture– “You may have a war to fight, but the patients are my domain.  We’re too far from Deneb to offer medical care to those in the fight.  Can you and your department anticipate what hospitals in and around the Deneb Sector are likely to evacuate their patients, due to over-crowding or Dominion attack?  We have to determine what volume of hospital beds, long-term care suites, and medical officer care will be required to accept over-flow patients in from other facilities.”

“We probably have a basis on that information already. Give me a few minutes and I can run some predictions,” the Orion nodded to her new team leader of sorts, “but I can tell you now, it’s going to be high.”

Weld rubbed the back of his neck and he sighed.  “Our counseling teams, and the medical department at large, have hardly bounced back after treating all the refugees displaced by the Century Storm and the fall of the Romulan Star Empire,” he said wearily.  “…But I suppose that’s why we’re equipped with two full hospitals.”

‘Wow, this guy is a barrel of laughs…’ the youngster thought as she watched him suffering under the burden placed on him.

Without waiting for permission, she got to work doing what she did best. Taking over the computer display, the young strategist began to work her magic. Fingers danced as she input data, used her security clearance to connect to different databases and gathered what intelligence she could on predicted, or expected, fleet movements. When she was done, she took a step back from the display. Two very different numbers showed the grim reality of the situation they faced.

“Best case scenario, we’re looking at sixty percent of hospitals and medical facilities in the region evacuating their non-emergency patients. Hospitals on Deneb would be the first to evacuate as it is the fallback point,” the Orion revealed, gesturing to the first number. “That increases to almost ninety percent in the eventuality that Deneb or Farpoint themselves should fall,” she told grimly, “but at that point, it’ll be game over anyway. Our forecasts predict that by that point, Starfleet would have issued orders for a complete withdrawal.”

Getting to his feet, Weld said, “You weren’t kidding.  This is far bigger than my little corner, even aboard Sector Hotel-Turquoise.” –He started adding Dalaa’s conclusions to the notes on his PADD– “I’ll need to conference with the other medical directors to develop our strategy.  I appreciate your insights, ensign.”

“Anytime Lieutenant,” she shrugged, “I don’t know what you guys out here have been told,” she trailed off, turning to the screen’s control panel and deactivating it, “there’s a war on out there. And things are going to get infinitely worse before they can get better…”

Jason flopped down onto his couch and kicked his boots off. It had been another hellish day, fourteen-plus hours helping the repair teams work on ships that had managed to limp back from conflicts with the Lost Fleet. He had only learned about the Dominion War in school, now he was living it. He might have only been a science officer but the repair teams needed all the help that they could get.

He stood up and glanced around his quarters, which were still full of boxes and containers from his previous posting. He arrived just a few days after the crisis with the Lost Fleet began and since then hadn’t really had a chance to get anything out or settle in. Given their current situation, he didn’t think that was going to be likely for the time being either.

He opened a box and started poking around at the contents inside before realizing he didn’t have the time or motivation to concentrate on it. Instead, he walked to the bathroom, stripped off his clothes, and jumped in the shower. He switched off the ultrasonics and just stood there under the pulsating water, letting the near-scalding temperature wash away the grime of the day.

Once that was done he got out, redressed in more civilian clothes, and then left his quarters for the promenade. The promenade was vast. It was still taking him a little while to get used to, especially since his last posting was a Miranda class ship. Sure, they had holodecks but nothing like the massive, wide-open spaces that he experienced on Starbase Bravo. 

And there were so many beings there. Not just humans but species from all over the galaxy. If Jason loved one thing, it was meeting new people, exploring new cultures, and opening himself up to learning about it all. It was a trait that often annoyed his rather conservative family to no end. Although, how they could still remain conservative in current times was beyond him. 

He started strolling down the corridor, taking a look at the various shops, eateries, and temples. He stopped at a bar near a bend in the corridor. It looked small and intimate, reminding him of the bars back home in Nebraska. He took a deep breath and stepped inside.

“Thanks,” Joshua said sarcastically to the Security personnel as he was permitted to walk the Promenade. What was going on with the starbase? There was always a security presence, but they seem to be everywhere now. And the grilling he received when wanting to take a walk on the Promenade? And these odd orders? He glanced at the PADD as he walked. Report to the Infirmary? “Wonders never seem to cease…” he said as he made the final turn. And promptly bumped into another Security officer. “This is a restricted area, Petty Officer.”

Joshua sighed, “I’m Dr. Joshua Bryant, here on orders from Captain,” he made sure to emphasize the rank, ” Rhonda Iwelu, Chief Science Officer”.” He handed the PADD to the officer, “Do you want some more blood? I’m sure I have some left. But it probably didn’t change from the last guy who took it.” He held out his hand.

The guard took Joshua’s hand and took the required blood for testing. When the results came back confirming he was human, the guard handed the PADD back to Joshua. “Proceed, Dr. Bryant,” and stepped aside.

Joshua had only been in the Infirmary for his initial physical. “I forgot how big this place is.” He flagged down the nearest officer in a teal uniform. “I’m Joshua Bryant, reporting as instructed.”

Caught slightly off guard while cataloguing the latest inventory of medical supplies to be transferred to the Hippocrates, Hannah turned her attention toward the voice coming from behind her. She did not recognize the man standing before her and made note of his uniform colour and Petty Officer rank. She was uncertain whom had instructed him to report to the infirmary, however, with the increase in security she was not going to pass up an offer of assistance.

“What is your area of medical expertise?” she said bluntly.

“Oh, the teal. I’m a scientist, botanist specifically.”

“I see. Well then,” she began, pausing to look for a PADD.

Locating one on a nearby reception desk, she tapped in a few commands, inputting her security code to retrieve the secure equipment manifest for the Hippocrates. There were several dozen pieces, large and small on the list. Many would need to be replicated, others needing assembly. It was pretty menial work, but enough to keep him busy for the better part of the day.

Handing him the PADD she continued, “Do you think you can handle this?”

Joshua skimmed the PADD. “It looks pretty straightforward. Reminds me of when my sister moved out of-”

“Excellent. Do you have any questions before you begin?”

“Some of these things will need to be assembled. I’ll need tools, is there somewhere I can get a toolbox?”

Hannah stood and peered around the infirmary. She hadn’t the foggiest idea if there might be any such thing around. Usually, when she had something that needed a little percussive maintenance, being the petite woman that she was, she called upon the engineers to handle such matters.

“You could maybe try the supply closet,” she said with hesitation, “but if you can’t find anything in there, I’m sure one of the sparkies can get one for you.”

“Sounds good,” Joshua made his way to the engineers. Some doctors would find it demeaning to do grunt work, but Joshua was just happy for something to do. Besides, most of his projects had been sidelined. He joined a group of ensigns in the process of assembling devices. “I’m looking for some tools to put these things together,” he presented the PADD.

One of the ensigns stopped his work and looked over the PADD. “Biobed #14, yeah we’re working on that right now. You can fall in with us, grab a spanner, man.”

Joshua grabbed a spanner and got to work, “I have a question. Are all the doctors here uptight and dismissive of non-comm officers? I’ve met three of them and two have been brash.”

The group chuckled. The man spoke up again, “Nah man, they’re just stressed out. There’s a lot going on right now,” he leaned in. “Some people sayin’ we’re going to war against the Dominion.”

“The Dominion? There hasn’t been word of them in 20 years.”

The man shrugged, “I don’t know, just what I’ve heard.”

Several hours later, Joshua and the engineering crew finished up the last task on the PADD. The man, who he learned was named Marco Montañez, slapped Joshua on the back, “You did all right, doc. There might be a place for you in the Yellowjackets after all!”

Joshua approached Hannah, she turned with a polite smile on her face when hearing the voice of the doctor, “All right, looks like we’re done for the day. I’m not sure if I’ll be back, but it certainly was a learning experience.

“I’m glad I was able to be of some help. I’m sure activity will be picking up in short order around here. If I need an extra pair of hands, I’ll be sure to give you a shout.”

Exchanging final pleasantries, the two parted ways; Joshua toward the infirmary exit and Hannah to her next patient.

The woosh of air hissed as the airlock stabilized and equaled the pressure from the crew transport to Starbase Bravo.  Jacoby walked out with his small bag he clutched over his shoulder.  The one thing he loved about Starfleet is that he never had to do laundry.  Not only did he not have to wash but when it came to travel, he never had to carry around a huge duffle of clothes one would only wear on rarest of occasions, and duty uniforms he seemed not to have enough of.  

If Jacoby wasn’t a cadet, he would have been able to stay at one of the many private quarters for traveling and passing guests.  But no, he was a man of Starfleet and that meant a hallway somewhere on the lower decks of the base and little hole in the wall to crawl into.  

Walking out checking his tablet he found he was not too far from the corridor.  He was able to make the walk in a few minutes.  He found a empty rack and stowed his small belongings into the secured box under his bed.   Climbing up, he laid there staring at the tablet.  “Well, they want us to log our thoughts so here goes nothing.” He thought to himself as he pulled up the cording page.

“Um hey, Cadet four Jacoby Walker, Assigned to Intelligence Liaison Unit, I think it’s also a diplomatic unit but a unit non the less.  The traveling took about a week on a cramped tuna can of a carrier that shuffled cadets like supplies and the rich were in lavish sweets.  Well maybe closed off cabins but still more lavish than these cadet holes…” Jacoby paused for a few moments to see if anyone around him was staring at him.  

Turning back to his tablet.  “As far as my position, I am a Diplomatic Advisor to a Federation District.  At the Academy I studied Interstellar Relations.  I figured it would have been a way to see the Galaxy and understand the all the issues going on.  Then in my fourth year, I was pushed into a different path when a certain man in black pushed me down a different path.  Not that I’m complaining, doing an extra six months at the training academy was not a bad gig, especially since I graduated, and the hoorah of life settled down.  From weapons training to computer science, to extra physical training.  My instructor said it wasn’t over just because I left.  There were still some more sign offs on mission specific training when I get the Bravo.  At this point I don’t know if that is good or bad but hey I’ll ride that wave until I cant no more.  Out of the 50 that started only 8 of us passed through.  I feel like that was big enough myself. 

Well, time to sign off, I need to go find something to eat.  Um Cadet Log signing off.”  He clicked on his tablet and rolled toward the edge of the bed.  

“And Captains do this 5 times a day?  Ya right.”

Ensign Jacoby Walker strolled through the busy corridors of Starbase Bravo.  As he made his way towards the mess hall, he spotted a fellow cadet coming towards him. They almost collided, but Jacoby managed to sidestep just in time.  

”Hey, sorry about that,” Jacoby said with a friendly smile. The other cadet looked slightly confused but returned the smile. “Hey, no problem. I’m Samson. Nice to meet you.”  Jacoby relaxed a bit, feeling more at ease with his new acquaintance. “Likewise. I think we might have met briefly during orientation, but it’s hard to remember everyone’s names.

”Samson chuckled. “Yeah, I know what you mean. There are so many cadets here. So, what are you up to?  I’m just heading to the mess hall for some breakfast. 

“Same.” Jacoby said as his stomach started to growl.  “Except that I am still learning my way around.  This place is defiantly massive.”

“Ya it is.  I just got here a couple of days ago and so far, have only found 2 mess halls most of us lower ranks hang out at and were to stay out of those who are more affluent than most of us lower ranks.  So what section are you under? Samson asked, leaning up against the wall in the corridor.  

“Diplomatic attachment.  Haven’t really been given anything to do yet and no orders have come in my tablet.”

“Well today is your lucky day then.  Let’s go get something to eat.”  They turned through the corridor and after what seemed like 20 or turns left and right, they appeared a small mess hall.  

The mess hall was not huge.  It seemed to be more like a small cafe where no one really sat and spent endless hours talking but grabbed what they needed and continued on about their day.  

“The bars are off limit during duty hours, but they double as a dinner area during the StarBase’s supper hours.  As far as I know this is the closest area to the Diplomatic Offices and Staff Services.”  

