Admiral Katelyn Jenson stepped through the airlock onto the pristine deck of Starbase Bravo, her sharp brown eyes scanning the bustling promenade with the practised ease of someone who had once called Starfleet her life. The soft hum of activity around her—officers exchanging reports, engineers deep in repair work, and civilians navigating the vibrant commercial sector—felt both familiar and strange. After years of retirement, stepping back into the heart of Federation operations stirred an odd mix of nostalgia and apprehension.

Jenson’s reputation preceded her. Born on Archer IV and brought up on tales of exploration, her parents were Starfleet officers. She entered Starfleet Academy with dreams of charting the unknown. A scientist by training, she quickly distinguished herself as a brilliant mind in astrophysics and a steady presence under pressure. Her natural leadership led her to transition to the command track early in her career, and it wasn’t long before she took the centre seat of her first starship. Her tenure as a captain of several ships was marked by extraordinary accomplishments: first contact with species on the far edge of the Beta Quadrant, tense negotiations that averted conflicts, and daring explorations through uncharted anomalies.

Throughout the Dominion War, Jenson’s strategic understanding and talent for motivating her crew made her a powerful presence on the front lines. Her extensive background as an explorer, diplomat, and military leader transformed her into one of Starfleet’s most honoured officers.

After the war, she returned to her scientific roots, teaching at Starfleet Academy while taking on occasional diplomatic missions. Her involvement in Admiral Picard’s Romulan relocation effort was another testament to her unwavering commitment to the Federation’s principles of compassion and unity. She balanced humanitarian work with her command of task forces, starbases, and strategic assets, ultimately retiring in 2395, leaving behind a legacy few could match.

Retirement, however, had not dulled her sharp instincts or commanding presence. Though older and wiser now, she carried herself with a confident poise. Her auburn hair cropped short and accented by a notable silver streak, reflected years of experience rather than age. She had been content tending her gardens and writing on the ethics of exploration, but the call from an old friend had changed that. Fleet Admiral Luke Duncan, now the Director of Fourth Fleet Logistics, had made a personal request—one she couldn’t ignore.

As Jenson made her way through the corridors of Starbase Bravo, heading toward the offices of the Director of Fleet Operations, she reflected on her promise to Duncan. It was supposed to be a temporary assignment—a favour for an old friend—but deep down, she knew there was no such thing as “temporary” in Starfleet. Starfleet didn’t let go of its legends so quickly, and if Frontier Day’s aftermath had proven anything, it was that the Federation still needed steady hands to navigate turbulent waters.

Admiral Jenson paused a few meters outside the towering doors to the Fleet Operations office, straightening her uniform. Despite the years away, it felt natural—like coming home. Whatever lay ahead, Katelyn Jenson was ready to face it head-on, just as she always had. The door’s sensor noticed her presence as she resumed her walk and opened with a brisk swish. A young aide immediately saw her and welcomed her with the most cheerful smile. Immediately, she was escorted to another set of doors. The aide tapped the chime, and a familiar voice welcomed them in. 

Dismissing the young aide, Jenson turned to the man behind the desk. Once the door was closed behind them, a smile crept across her face. 

“Callen Varro,” Jenson croaked. “Look at you now.”

Varro’s gaze lifted, and he froze. His shoulders snapped back, his spine stiffening as though an invisible hand had yanked him to attention. For a moment, it was as if the years had fallen away—he was a cadet again, standing in her shadow, nervous and eager under her unyielding gaze.

She stood as she always had, her posture a portrait of discipline. The faint creases around her eyes hinted at the battles she’d weathered, but they did nothing to dull the sharpness of her stare. That stare cut through the room, just as piercing as he remembered.

Varro swallowed, his throat tight. The words came slowly, almost hesitant, his voice carrying a quiet weight.

“Ad… Admiral Jenson, welcome back to Starfleet, ma’am.”

