“–had trained dancers for my act, but the problem was that I hadn’t prepared any backup singers,” Taes orated. She elongated her vowels, delighting in telling the tale of the time she had to sing as if her life depended on it. She weaved her hands through the air in an interpretive dance of what backup singers really meant to the fabric of the universe. This wasn’t the poised and controlled Captain Taes of the Constellation’s bridge. No, she was curled into the corner of a settee in the Odyssey’s Lion Gate lounge. She was well settled in there as if she were making it home now.

“The K’ritz delegation assigned backup singers to me,” Taes explained. She could hardly contain her smirk–could hardly contain the punchline. “They assured me the singers could learn the song overnight.”

Amusedly aggrieved, Taes raised her voice in saying, “What they failed to tell me was that my backup singers were empathic sea stars. They harmonised with my emotions rather than my key. When I felt self-conscious during my first verse, they started sobbing in B flat!”

McCallister let out a low chuckle as he eased back into his chair, swirling the drink in his hand. “And here I thought Horatio and I had drawn the short straw with the Bo’mar. Empathic sea stars, Taes, you win.” His smile faded as he leaned forward, setting the glass down with care. “It’s a comfort, knowing the Constellation and its squadron are close by now. Odyssey and her ships have carried the burden alone too long. Still,” His gaze sharpened, voice lowering. “Even if we break the Vaadwaur offensive, I wonder how much of the Federation and its allies will be left standing? And who will be left to call it home?”

Nodding slowly at each of his statements, the mirth drained from Taes’s smile. She hugged her legs to her chest, dropping her chin to her knees.

“I’ve been having a similar debate with my counselor,” Taes said softly. “What is it costing us to ally ourselves with the likes of the Haakonians, the Trabe, the Pralor if we can’t even save the Federation. Could it all be for nothing? And who does that make us if war criminals are all that remain standing by our side?”

McCallister exhaled quietly, rising from his chair. He paced toward the viewport, folding his arms as his reflection merged with the stars. “It’s the same dilemma we faced with the Klingons. With the Romulans. How far can we bend our principles before they don’t snap back?” Shaking his head and changing the direction of their conversation, he looked back at Taes. “I have a feeling that Odyssey and some, if not all, of its squadron will be recalled to help back at home.”

“We still have our long loop back to the Gradin Belt ahead of us, unless you found an entire planet made of Benamite crystal,” Taes said, by contrast. “If we can get a sufficient resupply at the Markonian Outpost, we could just keep going, out past the Barzan wormhole. We only saw half of what we wanted to see, because of the Nekrit crossing and our long negotiations with the K’ritz. My squadron isn’t as suited to humanitarian aid.”

He turned back to her, a thoughtful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s why it’ll fall to you, captain. If Odyssey is recalled, Constellation will carry the torch out here.” His smile deepened, but there was a spark of resolve behind it. “Which brings me to something overdue.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small wooden box. “In wartime, members of the admiralty are allowed to grant significant field promotions, and God forbid the Federation falls, it means you and I are the senior-most members of Starfleet out here. I want to make that official by promoting you to the rank of Fleet Captain, effective immediately.” He passed over the box to her after opening it. “Your recent negotiations with the likes of the K’ritz, your work with the Romulan Free State science teams and that amazing effort with the Themis to deal with the Krenim last year prove to me you’re ready for the next step, Taes. I know it’s quick, but we need good leaders in the right place. Congratulations, Fleet Captain Taes.”

Taes planted her feet on the deck, one at a time. She stared dumbfounded at the open box with the gleaming silver pips inside. This wasn’t the measured diplomat, nor the impassioned storyteller. Taes found herself in a state of stunned silence.

“That– that’s– I hadn’t considered that,” she stammered. Finally, she accepted the proffered box and held it close. Staring down into it, she asked, “As they add on each pip, it gets harder and harder to remember the wild young ensign I was. I miss her sometimes.”

McCallister gave a faint smile. “I miss the green operations officer who thought he could route plasma conduits faster than the ship’s computer.” His gaze softened. “But if we stayed those ensigns forever, none of this would be in safe hands now.”

“Thank you, commodore,” Taes said to him, finally. “This means so much to me. I never dreamed of this future, but I can’t imagine any other now.”

“You won’t carry this alone,” McCallister assured her. “With that rank comes ships, crews and the full weight of my confidence behind you.” He extended a hand to help her up, his smile returning, tempered but resolute. “Now, shall we set our sights on the next problem to crack? The Vaadwaur won’t wait for us to get sentimental.”