Jacoby walked up to the materializer “Computer, Beef Enchiladas, double side of rice.  Glass of water.”  In a bright beam of light and a small couple of beeps the food and glass of water appeared in the window.  Oh how technology has advanced.  Granted on the farm back in Texas, Jacoby’s mother would usually cook three meals a day, and his sister would bring it out onto the range for the ranch hands, himself, and his father. 

Sitting back down at the table with Simon, he could see that most ate quickly here., “Simon was halfway done with his plate when Jacoby sat down.” So, do you know what ambassador you are assigned too?

“No not yet.  How do you know if I’d be assigned to one?” Jacoby asked.  Now thinking it could be a security test like his instructors taught them about in Academy.  

“Relax a little, I’m intel just like you.  You won’t get orders until you meet the Chief.  Then they see what areas are the most important and assign you to an ambassador, the ambassador will never see you or know you, it’s the desk you’ll be assigned.  Call me the welcome committee, I was sent to bring ya to the Chief.”   

Now Jacoby was starting to see why the intel world was always a maze.  It was designed like that.  Left turns, fake exit signs, and right turns taking you back to the starting line.  It was all meant to ensure now straight-line missions and breadcrumbs back to Starfleet.  Jacoby finished eating just a quick as the conversation went.  Now it was time to go meet the boss in the shadows.    

Landen Monters settled into his role as a Science Officer on Starbase Bravo with a mix of anticipation and determination. The laboratory quickly became his sanctuary, a realm of pulsating screens, audible chirping, and cutting-edge equipment. Here, he could immerse himself in his work, studying the intricacies of the universe and unlocking its mysteries.

As he delved into his assignments, Monters revelled at his situation, having achieved what he set out to do over 6 years ago when he decided upon a career at Starfleet. He meticulously analysed data, conducted experiments, and formulated theories, his mind alive with curiosity and imagination. The laboratory became his refuge, shielding him from the overwhelming nature of the bustling starbase and countless security checkpoints.

Just 4 days into his current assignment, a partially redacted communication file flashed on his screen as if eager for Monters’ attention. His heart quickened with a surge of excitement and a tinge of trepidation. Redacted files were standard in his work, often containing sensitive or classified information. His duty was to uncover the hidden truths buried within the digital maze.

As he pored over the partially redacted communication, Monters felt a whisper of unease. There was more to this document than met the eye. It was as if the universe had conspired to leave a trail of breadcrumbs, beckoning him deeper into the enigma.
Driven by his insatiable hunger for puzzles, Monters meticulously examined the file’s code. His trained eyes scoured every line, scrutinising every character and symbol. And there, nestled within the intricacies of the code, he discovered something extraordinary—an embedded message camouflaged among the data.

As Monters was about to delve further into the message, his concentration was abruptly shattered. A colleague, one of the few individuals he had begun to recognise in the bustling starbase, approached his workstation with a friendly smile. “Hey, Landen, I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch. It’s a chance to get to know each other better,” Shelly, his colleague, suggested.

Caught off guard and torn between his desire for solitude and the need for social connection, Monters hesitated for a moment. However, the message’s urgency weighed heavily on his mind, and he realised that he couldn’t afford any distractions now. With a regretful expression, he barked, “Not now!”. In a panic of realisation as to how he came across, with a calmer voice, he continued, “Sorry, but I really can’t be disturbed right now.” He’d hoped the few extra words would defuse the situation.

The colleague’s smile faltered, replaced by a hint of disappointment and hurt. They nodded curtly, masking their emotions, and retreated, leaving Monters to wrestle with his guilt. He understood the importance of camaraderie and building relationships. Still, he knew his duty to protect the starbase’s secrets took precedence. Shaking off the momentary unease, Monters redirected his attention to the message. He was determined to decipher its full meaning and understand the gravity of the intelligence it held.

Finally, an alternative algorithm he tried decoded the message. Words transformed on the screen, revealing a covert operation, plans shrouded in secrecy, and the potential threat it posed to Starbase Bravo. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and he stood at the precipice of a grand revelation. The decrypted message unveiled coordinates—a set of numbers representing an ambush location several lightyears away from Starbase Bravo. Monters’s heart sank as he comprehended the gravity of the situation. Lives were at stake, and time was of the essence.

Without hesitation, Monters gathered the evidence and prepared a detailed report. With the report in hand, Monters approached his superior, submitting the document with a sense of urgency. He explained the significance of the message and its potential impact on the starbase’s security. His superiors listened attentively, their expression stone-faced, as if playing a game of poker.

The outcome, however, would remain beyond Monters’s reach. Given his new posting and lower rank, he would likely never know the specific actions taken in response to the intelligence he had uncovered. It was the nature of his role as a Science Officer, the duty to contribute crucial information without always witnessing the final outcome.

He cringed as his conscience replayed the encounter with his colleague. His next assignment would be a personal one, attempting to salvage the relationship with his colleague when he so rudely dismissed her.

Being assigned to shuttlecraft detail wasn’t quite what Tate had expected when he had received his duty details that morning. The sudden news of the crisis in the Deneb Sector had whipped its way through the corridors of Starbase Bravo at warp ten. He had overheard his father in deep conversation with other senior officers; furthermore, his mother had shared that his father had been working a number of late nights since the news had arrived. And now everyone on the station was more tense, more cautious of each other. 

Deck Three-Hundred and Twenty-One was home to one of the large hangar bays for shuttlecraft. He had been ordered to begin loading up supplies onto a Type-14 shuttle that would be placed onto the Exeter. Though most of the supplies could be transported to the Constitution II-class cruiser, his superiors wanted the shuttles for the ship to be prepped and ready. 

Pushing an anti-grav unit out from the hanger, the young cadet noticed someone standing at a distance, starring at a stack of crates. Tate didn’t recognise the man, who wore a blue science uniform, so as his father had taught him, he went over and introduced himself to lend a hand.

“Sir,” Cadet Horin said carefully, “I’m Cadet Tate Horin. May I assist you?” 

Ryke turned at the voice and then offered a small smile. “Oh, hey there. Yes, I’m supposed to be loading this lot—“ he gestured to the pile of different-sized crates in front of him, then turned to the shuttle nearby. “Onto there. I’m just figuring out the best way to play Crate Tetris. I’m Ashfield, by the way,” he introduced himself. “One of the counsellors onboard.”

Surprised to see one of the station’s counsellors here, Horin quickly shook his head and smiled. Realising that it was truly every able hand who can help was needed, Horin offered his assistance. “Well, I’m almost finished with loading my shuttle. Would an extra pair of hands help you?”

Ryke eyed the anti-grav unit the cadet had and nodded. “That would be much appreciated and definitely beats handballing them onto there. I mean, I’m all for a good workout, but I think some of these would be beyond me.”

Horin chuckled at the counsellor’s remarks. Moving all of these supplies would certainly mean he wouldn’t have to worry about visiting the gym tonight. However, he would probably anyway. 

On the far side of the hanger bay, Captain Jaxxon Horin walked in with Ensign Dalaa by his side. 

“Ensign, before you leave, ensure everyone knows to conduct those new security sweeps of every piece of supply we have being put together ready for the Exeter,” Horin ordered the young ensign. 

“I’ve already scheduled several training drills with key personnel, who can disseminate the information to their subordinates,” the young Ensign confirmed, tapping away furiously on her data PADD, ensuring that she had the most complete listing of the cargo supplies being transferred to the Exeter. It was her first real instruction from the Captain, and there was no way the Orion was going to muck that up.

“I don’t want to hear that one of these crates is a changeling in disguise,” He whispered to her as he strode across the room and saw a familiar person standing by one of the shuttles. Smirking, he walked over, still with Dalaa hanging off him. “Ensign, have I introduced you yet to my son?”

Dropping her arms to her side, the youngster locked eyes on the man that was, apparently, the son of her commanding officer. “No, Captain, I’ve not had the pleasure…” she trailed off, trying to keep pace with her superior.

As they approached Tate, the captain realised he was in deep conversation with another officer. “Tate, I didn’t realise you were down here today?” 

Stopping his conversation, the young cadet stood to attention. “Yes, sir.” He said firmly. “My orders this morning changed, and I was assigned to shuttlecraft loading duties, sir.”

Ignoring his son’s formality, Jaxxon looked to the lieutenant in science blues. “And you are?” He asked.

“Ashfield, sir,” Ryke straightened up. “Counselling. It was the end of my shift, so I came down to help where I could.”

“Well, we appreciate all of the help we can receive, counsellor.” Horin looked at Dalaa, “Ensign, I’m sure you can take over here for me.” He looked at both men. “As you were.” He turned to Tate, “Cadet, I’ll see you tonight.”

Tate just nodded firmly as his father walked away to exit the room. Once the doors closed behind him, he let out a sigh. “Sorry,” He said to both officers. He turned to the ensign. “I’m Cadet Tate Horin, ma’am.”

“Dalaa, strategic operations,” the Ensign smiled at the Cadet, offering a hand to the son of her commander.

“My father is not normally that…” Tate considered his words carefully. “Formal.”

Ashfield gave a small smile. “We’re in a fraught situation at the moment. So everyone’s reactions are likely to be a little… off?” he suggested.

“Don’t be too dissimilar to normal,” the Orion reminded the gathering, her eyes locking on each member in turn, “lest someone thinks you are a Changeling infiltrator…” her look was menacing and suspicious until she let out a playful grin.

Horin gave out a nervous chuckle at that remark. 

“Okay, I guess we should get started. My job here is to make sure we have completed all of the security checks required for this cargo. Do we have a complete chain of signatures for them?” the Orion asked, arms folded across her chest, PADD tucked between the and her chest.

Ryke plucked a small PADD from its resting place on top of the crates.

“Everything seems all present and correct as far as I can see,” he replied, quickly looking down the lists. He wasn’t a logistical specialist, but lists were lists; he could follow the logic there. “I can send you a copy?”

“That’s perfect,” the green-skinned beauty nodded, “but it’s not enough. Command is insisting on phaser sweeps of all cargo containers and facilities before we depart as additional security measures.”

Horin wasn’t surprised by the ensign’s statement. “So shall I just grab a phaser and sweep over everything we’ve loaded?” His question was filled with the innocence and naivety expected from a cadet.

At that Ryke looked at the ensign for clarification. His general day included lots of listening to people’s troubles—days he suspected were about to get longer, with much darker troubles—and much less of trying to figure out if the crate in front of him was actually a crate and not a changeling in disguise.

“Setting three should be enough. Wide beam to cover a greater area, but you want to make sure you get in any crevices,” Dalaa told, matter of factly, not entirely sure whether the younger Horin was being facetious or naive. 

“So, do you think what others have been saying is true? Has the Deneb Sector truly fallen to the Dominion’s Lost Fleet?” Horin asked as he walked over to the nearest weapon’s locker and pulled out a weapon.

Ryke gave a small shrug. Even though he wasn’t on duty, he was still a counselor, and his job was to ensure the crew’s mental and emotional well-being. Even in small talk, no matter what he thought.

“I think that gossip sometimes runs away with people,” he replied in a level voice. “And the people chattering here probably don’t know much more than we do. I think if the Deneb Sector had actually fallen, then we’d definitely know about it. And from more than gossip.” He caught both his companions looking at him. “But… all this, all the preparations… this has the hallmarks of ships going into a hard fight.”

“I know,” Dalaa interjected, “that what we’re being told, and what’s true, isn’t correlating right now. The only thing we can trust right now, is the people around us,” she concluded, effectively terminating the conversation with her hands on her hips. Changing the tone of the conversation, the strategist rubbed her hands together in glee.

“Right, what shall we shoot first?”

Linha had been working with Lieutenant Murphy with getting the two hospital suits operational for the past several hours since her arrival. She had been given an hour of downtime to get something to eat and get some studying in as she had an exam tomorrow morning she needed to take. She made her way down to the promenade where she saw many shops and restaurants, there were so many to choose from.

After a few moments, she saw one that she felt was quiet enough to study and can get a good cup of coffee and something to hold her over until later on that night. Walking in she placed her order before she took a seat at a corner booth. She had a padd in hand that had her study sheets, she began to read. Before long her order had arrived and she smiled at the waitress and thanked her. Taking a drink she smiled at the savory taste, made fresh and not replicated made her feel happy that she could enjoy something authentic for once.

