Captain Niro sat in his private quarters aboard the Astra, the soft glow of his desk console illuminating his smooth, bald head. The soft lighting highlighted his Deltan features—a defined jawline and friendly eyes that hinted at a wealth of experience. His perfectly pressed uniform bore the significance of his new responsibility.

As a seasoned pilot, Niro had spent countless hours at the helm, navigating the vastness of space with precision and skill. His career had been long and varied, from serving under Commodore McCallister to eventually becoming a professor and instructor at the Starfleet Academy Mellstoxx Campus for over a decade. Now, he found himself back on a starship, responsible for moulding the next generation of Starfleet officers. It was a different challenge, but one he embraced wholeheartedly. He couldn’t say no to McCallister; they had risen through the ranks together, and the opportunity to explore the depths of the Delta Quadrant intrigued him more than ever. 

He swiped through the final cadet records on his screen, memorising their names and backgrounds. Each had promise, but they were still untested. The Astra would be their crucible, and he would be their guide. Their progress would determine not only their futures but also the success of this experimental training vessel.

A shimmer of blue light filled the room as Penelope materialised beside his desk. Her presence was almost ghostly yet commanding. Originally the Emergency Command Hologram from the Odyssey, the hologram now served as the Astra’s primary training program. Her eyes sparkled with intelligence as she addressed him.

“All cadets and officers are en route to the mess hall, Captain,” she informed him. “Counselor Parker has already begun preparing the table, per your request.”

Niro inclined his head. “Thank you, Penelope.” He leaned back slightly, folding his hands together. “How are you finding being constantly active?”

A hint of amusement played across her expression. “I must admit, I rather enjoy it. Having a continuous presence rather than being activated only in emergencies is refreshing. I appreciate the opportunity to serve in this capacity.”

He smirked slightly. “I had little choice. After the ship sustained damage travelling through the underspace corridor, our own E-C-H and training program was beyond repair. Commodore McCallister owed me a favour, so sharing you with me seemed fair.”

Penelope’s head tilted slightly. “I hadn’t realised how well you knew Commodore McCallister.”

Niro chuckled, a rare warmth in his voice. “We go way back—to the days when we were fresh-faced ensigns aboard the Audacious. We rose through the ranks together under Captain Adelaide Fontana. Later, when he became captain of the Trinity, I was his second officer. Eventually, I took my path, serving as first officer on the Archer before taking my command on the Lancelot. We’ve always stayed in touch, even as our careers took us in different directions.”

Penelope almost remarked on his more well-known connection—the fact that he was the older brother of the Odyssey’s chief engineer, Commander Tierra. Instead, she opted for a more personal question. “Was it nice to see your sister again?”

A softness crossed Niro’s features. “It was. I’m glad Tierra and Abbej found their way back to each other. They never should have separated in the first place.” He paused momentarily as if lost in thought before slightly shaking his head and refocusing. A comfortable silence settled between them before Niro moved on. “When will the next analysis of the long-range scan of our destination be ready?”

Penelope’s response was immediate. “It will be available for your review after dinner.”

Niro gave a satisfied nod. “Good.” He stood, straightening his uniform, and exited his quarters, heading toward the mess hall.

Penelope reappeared beside him as he strode down the corridor, matching his pace effortlessly. “I’ve been wondering, Captain—why organise this dinner?”

Niro’s lips twitched in amusement at the question. “It’s something I learned from Captain Fontana. Before starting a new mission, she always gathered the senior staff for an evening meal. It built camaraderie and strengthened trust. I carried that tradition aboard the Lancelot and intend to keep it aboard the Astra.”

Penelope clasped her hands behind her back as she considered this. “Are you concerned that such an informal gathering might blur the line between being their captain and their teacher?”

Niro didn’t hesitate. “Not at all. Other captains have done the same—Archer, Pike, Sisko, and even Picard on occasion. Besides, I need to know these cadets, and they need to know me. Out in the field, trust is everything. A simple dinner won’t break any Starfleet regulations.”

Penelope studied him thoughtfully. “It sounds like you see this more as a mentorship than simple instruction.”