Without thinking, Jenson walked around the table and immediately hugged the younger man. “My goodness, who would have thought all those years ago that one of my most interesting students would be giving me my next assignment orders?”

A faint scent drifted past Varro, brushing against his senses like a ghost from the past. The room seemed to dim at the edges, sounds fading under the weight of the memories crowding in—polished boots clicking against the academy’s floors, sunlight streaming through tall windows, and the steady rhythm of her presence beside him, always calm, always certain.

Varro hesitated a flicker of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth as he caught her eye. There was something in his gaze—an unspoken recognition, a spark of the past blending with the present.

“I don’t know if ‘interesting’ is good or bad,” he said, his voice light, the faintest edge of humor playing in his tone. “But I’ll take it.”

After letting go, Jenson stepped back, still smiling and beaming with pride for the man before her. “Captain Varro, Director of Fourth Fleet Operations. It has a nice ring to it!”

Varro straightened, the familiar smirk curling at the corner of his lips as he spoke. “I couldn’t have done it without great examples like yourself, Admiral.” His voice was smooth, but there was an edge of sincerity in the way he looked at her, something unspoken that lingered in the air.

He held her gaze for a beat longer than expected before a subtle shift passed over him—his shoulders relaxing, his eyes flicking to the side as if brushing away something. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked, “So, how was retirement treating you so far?”

Chuckling slightly, Jenson sighed first before answering him. “It was nice and peaceful until Fleet Admiral Duncan made a desperate plea.” She took one more glance at Varro. “The four pips look good on you, Callen. Now, why don’t you grab your old professor a mug of coffee so we can catch up properly before you give me my new assignment?”

Varro’s smirk widened as he motioned toward the lounge area, his hand sweeping with easy familiarity. “Still black coffee, no nonsense, but with extra ‘attention,’ right?” he asked, his tone warm, a playful edge in his voice.

The Admiral’s lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes crinkling slightly as she gave a single nod. That was all Varro needed. With a lightness in his step, he turned on his heel and headed off to make it happen.

As they moved across the room towards the more informal part, where the sofas and armchairs were, Jenson opted to sit on one of the sofas. She watched as Varro headed to the replicator and ordered their beverages. After thanking him for the mug after he had passed it to her, Jenson took in one sniff and smiled. “You know, back home on Archer Four, I visit a lovely small coffee shop daily. It’s been there for over a century, and I cannot get enough of their different blends. I may have to get them to ship their best beans to wherever you’re sending me.” She took a sip from her coffee. “Ah, coffee, it helped me beat the Dominion and keep me awake late at night while marking some interesting papers from former students of mine.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she looked over the edge of her mug before taking more of its contents.

Varro chuckled softly, the sound warm as he ran a thumb along the rim of his steaming mug. He lifted it slightly, the rich aroma of Raktajino curling in the air between them. “Back then, I didn’t get it,” he said, glancing down at the dark liquid, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. “But these days?” He raised the mug just a bit higher, a quiet nod to the drink that had become his constant companion. “I don’t go anywhere without this.”

He set the mug down carefully, his gaze lifting to meet his mentor’s. Leaning forward slightly, his smirk shifted to something more curious, his brow arching. “The reassignment order surprised me,” he said, a glint of mischief lighting his eyes. “But hearing from Fleet Admiral Duncan that you were on a transport here? That was a shock.” He tilted his head, his tone light but probing. “Leaving Archer Four behind? That doesn’t sound like you. So, tell me—what kind of strings did he pull to make that happen?”

“Fleet Admiral Duncan and I go way back. His wife and I were roommates at the Academy, and I later served with him on the Yamaguchi and the Roehampton. When he was made deputy director of Starfleet Operations in the early eighties, I worked with him on the clear-up operation after the Vau N’Akat incident. Together, we worked on rebuilding the fleet. I owe him several favours, so I couldn’t say no when he called and stated that the Fourth Fleet needed a few more experienced hands.” Jenson took another sip, “So, captain, where am I going?”

