The returning presence of her husband and daughter moved Emmalin’s attention away from her video call for a moment. It was a great comfort to feel Torann and Yolana nearby. The Lieutenant Commander noticed her stresses float away when their unique telepathic signatures were strongly within her sphere. Wanting so dearly to feel it she forcibly tore her attention back to the call. This was important, and unexpected. Emmalin nodded.

“Next week,” she confirmed. “So soon.”

“That’s right, Commander. If Task Force Seventy Two are to achieve their diplomatic mission they need seasoned diplomats out there doing great things. You’ve proven yourself. I know this isn’t what you expected.”
The door to her quarters hissed open and admitted her family. Torann had already read from her that she was still speaking and took Yolana straight into her bedroom to let the call finish without distraction, Yolana’s blonde hair bouncing as she trotted obediently through another door. Having a telepathic daughter was certainly a double-edged sword, but sometimes it was very useful. The question of ‘why’ was so easily answered, as long as the reason didn’t have to be blocked. Five-year-olds couldn’t be exposed to everything, after all. Emmalin nodded.

“We’ll be ready.”

“Thank you Commander, and congratulations.”

The image flicked off the screen, replaced by the emblem of Starfleet. Emmalin wasted no time in looking up the full specs of the Challenger Class starship on the computer terminal as her husband walked back into the room. He immediately felt the block she had put up around this new information and stopped, peering at her quizzically. She didn’t block much from him. This was odd. Emmalin rose.

I got the promotion, but it’s not what we thought, she beamed into his mind and looked down at the ship spec, allowing him to see what she saw. Torann moved closer, rubbing a hand over his chin with concern.

A starship?

Yes. They want me to Captain a ship in Task Force Seventy Two. Diplomatic missions.

We come with you?

Yes. If you’re alright with that.

What followed wasn’t words but a feeling, or a selection of feelings. The feelings were loyalty, love, togetherness, determination. If emotions had subtitles, this would read ‘where you go, we go’.

What of Lorrus? Torann asked.

Emmalin looked up from the ship spec, her racing mind pulling in numbers. One hundred and forty crew. Warp 9.6. Stacked nacelles. It was almost overwhelming. She found calmness in Torann’s black eyes.

They can come with me, as ops officer, if they want to.

That’ll be an unexpected challenge for them.

It will. I better go find them.

Okay. We’ll be here.

The quiet of the room was broken by Emmalin’s voice. The entirely-telepathic communication of her family was peaceful and soothing to the ears, that was except for ‘Words Wednesdays’ where everything was spoken aloud, for Yolana’s sake, so she could practice her language skills. Yolana. Emmalin wondered how she’d get on aboard a starship. She was careful to keep these florid thoughts contained. Yolana didn’t need to absorb her concerns.

“Mennari to Lorrus.”

Lorrus’ familiar mechanical intonation answered.

“Lorrus.”

“I need to speak to you. Are you free?” Emmalin asked the ether.

“Yes.” Was beamed back through the room’s speakers. Lorrus was a creature of as few words as possible. It was far easier that way.

“White hart, deck four hundred, twenty minutes?” Emmalin suggested.

“Yes.”

“See you there.”

“Salutations.”

Emmalin and Torann looked at one another again, the latter feeling the former’s trepidation. An expression of confidence in her blossomed from him like a wave of support, bolstering her resolve. She sent appreciation back and with a smile set off for deck four hundred.

The familiar draughts of air stirred up by Lorrus’ wings whipped around Emmalin’s sides like a chill breeze, simulating some kind of weather in the forever temperate and calculated surroundings of Starbase Bravo’s Central Hub. The two moved together in Silence into the pub, Lorrus inevitably garnering looks from the interested (and confused) patrons who were scattered in disparate groups throughout the pub. Knowing from experience the havoc caused by his significant downdraft and the likelihood of obstacles the Lepidoptoid Ensign dropped gracefully to their feet and scurried the last few metres to a table, hopping onto the chair with ease and placing their forelegs on the table to look straight across to their friend who was just seating herself. She took in the dark eyes that regarded her with a placid stare, antennae that pulsed and darted, reading various things from the room about. Lorrus communicated in a wholly different way from humanoids.

