“So, Ensign, is there nothing that can be done?” Krabreii asked. “These structural flaws you discovered, are they fixable?”

The atmosphere in the captain’s ready room was thick with tension, with each member of the away team feeling the weight of the situation. They sat or stood in a semi-circle around the desk, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Captain Krabreii, composed and thoughtful, leaned back in her chair, her bright blue eyes focused on Ensign Bollwyn, who had just explained the troubling findings about the Selvarian vessel, the Horizon. Krabreii had met her officers in the transporter room after their return from their study of the Selvarians. Noticing none of them were pleased by what they had found out, she had gathered them to talk it through. They were all still wearing their disguises as they spoke.

Bollwyn, seated on the edge of her chair, folded her hands in her lap. She glanced briefly at her tricorder, which rested on the desk, before meeting the captain’s gaze.

“Yes, Captain, theoretically they are,” she said. “But not with the resources or technical expertise the Selvarians currently have. Their materials science is decades behind what would be needed to reinforce the Horizon’s frame for safe atmospheric re-entry.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. The news was the same as they had discussed on the planet below. Nothing had changed. 

Standing with his arms crossed near the window, Lieutenant Anderson shook his head in frustration. “So we’re supposed just to sit here and watch this disaster unfold?” he asked, his voice tinged with palpable anger at the potential disaster in the making they had discovered.

“Lieutenant,” Commander Saval interjected, his Vulcan manner calm yet firm, “the Prime Directive prohibits us from interfering in the natural development of a pre-warp civilisation. You are aware of this.”

Anderson turned to him, his blue eyes blazing. “I know, Commander. I’m not suggesting we march down there and hand them a structural reinforcement blueprint. But there has to be a way to warn them without revealing ourselves.”

Bollwyn hesitated, looking from Anderson to Krabreii. “With respect, Brad,” she said, “even if we could send a covert warning, the Selvarians don’t have the knowledge or infrastructure to address the issue. They’re flying blind, and we’d be handing them a solution they wouldn’t even know how to implement.”

Kulucis finally spoke up, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I don’t like it, but the lieutenant is right about one thing. We can’t just sit back and do nothing. If the Selvarians fail, it could set their space program back decades—or worse, trigger political instability on the planet.”

Saval turned his sharp gaze on him. “Commander Kulucis, you are suggesting action that risks precisely the kind of contamination the Prime Directive is designed to prevent.”

Kulucis pushed off the wall, gesturing emphatically. “I’m suggesting we study the other nations—Arvans and Iskari. Maybe one of them has the resources or expertise to help. If they assist the Selvarians, it’s not us interfering. It’s their world, their choice. Hell, it may even provide further political stability if these nations worked together.”

“Studying the other nations means more contact,” Saval countered, his voice still calculated. “The more exposure we have to the Virellans, the greater the risk of cultural contamination. That is unacceptable. We should refrain our study of this world from the confines of the Orion.”

Krabreii, who had been silently watching the exchange, finally raised her hand to quiet them. “Thank you, everyone,” she said, her tone brooking no argument but strong enough to enforce her authority. “I see merit in both perspectives, but the Prime Directive is clear. I have no objection to gathering data on the Arvans and Iskari, but we are not crossing the line into interference.”

She leaned forward, resting her hands flat on her desk as her gaze swept over her officers. “No warnings. No covert actions. We will observe and report only. Is that understood? 

The team responded in unison, acknowledging her orders, though Anderson’s voice was noticeably reluctant.

“Let’s see what else we can learn about the others, and if I think another away mission is merited, then we will go down in smaller teams, but until then, we will follow Commander Saval’s recommendations.” Pausing, the captain glanced at them all before dismissing them all. 

As she watched them all leave one at a time, she noticed Saval hanging back. Once the door slid closed behind Anderson, the last one to depart, she looked up at Saval.

“Keep an eye on them, commander; I don’t want anyone making a fool’s decision.”

Saval nodded in agreement. “I will, but I do not believe they would take such drastic action.”

“I hope so,” Krabreii confirmed with a nod. “I get their frustration. I do.”

“As do I.” 

Startled to hear, Krabreii looked at her first officer. “I’m surprised, Saval.”

“I am a trained doctor, captain. I do believe in not wanting to inflict harm on to others,” Saval responded, remaining calm.

Krabreii nodded in acknowledgement. “Go rest, Commander. We can plan our next steps in the morning.”

Agreeing to the suggestion, Saval bowed his head in respect to his captain before exiting her ready room calmly and swiftly. 

After spending some time getting out of his disguise and completing his report on the away mission, Kulucis had decided to head down to The Belt on deck nine. It was getting late in the day, and he just fancied a quick drink before calling it a night. As he entered the crew lounge, he found Anderson sitting alone at the bar, nursing a glass of Aldebaran whiskey. Surprised to see the lieutenant without anyone else with him, Kulucis was intrigued. He could hear Jenson’s voice in the back of his head, telling him to go over and check in on the chief security and tactical officer.

The lounge was dimly lit, and the usual hum of conversation was absent. Most of the crew were either on duty or unwinding elsewhere, leaving Anderson to brood in relative solitude.

Kulucis slid onto the stool beside him, still wearing his standard uniform. “Mind if I join you?” he asked casually.

Anderson glanced at him, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. “Suit yourself, sir.”

Kulucis ordered a glass of sparkling water, then turned his attention back to Anderson. “You look like you’ve been through a Klingon tribunal.”

Anderson chuckled bitterly, swirling the green liquid in his glass. 

After his drink arrived, Kulucis took a sip from it. He looked back at the young officer. “For what it’s worth, I thought you were right.” He shared.

