Meanwhile, the starship Arondight was about halfway through its four-day ferry mission from Starbase 339 to Deep Space 20. In addition to returning Vice Admiral Hayden from a conference, they’d picked up four new ensigns, a fresh batch of lower deckers who had been midshipmen mere weeks before. The quartet had been together since entering the Starfleet Academy Preparatory Program at Eton College as teenagers, followed by the Academy itself at Mellstoxx III to prepare them to enter the Fourth Fleet. Frontier Day had truncated their senior year significantly.

Casey Wren found himself tugging at the black collar of his uniform, his fingertips brushing against the polished silver of his rank pip. He still wasn’t used to the standard duty uniform, which felt both constricting and claustrophobic while also swamping him—like he was a child wearing an adult’s clothing.

While sitting with his friends in the recreation room, he was distracted by their card game by a group of the ship’s senior officers drinking together a few tables away—all men who looked like they were born to wear the uniform. Lieutenant Commander Paulo Costa and Tristan Hawthorne and Lieutenant Cooper Robinson were all statuesque Humans in their late 20s, each looking like they had just gotten done modeling for a recruitment poster. Lieutenant Sadir, a Betazoid, was even more impressive, cresting two meters in height. Coming out of Starfleet Academy at 21 made Wren feel like he was half-baked, faking it before he’d fully matured enough to wear the same room as real Starfleet officers.

In particular, he was awed by the way his own superior, Hawthorne, always seemed so poised and in control, even as the first officer seemed to be teasing him, flirting with him, and putting his arm around him when he thought no one was watching. Wren thought that he’d surely combust if anyone looked at him the way Paulo Costa and Tristan Hawthorne looked at each other.

“Ground control to Major Wren.”

Taren Xi’s words only partially shook Wren out of his stupor. Probably Wren’s best friend, Xi was the only command division officer among them. Quick-thinking and energetic, he was a natural leader who still needed to learn how to look before he leaped and to reign in his temper.

“Huh?” Wren asked lamely.

“It’s your turn, mate,” Xi said, nodding to the hand of cards Wren was holding.

“Oh, I fold,” Wren replied, eyes darting back to the other table when he heard the boisterous laugh of Cooper Robinson echo across the room.

“We’re playing spades, Wren. You can’t fold,” Elara Aiden reminded him.

Quiet and about as Vulcan as a Human could be, Aiden, like Wren, was in the sciences division, though her focus was in the physical sciences, while Wren had trained as a nurse and biologist. She was often the voice of reason and logic in their cohort—as well as the one reminding the other three to do their homework while cadets.

“Erm, all right,” Wren said, playing a card somewhat at random. He hadn’t been paying attention well enough to the game to know if he’d done well or not.

“Nice one,” Alex Carter complimented, which made Wren blush a little.

Carter’s gold-yoked security uniform fit him about as well as it did the senior officers Wren had been staring at. He was infuriatingly polite, kind, athletic, and generally perfect. Carter was the one that Wren felt like he knew the least in their group, and whom he felt that he had the least in common—the popular jock in their group of weirdos. Probably because of that, the universe had seen fit to pair them together as roommates for their tour on Arondight.

“It’s not polite to stare, you know,” Carter said, though the tone of his voice was kind. Wren blinked, realizing that he’d been looking directly at the way Carter’s uniform jacket seemed to accentuate his muscles in exactly the same way that Wren’s own seemed like a circus tent hanging off of his lanky form. “The commanders are very down to earth. You should go talk to them.”

“Oh. Them. Yes. No, I shan’t be doing that. I’ll be staying right here with you. You all,” Wren replied, laughing nervously as he looked around his friend group. “I wasn’t staring, though. Just observing.”

“And what did you observe, creeper?” Xi asked.

“Commander Hawthorne has really nice hair. Quite thick,” Wren fibbed. It was easier to just lean into the idea that he was ogling them, which wasn’t entirely true, but it would save him from admitting the anxiety and inadequacy flowing through him. He forced a grin as he ran his hand through his curls. “Maybe I should straighten my hair. Go blond.”

“I like your hair the way it is,” Carter offered, making Wren feel the blush and the heat spreading up his cheeks all the way to the tips of his awkwardly large, round ears.

“Oh, keep it in your pants, Romeo,” Xi scoffed.

Wren was grateful for the snark, as it saved him from having to react to the compliment; he never doubted Carter’s intention to be nice, but it was hard for him not to interpret anything positive he said as flattery at best or pity at worst.

Lately, he’d noticed that Xi was more and more often defensive when Carter or anyone else was too complimentary of him. While Wren knew that his own self-confidence challenges were manifesting as anxiety, Xi seemed to be manifesting the need to keep as much about their friend group the same as possible. He hadn’t reacted well when he’d found out that Wren would be rooming with Carter after three and a half years with Xi at the Academy. Wren found Xi’s protective nature endearing—most of the time, anyway.

“I agree with Carter, Wren. If you do dye your hair, go full Goth and die it black. I think it’d match your energy,” Aiden chimed in while tallying their score in that round. She’d always been vocal that Wren had ‘black cat energy,’ and Carter had ‘golden retriever energy,’ which she said in the same detached tone that she talked about scientific phenomena. “You’re winning, by the way.”

“Really?” Wren asked with genuine surprise.

“Wren’s a card shark,” Xi said, nudging him.

As Aiden was about to deal another hand, the four ensigns froze at the sound of the bosun’s whistle.

“Senior officers to the bridge,” the computer ordered.

Costa, Hawthorne, Robinson, and Sadir quickly exited the recreation room, switching quickly from what appeared to be a rollicking conversation between friends to professionals. Wren’s heart started to pound—he couldn’t imagine that their being summoned was for anything good.

