“I’m sure this place used to be bigger.” Tallik joked as he pushed his way through the slim doorway of the tiny quarters, his wide, bulky shoulders pressing against the doorframe.

Across the room, Captain Harrison sat at her borrowed desk, set against the borrowed wall of the borrowed quarters she had claimed as her temporary office and housing. Through the small rectangular windows set into the far wall, Risa Control hung battered and bruised against the twisting storms of the planet’s broken weather control system.

“The view used to be better too.” The man laughed as he sat on the end of the small bed that he was sure Harrison did not sleep well in.

“I don’t know, there’s something quite nice about the simple life.” Harrison spun in her seat and lifted a tall cup from the replicator that she was using as a shelf. “Everything is within reach.”

“So I can have your quarters next time?”

“You’d have to be the Captain to get those.” Harrison smiled at the man as she lifted the steaming cup to her nose and took a deep breath of the jasmine-scented liquid. “We need to get hold of a new saucer section first.”

“You’ll have to start on the garden again.” Tallik nodded to the cup in her hands, the familiar blend of floral leaves from the captain’s small allotment floating across the room. “It’s a shame, the roses were just blooming.”

Harrison set the cup down and poked at a small bag of seeds that sat next to the console, shades of brown and ochre mixed in with clusters of dry soil. The last remnants of her hard work that had disappeared in flames along with Britannia’s saucer section.

“There were some survivors, I managed to grab them from my office before we left.”

“Have we got a final number on the casualties?” Tallik asked grimly, steering the conversation into an uncomfortable subject that had to be addressed.

Harrison’s face turned towards the small window, beyond which worker bees danced mournfully through the debris cloud of ships that surround Risa control.

“Thirty-five in total. Another fifty or so with long-term injuries.”

“I’ve already seen a couple of reassignment requests.” Tallik sighed.

Harrison nodded; she always knew the consequences of her decisions would have wider ripples amongst the crew, but she stood by the decision. How could she not? She had made it.

“What did Tanek say?” Tallik fiddled subconsciously with the corner of the pristinely set bedding with a thick, calloused finger. He knew the answer already, but it was his job as both friend and first officer to facilitate the captain’s reflection.

“No idea. He left as quickly as the Vaadwaur did. And his answerphone must be full because I can’t even leave a message.” Harrison had stopped bothering with messages several days ago when the eternally stoic-faced Suliban aide to the division leader had shrugged coldly. “He will call back when he is ready.”

“Speaking of which,” Tallik pushed a padd onto the desk towards her. “Latest update from command.”

Harrison didn’t even gift the silver rectangle a look, instead lifting the cup to her lips again.

“In ten words or less.” She asked as she took another sip.

“Invasion pushed back. Blackout quickly lifting. Secure all stations.” The jockular commander counted along with his sausage-like fingers. “Thanks.”

“They said thanks?”

“It was implied.”

The pair sat in a comfortable moment together as they considered all that had happened in the last few weeks.

Eventually, Harrison broke the silence as she placed the empty cup back on the replicator, where it dematerialised with a flutter of white, trilling fireflies.

“Do you think I did the right thing Hijan?” She whispered with a vulnerability reserved only for her closest confidants.

“I don’t know, I wasn’t here.”

“No, you were down there.” Harrison nodded to the swirling white storm clouds that rolled with deceptive sedateness over the planet’s surface. “I’m glad you made it out.”

“You and me both.” Tallik joked with his usual bravado but behind the wide grin he was still stuffing his experiences on the planets surface into a box. One destined for a high shelf for a later time, and several bottles of Romulan ale.

“No, really Hijan. I’m very glad you’re okay.”

“Likewise.”

They offered one another genuine smiles before being interrupted by a chirp from the comm system.

“Bahir to Harrison. Captain, we have Captain Varen on comms. He has an update on our orders.”

“Not Tanek?” Tallik interrupted with a questioning look.

“No, Commander. Apparently, Captain Varen is taking over direct supervision of the division.”

“We’ll be over in a moment.” Harrison acknowledged with a tap of her combadge.

Tallik tilted his head quizzically.

“Guess that explains the lack of communication.”

“Perhaps our friendship is another casualty of the Vaadwaur.” Harrison allowed a long despondent breath to slide from her chest in a rare moment of vulnerability she wouldn’t normally share.

“Maybe it’s just injured.” Tallik offered a hopeful look, his big dark irises swimming with compassion. “Sometimes the strongest flowers come from the burnt seeds.”

The older woman allowed her fingers to caress the small pouch of promises that sat upon the table surface, suspended in their hibernation.

“And some never grow again.”

Harrison tapped her console into standby and stood from her small desk. Closing her open jacket with slow, deliberate movements, she placed her costume on with a perceptible reluctance. The snaps clicked into place with small pops, then the career officer was once more on display.

“Shall we?” Harrison motioned towards the slender doorway that led back out to the injured ship. “You can help me scout out a new garden.”

“I know of some good soil on Mellstoxx.”

“I won’t tell you again, I’m not going to work on your parents’ farm.”

Tallik laughed deeply from his barrel chest as he squeezed through the doorway, and Harrison’s heart lifted slightly.

Perhaps, with enough love and attention, some seeds really would grow again.