He nodded. “Exactly. Teaching at the Academy was rewarding, but this—this is different. These cadets will face real challenges, real dangers. I need to know who they are, what drives them, and how they react under pressure. The better I understand them now, the better I can guide them when the stakes are high.”

As they neared the mess hall, the soft hum of conversation from within signalled the gathering of the crew. Niro took a moment before stepping inside, his gaze meeting Penelope’s. “Let’s see how well they work together outside of a classroom.”

The mess hall aboard the Astra hummed with conversation as the cadets and officers concluded their meal. Plates and utensils were pushed aside as a spirited debate unfolded, centred around one of the most contentious decisions in Starfleet history: Admiral Janeway’s destruction of the Caretaker’s array.

Sat at the head of the table with his glass of iced tea in one hand, Captain Niro observed the cadets with a measured expression. As a seasoned instructor and experienced Starfleet officer, he understood the value of letting them engage in these discussions naturally. Their unique experiences and training shaped their perspectives, and he found it fascinating to witness their critical thinking skills in action. Beside him, Penelope stood in her projected form; her head tilted slightly as she absorbed the discussion, occasionally making slight, nearly imperceptible adjustments to her holographic projection, mimicking an intrigued listener.

Florrick leaned forward, his voice steady with conviction. Being the most senior cadet in training, he held himself well among his peers. “Admiral Janeway made the right call. If she hadn’t destroyed the array, the Kazon would have seized it, and the Ocampans would have been completely at their mercy. The Prime Directive forbids interference, but she acted to prevent an even greater disaster.”

Beatrice Grant shook her head, clearly unconvinced. As someone who was always up for a vigorous debate when they were assigned to the Odyssey, Grant feared no one as she spoke. “I disagree. Destroying the array was a reactionary choice. Voyager could have remained longer, found a way to secure the array from the Kazon, protected the Ocampans, and still returned home. More time could have meant a better solution.”

Athena Westerham-Banfield sat with her arms crossed as she furrowed her ridged brow, quickly interjecting on her friend’s remarks. “There were other paths. Diplomatic negotiations with the Kazon could have been explored. Not all of them were hostile, and we know Starfleet has brokered peace in worse situations. Admiral Janeway didn’t take the time to explore her options fully.”

Across from her, her brother, Brook Westerham-Banfield, scoffed. “The Kazon were opportunists. They didn’t respect alliances and wouldn’t have honoured any agreements. As soon as Voyager left, they would have taken the array for their own purposes. Admiral Janeway ensured that didn’t happen. She made sure the Ocampans had a fighting chance.”

Beside him, Cadet Jib, a Bolian, grinned mischievously. “You know, there’s a theory that the Caretaker never actually died—that his consciousness remained with Voyager in some non-corporeal form, subtly guiding them throughout their journey. How else did an Intrepid-class starship survive the depths of the Delta Quadrant for so long?”

Florrick looked at Jib briefly, “Jib, you cannot tell me you believe such theories.”

Jib shrugged. “Why not? How else did they survive?”

“Everyone knows that the admiral would seek out trade with others where possible, and she had one of the finest engineering teams on board,” Athena remarked. 

Jib shook his head. “No, I tell you, it was the Caretaker’s spirit. He felt guilty after stranding them, so he protected them on a level of existence we can’t scan.”

William shook his head at Jib’s theory. “Admiral Janeway made the best decision she could with the information available. It’s easy to criticise decisions after the fact, but at that moment, she acted with the best interests of her crew and the Prime Directive in mind.”

“Furthermore,” Jordan spoke up from where he sat beside Alfie. “If Voyager hadn’t explored the Delta Quadrant, events like the war between the Borg and Species Eight-Four-Seven-Two would have resulted in the conflict taking place on a larger galactic stage. If the admiral hadn’t destroyed the array, the galaxy may have been wiped out by our friends from fluidic space.” He turned to Alfie, seeing if his boyfriend would say anything, except Alfie continued sipping his glass of iced tea.

Jaceon leaned back. “And without Voyager’s mission, there would be no Odyssey Squadron. That mission reshaped everything we know about the Delta Quadrant, changed how we approach first contact and ultimately paved the way for Starfleet’s return here.”