Ethan stumbled down the promenade, a PADD in his hand, looking for something to eat before heading back to work. He had been pulling double shifts working on the Hippocrates, trying to get that ship operational as quickly as possible, and he was exhausted. His shift supervisor offered him to work a single shift today and to get some rest, but Ethan refused and said he would be back after a quick bite to eat. 

He finally made it to the Brew and placed his order with the staff before looking around for a table, though there wasn’t a single empty table in the establishment. He walked over to the corner where he saw a Trill cadet around his age sitting by herself. Ethan walked over and waved to get her attention, “Mind if I join you? Sorry, there aren’t any open tables left.”

She looked up to see a young man in a yellow uniform standing next to the open seat in front of her, smiling “of course I don’t mind.” She replied looking at him, “Cadet Linha Varen, third-year medical cadet. I have just recently been reassigned here from Mellstoxx III campus,” she said as she saw him take a seat. “I recommend their coffee if you haven’t had it already it is really good,” she commented.

“Thank you, much appreciated.” Ethan smiled as he took his seat. One thing he always took for granted was his ability to make new friends, something that fortunately came very easily to him. “I’ll have to try that next time! Actually, I haven’t been here before, so I’m excited to try a few things on the menu. I’ve had my eye on it for a little while but never seemed to make it down here. Doesn’t help that it’s usually packed.” He laughed.

“So what is your name?” She asked looking at him. She wondered what department he worked in as it either had to be security though he didn’t look like the type. Not that anyone had a certain type though she couldn’t see him shooting things. So he either had to be in engineering or operations.

Ethan almost looked stunned that he didn’t even think to introduce himself to her before he just sat down and made himself comfortable. “Oh, I guess that would help! My apologies, I guess I’m more tired than I thought, Engineering has been keeping me extremely busy over on the Hippocrates. My name’s Ethan, Ethan Hale.” He extended his hand.

“A pleasure,” she said shaking his hand in return. He seemed like a nice young man and she could get why he was tired. With the things going on within the Denab sector, they had almost everyone working more hours getting ships repaired and shipped off and medical supplies sent with them. She couldn’t help but think of her mother who was in the thick of it onboard the Saratoga and her squadron. She was worried that something might happen to her, she already lost her younger brother in the Delta Quadrant. She wouldn’t know what to do if she lost her mother too. Her father was currently on Trill as all civilians were dispatched from the ships for their safety. She almost looked as if she was zoned out for a moment before she snapped too.

“So how long have you been here?” She asked trying to get her mind off her thoughts.

“For a few months, I just arrived in January. Kind of bad timing to already be in the middle of a war, I suppose.” He tried to smile away the nerves of that statement. He knew he was trained and ready for anything, but that didn’t make the prospect of fighting in a war any easier. He didn’t want to think of himself as a coward, but at the same time, he also hoped that the battles didn’t reach as far as the station. He watched as the wait staff brought over his order, he picked up his glass and took a sip, “So, what’s your role in all of this?” He said, motioning to their surroundings. 

“Working with Lieutenant Murphy in getting the two hospitals here on Starbase Bravo up and operational for anything that might come our way.” Linha replied looking at him, “while still studying. Though I am surprised they gave me another tour as I just finished one on the USS Saratoga,” she added. “I guess they really need the extra pair of hands during a crisis like this,” she replied as she took a drink.

Ethan took a sip of his drink while Linha finished up, then raised his eyebrow, “Oh, you served on the Saratoga? I actually read up on that ship a while back, it’s an Obena-class isn’t it?” He smiled, setting his glass down on the table, “I’ve always really liked that class’s design, that’s pretty awesome you’ve got to serve on board. Bravo is my first posting out of the academy, most of my friends went off on starship assignments, I was the only one that got a station.” He looked down, not wanting to admit that he was glad he received this posting now that there was a war on. 

“Well it was originally an Odyssey-class ship before the change,” she replied with a smile as she didn’t get a chance to step foot on the new ship. “The captain happens to be my mother,” she admitted with a smile. “The ship took heavy damage in the Delta Quadrant and would be laid up for months so Starfleet Command assigned the Obena-class as its replacement.” She added looking at him.

“Your mother is a starship captain? Whoa, that’s incredible!” He smiled wide, more intrigued than ever, “I always wished I had more family in Starfleet, but alas I’m the only one. My family all have jobs on Earth, but none of them really had any passion to see the stars and explore the unknown. Though, I guess in a time like this, maybe they were the smart ones after all.” He joked, grabbing his drink and taking a sip. 

She chuckled at his almost excitement, “space isn’t for everyone and I am sure they have important jobs that don’t involve space that make them happy.” She said looking at him, “everyone has their own calling and I guess we are right where we need to be, no matter what is currently going on. We can make a difference even if we don’t see it right now,” she said more wiser then her years. Though, she had a mother who always instilled seeing the best side of things then the worst. Her caring nature is one of the reasons she really wanted to become a doctor. “I know I am exactly where I am meant to be,” she added.

Ethan smiled and admired her confidence, knowing exactly who she was and where she wanted to be. That was a trait he used to be so proud of in himself, though after the announcement of the war, somehow he started to have doubts. But seeing how this young cadet could have as much confidence as she did, it really inspired him to turn his attitude around. “That’s a very enlightened state of mind, sounds like the confidence of a future captain someday perhaps?” He said, grinning as he finished his drink. 

She chuckled a bit, “I probably won’t go that far at least that is a long way away.” She said with a smile then looked at the time. “Shoot I have to be getting back to the main infirmary,” she said with a smile as she finished her cup of coffee before standing up. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Ethan hopefully, we will see each other again.” She said with a smile.

Ethan stood as Linha got up to go, “It was a pleasure making a new friend, thanks for letting me share the table.” He smiled, then gathered up the PADD he walked in with, “I also have to be getting back, the Hippocrates isn’t going to finish itself after all. Hope to see you again soon!” He nodded, then started down the promenade towards the turbolift.

There was a cautiousness to Lieutenant Elegy Weld as he climbed down the access ladder from the runabout’s upper deck.  Until his boots touched the deck, he assumed his Academy-trained posture of maintaining three points of hand or feet contact with each careful step he took.  What awaited him was the medical patient transfer module that had been installed aboard this New Atlantic-class runabout back at Starbase Bravo.  Although he saw a nurse and a security officer inspecting equipment at each of the enclosed biobeds, Weld strode across the compartment to join Ensign Dalaa in particular.

“I suppose it’s too late to ask you your opinion of the infirmary’s layout, huh?” Weld asked.  “They had to mix-and-match two different modules to provide each patient their own, uh, treatment suites.”

Although Weld called them treatment suites, each brig had clearly been positioned within individual, heavily-shielded brig cells.  The Elba Two colony had been terribly curt in their instructions: because their patients were all incarcerated criminals, they each required isolation while in transit to the hospital aboard Starbase Bravo.

Dalaa had taken on the role as defacto security chief for this little soiree and had spent the best part of the last few hours going over all the security precautions to make sure everything was as it needed to be for their adventure. In truth, the conditions were far from ideal, and had they been given the choice, they could have used a proper starship of literally any design and they would be in a better position than they were now. But, this was the hand they had been dealt.

“Given the limited resources at our disposal, this is as good as it is going to get…” the Orion nodded slowly, hands on hips as she surveyed the cells. “I’ve ensured the security systems are all functioning within normal parameters since I don’t particularly want to be murdered in my sleep by these nut jobs.”

Weld shook his head when she said that.   He set his jaw into a serious expression, but there was still something of a smirk at the corners of his lips.

“That shouldn’t be a worry,” Weld said.  “Most of them haven’t been convicted of violent crimes, at least.  We only have to get them from our rendezvous point back to Starbase Bravo.  Every proper transport ship in Bravo Fleet has already been dispatched to the Deneb Sector.”

“A lot can happen in that space of time Lieutenant,” the Orion shrugged, moving off to take a seat for a few minutes, having been on her feet for what felt like an age. “Next you’ll be telling us we need to make multiple runs,” she smirked, then fixed him with a glare as if to say ‘don’t you dare.’

Weld took up a seat on an uncomfortable stool, facing Dalaa.  He mostly suppressed an impish smile in return.

“I expect these will be our only,” Weld started to say, and he paused to find the right words, “high-maintenance patients.  The other facilities who have asked Starbase Bravo to take their patient overflow plan to send their own hospital ships.  But this may only be the beginning.” –Any whisper of a smile was gone from Weld’s face– “The reports I’ve seen offer no indications of the Dominion slowing their invasion or giving up any territory.”

Strategy was obviously her go-to subject, and the youngster usually felt a surprising sense of ease, even when discussing developments with the fleet in the Deneb sector. That was strange for most to understand, the fact that she found it easy to talk about a conflict, but it was just something she was accustomed to. But this time was different. Slouching back into the chair, she folded her arms defensively. “Everything I’m privy to suggests that the worst is yet to come. And that is frightening,” she confessed to the doctor.

Weld listened to Dalaa’s assessment with his well-practiced counselor’s nod, but the admission of fear gave him pause.  He winced at that and then he tilted his lead to the left.  He tapped a finger on his knee, a nervous habit.

“And what,” he asked, “might ‘the worst’ look like in this scenario?

Dalaa shrugged, swinging on her chair somewhat playfully. “Oh, I dunno…” she pondered, “maybe the complete destruction of Starfleet forces in the Deneb sector? Or the complete withdrawal from the region,” she suggested, “nothing major.”

Because Weld lived with his own emotions not terribly deep beneath the skin, he openly gaped at Dalaa.  A heartbeat later, he rubbed the back of his neck and he tried to hide his reaction with a wince.

“It can’t be all that bad,” Weld said, almost pleadingly.  “With all of our technological advances in the last twenty-five years; all that we learned from the… the last Dominion War?”

“Let’s hope not,” the Ensign shrugged, turning away to grab a bite to eat and a slight smile creeping over her face. While a lot of what she had said was true, she was taking an almost perverse pleasure in playfully antagonising the doctor. He, of course, probably wouldn’t see it that way, or appreciate it for that matter, but if it helped him see reality, then she wasn’t too worried.

As she was about to pick up her plate, the console she had been using chirped with an update. Scooting over on her wheeled chair, the youngster began tapping away. As she did so, her expression changed. “Here’s your answer, Doctor…” she whispered, turning around and ‘throwing’ up a hologram of her update. “The hospital ship from Elba Two? The one we’re meeting? It’s been attacked by the Jem’Hadar,” she frowned, folding her arms across her chest defiantly, no longer in the mood for her steak and onions.

Protectively crossing his arms over his abdomen, Weld groaned in frustration at the situation.  “That’s terrible,” he muttered, as he read over the provided information in the holo-projection of the report.  He raised an index finger to point at a star chart in the corner of the report.  “We’re still five hours away from rendezvous,” he said, shaking his head fitfully.  “There’s nothing we can do.  Either they’re going to meet with us… or they won’t.”

“Let’s hope her escorts are more than up to the task,” she frowned, pulling the plate in front of her at last and picking up the cutlery on the tray beside it. As she began to slice into the perfectly cooked steak, she looked at the data one last time.

“If they’ve still got an escort, anyway…”

Long gone were the days Lieutenant Elegy Weld could lose himself in the therapeutic process of speaking to his patients.  Between the Century Storm and the Romulan crisis, serving Starbase Bravo had already given Weld the intensive lived experience as a counselor to match his schooling.  Since taking over as deputy director of psychiatry, his duty shifts had become more about hospital administration and performance reviews than patient care.  With the mounting reports about Breen border skirmishes conflicting with reports of a ghost invasion fleet from the Dominion in the Deneb Sector, Weld had shifted his focus on cross-training for the counsellors.  Considering the kind of combat Starfleet officers could be forced to endure while defending against the Dominion, Starbase Bravo’s counsellors would need a whole other toolkit to support those officers in their recovery.

