Jason would rather have a root canal performed by a Klingon dentist who had drank a barrel of bloodwine before work than be in a disciplinary meeting with Ishreth Dal, but here he was standing outside the CO’s office door, with nowhere else to go.

“Enter.”

That damn soft voice. It felt like a trap. Like you were walking in for cupcakes but then you found out the cupcakes were full of Antedean parasites that would eat you from the inside out if you swallowed them.

Jason hadn’t had a cupcake since he was seventeen, and of he kept dwelling on stupid thoughts like this he would never have one again.

“Sir.”

The ship’s second officer stood in front of the ship’s commanding officer as if someone had rammed a board up Jason’s back and strapped his head to it. It fit him as well as a standard uniform fits an Edosian. But Jason had already intuited that Commander Dal preferred formality. So formal it was.

The Andorian was sitting behind his desk and he regraded Jason stoically, wearing the exact same expression he wore when he had walked on the Calistoga. He was never inviting Dal to poker night. “At ease, Lieutenant Commander.”

Jason sucked in a breath and felt his jaw tighten. “If it’s all the same to you, Sir, I’d rather not. Let’s just get this over with.”

One single antenna perked up at that, even though the expression still stayed neutral. Jason hadn’t learned enough of Andorian antennae-speak to interpret that, but it reminded him of a Vulcan arching an eyebrow.

“Very well. You are aware that your conduct on the bridge during the encounter with the Vaadwaur was unprofessional and unbecoming of an officer of your status.” Dal set the playing field with an even precision. “I expect professional behavior from you both on the bridge and when interacting with junior officers at all times.”

Forcing himself not to squirm, Jason mentally reminded himself that none of this was new. No matter how much it sucked to hear it stated plainly, he knew it.

What he didn’t know what how Dal would react to this. Either immediately or long term. “I understand, Sir.” Leaving the unasked question hanging: now what?

There was an uncomfortably long silence before Dal spoke again. “You are the ship’s second officer. The crew look to you as an example. Ensure you make your example one you would like them to follow. One you would like them to return to you.”

Those blue eyes were locked onto Jason in a piercing gaze, and he focused every fiber in his being to not squirm. The hanging statement nibbled on his brain making him wonder what it would feel like to have one of the junior officers mouth back to him the way he mouthed off to Commander Dal.

Well, he would be angry. He would almost certainly mouth back. But that wasn’t what was happening here. Maybe that’s why Starfleet chose Dal as the commanding officer and not him.

“I will.” The words were thin and tight.

And then there was silence. And for a moment in the silence Jason hoped this was over. That he would be allowed to walk out the door and forget it ever happened.

“To this end…” And with those three words all of Jason’s hopes were crushed. “You will have an official reprimand recorded on your record. I am placing you on probation for all of shore leave and for six weeks following leave. You will retain your rank and position, and you will attend mandatory counseling sessions three times a week until the probationary period is over.”

Jason immediately opened his mouth to protest, and then, by some miracle, caught the words before they escaped his throat and shut his mouth again. A few breaths later he attempted better, more civilized words. “And how do I pass this probationary period?”

“I will trust the judgement of your counselor.” Commander Dal placed his hands on the desk in front of him, an open gesture as if passing a ball to Jason.

His mind was already moving at warp speed, hoping he could adjust this to something as comfortable as possible to get it over with as soon as possible. “Do I get to choose my counselor?”

The Andorian nodded. “Within guidelines, yes.” He paused and then sunk in a killing blow. “You may not choose Commander Roix.”

Pressing his lips together, he tried not to flinch. He flinched. How did that blue man seem to read his mind? “That doesn’t leave me many options.”

Both antennae perked upwards. “We have a new counselor coming onboard in three days. Lieutenant Sovek. Perhaps he would be your best choice as a purely neutral and outside party.”

Purely Neutral. Jason found himself fixating on the words. The Calistoga was a small ship, and word had gotten around quickly about, well, everything. Captain Jemison’s unexpected retirement, the revelation that Mindy had been suffering from declining cognitive ability for a full year – and Commander Roix had known about it (which hadn’t been a fun conversation either), Jason’s outburst on the bridge, their daring flight to sickbay to retake the ship, and the persistent rumors that Commander Dal had vowed to kill a Vaadwaur with his bear hands and then proceeded to do it.

And despite that last one being a rumor, there was an awful lot of truth to it. It had given Commander Dal a larger-than-life appearance in the eyes of the crew and the Andorian had quickly gained a newfound respect from the lower decks. Which had, in turn, made multiple crewmembers ask Jason – in a round-about way – when he was going to get onboard with the program. Apparently being a temperamental jackhole to the ship’s newest hero was a faux pas.