It had been nearly six years since Emmalin had led the first away mission to Lorran Five, a tropical paradise planet many, many light years from Starbase Bravo. The planet presented unique challenges for humanoids, the terrain mountainous and densely forested which didn’t make movement easy for bipeds. It was observed quickly that the insectoid life that flourished there in a symbiotic harmony with the many and varied plants and flowers almost exclusively flew, and for good reason. It had been hard initially to conduct any kind of purposeful study, but Emmalin had persevered and used what influence she had to gain as much time on the planet as possible. Armed with personal ‘jet packs’ that allowed her team of Xenobiologists to get around, Emmalin was able to get close enough to a few of Lorrus’ kind to determine through her Betazoid telepathy and observational prowess that they were not only intelligent but communicated, had hierarchy, society and empathy. Learning to communicate had been another matter. The Lorrans didn’t seem interested in remaining in any kind of proximity of the strange beings who had appeared in their forest. Due to their size they tended to stick to certain taller and more open trees, the larger branches supporting their comparatively large weight. The Lorrans were the alpha species, most others having a body length or wingspan under three inches. Lorrus was quite different. His wingspan was about five feet, his body around two, not counting his antennae and the reach of his powerful back legs. Emmalin watched the perfectly kept fur on its long body settle as the barmaid came over.

In human terms Lorrus would be considered a Butterfly. Their Slender, black thorax sported two giant wings in four sections similar to an Earth Butterfly. These wings however flushed with colour, colours that changed with mood and thought and this was how the Lorrans communicated. They had six legs, the front four thin and dextrous, the rear powerful like a grasshopper. They used these rears for climbing, and launching into flight. Large, dark eyes could see spectra of light Emmalin could only dream of and pinpoint their food sources from many miles away as they ruled the skies above the expanses of forest that made up their continent. Lorrus themself was somewhat of a genius by the standards of their species. They were one of the few Lorrans who had taken an interest in the away team. Emmalin had spent days with Lorrus rigging a system on a monitor and putting data into the U.T. to start a communication matrix. It had taken weeks to perfect, but it had been enough to prove a long-term expedition to Lorran five was worth the investment, an expedition the Betazoid Lieutenant Commander Emmalin Mennari had led, her empathic familiarity with the Lepidoptoid life form that would come to be known as Lorrus now sat opposite her making her ideally suited. The expedition had found unique aspects of the ecosystem on Lorran five that had helped advance the understanding of insectoid life across the quadrant. It had also created a full matrix for the Universal Translator, a matrix that now ran through a com badge that was carefully attached to a strap around Lorrus’ body, a strap that also held a single rank pip of ensign, and an attachment for a few items such as a small phaser and other essentials they may need to use. It was unconventional, but despite the challenges Lorrus had managed to scrape through the academy. It was a significant achievement for a life form whose average species I.Q. was around 75. But Lorrus was no average Lorran. Emmalin had begged them to find a name more separated from the name of their planet and species. Lorrus had refused. Lorrans didn’t have names. They were recognised by their standing, physical features, habits, wing construction and other aspects too subtle for most humanoids to discern. They spoke in overarching concepts, a myriad weave of emotions, thoughts and observations displayed as many sections of bright colours in their wings which, to another Lorran would be read quickly like a page of text by a speed-reader. Emmalin could understand basics without the U.T. She was one of few who could.

“Can I take your order?” The young barmaid looked between the two, her brown curly hair flicking over her cute, pale features. She was about as phased by Lorrus as a field mouse was by stalks of corn. She was the exception. Judging by the tattoos she’d already seen a bit of everything, despite being quite young by Emmalin’s estimation.

