Squidge headed out from the Counsellor’s office which was now setup and ready for patients. She’d angled the furniture so that people weren’t seated directly opposite, that felt confrontational, but next-to one-another would feel too intimate. And cause neck-ache. There was couch space for couples and families and the seat behind her desk was now properly adjusted for good support and comfort for many hours of reading and note-taking. She had replicated some plants for a nice cosy vibe.

Now that was seen to the next thing to arrange was command time and for that she needed to speak to the X.O. ‘Over coffee’ was the mode du jour and Squidge had no issue with that. She headed for the expansive ‘Starlight Lounge’ and, arriving on the upper level, surveyed the room, taking in the cool blue ambience and large bar. After her eyes had feasted for a moment on the best Starfleet could offer she scanned the space again for the X.O.’s youthful-beardiness and, recognising it made her way over to check in.

Jinaril sat at the table, the anticipation palpable in the way he occasionally glanced up, up over his PADD, his posture betraying his eagerness. It had been a while since he had felt this sense of anticipation, his fingers danced across the PADD’s screen. As he waited for his ‘date’ to arrive, he couldn’t help but marvel at the dossier before him. The soft chatter of the Lounge provided a soothing backdrop to his thoughts, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of gratitude for being here.

Suddenly, a figure approached, catching his attention. An officer, clad in a vibrant teal uniform, strode confidently towards him. Jinaril couldn’t help but notice how her hair color silently betrayed her name as if it was intentional.

“Commander Gray, welcome!” Jinaril exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he rose to greet her. “Please, take a seat,” he offered, gesturing to the empty chair across from him with a welcoming sweep of his hand.

“Thank you!” Squidge gave the X.O. a short courteous nod and a smile and took the offered seat. Signalling one of the staff she ordered a Cappucino.

“Commander. Nice to meet you. Call me Squidge if you want, most people do.” She said this with a confident open-handed gesture.

“Squidge, huh?” The word slipped from Jinaril’s lips, tinged with a mix of amusement and confusion. He momentarily diverted his gaze to the dossier displayed on his PADD, fingers scrolling through the digital pages, searching for any mention of ‘Squidge’. Finding none, his eyes flicked back up, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “Seems ‘Squidge’ didn’t make it into your official narrative. But, whatever hovers your runabout.” He let the silence hang for a beat, the smirk evolving back into a warm, welcoming smile. “Your dossier, on the other hand,” he continued, setting the PADD aside and cradling his Raktajino with both hands, “speaks volumes without saying much at all. But from what it does say, It’s an honor, Commander.” 

His gaze was steady, inviting, as he leaned forward slightly, the steam from his spiced coffee swirling between them, an aromatic bridge shortening the distance. “Tell me, what’s on your mind?”

“Thank you, likewise,” Squidge returned. “You’ve done some great things! What’s on my mind… my last posting,” the Counsellor replied. “I chose Hathaway, an exploration vessel to do something less routine with my last few years in the fleet.” Squidge sat back in her chair, comfortable as she was in almost any space, her animation of expression eccentric but charismatic. “I did plenty of bridge time commanding shifts on my old ship, I was hoping to do the same here.”

“I understand…” Jinaril’s gaze lingered on Squidge, his eyes tracing the lines of experience etched in Squidge’s face. “I’ve seen that you completed the bridge exam in 2395 and also covered shifts on the Io.” 

His voice softened, carrying a weight of acknowledgment. “Between us, Squidge, your record speaks volumes. I do not doubt that you belong—on every bridge, away team, or medical rotation you desire.”

As Jinaril’s words trailed off, his gaze drifted to the lounge around them. The room, appearing vibrant with the warmth of camaraderie, secretly wore a heavy shroud of sorrow.

Among the scattered groups of individuals, Jinaril noticed weary faces attempting to mask their exhaustion with forced laughter. As conversations ebbed and flowed, Amid this apparent normalcy Jinaril could sense the unspoken anguish that hung thick in the air, the lines etched upon their brows, a reminder of the events only a month ago.

