The slight hum of the ship permeated the silence of Captain Bowman’s quarters. He had meant to be asleep hours ago, but it seemed impossible to shut off his mind. He sat up on the edge of his bed, placing his head in his hands. Why weren’t they getting a response from Starfleet? He had hoped, at least to hear from Deep Space 12, but even they were silent. Something was definitely wrong. Why were the Vaadwaur here? How many other systems had they invaded? Was there even a Starfleet anymore, or was the Leif Erikson all that remained? He shook his head, frustrated. So many questions, with so few answers. He stood up, crossed the room and headed out the door. Almost automatically, he began patrolling the corridors of the small vessel. He had ordered a stand down after the encounter with the Vaadwaur battleship, and the whole ship seemed to have taken advantage. Scott didn’t mind, in fact there was a solace he found walking around the corridors while the ship was asleep. 

After wandering seemingly the whole ship, he found himself in the lounge. He walked over to the old jukebox he had set up on the far wall and selected a song. The button made a heavy mechanical clack sound when he pressed it, and after a brief silence, the old machine began to whir gently. It shuffled through the vinyl records within with a soft ch-chunk, and the record dropped onto the plate with a small but satisfying thud. The room filled with the sound of crackled music and Scott stood leaning on the machine, listening to the music with his eyes closed. 

“Can’t sleep either, hey?” The voice came up behind him so suddenly, Scott jumped a little. Turning around, he saw Dathasa in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She stood upright, and began walking slowly towards the bar, her icy green eyes still fixed on Scott. She grabbed a couple glasses from under the bar and set them on its surface. He head cocked slightly to one side thoughtfully, and she said, “You look like…a scotch guy.” 

“Bourbon, actually.” Scott replied, finally regaining his voice, “But close.” He walked over to join her at the bar, sitting on one of the tall stools in front. She passed him a glass full of the brown liquid, and he picked it up, examining it for a second before taking a drink. He heaved a heavy sigh, and sat the glass back down. “No, I hardly sleep anymore.” he said, “There’s too much on my mind.”

“You could always drink yourself to sleep.” She said, a cunning smile crossing her lips. The pale olive of her skin seemed to shine in the dim light of the lounge, and Scott noticed for the first time how young she looked. 

“I did that for a while, right after the war ended.” he said, taking another drink. “It was the only way I could sleep then.” he closed his eyes, “Everyone noticed, of course.  Eventually, Sriarr sat me down and told me to smarten up or he’d remove me from duty. Being a captain is all I ever wanted, so I sobered up. Mostly.” he added with a smile, shaking his glass slightly. “The trade off is that I stopped sleeping.”

Dathasa’s eyes dropped to the glass in front of her. “I was really young when the war ended.” she said. 

Scott let out a short laugh. “I could tell,” he said. “You don’t have enough wrinkles.”

“Shut up.” she laughed. “And also thank you, maybe?” she added, tucking her hair behind her ear. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were different. They looked back into his eyes in a way he had not seen for a while, and he flushed slightly. 

“I don’t know why I haven’t received any messages from Starfleet, and it has got me worried.” He said, turning his head and trying to change the subject. “It’s unusual to be out of contact for this long.”

“Have you tried using the comm array from that fighter?” Dathasa asked him, her cheeks flushing slightly green. 

“I haven’t turned the thing on since we accidentally let the Vaadwaur know where we were.” Scott said, draining his glass and motioning for the bottle. Dathasa passed it to him, their hands touched for the briefest moment, and Scott felt an electric charge run up his arm, settling at the base of his skull.

“Well,” Dathasa said thoughtfully, “I imagine if you don’t send any messages, you should be able to receive them without alerting anyone. Maybe listening to their comms will give you an idea as to what is going on.” 

“You’re probably right.” Scott replied. “I’ll have Garion turn the thing back on when he wakes up.” He filled his glass again. “Can I ask you a question, Dathasa?” he added. 

“Sure.” she said with a smile, “Ask away.” She refilled her own glass as well.

“Well I figured you were only tagging along as far as rescuing those people…” he began, but she cut him off halfway. 

“And you’re wondering why I’m still here.” She finished his thought for him.

 “Yes, frankly.” He said. 

“Well that was the plan at the start,” she answered, “But you, Captain, are a pretty inspiring person to behold, and I feel compelled to stay and help.” She inflated her chest facetiously. 

“Oh please.” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not sure I can believe that.” 