That was why it was past 1500 hours when Weld saw his first patient for the day.  He allowed an, “enter,” when he heard the chime.  His new patient was waiting for him on the other side of his office door.

Arcturus took a long deep breath, his hand moving up to run through his hair.  His mind raced with drought and uncertainty, he began to take a step away from the door when the words “Enter” coiled around his soil.  Finding new strength and courage he took a couple steps forward into the maw of vulnerability.  Not too sure what to do, he grasped his hands in front of him as he looked at his new counsellor before him. “Sir..” fumbling over his words slightly, as the weight of his mind presses down upon him.  “Am Arcturus and am here for my appointment…” 

After crossing the compartment, Weld approached Arcturus to offer him a brisk handshake.

“Welcome to Starbase Bravo, Arcturus,” Weld said amid a broad smile.  “I’m Counselor Weld.  Please make yourself comfortable anywhere you’d like.  I was about to replicate a tea.  Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, Counselor, you have a very nice office” he glanced around the room, his eyes set upon the perfect location, a place that enabled him to be close to the wall and enable him to watch the door.  “No thank you am fine.” He took a seat, letting out a contented sign.  

With his freshly-replicated tea in hand, Weld navigated over to the side of the compartment where Arcturus had gotten settled.  Making himself comfortable in a plush wing chair, Weld asked, “What can you tell me about your last counseling session?  What would you say are the benefits, or frustrations, you have experienced in counseling — thus far in your Starfleet career?”

”I need one of these chairs for my work…well to be honest, this is my first visit.  I kept talking about my nightmares to my bunkmates, so they suggested that I to come to talk to you about them.  Charlie Rogers in engineering said that you are helping him through his struggles…” he slightly shifts in his seat.  “So here I am…”  

Plucking up a PADD from a side table, Weld tapped in a quick note.  As a mental aside, he mentioned, “I can send you the  replicator pattern for that chair if you’d like…”  As soon as he note was recorded, Weld set down the PADD on his lap and he returned his full attention to Arcturus.

“Can you tell me,” Weld asked, “how disruptive these dreams have been to your sleep patterns?”

“I am affected by the dreams off and on.  I sometimes get these communications from some ships near the Breen border.  Most of the time they are just normal, routine messages.  But whenever I hear the voice of a Breen, their distorted machine-like tone, it just runs shivers down my spine and I have such a hard time focusing on the rest of the day cause it pulls me back to when my parents were killed…I was on the call with them when it happened…” 

Acrturus took a deep breath as his eyes became fixed and then shook his head to break out of it of the moment.  “It was a difficult time…they always wanted me to go into a career focused on tactical like the rest of the family, but I chose science instead because I wanted something different…now they are dead and maybe, maybe I could do something on a starship…you know…did I make the right decision…?  I know I shouldn’t hate the Breen; I know that I am a good person and that I accept all species but….”  

Arcturus’ face slightly switched into expressions of hatred and disgust, eyes focused ahead of him as he continued.  

“Every time I hear a Breen failure, every time I hear we save one more person, I think that should be me, I should be doing that.  Every time a Breen death occurs, I question, has my family’s death been average?  I want the Breen dead, I want them to suffer, I want them to fear ever hurting another soil in this galaxy.  I want them to feel like I feel…” the passion of his emotions surging out of him he catches himself, closing his eyes as his voice becomes shaking, rubbing his sweaty hands, tears filling and coursing down his cheeks unchecked…his voice cracking as he shakes his one hand in a slow manner, with his index finger coming to attention.  

“But…I can’t…because…” Arcturus raised slightly to attention from his hunched-over position, the mantle that he earlier discarded, his vulnerability that he left at the door as once again retreated.  “I am a Starfleet Officer, an example of those around me….” He bit his lower lip…”So this week….this week has been far worse for my nightmares…4 days of constant bombardment and I can’t handle it much more….and I need help….your help Doctor Weld.”

Offering his rapt attention, Weld nodded at each of the stories Arcturus shared as the other man unburdened himself.  When Arcturus asked for his help, Weld took a sip of his tea to give them both space for consideration.

“I’m hearing you talk about how much the voice modulation of the Breen affects you,” Weld said slowly in acknowledgement.  “Sound can establish such a deep link with sense memory.  I don’t mean to suggest this as a permanent solution… but I wonder what it might feel like if you requested rotation to a different duty station?  Limit your exposure to the Breen temporarily, while you work through your treatment with me?”

Arcturus took a long deep breath, his right-hand coursing through his hair.  “I have been hearing that a lot lately from those that really know me…with so many telling me that I need to take a step back and now you are informing me that this might help me become better…I can see the wisdom of it.” He fidgeted slightly in his seat, his fingers lightly tracing designs into the chair before glancing up.  “I just feel awful that I just got that position and now request to be transferred.  Okay…how should I go about asking to be transferred to another area?  Would you go with me to talk to the Commander?  Or notify him?  What are my next steps?”

“Arcturus, I’m afraid to say that’s going to be the easy part,” Weld replied.  “I can help you to prepare a request.  I’m sure you won’t have to be transferred to another department.  We are very, very far from the Deneb Sector.  There are plenty of other communication needs on the starbase that have nothing to do with the Breen skirmish.  The real work is going to be re-visiting your feeling about the Breen, processing them, and building strategies to lessen the impact those feelings have on your daily life.”

He nodded slowly as he listened to Dr Weld.  “Thank you Doctor,” he remarked slightly slumped into his chair, looking at the armrest and then back to him.   “Sound like we both have a lot of work to put into this and am all in and am ready to put the work in, whatever it takes.” He took a deep breath, forcing a small smile.  “I want to one day function normally visually and auditorily around the Breen,…so when do we meet again?”

“Sleep is vitally important to every aspect of health, Arcturus,” Weld remarked.  “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

In the largest mess hall of the USS Exeter’s rec deck, anyone in a commissioned officer’s uniform was conspicuous by their absence.  Sat at nearly every table were Starfleet cadets in their dark grey uniforms with the asymmetrical colour-blocking across the shoulders.  Cadet Lyrakkiton Parze, herself, was wearing the very same uniform and she assumed their junior officer supervisors were all tucked away in an exclusive officer’s lounge somewhere with exterior viewports and free-flowing synthehol.  Parze took a step closer to Cadet Katlyn Mianaai, hoping that only she would hear her.

“These feel like uniforms today,” Parze said.  The Saurian plucked at the sleeve of her own uniform with her clawed hands.  “I guess I always thought of Cadet Squadron Bravo as a gang.  If any cadets try to cheat the system, we jump them.  We know best what’s in fashion, so we dress the same.  We wear these to look good.“

With a hum like a transporter, two tall chrome tumblers materialised in the replicator alcove.  Parze took hold of one and she could feel how frosty cold it was, even through the tumbler.  She shook her head and she smiled sadly at Katlyn.

“They feel like uniforms now,” Parze said.

It was with a slight yawn that Katlyn did one of the rarer things she did – smile. Smiling and fighting a yawn of course means neither is done satisfactorily and ends up looking awkward. She took her own tumbler, looking in at the contents to make sure the replicator hadn’t screwed up the order, then started on what she had wanted to say before the yawn had taken hold. “Hey, it might be a uniform, but I make this look good.”

It hadn’t taken long for the two cadets, or far even, to find a spot to sit down, a small table for two shoved up against a way, out of the way of the predominant foot traffic. “And besides, it was bound to happen eventually right?” She tapped her tumbler against Parze’s own. “To your health,” she said, before sipping at the straw that dutifully delivered the milkshake to her. “Oh gods that’s a lot of sugar.”

Begrudgingly, Parze nodded at Katlyn’s sentiment, the inevitability of their shipping out somewhere unpredictable and unknowable.  Parze nudged her tumbler back against Katlyn’s and took a long slurp through the straw.  Parze licked her lips and stared down into the tumbler.

“What did you call this again?” Parze asked.

“Lime milkshake,” Katlyn answered. She took another sip, luxuriating in the taste and consistency, before setting the tumbler down. Elbows found the table top and she leaned forward. “So, what have you heard?” she asked conspiratorially. “All I’ve managed to figure out is the Breen raids in the news are more serious than FNN or DNS or a dozen other news services are making out. I mean, why send Exeter out that far for a mere training cruise and with a cargo hold full of parts for a planetary defence grid?” She saw Parze’s questioning look. “What, I look at shipping manifests when I fly. I’m not taking anything anywhere if I don’t know what it is.”

Nodding slowly, Parze said, “It’s a lot, lot more than Exeter.  I was on a communications rotation and it’s the entirety of the Fourth Fleet being shipped out to Deneb.  You’re right; that’s gotta be overkill to protect a border.”  –She sipped at her milkshake and then lowered her voice– “The Breen must be deeper into Federation space than we know. …But what could they want with some decrepit old outposts and colony worlds?  What’s so valuable about Deneb?”

“Flanking position to gobble up the Ferengi Alliance? Maybe someone in the Confederacy thinks they’ve got something that could take on the Fesarius and they want to make a big show of it? Though I’m pretty sure the First Federation’s general interstellar relation policy is ‘stay off my lawn’.” Katlyn shrugged, having run that crazy consideration down. “Maybe it’s just a consequence of where their new shipyards and staging points are? But isn’t space past the Deneb frontier largely unclaimed for hundreds of lightyears? Launching an attack across all of that instead of somewhere closer inside the Confederacy must be a logistical pain. Then again, I’m just a dumb pilot, what do I know about strategy? I can’t even beat my padd at checkers.”

Parze clicked her tongue.  “You don’t make it in Cadet Squadron Bravo by being dumb.  I couldn’t have passed my flight certifications without you.” –After taking another big slurp of her milkshake, Parze leaned in closer to the table and lowered her voice– “Starfleet’s defense strategy must be going poorly if we’re upgrading the defense platforms around Farpoint Station.  That’s pretty deep under the skin of Federation territory.”

“Deep doesn’t mean modern. And the Breen have a history of suicidal deep strikes if they feel like it. Deneb and Farpoint Station are the heart of the sector, so a heavy strike there would be catastrophic.” Katlyn stared at her milkshake, twirling the straw, metal clanging on metal occasionally. “A good chunk of ships will be pinned there defending until the defences can be brought up to snuff and trusted to hold off any probing attacks by themselves.” She lifted the milkshake and stopped short of her mouth. “Think I can convince Professor M’telk any work I do on the platforms should count as course credit?” And then she sipped at the drink, noisily so in fact.

“Is course credit really going to matter if Farpoint Station falls?” Parze asked soberly.  Then she snorted unexpectedly and sipped from her milkshake again.  Blithely, she added, “And of course we’ll get course credit.  If we don’t, I’ll start a petition.”

“We’ll start a petition,” Katlyn said, correcting Parze’s statement with a smile. Then she sobered up, her tone falling somewhat. “This situation is all sorts of messed up though. I mean, why now? The Federation is stronger now than it was the last time the Breen fought us. We’ve got the Cardassians on our side this time. And why attack through Deneb? Something just doesn’t add up.”

Shaking her head, Parze’s gaze drifted to scan the room.  She nodded vaguely when she said, “You’re right.  It doesn’t make any sense.”  –And then she looked at Katlyn– “It probably sounds childish, but I always thought we were coming of age in a time when history was… well, when history was over.  Our parents survived wars with the Cardassians, Klingons, the Dominion, everything that happened on Mars.  By our time at the Academy, I thought the Federation had risen above all of that.  I thought nothing else remarkable was ever going to happen to us.”

Katlyn went very quiet at that. Her eyes dropped to the milkshake before her, then her hand let go of the cup, sliding to the tabletop. “Mine didn’t.” She sounded detached and quiet as she said that. “I didn’t.” She took in a deep breath, held it, exhaled. An attempt at rallying herself which failed. “Sorry, you weren’t to know,” she continued after a moment, putting on a forced smile that never touched her eyes. “Remarkable things happen all the time, just not always for the whole galaxy to see.”

Watching the look on Katlyn’s face, Parze breathed out a distraught, “Ah,” and she reached out to Katlyn’s hand on the table.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t know.  That’s so awful.”

