—- Starbase 86, Promenade —-

Compared with the old K-7 stations that he’d been used to serving aboard the USS Boston for most of his life in a previous century, the Aurora-class Starbase 86 was massive and bustling. He recognized Klingons and Romulans who walked around the halls of the station’s docking bay and public areas and it felt like fights were about to break out. That much had not changed, or it had changed and then changed back. Just like in his day peace was no longer on everyone’s mind, it was the growing expansionism of the Klingon Empire, and even though they were not at war with them even the Starfleet officers who passed the Klingons gave them looks as if a fight could break out at any minute.

Commander Olivia Carrillo nudged him, “Bigger than you’re used to?”

She had correctly guessed the reason for his hesitation so Lambert nodded. He knew it was because she’d been put in charge of chaperoning him as he settled into the twenty-fifth century, but the truth was Carrillo was pretty close to his only friend now that pretty much everyone he had known had died. They’d played quite a few hands of Piquet once he’d shown her how, and she’d taken to the ancient French card game that Lambert had grown up playing.

”This is bigger than Earth Spacedock,” Lambert said.

”Not anymore, Spacedock is giant,” Carrillo said, “but come on you wanted to look at getting some modern clothing.”

”You’re going to help me shop for clothes?” Lambert said.

”What else do I have to do?” Carrillo asked, “The ship is being resupplied and we gave the crew a few days off. Stretch our legs, get a bigger room on the station for the night.”

”The Luna’s rooms are huge compared to what I’m used to,” Lambert said.

“You should see mine and the captain’s,” Carrillo teased, then nodded at a passing Klingon that she recognized. He scowled in return, “Place feels weird, as if it might kick off at any moment. Couple of months ago we were all friends, and now…”

”See I never knew this peace with the Klingons, so war isn’t odd,” Lambert said, “Same with the Romulans, we just recently learned that they looked like Vulcans, or rather the Enterprise discovered it. But fighting with the Klingons. Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.”

The intergalactic translator in Carrillo’s badge handled that, telling her that it meant ‘the more things change the more things stay the same’. It was how she could be speaking in Spanish and him in French and they still carried on a conversation.

Carrillo lead the Lieutenant to an area where there was four stores in a row dealing in clothes, and he tried on and ordered a few outfits to the Luna. 

”Did you want to go to Quark’s?” asked Carrillo once they’d finished looking at clothes.

”What’s that?” Lambert asked.

”It’s a chain of bars, opened up on a station near the Cardassian border,” Carrillo said, “They’ve spread since then. It’s very cheesy, dabbo and drinks. Real drinks.”

”What’s dabbo?” Lambert asked.

”Kind of like that Earth game where you spin the wheel but different,” Carrillo said.

”Baccarat?” 

“Sure,” she shrugged not sure if that was the one she meant, but it was all academic. Games of financial fortune were different in a world where nobody used currency. They’d spin the wheel a few times, lose and then have some drinks.

As they drank in the packed and popular bar, Lambert asked, “Why did you join Starfleet?”

”My dad was murdered when I was young,“ Carrillo said, “And I hoped in and out of foster care until I found direction, and that was to be in space. I never wanted to be anything else, just in space. But you get good at other stuff these days in Starfleet. Everyone is readying for a fight, with the Borg or the Klingons. I just want to be out here. You?”

Lambert nodded, “By the town where I live there’s still grooves in the ground, from where they bombed in World War II, both sides. You grow up knowing how close we came to ending ourselves on Earth you think the future must be better out in space. Except it’s not, it’s the same thing just different ridges on the foreheads.”

Carrillo said, “It is better, you’ll see.”

”You’re pretty when you’re optimistic,” Lambert laughed, then he stiffened, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to…”

Carrillo smiled, “No it’s okay. But I bet you are always getting lost in time and telling the Commanders that.”

Lambert smiled, “No ma’am, just you.”

Carrillo smiled, but said nothing.

—- Starbase 86, Docking Ring —-

“So you are going?” Captain Adriana Cruz asked.

”I am, you are now on border patrol duties, I have no role to play. I need to return for reassignment to help my government deal with the Klingons,” S’anra Navana said stiffly. 

Captain Cruz nodded, she tried to do her best impression of a Vulcan as she felt sad. Losing a close associate, and someone she had been intimate with however casually was not how she had wanted to start the shore leave. A few months ago she’d had a Klingon and a Romulan on her bridge getting along and now both officers were off to fight in the war, a war that made no sense to Cruz. They had just barely survived the Borg and now they were off to try to kill each other.

”Look into where my Chief Medical Officer is okay,” Cruz said, for lack of anything else that she could say without admitting how this hurt.

”I will, if her and the Romulans you found crash landed have been recovered I’ll ensure she finds her way back to the USS Luna,” Navana said.

“Good bye S’anra,” Cruz said shaking the woman’s hand again. The Romulan nodded, looked unsure of herself for a moment, as if she might trade in her uniform for that of Starfleet and then nodded heading towards a Romulan ship that she was taking.

—- Starbase 86, Officer’s Lounge —-

Carrillo sat across from Cruz who was scowling.

“What are you so happy about?” Cruz asked.

”Lambert called me pretty,” Carrillo said.

Cruz nodded, and bit her tongue rather than snapping at her First Officer. Despite their many similarities, she had to remind herself that she was not Carrillo and the woman could not be expected to be exactly the same as Cruz herself. She’d wanted someone who looked like her, a woman of color, to make up for the many ships she’d served on where white men had been her bosses. It did not make her and Carrillo the same.

”I’ve always been more, relaxed in companionship,” Cruz said, “but maybe I’ve been doing it wrong.”

Carrillo shrugged, “Maybe there’s no right way or wrong way. Maybe the Vulcans have it right, every seven years just go crazy with lust or die.”

”We’re waiting on a Ross-class to drop off some VIP types who will be ferrying this next mission,” Cruz said, “Heading into the space between the Federation and Cardassian borders, should be fun. If you like dealing with the Maquis.”

“We’re getting a Barzan crew member,” Carrillo said, “Operations I think, a few are rotating off the ship. A few crew, not Barzans.”

Cruz nodded, “I miss exploring and First Contacts. I hope we get back to it soon.

”We will ma’am,” Carrillo said, ”We will.”