“Why so Blue?”

Ensign Ithariar Sh’eshikrar looked up from where she had been listlessly pushing her meal from one side of the plate to the other, as her mind was lost in troubled thoughts. She did not acknowledge her friend’s joke.

Standing in front of her beaming, tray in hand, was her best friend – Bysea Wanat.

The Bolian Helmsman promptly plonked herself down in the seat opposite Ithariar and set up shop – deploying her cutlery and condiment counter measures as she began to cheerfully feed her face.

“I swear to the Makers Ith’!’ Bysea pointed an accusing fork at her friend as she chewed noisily, “You really are the limit!”

The young Andorian frowned, her antenna gently signaling her abstraction as she murmured a vague “Mmmh? How so?”.

Bysea rolled her eyes and remonstrated ruefully.

“How so she says?!” She laughed. “Ithariar Sh’eshikrar! You must be the only person I know that can start the day with a brawl before breakfast, get chewed out by the CO before lunchtime and end the day a genuine – bloody HERO and still be depressed about it by breakfast the next day! Honestly girl – you GOTTA lower those expectations!!!”

Ithariar put her own fork down (the exodus of her eggs coming to an ignominious end) and looked at her friend and replied with annoyance.

“Bysea – I am NOT a hero.”

Her Bolian companion snorted derisively as she took a sip of her Jaleha – Tea.

“The HELL you’re not Ith’! The whole ship’s abuzz with tales of your daring exploits! Scuttlebutt is that you not only saved the crew, but your selfless heroism probably saved half the ships at drydock! You’re a bloody celebrity my friend!” Bysea expounded dramatically, obviously warming to the subject.

“I’m not a hero.” Ithariar remarked uncomfortably. “I was just the right person present at the wrong time.”

But Bysea was having none of it.

“Be modest if you like, although I must say that’s it’s not in keeping with your usual avalanche of arrogance!” She laughed as her friend shot her a withering stare. “I was talking to Ensign Vikander, and she let slip that the Skipper has put in a recommendation to Task Force Command that you receive a Commendation for your bravery!”

Ithariar put her head in her hands and groaned “Tell me that your joking!” She pleaded.

“Nope! ‘Fraid not!’ Bysea grinned, “I ALSO heard that Crewman Vurnak is purportedly composing an honest – to – the – Maker ODE to your heroics that they intend to perform in Seven Forward to the entire crew in spoken word – once we get underway!”

Ithariar pushed her plate away in disgust and crossed her arms. Her prehensile antennae were positively telegraphing her annoyance and her friend was suddenly concerned and asked.

“Ith’, what’s wrong?” Bysea asked.

Ensign Ithariar Sh’eshikrar shook her head in irritation.

“Everyone’s acting like idiots about this whole thing, and I can’t help but keep thinking back to last night.”

Bysea put her blue hand on Ithariar’s arm. She did not shake it off (Ith’ was NOT a Touchy-Feeley person), which only worried Bysea more.

“You’ve just been through a really traumatic experience Ithariar.” Her friend tried to comfort her. “Enough to unnerve even you. Maybe you should book in to see Counsellor el-Hannan? Sabreen’s really good, she’s been helping me with my social – anxiety.”

Ithariar fixed her friend with a poignant, disbelieving look.

“What?!” Bysea laughed nervously. “It just plays out in different ways is all! Anyway, maybe you should talk to…..someone?”

The young Andorian shook her head dismissively.

“I don’t do well with therapy.” She snapped, waving the suggestion away. “No – what is vexing me is the whole situation should never have happened!”

It was Bysea’s turn to frown now, the motion crinkling the darker blue mottling around her brows and causing the vestigial crease that bisected her face to wrinkle prettily around her nose.

“Well, it WAS a Fubar of epic proportions, to be sure!” Her friend puffed her cheeks out and continued “The Captain has ordered Lieutenant Hayes to liaise with Spacedock Ordinance to investigate the cause of the error. She’s plenty mad about the whole affair, by all accounts.”

Ithariar looked at her friend and fixed her with a plaintiff look that stopped her friend dead in her tracks.

“But that’s just it Bysea.” Ensign Ithariar Sh’eshikrar asked her friend in all seriousness now. “What if it wasn’t an accident?” She challenged.

Bysea cocked her head, not comprehending her friend’s thought process.

“Not an accident?” She laughed nervously. “But if it wasn’t an accident then….”

Ithariar finished her sentence for her.

“It would mean that it was an intentional act of sabotage. It would mean that someone was trying to ensure that the USS Savannah and the other ships never left Drydock.”