“Its…its fine.” Katelyn hadn’t pulled her hand back, or really responded to the physical reassurance at all. She was quiet and pensive for a few seconds more, then forced a smile as she looked up. “Let’s make sure no one else has to suffer any more either, yah?”

Nodding soberly, Parze replied, “That’s what makes the uniform worth it.”

The sounds of banging and shouting filled Joshua’s ears when he boarded the Hippocrates. He was stopped at the entrance and automatically offered his hand for a blood sample. After it was confirmed, the guard nodded and let him pass. Joshua moved through the passageways until he came across an old friend.

“Ethan, how are you?” Did you get the plant?” Joshua said, handing a PADD to Ethan. “I guess my job du jour is helping you out.” He put up his hands in defense, “Don’t worry, I’ve been hanging out with Ensign Montañez and the Yellowjackets, so it won’t be like last time. I’ve got some experience in building and repair under my belt.”

Ethan read his PADD as he made his way through the corridor of the Hippocrates. He was eager to get started, and finally had received his first assignment. It was going to be a big job, getting this ship operational again in such a short amount of time, but he was eager and looking forward to the challenge. 

Hearing someone call his voice, he looked up from the PADD, nearly bumping into another officer when he saw Joshua calling out to him. He smiled, and made his way over to him. “Yes, thank you for that, by the way! I’m extremely happy to report that it is still alive, somehow.” He laughed a bit and then continued, “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing your new skills in action! This is some assignment, but it should prove an interesting challenge!”

Joshua nodded, “I told you, it’s a hearty one. We’ll have you up to more challenging plants in no time! Don’t get too excited, the stuff I was putting together was low stakes. Medical supplies, biobeds, and the like. No real immediate risk of someone getting hurt if I put it together the wrong way.” He continued to keep pace with Ethan, “So what’s on the docket for today?”  

Ethan laughed, “I’m looking forward to it!” He pulled up his PADD to answer Joshua’s question, then read from his duty assignment, “Well, let’s see here, looks like I’ve been assigned several tasks up on deck 4: realign the EPS flow regulators, recalibrate the internal sensors, and run several diagnostics on the bio-neural gel packs to ensure they’re running to design specifications.” He put his PADD down by his side, “Looking like it’s going to be a full double shift by the sound of this, should be interesting!” 

“Wait… ‘double shift’? I’m not sure I signed up for that. But with your unending enthusiasm, it should go by quick.” He glanced at his own PADD. “It looks like my orders say, ‘Don’t break anything or otherwise cause engineers more stress and work’. There are a bunch of other words in there, but that seems to be the jist. So lead on!”

Ethan laughed, “Don’t break anything or otherwise cause stress and work… sounds like they’ve ordered you to not touch anything.” He pat Joshua on the back still laughing, then motioned for him to follow. Ethan made his way to the turbolift, commanding it to take them to deck 4 as soon as they both were inside. “I figured we could start with the gel packs. I know you work with plants mostly, but plants are living organisms as much as any gel pack I suppose.”

“Yeah, I’m great with living things. I did a thesis paper on the bio-neural gel pack technology. Fascinating stuff. I imagine I could be a little less than not useful.  And that’s probably why they assigned me to this job,” Joshua chuckled. “Or maybe they didn’t have anywhere else to put me. I know a lot of the scientists are doing daily jobs to help the effort. The effort for what exactly none of us really know.”

Ethan smiled, “You did your thesis on the gel packs? That is awesome, my friend. Those things are so highly sophisticated, even now I sometimes have trouble understanding how they operate fully.” The turbolift arrived on deck four and he continued down the corridor towards the wall junction while going on, “I guess it’s the blend of organic and electronic components that always threw me off. They always reminded me of the Borg when I studied them, who knows, maybe that’s where we got the idea in the first place.” He laughed at the preposterous idea.

“The idea was to increase a starship’s processing speed by combining the organic with the technological. The organic circuitry allowed computers to think by using ‘fuzzy logic’, and operate quicker by making educated guesses to complex questions rather than working through all possible calculations. This allowed the computer system to correlate chaotic patterns not offered within the parameters of conventional starship hardware. This came at a price, as Voyager taught us, as it makes computer systems susceptible to organic life forms’ weaknesses. Chiefly among them viruses and bacteria.” Joshua smiled, “Pages 12 and 13,” he frowned, “or was it 15 and 16? Honestly, it’s been a while since I read it.” He scratched his head, “Sorry, you probably didn’t want a history lesson.”

“And you have it memorized! I bet we can make an engineer out of you yet, Joshua.” Ethan smiled, picking up his head as they rounded the corner and arrived at the junction. The gel packs were first on the long list of work for today, but at least he had good company to help get everything completed. “Alright, you start here, and I’ll work the junction right over there. First one to finish their diagnostic wins.” He smiled, patting Joshua on the back then heading off to get started. 

As soon as the doors to the cockpit opened for him, Elegy Weld left behind the remaining scraps of his lunch, dematerializing in the replicator of the crew rest compartment. Since the nurses and security officers were making preparations in the lower level of the New Atlantic-class runabout, Weld found himself alone in the cockpit with Dawa Vlček at the conn.  Only because no one else was around did he brave to ask the question:

“What type of pilot are you on a long-haul flight?” Weld asked, as he dropped himself into the co-pilot’s chair.  “Audio trivia or hull-shaking music?”

Dawa—uncharacteristically—did not answer right away. She was running through her post-departure checklist a bit more slowly than necessary, apparently mesmerised by the user interface. After a beat or two she finally glanced at her crewmate, and his expectant face prompted her to physically shake herself out of her trance.

“I don’t get to fly these very often,” she told him, bypassing the apology and jumping straight into the explanation. “Functionally very similar to the Danube, but I’ll be the first to admit I’m a sucker for the aesthetics. It’s a perfect combination of ‘tried and true’ and ‘shiny and new’!”

She emphasised her appreciation by giving the console a fond pat before swiveling towards Weld. “But to answer your question: I prefer a good talk if I can get it, though as a Starfighter pilot primarily I have enough playlists to get me across the Delta quadrant flying warp one the whole way. Oh, speaking of…”

Dawa reached into her uniform jacket and pulled out her flying charm: a small, bright purple, blocky approximation of a humpback whale attached to a carabiner. She tossed it to Weld and giggled as he fumbled it. “That’s Gillian. She’ll be our good luck charm on this flight. Gillian’s been around a bit.”

Cupping Gillian between his palms, Weld took a couple of heartbeats to examine her design and, simply, to appreciate her.  He closed his hands around the charm and he clutched it close to his chest.  Then he looked back at Dawa with an appraising look in his eyes.  It was all over his face that he was hesitating from a question.

Eventually, he asked, “Has Gillian survived anything as nasty as how the Fourth Fleet reports are describing Deneb?”

“Hmm!” Dawa crossed her arms and kicked back in her seat. She stared into the middle distance, brow furrowed, as if ‘nasty’ could be defined by quantitative variables and she was going to plug in all the numbers. “Well, Gillian’s usually in charge of only one craft at a time; can’t spread that luck too thin, you know? We did meet a very nasty customer in the Paulson Nebula not too long ago. It was a one-on-one skirmish, but with all the weapons the other guy was carrying he might as well have been a whole squadron. Ripped us a few new plasma vents, and by the time we tried to land—well, I’ll spare you all the details, but we did survive that one.”

She punctuated the story with a wink and turned back to the control panel. “So why don’t you find a comfy spot for Gillian while I synch the latest subspace weather reports?”

Bit by bit, Weld swivelled his chair one-hundred-and-eighty degrees from where he’d started in search of a protrusion where he could clip Gillian.  In all directions, the aesthetic of the cockpit was organic lines.  The consoles flowed into the bulkheads, which flowed into the angled overhead.  There were no superfluous design elements.  All Weld could find was a ring in his own chair, where the armrest connected to the seat pan, and so he clipped Gillian there.

While he was pinching the carabiner into place –not even looking at Dawa– he found himself asked, “With everything that’s happening in Deneb, I keep wanting to compare it, to judge where we’re at.  Do you… remember much from the Dominion War yourself?”

“Like the actual battles and all the death and destruction on the front lines?” Dawa shook her head. “No. I was only seven, but I knew better than to look at any of the war reports. My whole family was—well, is—employed at Titan’s Sol VI shipyards, so I only caught glimpses of the action by peeking over their shoulders at the endless production orders. This was when we still had Utopia Planitia, of course, and they were the ones cranking out the marvelous new war machines. Titan was there mostly to back Mars up on replacing all the utility vehicles, shuttles and runabouts and medical boats—all the little workhorses that didn’t need to be reinvented but needed to be on the front lines ASAP in place of the ones we’d lost. The whole family had the average crew compliment for every make and model memorised, so those orders were like phantom casualty lists in a way. It felt like our little domed colony was so essential but so detached at the same time…”

Dawa trailed off as she realised that she was rambling, though Weld seemed to remain engaged with everything she was saying. She cocked her head and arched an eyebrow as a thought occurred to her. One could never be sure with a Trill…

“What do you remember about the war?”

“Similar.  Indistinct,” Weld said, nodding vaguely as he thought about it some more.  “I was a child too.  My memories from that time are probably shaded by re-tellings as much as the first had experience.  My mother was a security officer; I grew up on starships.  I don’t think we were ever on the front-lines.  I just remember evacuation drills, being shuffled from the classroom to sickbay.”  –He blinked– “Unless those weren’t really drills.  I suppose they might have only told us they were drills to keep us calm.  Huh.”

“Well hey,” said Dawa, “That sounds like a great idea for dealing with your inner child in high-stress situations: tell them it’s just a drill. Wait, did I really just say the words ‘inner child’ to a psychiatrist?”

Dawa wore a face of exaggerated concern for a moment before shrugging it off. “Anyway, might have to file that away in my list of ‘Coping Strategies for the Deneb Fiasco’. On the other hand, I really hope my inner child wasn’t around during my last dogfight. That one definitely had a lot of swearing in it.”

“Our rendezvous point to pick up our patients is nowhere near Deneb,” Weld retorted.  “Let’s really, really hope there is no next dogfight.”

Jason stepped through the door into the interior of the bar. A steady neon sign above the bar told him it was the Hommie Inn. There were scattered tables around the main floor and booths lining the wall. Although it had looked fairly quiet from the outside, there was a fair amount of a crowd gathered inside. He glanced around to see if he could recognize anyone from the science department or any other department that he worked with so far but failed miserably. 

“What will you have sir?” the bartender asked.

“Whiskey sour,” Jason said. “Nice place you have here.”

“We like it,” the rather portly gentlemen said. “You must be new here, I don’t remember seeing you before.”

“This is a pretty big station,” Jason said, taking the offered drink. “I doubt that you know everyone that comes into your establishment.”

“I make it my business to know,” the man said. “Enjoy your first drink, it’s free on the house. Have a seat and stay awhile.”

Jason nodded in thanks and then wandered away from the bar towards a high-top table near the edge of the main area. Several of the women there had already given him a once over, smiling the entire time. He smiled back of course, but made no move to invite them over. He wasn’t on the hunt for a companion, at least he didn’t think he was. His last relationship didn’t end all that well. He tried to look approachable as he sat there. 

Luke had just finished up a long shift with engineering patching up ships and liaising with the quartermasters to ensure supply orders were fulfilled promptly, and a drink was in order before heading back to his quarters. Doing a quick loop around the promenade, he settled on a place he hadn’t tried before.

Taking a seat at the bar, he signaled the bartender. “Scotch, two fingers, on the rocks.”

“Coming right up.” the bartender replied with a smile as the drink was prepared. “Feel free to sit at the bar, or I’m sure some of the other patrons won’t mind sharing a table or booth.”

“Many thanks,” Luke replied with a small smile. “And thank you for the drink.”

Giving it a quick stir, Luke looked over the other patrons and noticed a science officer seated at a booth just off the main area. Looks like a new arrival, Luke thought to himself as he approached.

“Pardon me, but are these seats taken?”

“Nope,” he said, extending his hand. “Jason Hart, science division, have a seat.”