Which placed Jason in a difficult position. He had been part of this crew for six years. He protected them, made friends with them, made jokes, told stories, and did as much as he could to keep them safe and happy. But on the other hand, he was only close to Dwasina, he frequently lost his temper, he didn’t trust anyone, and Captain Jemison had let him get away with verbal murder.

Jason had always considered himself the hero of the crew. For the last six years he had only focused on all the great things he did, and the injustices other people did to him. Mindy never held him accountable. Now he was being held accountable, and the crew had swiftly turned on him.

He didn’t like any of this. “Everybody’s new nowadays.” He offered back in a disappointed tone.

“Change is inevitable. Isolation is not.”

The breath caught in the back of Jason’s throat and for a moment he felt his chest burn like he was suffocating. Breathe, stupid. His ex-wife used to tell him that when he had panic attacks. “I don’t know what you mean.” A lie. But it was the easiest answer he could process.

Commander Dal made another open gesture towards him. “Merely that you have options.” Circling back to his pervious statement.

The thought of opening up to anyone who wasn’t named Dwasina Roix made his stomach turn. “It sounds like you’re going to order me to join in on shore leave.” He hoped that was an effective deflection.

One antennae perked upwards again, that same expression. “I won’t demand, but now that you mention it – yes, I think it would be an excellent idea.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t such an effective deflection. Jason mentally kicked himself for walking right into that. “Will you be going on shore leave?”

He couldn’t quite picture his new blue stick in the mud commanding officer hanging out on a beach in tight swimwear.

Actually, he could picture that, and he didn’t like that he could picture that. He had already walked half a deck hanging onto Commander Dal for support and knew that he was strong and fit. The last thing he needed was to have the image of his commanding officer posed as a blue Adonis in elastex shorts seared into his brain.

“I will.  I’ll be bringing my daughter.”

Like an old-fashioned motor car hitting a brick wall, Jason’s thoughts of beaches and blue men came to a screeching halt and he lost his stock-straight posture while doing a full doubletake. “You have a daughter?”

Commander Dal nodded. “I do. She’s twelve. She loves the beach.”

Jason’s eyes bugged wider than an Altrosin frog that just spotted a fat blowfly. “Wow. I didn’t think you had kids. Or a family.”

And that’s when he caught it. A crack in Dal’s perfect calm demeanor. A pinched expression. “I do.” The words were still soft and calm, but they held an undercurrent of pain.

Part of Jason wanted to poke at that. To prod, to pry, to dig into this man and see what lay underneath. But he honestly had no clue how to broach that subject without slapping words across Dal’s face and sounding like an asshole. He wasn’t an empath like Dwasina who could wheedle emotions from you like a Dabo girl coaxes money from a gambler. And let’s face it – he was already in a disciplinary conversation because of his poor choice of words.

And part of him wanted to pretend like he didn’t care. He was putting up the front that he still disliked Dal, or at the very least wanted nothing to do with him. But he had also had three clear chances to request a transfer before he showed up for this conversation and despite threatening to do it to Dwasina, he hadn’t even taken the first step to file the paperwork.

“OK, you have me curious. Just where is this mandated shore leave going to be?”

“Casperia Prime.” Dal paused and then both antennae picked up. “Apparently Starfleet says they have a… surprise? I suppose that’s the correct word, surprise waiting there for us.”

“That sounds ominous.” Jason’s brows creased, his curiosity winning over his desire to maintain his prickly exterior. “Beautiful beaches and a court martial? I’m down if you are.” He hoped he wouldn’t regret saying that.

“I should hope not. Our mission was an overall success.” Still, Dal didn’t have an answer and therefore the mystery remained.  “Either way I’ll add you to the list.” He made a note and then looked back towards Jason. “Did you have any further questions for me, Commander?”

He found himself shaking his head, wondering how this conversation started as a reprimand and ended with him agreeing to go to a beach on Casperia Prime with his commanding officer and… daughter. Still, it wasn’t as bad as he had thought it was. At least not yet.

Lieutenant Sovek might be awful. Starfleet might drum them all out for not arresting the pirates for an illegal terraforming operation. He still might stick his foot in his mouth and Ishreth Dal might kill him.

Unlikely, but it could happen. Still, he would take the wins when he got them.

“No questions, Commander. I’ll book my first appointment with Lieutenant Sovek and carbon-copy you on the details.” After he said it and heard the universal translator struggle with the words he wondered exactly why the concept of carbon copying had persisted in Terran language for centuries despite the process being obsolete for centuries.

“Fair. Then Commander, you are dismissed. I will see you on shore leave.”

Was that a pleasant farewell or a threat?

Maybe both. Jason would still take it as a win.