“A Raktajino, no sugar and a Lorran nectar, please,” Emmalin asked. “You’ll find the nectar…”

“Xenobiological sustenance database,” the Barmaid finished the sentence for her with a smile. “Sure, anything else?” She asked brightly.

“No, thank you.”

“One Raktajino no sugar, one Lorran nectar. Coming right up, Commander!”

She was a few feet away, swinging her thin, artistic arms when Emmalin turned back to her companion. Swirls of purple punctuated the blues of their wings. That was uncertainty, or so Emmalin thought, it usually preceded a question. Lorrus’ badge translated.

“Why the meeting?”

Emmalin took a deep breath. Fortunately, Lorrus could understand spoken standard although they lacked entirely any kind of apparatus to speak it back, besides the UT.

“I have had my new orders through,” she explained, avoiding eye contact. This wasn’t through any trepidation, simply it was considered rude to Lorrans to look them in the eye. It meant you weren’t focussing on their wings. This was something unique to humanoid interactions as with actual Lorrans one could never ascertain what they were focussed on. “I have been promoted, but it’s not what we thought.”

Purple swirled again in Lorrus’ wings, punctuated with a green spot, edged with amber. This was a concept Emmalin understood. They had been expecting she would be commanding the first permanent presence of the Federation on Lorran five. However the fleet had other plans.

“Thank you,” she responded as Lorrus tapped its badge to stop the translation. She had understood their congratulations and desire for more detail. “I’ve been made Captain of the U.S.S. Walter Scott. It’s a Challenger class starship, part of Task Force Seventy-Two, diplomatic operations. Apparently getting Lorran five to a protected status was enough, they want your people to get used to working with new and different bipeds to see if Federation membership is possible, or wanted.”

Lorrus nodded, reflections of warm white light points dancing in their round black eyes. It was one of a few fairly universal standard communication techniques they had adopted to ease the language barrier. Yellow, surrounded by purple. Something to do with self, Emmalin thought. Lorrus’ badge translated.

“What happens to me?” Lorrus rubbed their front legs together. It was a sign of nervousness, at least in this context.

“You’re to be my ops officer.” Green, yellow, but followed by some purple.

“Magic forest?” Lorrus’ antennae quirked in a movement Emmalin knew was annoyance. The translator had made a small error. Lorrus adjusted the purple in its wings slightly. “There is a holodeck?”

“Yes. I intend to make sure you get plenty of time in there to stretch your wings. For health reasons. I’ll need you at your best.” Green, orange, blue. Emmalin thought she knew it, but waited for the translation anyway.

“Thank you. I am excited for my first substantial posting, Captain.”

Captain. It was the first time anyone had said it. Better get used to it, Emmalin thought as their drinks arrived. Lorrus unfurled their proboscis and gently placed it into the neck of the glass to take in some nectar. Their wings showed approval at the beverage, but there was a lot of brown forming too. Brown meant family, or friends and being surrounded by green, it was her family they were enquiring about.

“They’re coming with me,” Emmalin explained, lifting her cup for a sip. The bitter tones of the Raktajino elicited pleasure. It was one of her favourite comforts. Lorrus nodded. The level of nectar in their glass dropped a little. Some purple surrounded the green and brown. Flecks of red appeared, surrounded by purple.

“It shouldn’t be too dangerous,” Emmalin replied quickly. “It’s a small ship, not a warship. For basic diplomatic function. They want to test if I’m good in a red uniform and if you’re good on a starship, not get us killed.” Green and blue. Approval, acceptance and calmness. She took another draft of Raktajino. Everything would be changing, for her, Torann, Yolana and for Lorrus. This would be an interesting test for the Xenobiologist and former X.O. who’d never really considered herself for Starship command, certainly not yet. Emmalin wondered if she had the right outlook for it. Unknown to her, both Torann and Lorrus were wondering the exact same thing about themselves.