“Lukas Daniels, Operations division, but my friends call me Luke,” Luke replied as he grasped the offered hand and took a seat. Once he was seated opposite Jason, he took a sip of his drink savoring the smooth amber liquid.

Luke had already been on board the station for several months and had started to remember names and faces but this one was drawing a blank.

“New arrival?” he asked as he swirled his drink around the glass. “Forgive the assumption, but I can’t place the face, not that I know the ins and outs and who’s who of the Science department.” he finished with a nervous laugh.

“Just arrived a few days ago,” Jason said. “I’ve been helping with repairs since they’ve shut down or curtailed most of the science division activities due to the current crisis.”

Scratching the back of his head in lieu of smacking his forehead, Luke couldn’t believe he had forgotten about the science teams. “I certainly hope the Engineering and Ops departments have made you feel like part of the team?” he remembered his last run-in when Engineering didn’t like a scan result that had already passed through several verifications.

“How have you been finding the place?” Luke asked. “It’s certainly massive enough, I’ve only been here a few months and I’m still petrified I’ll find myself lost somewhere in a utility corridor.”

“I wandered down one last night, and found myself in some really weird section that looked like it was some sort of zero-gee environment,” Jason said. “As for engineering and ops, they seem happy just to have the help. I was trying to catch up on some reading tonight but the author of the paper was more boring than…well, I dunno what.”

“Reading a science journal for recreation?” Luke asked in mock horror. “I kid of course, I do find myself spending far too much time in the Arboretum during my downtime, so I am in no position to judge.”

The area of green space on the Promenade really did give Luke a taste of home amongst the stars. A real taste opposed to a holographic representation. Starbase Bravo was beginning to feel like a second home, based almost entirely on the facilities the Station offered. If only the ongoing crisis unfolding wasn’t casting a shadow over the station and crew.

“If you don’t mind my asking.” Luke began finishing the last swallow of his drink and setting the empty glass on the table. “What bought you to Starbase Bravo? Request? or luck of the draw assignment?”

“Luck of the draw, although I don’t really mind it,” Jason said. “So far seems to be a decent place, even if I’m doing more engineering than science stuff right now.”

Luke nodded along. The current crisis had thrown many a spanner into the works. “Understandable, completely understandable.” So many valuable researchers and specialists had been temporarily reassigned or had their duties scaled back

“What about you? How did you end up here?” Jason asked.

“I really fell in love with the place,” Luke replied. “I initially completed my training on the Mellstoxx III campus but reassigned myself to Earth to complete an additional short course.” Luke signaled a passing staff member for a refill. “There was something about the place that drew me back. The recreation facilities being one of them, but also being a part of the day-to-day lives of the station inhabitants and travelers.”

“It may not be as glamourous as exploring the far-flung frontiers but the work we do here is no less important,” Luke added as an afterthought. “And there is always something going on to fill out the days nicely.”

“Very cool,” Jason said. He sat there awkwardly for a moment before taking another drink. “Is there anything that you recommend I do right away entertainment-wise? My social life here hasn’t exactly taken off yet.”

Luke thought a moment. “Downtime is definitely a spot to check out, the bartender is hard as nails and doesn’t take crap from anyone. Just don’t rock the boat.” Luke finished with a smile. “Of course, there are a multitude of eateries, coffee shops, replimats, gyms, sports courts, and numerous holosuites. Is there anything in a particular you have your eye on?”

“The more physical the better.”

“Sector India-Navy will be your best shot.” Luke replied as he tried to recall some of the deck layouts. “Anywhere you find a commercial outlet, you can bet a recreation facility won’t be too far away.”

“Sector Kilo-Indigo houses most of the holodecks and additional recreation outlets.” Luke continued. “Have you got a padd handy? I can mark a few locations to check out, or I’m happy to show you around if you want the company.”

As outgoing as Luke maybe, he never wanted to feel like he was imposing on anyone. As much as the station was a hub of activity, sometimes new arrivals did like to get the lay of the land in their own time.

“Sure, that could be fun,” Jason said. “I mean, I’d love the company, especially from someone that knows the station.”

“The night is still young,” Luke replied with a small smile and a slight shrug. “Unless you want to head to your quarters for the night, and I can take you on a tour at the end of your next duty shift tomorrow?”

“That sounds amazing,” Jason said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

Beep, Beep, Beep

Ensign Jacoby Walker’s tablet broke the silence of the walk he was having to the Chief’s Office.   

“Please Report to Main Infirmary, before reporting to the Chief of Intel.  Please confirm your response.“ 

”Well that changes plans” he muttered to himself.  Now trying to find the Main Infirmary.  He tapped the tablet to bring up the map to the medical bay.  Analyzing it, he was only a 12-minute walk to the bay.  

Setting on the small trek he saw just how massive the station is, and it wasn’t even the whole station. Shops, offices, recreation lounges, quarters. Not to mention the starship docking areas constructed to fit Starfleet’s largest ships, including other races’ ships as well.  

Arriving at the infirmary he found it to be busy.  Walking in he was greeted by a bright and shiny holo program requesting him to sign in.  There were not many people there. Maybe it was designed not to overflow the medical staff.  Taking a seat he waited for his name to be called.  

Linha had been working with Lieutenant Murphy on things that needed attention until an officer walked back and asked if someone saw Ensign Walker for a routine physical. She volunteered to complete it and was given the go, just she needs to have a doctor sign off when she completed it. Linha walked into where the young officer was sitting with a smile on her face. “Ensign Walker?” She asked looking at him, “if you will follow me we can get started.” Linha replied with a smile.

Jacoby got up and followed the Cadet to a small medical bed.  More or less used in the same manner as why Jacoby was here.  “Alright, where ya want me?” he asked putting his arms down on his side and turning towards her. 

“Just hop up on the biobed and we can get started,” she said with a smile as she grabbed a tricorder. “Anything change that you like to report since your last physical?” She asked as one of the normal questions any doctor would ask. Trying to see if they would openly tell them or if they would find something upon scanning that wasn’t recorded on their current record.

“Not that I know of.  Before I finished academy the whole class went through this all.  I probably could drink more water though.  I don’t know but it just feels different in space than it does on earth.  I don’t feel hot here at all but I feel drained by the end of the day.  I also think I saw 5 different suns on the way here at all hours.”  Being that this was Jocaby’s first time in space, he found it a bit different in how it physically tolled you than back on Earth.  

Linha nodded as she listened to him talk she began to scan him, “these are just routine questions that will be asked at every physical.” She began as she found something that could be explaining his fatigue. “Looks like you are vitamin D deficient but that is nothing to worry about I can give you something that will help with that.” She said as she went on to explain that could be the cause of him being more fatigued than usual. “Other than that you are completely healthy.” She said before she walked away for a moment to discuss her findings with the doctor. 

“Well, at least that’s all it is.  I figured I’d probably be shoved into some office for 12 hours a day here.  That’s what everyone keeps saying with the Diplomatic field.” Jacoby felt relieved knowing that it would be a quick fix but probably thought getting out later and not sitting still might help.  

Upon returning she smiled at him as she had the hypo with the dose of vitamin D that will help him. “This is the dose that I will be giving you today, you only need this about once a month until we see those numbers go up and you start adjusting to life in space.” She said with a smile as she pressed the hypospray to his neck and a few seconds later the hiss of the vial let her know that it was delivered. “I also recommend eating foods that are rich in protein and vitamins to help as well.” She added looking at him.

“But is it real food though?” He smirked.  “This is the first time I ever ate out of those food generators.  My mom would never put one in because she said it made us lazy.  I think she just liked doing something since all we had was the farm.

“I am sure you can get real food here, though the replicated food isn’t really that bad and still has the needed vitamins.” She said looking at him.

“Well, I’ll be sure to look around.  This base is massive.  My brother told me about it when he passed through here a few years ago.  He went to Deep Space on a six-year mission.  As far as I know, I’ll be here until I rank up.  I guess my tablet will tell me what I need to do next?”  He started to feel like he was over-talking a bit but it could be the hypospray starting to perk him up.  

“If you haven’t done so yet check in with your department staff I would say that would be the next best thing.” She suggested with a smile, “I believe we’re done here so unless you need something else you are free to go.” She said with a smile while she handed the doctor who stopped by a padd with his results on it before he walked off in the other direction.

After she watched him leave she went onto her next task was checking in some supplies that had arrived earlier that Dr. Murphy had requested her to complete before leaving for one of her classes in a couple of hours.

Luke was never as glad to see the back of a Cargo Bay as he was today. With the sheer number of ships needing repairs and refits, many requisition orders were redirected or commandeered for higher-priority assignments. Making a quick stop at Brew for some much-needed caffeine, Luke alternated sipping his drink and keeping an eye on the critical orders still unfulfilled on his padd.

His feet were on autopilot as he traversed the well-worn path to the station’s Arboretum. This was always a favourite haunt of his. Incidentally, his spatial awareness wasn’t on point as he almost collided with someone.

Thankfully nothing had spilled, but he felt the need to save face. “I am so sorry, Cadet.” he noticed the pips on the young officer in front of him. “Long shift and running on fumes.” he tried to explain.

Linha looked up after she also wasn’t paying attention to where she was walking but instead was looking at her padd that she held in her hand. “No worries, I am just as guilty.” She said as she held up her padd, “been studying for an exam that I have in one of my classes.” Linha replied looking at the young officer.

“Oho, Exams are just the worst aren’t they?” Luke replied. He still had flashbacks to his linguistics course as they got screamed at in various alien languages to determine their base levels. How have you been finding the stresses of exams coupled with all this.” Luke gestured around the station as crews were deployed everywhere to help resolve the crisis with the Dominion.”

“Where are my manners?” He added as an afterthought. “Ensign Lukas Daniels, Operations Division, but you can call me Luke.” he flashed a smile as he offered his free hand to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Luke I am Cadet Linha Varen. I am here on a learning tour if you call it that even if I just had returned from the Saratoga after completing a year of a Cadet cruise.” She said with a shrug as she smiled, “I don’t mind exams.” She added looking at him.

“Good to hear.” Luke flashed a smile to Linha. “How have you been finding the Station? It is a lot to take in after first coming aboard.” He knew just how fish out of water any new arrival could be, considering he was a fresh arrival only a few months ago.

“Of course, if you have somewhere to be, don’t let me keep you.” He added as an afterthought. He hated when people imposed their presence on him, so he was mindful to make sure not to impose on others.

She chuckled, “no your fine need a bit of a distraction now anyways. Been at this for the last couple of hours so the break is nice.” She said reassuring him that he was no burden to her. “I have been finding my way around well, I haven’t gotten lost yet so that’s a plus.” She chuckled, “it is rather large.” She added as she gestured for him to walk with her, to enjoy their surroundings even if some of it was holographic in nature. 

“I know the feeling all too well,” Luke replied with a smile. “This is one of my favourite places on the station. “ he gestured to the arboretum around them. ”And it’s thanks to another officer who took the time to help a new arrival find their way.” he continued.

Walking together amongst the splash of greenery against the backdrop of space and bulkhead, Luke did his best to go over some of the places to be and where to experience some of what the station has to offer.

“What’s your specialty?” Luke asked as they meandered around the Arboretum. He did like learning about his fellow officers and sometimes it really did boil down to the old adage: It’s not what you know, but who you know.

“Right now just general medicine,” Linha replied. “What about you?” She asked as they walked.

“Believe it or not.” Luke began. “I actually majored in Archival Sciences, which suited the operations focus I had planned on.”

Logically archival sciences seemed to be the polar opposite to station life, but his core functions were related to keeping data and communications moving steadily around the station and the whole process was a source of fascination to him.

“General medicine is one of the more noble pursuits.” Luke continued. “Pursuing medicine very much takes a selfless and special type of character.” Medical personnel truly deserve the utmost respect.

She smiled as they continued walking they continued to chat for a while longer until she noticed the time, “shoot it’s getting a bit late and I really need to get this studying done before turning in. The big exam is tomorrow and well you know I got to get a good night’s rest so I don’t fall asleep during the exam.” She said with a chuckle, “we should meet up for lunch sometime when I don’t have an exam to worry about.” She said as she wanted to get to know Luke better as he seemed like a nice man.