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Location: USS Savannah / Abortorium / Deck 9

Date: 2401.7.4 / 10:32hrs (Station Time)

“And I’m sure he thought that I was putting – out.” Sam confessed awkwardly. “It’s all horribly embarrassing!” She rolled her eyes.

The CO of the USS Savannah was sat cross – legged on a small picnic rug, whilst the slim Jordanian woman opposite poured her a cup of Chamomile – tea from a small vacuum flask and adjusted her Hijab – after handing Sam the cup.

The pair were seated on a small grassy hillock that was surrounded by Japanese Maples. The intimate, wooded area was carpeted with a brilliant cornucopia of fallen leaves of hues from pale marmalade to deep plum tones, as the onboard Arboretum was currently experiencing the transitional season of autumnal fall.

Ships Counsellor Sabeen el-Hannan had chosen the meeting place for its juxtaposition and connotations of change. That and the fact that her small office was practically next door, and she preferred the view that the holoprojectors suggested, a tranquil valley – vista (this one currently a representation of Japan’s’ Honshu Island) that perfectly complimented the real – life flora in the space.

“Healthy natural attraction to another is not an abhorrent social – trait Samantha.” The young woman somehow exuded a wisdom beyond her years and was utterly compelling when she spoke.

Sam shook her head and laughed lightly.

“It is when the object of one’s desires is your subordinate……it’s unseemly.” Sam reasoned.

Sabeen took a sip from her own cup, her warm brown eyes briefly flashing with a smile.

“Well from what you have related from the events of the dinner, it doesn’t seem like Chief Engineer Herrera took note of any amorous oversight of etiquette on your part.”

“Or he’s just too polite to mention anything.” Sam winced at the memory.

“Or he’s just too polite to mention anything.” The Counsellor agreed neutrally, without judgement. She decided to change the subject.

“Let’s talk about why we are really here today, Captain.” Sabeen put down her cup and adopted a neutral position, ready to listen – prepared to offer support and encouragement. “Dr Reynard tells me that you have requested a mild sleeping – sedative from the dispensary and I notice that you have been running extra laps on Deck 7 this morning.

“You noticed that?” Sam was mildly surprised at that.

Sabeen smiled disarmingly.  “I am the Ships Councilor assigned to a vessel with an inexperienced and new crew that are unfamiliar with each other & finding their feet – then add a Commanding Officer that has recently undergone a deeply traumatic event and personal loss – of course I notice, it’s my job Sam.”

Samantha Hyland nodded, she supposed it was at that and she welcomed Sabeen el-Hannan’s refreshing candor. She was fast discovering that Command was, indeed, a lonely job and it was nice to have someone completely neutral and non-judgmental to unburden herself to.

“Especially a ship that was apparently – nearly reduced to component atoms within the last 24 hours?” The Counsellor added enquiringly.

Sam considered this briefly but shook her head dismissively.

“Not it’s not that.” She decided.

“Then, have you been having the dreams again?’” Doctor el-Hannan asked casually, knowing that she was approaching a subject of complex connotation.

Sam winced at that and nodded – as if the question was difficult to answer. It was.

“Your father again.” Sabeen prompted. She had read Sam’s case – file and one of her primary missions on board was to monitor the mental health of the ship’s commanding officer – with priority over all other concerns aboard – and report on her competency to maintain command, if it came to that.

Samantha Hyland looked out to the forest as she spoke.

“I’m not sure it’s even real.” Sam wondered. “It could be dream, I suppose I could even be going mad – but I don’t think I am?” She looked back to Sabeen – who nodded for her to continue. “The…. incident…on Primar Majoris #7 has had me questioning a lot of things lately.” She admitted. “I know that whatever it is – is not my father. It’s not the Jonas Hyland that raised me – whatever it is obviously has access to his memories, who he used to be – but it doesn’t feel…. well…natural, I guess. It’s like seeing a patchwork of my father instead of the real man. Does that make any sense?”

“Sam, it’s not my place to judge or ascribe meaning to your situation.” The Counsellor replied diplomatically. “My role is to listen and keep my mind open to the possibilities and help you ascribe meaning to the experience.” She smiled.

Sam looked dubiously at the young Middle – Eastern woman and allowed. “Alright, I guess…”

Sabeen pursued her lips and shifted slightly on the picnic rug, as her leg was getting tired from inaction.

“Let me put it this way Sam.” She nodded, her smooth features in contemplation. “We do know that there is no way that your father could have survived the catastrophic events that took place in the Reliquary of Ost, correct?”

Sam shuddered at the memory. Lt Sorvak and herself on the “back” of the God. Her father’s remains subsumed by the crystalline structure of the Entity, forever as one for all eternity.