A forced smile here, a stifled sigh there—each movement spoke volumes of the burden they carried.

“Take a look around…” Jinaril’s voice lowered, edged with a hint of solemnity. 

“We’ve taken heavy hits of late, losing too many of our own—both young and old.” His words carried a weight, heavy with the memories of those who had fallen. 

“The ones that remain…” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group, “they need guidance, they need hope.”

A somber silence filled the space as he continued, “They need someone like you, Squidge—a beacon of experience in the darkness, unyielding.”

And there it was. Squidge’s usual appearance was to wear a slight smile. She was fairly jovial of nature, but she couldn’t deny the hushed and subdued ambiance alluded to by the younger man sat opposite. She was slightly surprised by the sudden shift in mood. The crew had clearly been through a lot, this was going to be more substantial a posting than the tick over counselling on Io. The smile became less jovial, more wry.

“Seems like I’m in the right place then,” she replied, uncertain of what else to do with the compliments. Frankly Squidge had half expected the younger officers to think of someone her age as old hat. “It was the last time the founders tried to kill us all that prompted my move from medical to counselling. I thought we were done with shape-shifter related trauma. Wish I wasn’t wrong.”

“I can’t shake the feeling that this is far from over,” Jinaril mused, his gaze drifting to the star-speckled expanse beyond the viewport. “If not the shapeshifters, there’ll always be some new terror lurking in the shadows of space.”

“And what’s your plan then?” he asked, his voice heavy with curiosity. “How do you intend to balance your counseling duties with your shifts on the bridge?”

Jinaril leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he studied the counselor’s face, interested in her view on the matter. The Counsellor studied him back, almost just because he was studying her.

“Let’s face it, how often do people actually come see the Counsellor?” She asked, rhetorically. “Y’know, without being ordered or dragged physically… If everyone on board saw me three times a year that’s still less than five appointments per day, on average. Even if each of those is an hour with time in-between for notes and a break for lunch that’s basically eight hours per day. That leaves me a lot of hours.”

Jinaril’s eyes widened, the corners glistening with unshed tears, as an unexpected burst of laughter bubbled up from deep within him. His chest tightened with the effort of containing the amusement, his body shaking with silent mirth. After a moment, as he fought to regain control, he turned to Squidge with a lopsided grin.

The laughter finally escaped in a series of hearty chuckles, each one echoing through the room. 

Jinaril wiped a tear from his eye, his voice still tinged with amusement as he addressed Squidge, “Honestly, Squidge,” he managed between laughs, “I pride myself on my focus, but your response just blindsided me.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself before he spoke again. “Nevertheless,” he began, his tone again composed, yet gentle, “I am obligated to remind you that your responsibilities extend beyond this moment. With five hundred souls relying on your counsel, their needs must remain your top priority.”

“Of course.” Squidge smiled placidly. “I wouldn’t have it ay other way. I also wouldn’t have to be on the bridge every day, twice a week or something. You don’t have to worry, I got my responsibilities. I know. Don’t get me wrong, being light-hearted doesn’t mean I’m not focused. I’m just being who the crew needs me to be. Not that it doesn’t come naturally. Let’s face it,” Squidge chuckled. “If the Counsellor’s all down and depressed then we really are fucked.”

“Absolutely, Squidge,” Jinaril’s voice softened with an air of agreement. 

With a fluid motion, he pushed his chair back, the metal scraping softly against the floor. Rising from his seat, he straightened the creases of his uniform with a deft hand, the fabric whispering softly. “Shall we venture to the bridge together?” he proposed, a gentle nod indicating the direction. “Captain Romaes awaits our presence for the ship’s departure.”

“Then let’s!” Squidge agreed enthusiastically and rose to go just as her Cappucino arrived.

“Ah, thanks, “ she smiled to the server. ”Could I get that to go?”