“Say no more.” Luke responded. The pressure of exams was something he could appreciate. “Good luck with everything tomorrow, i’m sure you are going to smash it out of the park. I am always up for some good food with good company so do let me know when it suits.”

Ethan walked slowly down the promenade, his hand around the back of his neck attempting to work out a kink he got while in a Jefferies tube for the last several hours. The work on the Hippocrates has been progressing more slowly than he first anticipated, with more and more systems needing overhauls and replacements, as well as several more needing more minor repairs than was first imagined. The past several days comprised of double, sometimes approaching triple, shifts. 

He didn’t mind the work, actually he thrived on it. After all, he was an engineer, and hard work and long hours were generally part of the job description. But he had to take a break, he heard his stomach growling and knew it had been hours since he last ate anything, so he decided to head back to the same spot he had been a few days prior where he met Linha. Walking into the establishment, he took his place in line waiting to order his next meal. 

After her shift ended she thought about just going back to her quarters to finish preparing for her exam tomorrow. As she walked she realized her stomach was growling she decided that dinner was first on her agenda for now. Walking down the promenade she looked at a good restaurant and walked in she looked around to see that she wasn’t the only one thinking the same thing.

She began walking through to find a table until she saw a familiar person she had met earlier that day, walking up to him she smiled. “Is this seat taken?” Linha asked looking at Ethan.

Ethan smiled as he saw Linha approach his table, having just sat down with his beverage. He stood up and motioned to the seat across from him, “Please.” He retook the seat and grabbed his Andorian ale and took a small sip before going on, “I was kind of hoping I’d run into you here again, though I have to admit it was the food that brought me back over anything else.” He laughed as he put his drink down on the table.

She smiled as she took a seat, “I was just going to go back to my quarters to study but my stomach started growling so figured I’d stop in to get something to eat before turning in.” She replied as the waitress walked over to their table, she looked at the menu for a moment until she found what she liked and ordered it. Nothing too fancy but something that reminded her of her mother’s cooking.

Ethan smiled, “Same here. Been pulling double and triple shifts on the Hippocrates recently, it’s a real mess down there. It feels like for every system I fix, two more seem to go offline. Doesn’t feel like the work will ever be done.” He sighed, then grabbed his drink and took another sip. Picking up the menu, he gave it a quick scan before he asked, “So, what do you recommend from here? I’ve only been here one other time, as you know.” He smiled, putting the menu on the table. 

“You can try what I am having it’s like a beef stew,” she said as it was something close to the human stew type soup. Her mother made something like it once and she enjoyed it.

“Hmm, sounds good! I think I’ll have that as well.” He motioned for a waiter to come over to their table so they could place their orders, then sat back in his chair, “So, what has Starbase Bravo been keeping you up to the last few days?”

“Exams, classes, and working in the Infirmary.” She replied even though it sounded boring to most, she on the other hand enjoyed every minute of it. Every minute she was working she was gathering first-hand experience that would no doubt help her once she was finished with the Academy and onto the next portion of medical training. “What about you?” she asked just as their food arrived, the unique smell made her smile. 

Ethan paused as their food arrived, taking a look at what they both ordered, “Wow, this looks great.” He took a few bites before replying to Linha’s question, “Work, work, work. This is my first posting, came here right after the academy. I’d say it’s nice to be done with the school work, but the learning never really ends, especially for us engineers.” He laughed as he took a few more bites. 

Smiling as he seems to be enjoying his meal, “so how does it taste.” She asked as she took a bite of her own food. “I actually might be an odd one but I enjoy the challenges that come with the classes.” She admitted, she had always been a bookworm and can be seen burying herself either in a good book or just reading studying materials when she wasn’t busy with other things.

“It’s fantastic, probably the best place I’ve tried on the station since I’ve been here. May have just found my new spot.” He said smiling, taking another bite. He listened to Linha as she talked about school, and then nodded himself, “I enjoyed school too, but I think I enjoy things much more now that I get to actually put into practice everything that I was studying. That’s the thing I love about engineering the most, learning how things work and why they function, being able to take something apart and put it back together, who knew I’d have fallen in love with this subject.”

“Usually how it is ya enjoy something after you get finished,” she replied with a smile. “I guess I enjoy it too with doing two cadet cruises one onboard a starship and now one onboard a starbase. Guess they want me well rounded with the two,” she said with a shrug as she really didn’t know what their reasonings were.

Ethan nodded, then took a few more bites and finished up his food, then asked, “So, have you given any thought of what kind of assignment you want to apply for when you’re through the academy?” He leaned back in his chair and put his hands in his lap, “I initially applied for a starship, but was assigned here instead. I was a little discouraged at first, but honestly, I’ve really come to love my posting here. All the different ships that come through that I get to work on, kind of an engineer’s dream come true.” He laughed. 

“I haven’t really given it a thought yet as there are still four years of medical school after the Academy with residency in there somewhere, so I still have a while to decide.” She said with a smile, “though I’ll be happy with whatever assignment I get.” She added as she continued to eat her meal as they chatted.

He nodded, “I hear that, I thought I didn’t want this assignment, but in the end I love it, so you never know.” He laughed and glanced over at the wall, noticing the time. Putting the menu back in its holder on the table, he said, “Well, I need to get back. It has been great catching up with you again, glad we ran into one another.” He smiled.

“Same,” she said as she got up from the table and they both exited the restaurant heading in different directions. She was enjoying it here so far, meeting some new people and getting to know the department more which was huge on a station like this.

Through the environmental suit’s face plate, there was nothing but starlight in all directions.  With Deneb IV and Farpoint Station beneath her, the vastness of the Deneb system before her illustrated the conflict between space’s breathtaking majesty and terrifying emptiness.  The darkness punctuated by specks of light could make one feel small and significant at the same time.  Cadet Lydia Parze had the strange feeling that if she reached out, just a little bit, her being could comingle with the stars themselves.  But there would be another day for that.  She had a whole career ahead of her to strive for such things.

Shifting awkwardly in her EV suit, Parze tapped a command on the side of her gauntlet.  The mag-lock in her boots activated again and she felt her soles hit hard against the catwalk that intertwined defence platform D-7.  Twisting back, Parze sought to secure eyes-on her co-conspirator in this mission.

“Are you solid, cadet?” Parze asked over their private commlink. 

“I think I left something in that last transporter trip we did,” Katlyn answered, eyes closed, her arms just sort of floating around her. She’d activated her boots immediately and then took the moment to enjoy weightlessness. But such things were over, work had to be done. She opened her eyes, a smile on her face. “Just another day in Starfleet,” she continued. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Katlyn turned, presenting her back to Parze, the toolkit secured to the back of her EV suit. “Kit still closed? I felt something move when I turned my boots on.”

Taking two lumbering steps closer to Katlyn, Parze’s first instinct was to inspect the toolkit by touch.  Of course, her scaly skin could actually feel nothing through her thick gauntlets, but there was no perceptible shift in the kit’s access panel either.  She looked to the tricorder set into her other gauntlet and its readings confirmed her first impression.

“Toolkit is sealed; EV suit integrity is at 100 percent,” Parze replied.  “We’ll open it slowly to make sure no one gets a micro-caliber in the face.”  Stepping away, Parze returned her attentions to the defense platform beneath their boots.  She changed the settings on her tricorder but she got it wrong, due to the thickness of each gauntlet’s finger.  Tapping at it again, she initiated the scan she intended.

Parze enthused, “Here’s hoping we find phaser emitter segments forty through forty-seven just as easily!”

”Phasers? I thought we were looking for torpedo launchers?” Katlyn asked, then waved a second later with a smile. “Kidding, kidding. The strip should be just over the horizon and just follow the numbers.” Of course over the horizon on the platform was a real consideration, though said horizon was in reality only a few meters away, not the day-long jaunt it would be on a planetary surface.

Taking the lead and stopping along in the ungainly step, check, step fashion that magboots required, Katlyn stopped momentarily at the edge of the platform. The next step was along a surface at eighty degrees to their current plane of reference. The bright disc of Deneb IV below them, clouds populating the skies – it all looked so peaceful from up here. “Damn, now that’s a view,” she said, then carefully took the awkward, magnetically restrained step over the side.

”Yup, see why the strip is reporting a failure,“ her voice came back over the comms. “Micrometeorite damage.” Then a whistle followed. “Hey Parze, you’re never going to believe this!”

Although Parze had been half-way through a particularly large step, she immediately pulled her leg back.  She settled her boot beside her other one and magnetized them in place.  She sighed loud enough it could be heard over the comms.

“What is it now?” Parze asked, plainly hesitant to hear the answer.  “Meteorites genetically-engineered to eat Federation metal alloys?”

“History,” came the reply over the comms. The sound of someone putting in a not-small amount of effort could be heard over the open comms before a rather excited “Ah ha!” Reappearing at the edge Katlyn had just disappeared over, standing nearly perpendicular to Parze, she was holding what looked like a metal spike nearly as long as her forearm. Almost as thick as her wrist in the middle, tapering to points at either end, Katlyn held it side on to Parze and was grinning through her EV suit’s visor.

“AGP ablative ceramic fabric,” Katlyn announced as she held the artefact out for Parze to scan while she worked herself back over the lip and a similar reference plan as her companion. “Fabric being an engineering term in this case.”

“Huh,” Parze remarked as Katlyn raised the ceramic shard.  “I don’t think I’ll be welding my graduation dress out of that fabric,” Parze added, while she waved her wrist-tricorder over the length of the spike.  After giving each sensor sufficient time to examine the artefact, Parze twisted her forearm to review the results.

“It’s old,” Parze reported.  “Almost forty-years.  It doesn’t match any of the construction materials in the defense platform itself.  You must be right about it being history.  The tricorder thinks it most likely a patch of skin from the outer hull of a Federation starship!”

“It is! AGP hasn’t been used for decades. Some new-fangled stuff came along.” Katlyn then turned the shard over a bit more and revealed a barcode she’d been keeping out of sight. It wasn’t cut off or marred in any way and punctuated at the end with an old Starfleet delta and shield from the late 2360s, matching the almost forty years that Parze’s tricorder had given. “I got an inventory hit on this. You’re gonna love it!”

Her voice hitting a higher pitch over the comms, Parze said, “Well, don’t leave me in suspense!  I’m clinging onto this platform by my toe-claws at this point.  What is it?  …Who was it?”

“Stardrive section, starboard dorsal, hull panel 4717.” Katlyn was taking her time, letting theatrics get in the way of a quick response. “Installed on -” She stopped when she saw Parze’s face, deciding expediting would be safer than more useless facts. “NCC-1701-D. The fucking Enterprise!”

“Whoa!” Parze screamed out over the comms, far too loudly.  She clapped her hands together so hard that she swayed backwards.  Fortunately, her boots kept her firmly secured to the platform.  “Didn’t the Enterprise crew literally save the entire galaxy before??  It was sheer perfection in starship design for its time, but… damn… the war must be going badly if an oldie like that is being dragged out to fight the Dominion?!?”

“What? No…Parze.” Katlyn looked at her friend, shaking her head. “The Enterprise got blown up. Or it crashed? I mean…I think both? Both! The saucer is in the fleet museum!” She looked down at the shard of material. For something called fabric it might as well have been a solid chunk of ceramic material in her hands. “But…then how did this get here? What happened to the Enterprise that a strip of ceramic fabric got shaved off the hull?”

Katlyn then looked up, out into the void of space. A nearby starship hung in their view, just one of many. More dots and lights, brighter than stars at this distance, signified other ships in orbit, or stations, or other defence platforms. All far too distant to make out, but all there, watching out for each other. “I bet that whenever they were here they never thought that one day Starfleet would be wrapping the planet in platforms and starships to keep it safe. Heck, I bet they thought they could talk or bravado their way out of anything.”

