Captain Jetta Dowe never found herself to be the galaxy’s most impressive artist. She’s heard and seen a plethora of her crew show off beautiful talents that make her head spin, but personally, Captain Dowe was in no way an artist. Yet, here she sat in the mess hall, some of her senior staff with her, as Lieutenant Sraal posed elegantly on a podium in the middle. Easels and canvases had been set up for the group, alongside plenty of paints and brushes for any to use.

“I can hear your snickering, Hollis. M’Hark.” Sraal hissed from his picture perfect form. “Do this correctly.”

The whole event had been a part of an initiative given by Plimmitt—a majority of the crew seemed to take quite an interest in the arts. Given how rich each culture was with such topics, every day two optional events could be held by crewmen who signed up to host any artistic fashion of their choice. Captain Dowe came to as many as she could, and encouraged most of the senior staff too as well. The moment they showed up, others started showing up as well.

Jetta’s eyes slowly glanced over to where Sraal had snapped at, and saw a stifling M’Hark and a very amused Hollis. The two had become quite close during their past few months on the Morro Bay–although neither would admit it–and for that, she was relieved. She flicked her gaze over to Doctor Sullivan next (who was sitting next to her), the woman seemingly lost in the art. She has a beautiful sense of artistic ability that Jetta can’t help but marvel at.

Since the whole FEAR virus disaster, Doctor Sullivan had taken things slower. Engaged with more of the crew beyond the baseline level. It’s been quite nice to see—and even better for Jetta, considering how much she looked up to Amira. A lot of the crew had grown very close from the time jump of the Vaadwaur attack, and now. Jetta could, at least, reside herself with the knowledge that she has been doing a good job. Before she could grab her brush and start painting once again, her badge came to life, Sylvester’s voice cutting through it.

“Mikhaliov to the Captain.”

“Dowe here.” Jetta replied. “My turn on the bridge already?”

“Yes ma’am it is. See you soon, Captain. By the way, is Lieutenant Hollis there?”

Hollis glanced upwards with skepticism in his gaze as he nodded, standing upwards. “He is. Why?”

“He–or someone who can cover for him–needs to come up here. Mazev’s gotten sick. Mikhailov out.” Ever so slowly, Hollis turned with the brightest and friendliest smile he could give to M’Hark. Who, in return, shoved the Lieutenant halfway off his seat.

With a reluctant smile to Sraal, Captain Dowe stood up from her stool and walked towards the door. “Are you coming, Lieutenant?”

“Yes.” Hollis ever so reluctantly agreed, rolling his eyes as his Catian roommate snickered quietly behind him. With a nod, Captain Dowe and Lieutenant Hollis were off to the turbolift.

. . .

“You know,” Jetta spoke halfway through the lift’s ride. “Tell me if I’m overstepping here, but Ferengi in the federation are still quite a rare sight. Why did you join, Lieutenant?”

“Er.” Hollis didn’t seem bothered by the question, but he was definitely bothered by how he had to respond. “It’s a bit personal. Apologies, Captain.”

“That’s quite alright.” Jetta smiled softly. “Apologies for prodding. I just enjoy hearing why people joined starfleet.”

“It’s not heroic, or anything like that.” He gave a smaller, shy smile back. “I’ll tell that story some day. Just not today.” Before the Captain could reply, the turbolift came to a halt and the doors swung open.

“Captain on the bridge.” Velau called from her station, and Sylvester turned with a wide smile. The man looked exhausted–but he never once looked upset to see his friend.

“Captain!” He walked over, patting her on the shoulder. “I’m off to my quarters, and no, before you ask: nothing to report.”

“This scouting mission is proving pretty useful, hm? At the expense of our own entertainment, of course.” Jetta chuckled as she dismissed Sylvester, walking over to her chair and sitting down with a huff.

The Morro Bay had been sent on a scouting mission along the base outlines of the border between Shackleton Expanse and Romulan and Klingon space. Framheim Station was a beautiful sight, but to make sure it stayed in such a state, someone had to do the slow work. That, of course, was the Morro Bay. Each passing minute seemed to diminish the bridge crews spirits, but nothing could truly be done about it; so Captain Dowe decided to change that.

“Ensign Prias.” She spoke, causing the Trill to nearly jump out of her seat. “Report?”

“Nothing new, I’m afraid.” She gave out a sigh. “It’s uneventful space all ahead.”

“Long range, even?” She turned to the Ensign. “Goodness. Well, at least we’ll have plenty of time to think, hm?”

“Hopefully.” Prias looked to the side distantly. “After the past few months, I wouldn’t hate a simple mission.” For the next few hours, it wasn’t eventful for the bridge crew. Some came and ended their shifts, all the while Jetta’s mind wandered. Thoughts about crewmen lost, thoughts about the past few weeks–everything was calming down, and for once, she couldn’t complain.  Organized chaos. That’s how Jetta must’ve liked it. Things to keep her busy and be different. Adventure!

But was a California Class really that? Was it the right ship for her?

Before Captain Dowe could continue, a sudden and violent jerk to the side threw her out of her seat, and caused multiple warnings to go at once. Glancing upwards at the front, there wasn’t any indication of something wrong.

“Report!” She snapped, hauling herself upwards.

“Something’s opened up next to us, Captain–but our sensors are offline, I can’t tell what it is!” Prias was frantically working at her station, as the Morro Bay started to turn backwards. Jetta didn’t hesitate to hit her badge.

“Dowe to Ruuvon, get us out of whatever this is, maximum warp!”

“Captai–” The com was spotty. “–right–nacelle!–won’t–pulled in–wormhole!”

“What?? Plimmitt, speak to me, what are you seeing?? Sensors are down and we can’t move anything!”

“We’re being pulled into a wormhole! It’s taking the right nacelle halfway off! Whatever opened this is extremely unstable, Captain!” Plimmitt panicked through the com as the signal came through.

“How did this not show up on sensors?!” Jetta ran to her chair and started frantically typing in her monitor. “Red alert, everyone brace yourselves!”

“Captain!” Plimmitt’s voice came over the com. “If we try to pull against this, we’ll rip apart the Morro Bay!”

“You better not be suggesting what I think you are, Plimmitt.” Jetta frantically typed on her monitor, giving out direct orders the best she could. “We’d have no idea where we are and a damaged nacelle.”

“We have no other choice!” The Saurian cried. With a glance back to Hollis, he held a grim expression.

“Don’t tell me he’s right.”

“He is.” The Ferengi gulped. With a reluctant inhale, she turned to her monitor, and started an SOS.

“This is the USS Morro Bay. We’re being taken through a wormhole and have no idea where we will end up–our coordinates are in this messaGE-!” Jetta couldn’t finish as she was thrown to the ground once again, the distress signal sending out a second after.

“Hull integrity at fifty percent! If we don’t go now, we won’t have enough to keep us alive through this, Captain!” Hollis called. With a small prayer, Jetta pressed her badge as she crawled back into her chair.

“This is the Captain–all crew, brace for impact! We’re going through this wormhole wether we want too or not!” She cried out, grabbing onto her chair for dear life.

“Is it too much to ask for one day?!” Prias cried as she quickly got under her her station. Hollis, meanwhile, didn’t say anything as he clammored under as well. The rest of the bridge crew were all in a panic as Plimmitt reluctantly stopped the thrusters from attempting to break free of the wormhole.

And then the USS Morro Bay was sucked right in, with nothing but a collective scream of the crew left in it’s wake.