Parker, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke. “History has a tendency to either romanticise or harshly judge pivotal decisions. The reality is that there are rarely perfect solutions. As future officers, you must learn to navigate these complexities.”

Niro finally spoke, nodding at Jaceon’s remark. “Good point. It’s easy to scrutinise past decisions from a distance, but I challenge you all—what would you do if you were in her place?”

The table fell into silence as the cadets reflected. Then, Niro turned to Alfie, who had remained quiet throughout dinner, slowly sipping his iced tea. “What about you, Alfie?”

Alfie exhaled, setting his drink down. “I would have used the tricobalt devices against the Kazon directly, eliminating them as a threat. Then, I would have found a way to use the array to send Voyager home and instruct the Ocampans on how to maintain and defend it.”

Jordan looked surprised. “That’s a drastic approach, Alf. Not exactly in line with Starfleet’s values.”

Alfie met his gaze evenly. “Voyager’s presence in the Delta Quadrant had benefits, sure. But if Starfleet had gained access to the Caretaker’s technology, the Dominion War could have ended faster, the Romulan evacuation might have been expedited, and events like Frontier Day might have been prevented altogether.”

Jib whistled. “That’s a heavy take. Are you suggesting Starfleet should be more proactive in securing advanced technology?”

Alfie hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Not necessarily proactive, but prepared. We always say we’re explorers first, but history shows we frequently face conflict. If we had the means to prevent large-scale tragedies, should we not use them?”

Niro nodded, appreciating the insight. “A pragmatic perspective. But remember, our duty is not just to Starfleet’s best interests but to uphold the Federation’s principles. Protecting those in distress and preventing advanced technology from falling into the wrong hands is an ethical dilemma every officer may have to wrestle with during their career.”

Jib grinned. “So, this is our Kobayashi Maru discussion?”

Niro chuckled. “In a way. But unlike Captain Kirk, none of you can cheat your way out of it.”

Penelope, who had been silent until now, tilted her head. “Cadet McCallister raises an interesting strategic question. If Starfleet had pursued the Caretaker’s technology, it could have dramatically altered interstellar relations and Starfleet’s capabilities. However, doing so would have presented significant ethical conflicts, not only with the Kazon but with other civilisations that would covet such power.”

Parker nodded. “And that is what leadership is about—understanding that every decision carries consequences. The best choice in the moment may not always be viewed as the right one in the future.”

As the debate gradually wound down, Niro leaned in, his expression serious but encouraging. “You’re all beginning to think like officers. That’s the first step. But the real test will come when you’re the one making the call. And when that moment comes, I hope you remember that the right choice isn’t always the easiest one.” Placing his napkin down on the table, Niro stood up. Automatically, everyone’s training kicked in as they stood up straight. “Thank you all for dinner and a spirited debate; I look forward to more of these as we serve together. Now, we are due at our destination by the morning, so I expect you all to get a good night’s rest.”

A collection of thank yous and good nights followed the captain as he left the mess hall. 

Walking down the corridor, Penelope soon appeared beside Niro. “That was an interesting meal.”

“Indeed it was,” Niro agreed as he turned down a junction.

Penelope continued sharing her thoughts. “I noticed that Cadet McCallister didn’t appear so forthright compared to what he was like back on the Odyssey.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him; like the others, he is probably still getting used to being on the Astra,” Niro commented as he approached the doors to his quarters. 

“Does he remind you of his father in any way?” Penelope asked as the doors hissed open.

Niro paused in the doorway as he considered the question. “James was quiet initially when we first started on the Audicious; he soon came out of his shell. But I am not going to compare Alfie with his father. Now, if you don’t mind, Penelope, I want some privacy before the morning.”

“Of course, sir,” Penelope said, bowing her head. “Sleep well, captain.”

“The ship is yours, Penelope. Good night!” Niro called out as the doors to his quarters closed behind him, and the privacy mode was activated, stopping her from entering. She was only able to call him during an emergency over the intercom. Immediately, she fizzled out of existence to reappear on the Astra’s bridge to begin the ship’s nightwatch.