“What’s the bet here? Borg? Romulans?” Xi asked.

Wren’s eyes got wide at the thought of either of those options as Carter chuckled in response to Xi’s suggestion. Xi looked mildly confused, arching an eyebrow at Carter’s response to what must have been a sincere suggestion.

“We’re a few hundred light-years from Romulan space, and there aren’t any Borg out here, either,” Carter explained. “We’re closer to the Tholians and the Shelliak than anyone out here.”

“Ooh. I’ve always wanted to see a Tholian web up close,” Aiden enthused. “It should be fascinating.”

By this point, Wren’s heart was practically beating so hard that it was halfway out of his throat. The idea of a combat situation terrified him. Wren focused on the deck of cards, memorizing the pattern of stars on the back as he walked himself away from his panic, just like he’d practiced over the years with counselors. Being far away from any sort of fighting is exactly why he’d trained as a nurse. While he was spiraling, Carter reached over to squeeze his shoulder.

“You alright, mate?” Carter asked with an annoying amount of sincerity in his big, dopey hazel eyes.

“Yup. Totally good. I just realized that the doctor asked me to do something, and I totally forgot,” Wren lied, scrambling up out of his chair. “I’m just going to go… do that… thing…” he stammered as he backed his way out of the room.

Wren made it to the turbolift, but Carter barged through the doors before they could close, a look of concern plastered all over his handsome face. With him in the lift, Wren felt particularly small, and he didn’t like the way Carter’s presence was making his heart beat faster. Carter closed the gap and wrapped him up in a firm hug, though not so firm that Wren felt like he was going to be crushed. Though momentarily shocked, Wren felt himself hugging him back. Their friend group was a huggy bunch, but this was a hug of affection and comfort. Wren tried not to read into it, and after a moment, he gently but insistently pushed his way out of the embrace.

“Why did you do that?” Wren asked.

“Because you needed it?” Carter said reproachfully, as though that were an obvious fact. “Any chance you’ll tell me what’s going on?” he asked as he hit the button on the turbolift’s status display that took them toward their quarters.

“It’s dumb,” Wren said, crossing his arms.

“I bet it isn’t.”

Wren rolled his eyes. “I don’t belong here. Out on the frontier. On a ship. Around all you people who actually fit into your uniforms,” he blurted. “I look like the ghost of a Victorian orphan possessing a uniform,” he said, looking down at his slender body.

Carter chuckled. “You know that the computer makes them specifically to fit each of us, right? You look great, Casey,” he said, switching to his first name. “You belong here. You have exactly as much training as me, Xi, and Aiden. Starfleet’s a meritocracy—you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t deserve it.”

Wren nodded but stepped out of the turbolift as soon as it finished the short journey up from deck seven to deck five, where their quarters were.

“The fact that I’m anxious about being in deep space is probably a good indication that I shouldn’t be in deep space,” the science officer said as the doors to their living room opened for him.

They had an interior suite with no windows, but at least they had their own bedrooms. Wren was eager to put a door between himself and Carter, at least for a little while. He wasn’t yet in a solutions-oriented mindset.

“You can work out with me if you want,” Carter suggested, stopping Wren in his tracks. “If, erm, that’s what you meant about your uniform. I think you’re crazy, but, you know, physical exercise can be good for things like anxiety.”

Wren cocked his head. “You’ve seen me run. You know how hopeless I am with any of that,” he said.

“I don’t care. I’ll train you. Or we can eat ice cream and watch old holos, Casey. Tell me some way of making you feel better,” Carter insisted. “I’m your roommate and your friend, so I’m not going to take no for an answer,” he added, which answered the question Wren most wanted to ask next: ‘Why?’

“Okay,” Wren agreed, but not to anything in particular. “When I figure out what it is you can do to help me not feel so wretchedly anxious about being here, I promise I’ll tell you. I’d really, really like to stop talking about myself right now, though. Can I just be, like, alone but near you?”

Carter smiled. “Sure. I have some reports to read. I’ll sit over there and stay totally out of your way,” he said, pointing to one end of the couch.

“G-Great. I have some reading, too,” he agreed.

For maybe ten minutes, they settled in on opposite sides of the couch, reading from their own PADDs. Wren was having trouble focusing on the words, but it was more due to his embarrassment than the residual anxiety created by their banter about the Borg. Just when he was about to take Carter up on his offer of ice cream, both of their combadges chirped.

“Costa to Ensigns Carter, Wren, Aiden, and Xi. Report to transporter room one in thirty minutes for an away mission,” came the order.

They both acknowledged the call, and Wren felt the blood drain from his face. He’d never been on an away mission before, let alone an unscheduled one. Carter, meanwhile, was beaming.

“This is going to be awesome!” Carter enthused.

Wren groaned. “You really are a golden retriever. How can you be excited when you don’t know what the mission even is yet?” he said, tone bordering on snappish.

“Well, I’ll be there with you and our friends, so I’m sure it’s going to be great,” Carter said, enthusiasm undimmed.

“You’re going to get me killed, aren’t you?” Wren quipped as he threw himself back onto the couch cushions.

Thirty minutes later, Wren was waiting in the transporter room with the rest of his cohort. He had to admit that he did like the way the leather field jacket looked on himself, but he’d had an entire half hour to imagine all the gruesome possibilities for their first mission. Would it be a firefight with the Klingons? Or a trek deep into some noxious swamp? Lieutenant Commanders Costa and Hawthorne walked into the room right on time, and Wren immediately lost his self-confidence about the uniform based on how they wore it.

“Hey, do any of you know how to jumpstart a freighter?” Costa asked. “We’re on tow-truck duty.”

While Wren didn’t really understand either of those references to jumpstarting or tow trucks, he was hopeful that the word “freighter” meant something nice and peaceful.