“Yes.” She managed.

Sabeen nodded compassionately and continued.

“And it is proven scientific fact that practically all sentient life in the Primarion system was affected, to one degree or another, the Psionic effect associated with the Crystalline Entity – no more so than yourself, one of the only two persons to survive actual physical proximity to it?”

Unbidden, Sam could not help relieving the terrifying ascent into near – orbit on the back of the alien. The feeling of suffocation, hypothermia and imminent death.

“If not for the intervention of my Vulcan comrade – I would have suffered the same fate.” Sam’s throat felt tight.

“So, whilst it is possible that these dreams are just an unconsciousness manifestation of exposure to a surfeit of intense mental stress stemming from the trauma of physical endangerment and compounded by the grief associated with the loss of a parent.” Sabeen reasoned levelly. “Is it not as equally plausible to posit a causal link to the psionic bond you shared with the Entity and what it memories it has gained of your father and from that posit that the experience you describe is not (in some way) a manifestation of trauma – but is indeed what it appears to be?”

“That a ghost of my dead father is visiting me in my bedroom at night?’ Sam peered at the young Counsellor disbelievingly.

Sabeen el – Hannan held up her hands and laughed lightly “It’s just one possibility Sam. We live in a causal universe, after all. What seems like mysticism in one epoch – often is borne out by hard science to be factual in another. I just ask that you keep an open mind to all possibilities and promise to continue to be willing to discuss this further if and when you feel the need?”

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland considered this proposition for some time, as the life – support systems environmental simulators created a convincing warm autumn’s afternoon breeze that rustled her long hair and brought a suggestion of rain on the wind.

“I can do that.” Sam agreed.

 __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Location: USS Savannah / Bridge / Deck 1

Date: 2401.7.4 / 16:59hrs (Station Time)

It was time. The Chair awaited.

Lieutenant Commander Samantha Hyland completed her tasks at the desk – terminal in her ready room (paramount was the investigation of the near – disastrous ordinance incident, that the TFXO Captain Williams, had assured her was underway and would be prosecuted without prejudice – promising to report progress once the USS Savannah was underway) and stood up – taking a deep breath.

Sam exited the small office and entered the bridge proper.

Immediately before her the efficient OPS officer, Ensign Neva Vikander was busy at the Ops station. Seated next to her was the Bolian, Ensign Bysea Wanat, similarly engrossed in the preparations that would see her take the USS Savannah out for Drydock and onward to the stars – for the first time in many years – after the slumber of inactivity in the Mothball – fleet.

Sam approached The Chair.

To take The Chair for the first time was a defining moment in the career of any Starfleet officer. It was the pinnacle (for some only the first peak) of the climb towards their own command. A momentous occasion for any officer – even more so for Sam, considering her relatively young age and lack of command experience. That she was doing so was both an endorsement of the relative faith 4th Fleet Command had in her ability and a somber reminder of the desperate times that necessitated such appointments – due to the degradation of the fleet’s capability and strength.

Command was a daunting prospect to any first-time officer and Sam was not only keenly aware of her own inexperience, but of that of her young crew. That her first 24 hours in command of the newly-reactivated New Orleans – class frigate was encompassed a discipline – issue with two of her serving bridge – officers and culminated in the near-destruction of her new command before it had even departed Starbase 72 – was not lost on her.

Samantha nodded to Ensign Ithariar Sh’eshikrar, as the Andorian Tactical Officer stood – bookended by the bulk of Chief of Security Myron Hayes to her own left and by the Veteran Chief of the Boat, Talbot Manningly, to her right as the Trio manned the Tactical Arch immediately behind the Command dais.

Without the quick thinking of Ensign Sh’eshikrar, they would all mostly likely have perished. The ship and Samantha herself owed this young woman a debt of gratitude (and Sam had indeed lodged a recommendation with command for a commendation), but something told Sam that the road towards genuine mutual respect between CO and TAC officer would be a long and difficult path to tread.

Her Executive Officer, the Vulcan Lieutenant T’Vran, rose from The Chair and took her own seat at the Captain’s right hand (both metaphorical and literal), intoning.

“Captain Hyland, the Bridge is yours.”

Sam nodded and (taking a deep breath) and taking the armrests in hand, slowly lowered herself into the seat.

A singular moment.

Noting the smiles on the faces of some of the attendant bridge crew, Samantha resolved that a Captain meets the challenge head – on and resolved to commence the task of “Putting – Out” to space, as the Captain of a Starfleet vessel, for the very first time.