Varro straightened as he spoke, his shoulders squaring and his tone sharpening, the easy warmth in his demeanor giving way to a measured, authoritative cadence. “You’re heading to the place I’ve called home for the last two years,” he began, his words deliberate and precise. a pristine Canopus-class station in the Lioh system, known as Deep Space Seventeen,”

He paused, his gaze steady for a moment as if delivering orders on a bridge. “You’ll be assuming command of Task Force Seventeen and overseeing their deep space exploratory efforts.”

“Deep space exploration, huh?” She nodded in agreement. Jenson was quite pleased with that news. “Is there anything I need to be aware of concerning current assignments?”

Varro drew in a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as if he were bracing for the weight of what he was about to say. He held the breath for a moment, his eyes momentarily closing, before letting it escape in a long, heavy sigh. His gaze drifted to the window, his thoughts seeming to pull him outward for just a moment, as though searching for clarity in the quiet vastness beyond. Then, he turned his attention back to his mug, running a finger along the rim before speaking.

“Where to begin?” His voice was barely a whisper at first, as though unsure where to start. He met her eyes, the usual calm demeanor now edged with something deeper—something more worn. “You know what’s happened over the last year?”

He didn’t wait for a response, the words tumbling out as his grip tightened around the mug, knuckles white. “The Dominion’s sudden reemergence… then the mess with Frontier Day. The whole thing was a disaster, and we’re still cleaning up the pieces.” His eyes darkened slightly, remembering the fallout, the lives lost. “Rogue Borg, showing up where they had no business being. And don’t get me started on the Klingon and Cardassian political shifts. Everything’s changed—and not for the better.”

His gaze fell to the mug again, his fingers tracing the rim absentmindedly. The silence stretched as he stared at the swirling liquid, the deep, dark color reflecting his somber thoughts. He took a slow breath, his voice quieter now. “And then there was Underspace… it came, it went, and we’re still left wondering what the hell it all was.”

For a long moment, he was silent, lost in the weight of it all. The room seemed to close in around him, the air thick with the weight of a year that hadn’t been kind. Finally, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, “We lost a lot of good people…”

“And their sacrifices can’t be forgotten; it’s why the likes of us need to step up and do our duty,” Jenson reminded him in an almost motherly tone. “So besides avoiding the galaxy ending, I’ve got it easy?” She ended with a light hearted moment.

Varro’s tone lightened, a small smile tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair, his posture easing just a bit. “Well, aside from all that, there’s not much more to it for now,” he said, his voice taking on a relaxed edge. “The Task Force is in peak condition—I saw to that myself.” His eyes gleamed with the satisfaction of someone who had put in the work and seen the results, as though the hard days were behind him.

He shifted slightly, his gaze turning more focused. “And as for your XO, Cressida Brennan—she’s exactly who you’d want at your side. I trained her myself.” His voice softened with a quiet pride, the flicker of memory crossing his features for just a moment. “She’s got fire, but she’s still finding her rhythm. Young, yes, but she’s already proven she’s got the makings of a leader.”

“Sounds like my type of person,” Jenson smirked, appreciating the insight to what awaited her.

Varro leaned forward a little, his eyes holding hers with a knowing look. “She’s almost ready to take command… just needs a little of your touch, that seasoned edge you bring. The kind of confidence only experience can provide.”

The door chime then went off, and after Varro answered it, they were both surprised by the visitor. Stepping in with his usual charming smile with a PADD in his hands was Fleet Admiral Duncan. The tall, older man, who Jenson had served with on numerous occasions, looked the same as he did when she last saw him in person.

“Luke, this is a nice surprise!” Jenson said, sounding surprised as she put her mug down and walked across the room to greet her old friend. “I was going to drop by and see you before I left Bravo.”

Smirking as they exchanged a brief embrace and peck on the cheeks, Duncan replied casually, “I’ve just finished a meeting and thought I would swing by.” He looked at Varro. “I hope you don’t mind, captain.”

