Space. It always had the potential to be that mythical final frontier the mavericks of a bygone era used to bang on about. Still, these days it seemed like there was little chance of visiting that next unexplored star system or meeting the exciting new civilisations the Federation mandate talked about. In the last six months alone chaos within the Federation’s territories had proven that there were just too many bushfires to put out, too many quarrels with neighbours to deal with, and too many allies to watch very closely.

The FNS broadcasts were abuzz with news of Toral’s ascension to the Chancellorship following his pronouncement that Martok had indeed been lost. What that meant for the Federation-Klingon alliance and the cordial relations of the past few decades was anyone’s guess, but they would likely never be the same again. For the Hathaway crew, at least, that was a worry that would have to be pushed aside for now. More pressing matters in the alpha quadrant were worthy of their attention, and Romaes had spent the better half of the morning on conference calls and in meetings with the brass to realign the objectives that had been laid out for their upcoming mission.

When he eventually emerged from the observation lounge, the Captain strode with purpose and direction. Standing before his chair, he looked out of the viewer. Stars filled the viewport for as far as the eye could see. Deep Space 17 was unusually quiet for once, with the Sagan-class starship the only ship in its traffic lanes for the moment. That would make their departure far easier. Slipping into his chair, the man let out a sigh. “Sound departure stations,” he called to no one in particular.

Miller’s frame leaned comfortably against the sleek navigation panel, his fingers tracing absent-minded patterns along its smooth surface. Across from him leaning against the conn station stood Lieutenant Commander Henry, an old colleague, once a friend, their conversation weaving through the memories of shared missions and distant camaraderie. The subdued lighting of the bridge danced off the metallic sheen, casting elongated shadows across the room.

As the pneumatic hiss of the door announced the Captain’s arrival, Miller’s posture straightened imperceptibly, a subtle shift betraying the weight of authority entering the room, when the Captain’s voice cut through the hum of activity, his command ringing clear across the bridge. Miller’s lips curled into a knowing smile as relief flooded through him, the tension of anticipation easing from his muscles.

“Well, Mason,” he murmured, his tone low but brimming with shared understanding, “you heard the man. It’s almost Warptime.”

“Aye, Commander.” Mason acknowledged wryly through a smile at his old friend. It was a pleasant surprise when he had heard of his transfer to the Hathaway, and he looked forward to getting to know the man once again after so many years apart. A few seconds more of working the controls, then he continued, “DS17 acknowledged and approved departure request; docking port has been sealed and retracted. Maneuvering thrusters ready to engage on your orders, sir.”

Never one to miss a good departure Squidge sidled on to the bridge. There were seats on either side of the Captain’s chair and after a beat for consideration, the Counsellor claimed the empty one quietly, staying quiet and watching the assembled go about their routines.

“I’m not one for Picard-type speeches,” Romaes declared, eyes facing forward, “but somewhere out there is a place we’re meant to be; a civilization we’re supposed to meet; a discovery we’re destined to make. And that’s only after we’ve put out all the bushfires and solved every crisis thrown our way. So, how about it folks? We ready?” he grinned, looking freely about the bridge, then back at the stars beyond.

Ay’dar emitted a subdued growl from behind the Tactical station, barely audible. To him, this was simply routine – another day on the job. He couldn’t fathom the significance people attached to ceremonies and speeches. In his eyes, the ship was poised to soar, just as it had countless times before.

Ephriam had finally turned his chair around to embrace the sights of his fellow senior officers amongst a mix of crewmembers on the bridge. He smiled as he looked at Squidge, whom he had recently had a productive counseling session with. His eyes then turned to Ay’dar and he didn’t quite know what to feel, their interactions had been interesting thus far to put it lightly. The Captain and others were still a bit of a mystery to him but he had a visceral feeling inside that the journeys ahead of them would soon lift that veil of unknown as they would be collaborating and problem-solving together more and more. 

“Let’s tango, Captain,” Ephriam responded boldly and with enthusiasm. He thought after his response had been blurted out that perhaps Romaes’ question to them was meant to be rhetorical which led him to start tapping a bit nervously on the side of his chair.

Selara smiled and chuckled low at the science officer’s enthusiasm. It was hard not to be excited. A ship leaving dock carried its own energy. It’s something the ship has done hundreds of times and, hopefully, will do hundreds of times again. But the first time with a new captain or crew, that was an indescribable feeling. She looked across the Bridge at her crew mates, her comrade in arms, and saw a similar excitement and anticipation.

Never having served as on senior staff, Selara was assigned to the Sickbay during departures. Even now she felt her presence on the Bridge was largely unnecessary. Unlike the rest of her crewmates, not much of her job could be done here. Still, it was a privilege to watch the first flight. And it would be a shame to not fully utilize all the prerogatives her position allowed. Selara looked down at her console, filled with equally superfluous information about the crew’s health records, she directed her words to Romaes. “Medical is ready to write a fine story, sir,” she said with a knowing smile.

Enna wasn’t much for conversation, much preferring to be doing than talking, but even so, when the captain spoke, he required an answer. Rechecking her readouts, more out of habit than actually expecting them to have changed in the last four seconds since she’d looked, she inclined her head. “All good on ops, sir.”

Emerging from the turbolift on the port bulkhead, the spritely chief engineer strode towards the Captain’s chair, standing behind him and placing a hand on his headrest. “Propulsion systems are at your disposal captain. Let’s get this party started,” the Bajassian grinned playfully.

“That’s the spirit, folks!” Romaes’ lips curled at the edges. “Full impulse until we reach the edge of the system, then warp six to the Kanaan system,” he instructed the CONN, tapping his armrests and viewing the status reports from various departments across the ship.

“Aye, Captain.” Mason acknowledged, turning to his console and inputting the commands. Once the course was laid in, he engaged the Hathaway’s engines and watched the ship start to pull away from DS17 under full impulse power. A few moments later, Mason continued, “Engaging warp drive.” He pressed a few more controls and input the new course and speed, then sat back and watched the ship as it made the jump to warp speed. He cracked a small smile, excited to be a part of this new team and excited to see where this new mission would take them.