“OPS.” She commanded and was gratified to receive Ensign Vikander’s crisp “Aye Ma’am?”

“Ensign Vikander sound General Quarters throughout the ship. All crew to duty stations and all hands to prepare to take the ship out of Dry-dock.” Sam ordered (wondering at how calm she sounded).

“General Quarters – Aye Captain.” Neva responded and began to bring the crew to action via her Ops station.

Lieutenant Commander Hyland nodded and used a control on the armrest of the Captain’s Chair to open a channel to Engineering.

“Bridge – Engineering. This is the Captain.” She spoke as the small screen in her other armrest confirmed the orders that OPS was relaying and saw various duty stations throughout the ship responding to confirm their readiness to depart.

“Engineering – Bridge. Go ahead Captain. “Came the smokey-smooth voice of the Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Carlito Herrera. Sam had to suppress a hot – flush and continued.

“Chief, confirm systems status and readiness to depart under internal power.” Sam ran through the standard checklist required to ready a starship to get underway. She had experienced this list a hundred times – but somehow it was different when you were the one calling the shots.

“All systems nominal Captain.” Herrera responded efficiently “Warp Core operating within normal output parameters. EPS grid is green on all decks. Main Navigational deflector ready to bring online. Level 5 diagnostics running background systems verification on rotation – no negative returns. She’s as ready as she’ll ever be Ma’am.”

“Good enough – outstanding work Chief. My congratulations to your people. Take us to internals and prepare to transfer power to the Main Impulse – Engines. Bridge – out.” Sam smiled warmly. Along with the Starbase Spacedock Engineering teams (that had now departed), Chief Herrera’s team had worked miracles to bring the aging, yet vital, old Frigate back to operating efficiency.

“CONN” Sam now turned her attention to Ensign Bysea Wanat, as the young Bolian Pilot turned her chair to face the CO.

“Aye Captain?” Bysea Wanat seemed to be even more eager to slip the surly bonds of Drydock and take the ship out into the beyond, than Sam herself was.

“Ensign – notify Spacedock control that we are switching to internal power. Requesting permission to depart. Request de-coupling of umbilical’s and confirm release from main Drydock docking clamps. Prepare to depart Drydock to outer marker – one quarter impulse on my mark.” Sam relayed the departure instructions – even as Ensign Wanat was programming the requests.

“Aye – Captain.” Bysea beamed and added, “With pleasure!”

Sam could not help but smile at that.

At this point, T’Vran leaned closer and murmured to Sam, “Captain – at this juncture – some words to the crew are traditional?”.

Samantha nodded. “Thank you, Number One.” She smiled. She had been mulling these words over for days but was glad for T’Vran’s prompt. “OPS – please open a channel to all decks / all sections.”

“Channel Open Ma’am.” Ensign Vikander confirmed, and Sam spoke.

“Now here this. This is the Captain speaking.” She spoke with confidence, knowing that this first address was penultimate in setting the tone for her command with the crew.

“The events of the last few days have been challenging, to say the least.” The CO acknowledged.

“By the hard work achieved by coming together as a crew, you have all ensured that this ship has been restored to operational capacity and is ready, once again, to put out to space to commence the mission that we have all sworn our lives to uphold.” Sam spoke from the heart and with genuine emotion.

“As a crew we have shown utter dedication to that mission. By the actions of some – that dedication has been tested to the utmost before we have even left spacedock.” As she said this, several on the bridge turned to look at Ensign Sh’eshikrar (who – to her credit – made a show of being too busy with her duties to acknowledge this appraisal).

“As a crew we are untested. It will be in the crucible of space that we forge ourselves. Our mission is to proceed to the volume known as the Former Demilitarized Zone, along the Cardassian Border and engaged in patrol duties and signals monitoring. Current intelligence for that sector indicates increased activity from both True Way and New Marquis factions and we may very well be sailing into harm’s way.” She admitted.

“I am sure that every person aboard will continue to demonstrate the same level of professionalism and dedication to duty that has brought us this far. If the events of the last 24 hours have taught us anything it is that the motto of this ship “Mens Agitat Molem” is not just a collection of empty words. We do and will continue to persevere against all odds and prove that our Mind’s will always persevere over Matter, as long as we are all resolved to work as as one – to do our duty. That is all, carry on.”

Sam sat back in The Chair, a feeling somewhere between resolve and trepidation upon her.

“Succinctly put Captain.” Lieutenant T’Vran nodded supportively.

“Thank you Number one.” Sam smiled, enjoying the moment. “Shall we go see what’s out there?”

“Indeed Captain.” T’Vran agreed.

“CONN – take us out. One Quarter Impulse, engage.”