“Not at all, Admiral,” Varro said, his words calm and assured. He opened his mouth to add more, but the moment slipped away as the conversation moved forward.

“Is Nicola with you?” Jenson asked, referring to Duncan’s wife.

He shook his head. “No, she’s been re-assigned to command one of the Dreadnought-class ships launching from Avalon.”

Jenson nodded. “I heard that some older ships in storage are being brought back to help with shoring up our numbers; I never thought I’d see the return of the Dreadnought-class,” She turned to Varro. “Tell me the flagship of Task Force Seventeen isn’t one of them?”

Varro chuckled softly, catching the flicker of distaste that passed over Jenson’s face. It was a look he’d seen before, and the Dreadnought was clearly a trigger. His grin widened as he leaned in just a fraction, the confidence in his voice softening the tension. “Don’t worry, Admiral,” he said, his tone reassuring. “The Discovery’s a top-of-the-line Odyssey-class.”

“An Odyssey-class?” Jenson echoed, sounding impressed, before turning to her friend. “Us old-timers never got a chance to play with one of them; you’re not jealous, are you, Luke?”

Duncan chuckled a bit and shook his head. “Far from it, my son now commands the namesake.”

“No way is Max a captain as well?” Jenson said, sounding surprised but impressed to hear that.

“Yeah, he moved over to the command track a few years ago,” Duncan replied. “I’m also a grandfather.”

Jenson now let out a hearty laugh at her friend. She turned to Varro. “Callen, one day remind me to tell you about the time when this man gave me the biggest speech about him deciding he never dreamed of becoming a father and was all about his career in Starfleet. After discovering he was replaced by a Changeling and returned from the dead, he’s now a grandfather. This galaxy certainly likes to play games on us that serve it!”

Varro’s laugh escaped before he could stop it, but he quickly suppressed it, clearing his throat as he looked around the room. The weight of the faces around him—the faces of legends—shifted something inside him. For once, the confident edge he usually carried slipped away, replaced by a quiet self-awareness. He shifted slightly in his seat, his shoulders instinctively pulling back, feeling the stark difference of being the one without control.

“Talking of family, have you heard from Orlando?” Duncan asked, crossing his arms and referring to Jenson’s son.

She nodded and rolled her eyes at the subject of her son. “I have. It turns out the last few years of him giving me the silent treatment wasn’t because of him still being pissed with me and my ex-husband, his dearest father, but instead, he was undercover for Starfleet Intelligence bringing down some Orion cartel.”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” Duncan exclaimed, taken aback by what he just heard.

She shook her head. “And you’re not going to guess where he is now. He’s on Deep Space Nineteen and married.” After exchanging a few more laughs with her friend, Jenson then paused. She realised she was running away with her conversation with her friend and looked at Varro. “Callen, I know this has taken over our meeting. How about we two elders take you out for something to eat?” She looked at Duncan. “If that works for you, Luke?”

Duncan nodded in agreement.

“We can share some stories with the good captain over here that will keep him on his toes,” Jenson suggested. “What do you say, Callen? I’d love your thoughts on moving from intelligence work to the command track. I may need some pointers to give to my son.”

Varro’s smirk grew as he gave a subtle nod, his eyes glinting with mischief. “It all starts with ‘passion,’” he said, his voice lowering slightly, the hint of something more behind his words. He paused, letting the silence hang for a moment before leaning in just enough to make it clear. “I’d be happy to elaborate over dinner.”

“Good, I know Vandorin’s Bistro is the best restaurant on the station,” Jenson confidently answered. “Esterra and I go way back – I’m sure she can find us a table!”

“Well, no point in wasting any time,” Varro said with a grin, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “I’ve heard their Uttaberry bavarois is something else!” He nearly sprang out of his chair, excitement bubbling over as he headed for the door, already several steps ahead. The two Fleet Admirals followed in his wake, their footsteps steady but amused at his sudden energy.