“The real answer,” she said in a somber tone as she leaned down onto the bar, “Is when I saw that massive ship compared to this little one, I figured you would need all the help you can get. Anyone who is willing to risk so much for people, who probably wouldn’t lift a finger if the roles were reversed, has earned my respect.” she placed a hand on his, and gave it a small squeeze. “I’m sorry for the safe house.”

“It’s fine, really.” he replied, squeezing her hand back. “I knew in my heart that is how it needed to go, I just didn’t want to admit it. I’ve been down this road before, and it is a dark one.” 

“I’m no stranger to the dark, you know,” Dathasa said, coming around the bar to sit beside Scott, “My parents were Tal Shiar, and they wanted to raise me to be an agent as well. I was ten when the Supernova happened. I remember my parents calling it ‘statistical losses’. Can you believe that?” She stopped for a moment, took a swig of the whiskey, and continued. “Let’s just say they did not approve of my grief. Anyway, when I was sixteen, I found out my parents were involved in kidnapping and trafficking refugees for leverage. I asked them about it, and they told me ‘we do what we must.’ When I was eighteen, I finally managed to escape. I ran for my life for a few years, never staying anywhere long. Then, I met Dranoj and the Rangers while they were battling slavers outside federation space, and I decided to take the skills my parents gave me and protect innocent lives the way my parents never did.”

Scott sat in stunned silence for a moment. This young woman had seen as much, if not more, darkness than he had. “So that’s why you…” his question trailed off. 

“That is why I knew I could get information from that Vaadwaur officer? Yes.” she said flatly. “and I’m not sorry I did it. I’m only sorry for how it made you feel.” She said, finishing her drink. She reached for another refill, but pulled back an empty bottle instead. She shook it slightly, and smiled. “It looks like we finished off that bottle.” she said, sliding off the stool. The jukebox had gone quiet a long time ago and the lounge was silent, aside from the low hum of the ship. Dathasa sauntered over to the large neon cabinet. She pressed a button with the same heavy clack sound, and turned to face Scott as the old machine cranked and whirred another record onto the tray. “Do you dance, Captain?” she asked, with a gleam in her eyes.  

Scott flushed again. “I haven’t in a while,” he said. 

Dathassa crossed the room again and took his hand, pulling him from the stool. “Let’s see if you remember how.” As the old jazz tune crackled from the jukebox, its warm brass tones drifted through the dim lounge like smoke. It was a slow, sultry melody, half forgotten by time. Like a memory she couldn’t place, but somehow recognized. The whiskey was still warm in her throat as Scott took her hand in his, his weather fingers steady despite the ghosts still flickering behind his eyes. 

They stepped closer together. They had no words left for each other, just the soft hum of the ship, and the warm music drifting from the jukebox. Scott held her as if he was afraid she might vanish. She let herself lean in, resting her head on his shoulder, the tension between them unwinding – all the unspoken grief recognized, mirrored and met with silent understanding. These two warriors who had seen too much, now swaying slowly in the safe harbor of a forgotten tune. In that moment, within the faded jazz and shared scars, they were not alone anymore. 

The song’s final notes drifted into silence. The moment in time stretched, fragile but full between them. Dathasa looked up at the Captain, her hand placed lightly on his chest. There was no bravado in her eyes now, just a quiet invitation, raw and honest. 

Scott didn’t move. Then, slowly, he reached up and took her hand in his and held it, for just a moment longer than he needed to, and then he stepped back gently. 

“I haven’t felt this way in a long time.” he said, his voice was gruff with the weight of his words. “And I don’t trust myself to not mess it all up.”

Dathasa didn’t flinch, but something flashed in her eyes. It wasn’t hurt, exactly, but a recognition of her own echoing doubts. “Then don’t say no, Scott. Just say not yet.”

“I can do that.” he replied with a soft smile. They stood for another moment in a silence that was filled with all the things they didn’t say. Then she stepped back, her gaze lingering. She turned to go but paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “You know where to find me, Captain.” and then she left, leaving Scott once again in silence broken by the hum of the ship, standing in the soft afterglow of something that could still be real. 

He stayed there for a while, not really knowing what to do next. In fact, it wasn’t until Garion came in with a hot cup of Raktajino that he realized the lights had come up in the corridor, and officers were milling about. 

“Did you get any sleep, Captain?” he asked, sipping from his cup. 

“No,” Scott said, smiling, “But I feel rested anyway.”