“The way things are going,” Parze said, “we could use some of that bravado right about now!  They probably thought they had reached a point in time when history had ended.  A time when nothing too awful was ever going to happen again.  They were wrong.  We can’t push back a threat like the Dominion with torpedoes and phaser strips alone.”

“True true. But they don’t hurt.“ Katlyn reached into a pocket on her leg and pulled out a bracing strip. A length of tough, reinforced fabric with two powerful magnetic clamps on either end, she then used it to secure the shard of history to the hull of platform D-7. “Let’s get this platform working, then we can go tell everyone that the Enterprise is here and see how that buoys morale, eh?” She leaned forward, though suit comms somewhat obliviated the conspiratorial need. “We don‘t need to tell them which, or how little of it after all.”

As she retrieved an EJ-2 interlock from her toolkit, Parze crouched down low enough to touch the catwalk beneath her feet.  She tapped the hand-held device against defense platform symbolically before she used it’s mechanisms to unlock the phaser systems for their ministrations.

Parze replied, “We shall name this defense platform Enterprise in the D’s honour. Let her lancing phaser fire show any Jem’Hadar batteships an entire Galaxy-class of pain!”

Luna looked out the shuttlecraft window nervously, for the first time in her life, she was being assigned to a new crew.  She wasn’t certain about how well she’d fit in with the newer crew, especially as she didn’t exactly go to Starfleet academy like most officers.

She calmed herself, thinking of the aunts and uncles aboard the Calyspo, who offered her advice on fitting in to a new crew.  “I just have to make one friend, then things’ll snowball from there.” she muttered to herself.  A bad habit from way too much time spent staring out the viewport growing up.

“Miss,” the pilot gestured forwards “there she is, Starbase Bravo.”

The day could have gone better, Luna thought.  After all, she didn’t spill her food all over that Rigelian.  Though she was the one who ended up having to apologize for the resultant mess.  Tripping when she was walking into the ops center to report to the commander just had to be the icing on the cake.

Luna collapsed facedown on her bed before screaming into the pillow. On the table next to the bed was a framed picture of the crew of the USS Calypso, with a little girl on the shoulders of the captain.  After her screams were exhausted, she turned in for the night, hoping that tomorrow would be a better day.

Day 2

Luna awoke early, reporting to Ops early enough to have a pick of assignments.  After being placed with the diplomatic team for the day, she started looking over the scheduled arrivals.

“Three different arrivals from the Ditronia system. One from Vulcan, and a major stopover from a transport headed to Bajor.  Looks like I’ll be busy all day.  First up is the first Ditronia transport, which is scheduled to arrive in 30 minutes on deck 645.”  She started jogging to the nearest turbolift, intending to be on time as best as possible.

“Maybe today things will be better.”

Back in her quarters once more, Luna quickly showered and got ready for some recreational time.  She’d been invited by the diplomatic team to play starball with them after their shift.  Once in the jumpsuit, she headed to Deck 445, where she met up with the other three players today.  Having obtained their exosuits, they each stepped out the hanger onto the surface of the station.  In the distance, the could see three other teams of Starball players enjoying themselves.

“Ok, you’re familiar with starball, right?” one of the diplomats, Johnson maybe, asked her.  

Luna smiled. “more so than you would believe. I was running champion on the Calypso for years.”

“Good, so we don’t have to go easy on you.”

It might be scary being so far away from the familiar hallways of the Calypso, but Luna thought she’d be able to adapt to the new place quite well.  Johnson, Tibault, and Farlin were all great colleagues and maybe Starbase Bravo wasn’t so bad after all.

Gazing out the window of the transport that was ferrying him from Earth to Starbase Bravo, Timmotha found himself thinking back to the events that led him here. From his early days as an initiate with the Trill Symbiosis Commission, through to Starfleet Academy and the variety of assignments that followed him wherever he went. This time would be different. It would have to be different.

“Attention, passengers.” the voice of the pilot broke the silence in the cabin. “We are on approach to Starbase Bravo and will be in tractor range shortly.”

The viewport that before showed the emptiness of space, was now filled with the magnificent view of the starbase. Numerous vessels docking and departing. Work bees zipping around the perimeter of the docking ring and training shuttles performing maneuvers under strict supervision. This would be nothing like his experiences on Deep Space 13, but he was quietly looking forward to serving aboard a central asset to the fleet.

Timmotha relaxed as the tractor beam took hold to guide them into the cavernous interior of the docking bay. He was chomping at the bit to get started and show Meathe some of the best experiences he could offer. A mere moments later, the shuttle touched down on its designated pad.

“Attention, passengers, we have now landed safely on Starbase Bravo. In a short while the access bulkhead at the rear of the shuttle will open. Please follow the blue line to the Deck Officer who will provide further instructions.”

As soon as the pilot had finished speaking, the rear of the shuttle opened, granting Timmotha and the handful of other passengers their first look at Starbase Bravo. Hitching his satchel across his body, Timmotha started in the direction of the Deck Officer, eager to check out his new posting and amenities. Starting with his new department of course.

The deck officer looked up as Timmotha approached. “Checking in?”

Timmotha nodded in acknowledgement and retrieved his padd outlining his transfer orders. “Lieutenant Commander Timmotha Meathe, Deputy Director of Communications.”

The deck officer looked over the transfer order and tapped some commands into their own padd. “That appears to be in order. Welcome aboard, Commander. I have transmitted your assigned quarters and office location to your padd. Welcome to Starbase Bravo.”

“Thank you.” Timmotha replied with a smile. “Its an experience to be here.”

Moving past the desk officer into the main part of the station, Timmotha decided to drop his belongings in his quarters before making his way to Station Operations.

Finding his way to the nearest turbolift, he looked over the information provided by the deck officer. Quarters appeared to be located in Sector Bravo-Orange with his main office in Sector Alpha-Red, close but not too close to Station Operations. After what felt like no time at all, the turbolift doors slid open revealing wide corridors interspersed with offices and quarters. Consulting his padd one last time, he scanned the numbers on each door as he passed. 

Finally finding his assigned lodging, Timmotha unlocked the door and got his first look at his new home. Maybe it was the years he had spent away from Trill, or the quick series of reassignments throughout his career to date, TImmotha couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face. This really did feel like home.

Linha Varen was sitting in her dorm down on the Mellstoxx campus studying for an upcoming exam when her computer beeped. She raised an eyebrow wondering what it could be about, with everything that has been going on since they found out about the return of the Lost Fleet. Opening up the communication, she was being reassigned to Starbase Bravo for more extensive training as well as her lessons would resume there. She would be reporting to Lieutenant Hannah Murphy who would become her mentor, after she finished reading she closed her computer and sat back, and sighed.

Standing up she headed to pack her belongings again and would head for the transport that was leaving for the starbase within the hour. “So much for studying,” she said to herself though she would find time to study later on as this exam was a good portion of her grade for the class. Once she was packed she headed out of the dorm and headed towards where the transport was located. Upon entering she gave the pilot her orders and then took her seat.

After arriving onboard the starbase she began to walk out of the shuttle bay headed for her assigned quarters which seemed to be shared with other cadets. One was sitting on her bunk when she entered to set her bag down on what seemed to be an empty bed. “Ah a newbie, welcome I am Tara Stern,” Tara replied with a smile.

“Linha Varen,” she introduced herself. “Just got assigned as a medical cadet,” she added.

“Me too,” she replied. “Who is your mentor?” Tara asked.

“A Lieutenant Hannah Murphy,” Linha replied.

“She’s nice and a good pick,” Tara replied. “Well I won’t keep you long but we should study together sometime,” she added with a smile.

“Sounds good to me, thank you,” Linha replied with a smile already making a new friend. She headed out of the room and headed towards the Main Infirmary where she would meet with the lieutenant. After a while and almost getting lost on the way she finally arrived, walking in she looked around until she saw an officer standing by a biobed with a patient.

“Could you tell me where Lieutenant Murphy is?” Linha asked as the officer looked over at the young Trill.

“She is in the next room over there,” the officer replied pointing in the direction of where Hannah was located.

“Thank you,” Linha replied before walking in that direction until she saw the woman next to a biobed.

Hannah was just finishing up treating another lieutenant who had sustained a torn ligament while playing tennis on the holodeck. With a calm and reassuring demeanour, she guided him through a series of exercises to assess his range of motion and ensure the injury was healing properly. The man expressed his gratitude for her expert care, Hannah smiled warmly and provided him with instructions for further recovery. With a gentle pat on the shoulder, she watched him leave the biobed, confident in his progress. As she turned to her console to update the patient’s medical records, her concentration was broken by the arrival of the young cadet seeking her attention.

“Lieutenant Murphy?” Linha asked as she looked at the woman.

Turning her attention to the approaching voice, Hannah greeted the cadet with an inviting smile, “You must be Linha Varen. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I must say, I was not expecting you until tomorrow.” she said, extending her hand in greeting.

She looked a bit confused as she looked at her orders again thinking she may have misread something and sure enough did. Her cheeks turned a bit red at the confusion before she shrugged, “I guess I wanted to get an early start,” she replied with a soft chuckle before taking the hand that Hannah offered and shaking it. “Rather be early than late,” she added.

“Not a problem,” Hannah replied “Since I just finished with my last patient, I can spare some time now to get acquainted, seeing as we’ll probably spend a great deal of time working together.”

Hannah, motioned down the corridor, directing Linha toward the nearby semi-private offices “Let’s find a place where we can sit and chat”

Finding an empty office three doors down the corridor, Hannah led Linha inside and gestured for her to take a seat. while she took the seat opposite the desk. “Your personnel file indicates you’re a third-year Cadet. How are you finding the Academy thus far?  Is Dr. Lurik’s introduction to molecular biology still as dull as I made it out to be?” she said with a bit of a chuckle.

“I have an exam with his class tomorrow,” she chuckled. “Though I do quite enjoy it even if he is dull,” she added looking at him. “Though I spent most of the past year up until about a month ago on the USS Saratoga on a cadet cruise if you call it that. Now, I find myself here almost doing the same thing. I think they want me well-versed I guess.” She said with a shrug as she was following instructions from her superiors. “I have been enjoying all my classes,” she said.

Hannah listened intently whilst continuing to review Linha’s personnel file. “If you want versatility, you’ll definitely find that here.” she paused for a moment when she got to Linha’s academic records “How, would you rate your proficiencies in standard medical procedures? Is there anything you feel you’re struggling with?”

“Well I done physicals so I am pretty confident in those,” she said looking at her. “Though I helped with more than that during the events in the Delta Quadrant, helping treat minor injuries.” She added with a smile.

“Alright. I’ve got a patient scheduled in a few minutes. It’s a routine physical. I will let you take the lead and I’ll observe. You can put into practice what you’ve learned.”

“Sounds good to me,” Linha replied.

Hannah listened intently whilst continuing to review Linha’s personnel file. “If you want versatility, you’ll definitely find that here.” she paused for a moment when she got to Linha’s academic records “How, would you rate your proficiencies in standard medical procedures? Is there anything you feel you’re struggling with?”

“Well I done physicals so I am pretty confident in those,” she said looking at her. “Though I helped with more than that during the events in the Delta Quadrant, helping treat minor injuries.” She added with a smile.

“Alright. I’ve got a patient scheduled in a few minutes. It’s a routine physical. I will let you take the lead and I’ll observe. You can put into practice what you’ve learned.”

“Sounds good to me,” Linha replied.

The two left the office and Hannah led the way back through the corridor they had used to get to the office. They paused briefly at the nurse’s station to collect a PADD with the file of their next patient and then veered left into the main examination ward. A young male, junior grade lieutenant, in his apparent early twenties, donned in crimson sat upon a biobed attentively waiting to be seen.

“Lieutenant Matthews. I am Doctor Murphy.” Hannah began, then gestured toward Linha, “This is Cadet Varen. She will be conducting your physical today under my supervision. Is that okay?”

With a nod of agreement from the man, Hannah stepped aside and allowed Linha to proceed with the examination with exemplary performance, living up to her self-proclaimed confidence in her ability. She was satisfied in her initial observations of the cadet and was looking forward to working with her more going forward; perhaps even having her on her team.