Anderson smirked in appreciation for the sentiment. “I just can’t believe we’re stuck up here, watching history about to make a left turn straight into disaster. Those people on the Horizon are as good as dead, and when that ship breaks up, it’ll send shockwaves through the entire planet. You know it, I know it.”

Kulucis nodded slowly. “I get it, lieutenant. Believe me, I do. But the Prime Directive exists for a reason. It’s not about playing God or deciding who lives or dies. It’s about respecting their right to grow and learn on their own terms, even when it sucks.”

Anderson snorted softly. “Easy to say when you’re not staring down the barrel of a planetary tragedy.”

Kulucis leaned back, studying the younger officer. “How come you’re not playing Peter Pan with Jines? I’m surprised you’re not in there now, sword-fighting pirates.”

That drew a small laugh from Anderson, and he shook his head. “Not in the mood. It doesn’t feel like the right outlet with what we know. I’m just frustrated and told Andron I wouldn’t be good company right now. I just needed to clear my head, but I’m not sure how to clear it right now.”

Kulucis smirked. “Well, I’ve got an alternative.”

Half an hour later, Anderson stood in the ship’s gym, wearing a simple tank top and shorts, looking sceptically at the punching bag swaying slightly in front of him. Kulucis, already in his workout gear, stood beside him, arms crossed.

“This feels stupid,” Anderson muttered, adjusting his gloves. “If I’m going to hit something, I prefer doing it on the holodeck.”

“You want to burn off frustration or mope into another glass of whiskey?” Kulucis asked pointedly. “Your choice.”

Anderson sighed, then threw his first punch. The bag barely moved. Kulucis rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Anderson. You’re not arm-wrestling a Vulcan. Put some weight into it.”

Anderson growled under his breath and threw a harder punch, followed by another. As he fell into a rhythm, his frustration began to flow into the strikes. 

Kulucis nodded approvingly. “See? Not so stupid now, is it?”

Anderson didn’t answer, focusing instead on the rapid flurry of blows he was delivering. When he finally stepped back, his breathing was heavy, and a light sheen of sweat coated his skin. He turned to Kulucis, his expression less tense.

“Okay,” he admitted grudgingly. “Maybe that helped. Probably more than I expected.”

Kulucis grinned. He was impressed at how good  “Told you. Let’s see if you can last five rounds against me.”

Anderson groaned but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips as he followed Kulucis into the boxing ring.

Kulucis and Anderson stumbled into sickbay, leaning on each other for support. Their laughter cut through the near silence in the medical facility. Both men were drenched in sweat and wearing gym gear that clung to their battered bodies. Kulucis’s face was adorned with a black eye that was already starting to swell, and Anderson sported a split lip and a nasty scrape along his arm.

Doctor Tomraff was seated at his desk, reviewing a medical journal and enjoying the time to himself without anyone else around. Barely older than Anderson, Tomraff was known for his professionalism and no-nonsense approach, though his youth sometimes lent him a dry sense of humour. When the two officers stumbled in, his blue eyes lifted, narrowing in bemusement.

With a sigh, he grabbed a tricorder from his desk and walked toward them. “Lieutenant Commander Kulucis. Lieutenant Anderson,” he said in a tone that was half-greeting, half-suspicious inquiry. “I see you’ve decided to bring your workout directly to my sickbay. What happened?”

Still chuckling, Kulucis adjusted his stance, Anderson still leaning on him for balance. “Training session in the gym. Nothing serious.”

Tomraff arched a brow as he looked them over. “Training? You look like you’ve been sparring with Nausicaans.” He gestured to the biobeds. “Sit. Before you collapse or bleed all over my floor.”

The two men plopped down onto the biobeds, still grinning at each other like mischievous schoolboys. Tomraff activated his tricorder, scanning Kulucis first.

“You know,” Tomraff began as he scanned the swelling around Kulucis’s eye, “most people use the gym to stay in shape, not to beat each other senseless.”

Anderson smirked, dabbing at his lip with a towel. “Sometimes you’ve got to get a little rough to work things out. It’s all part of the process.”

Tomraff sighed, reaching for a dermal regenerator. “If this is your idea of therapy, remind me never to join you. Now, hold still.” He started working on Kulucis’s black eye, the soft blue light of the regenerator bathing the commander’s face.

Kulucis chuckled. “You should try it sometime. Nothing clears the head like a good sparring match.”

Tomraff snorted. “I think I’d prefer Vulcan meditation with Commander Saval than trying to get in between you two. Thanks, but no thanks. Less bruising.” He finished with Kulucis and moved to Anderson, who was still grinning despite the cut on his lip. As Tomraff began treating Anderson’s injuries, he shook his head. “So, tell me—did beating each other into pulp help you resolve whatever existential crisis you were having?”

Anderson glanced at Kulucis, his grin widening into something more genuine. “Yeah, actually. It did.”

Kulucis nodded, his tone more sincere. “Sometimes you need to let it all out. Even if it means taking a few hits in the process.”

Tomraff rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but notice a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You two are incorrigible. Just don’t make this a habit, or I’ll start prescribing mandatory sessions with Counsellor Coralia.”

Both men laughed as Tomraff finished treating Anderson’s injuries and stepped back, crossing his arms.

“There,” Tomraff looked at Anderson. “I heard what happened during the away mission. It must have been hard having to walk away knowing you could do something to save them.”

Kulucis hopped off the biobed and stretched a bit, not wanting to go down that road again. “Thanks, Doc. We’ll be okay, won’t we, Brad?”

“Yeah, we will,” Anderson added, wiping his face with the towel.

“Very well, go rest and get a good night’s sleep,” Tomraf said as he watched them walk toward the exit. Their camaraderie was evident in their playfully shoving each other despite their recent bruises. Shaking his head, Tomraff muttered under his breath, “I swear I work with children half the time.”