Captain Aoife McKenzie materialized on the transport pad as the Woodland Park transporter hub solidified into reality. The air vibrated like a harp string from the noise of hundreds of travelers. Joyous and mournful conversations collided in a dissonant chorus that echoed off the ferroconcrete walls.

The concourse flowed with people weaving between kiosks and departure gates. The scent of grilled meats, floral perfumes, and cinnamon-laced churros drifted on warm currents, vents embedded in the ceiling. Laughter burst from a nearby crowd as a young man tackled his friend in reunion.

As she stepped off the platform, Aoife was greeted by the municipal transporter operator. “Good evening, Captain. Welcome home.”

Jerry was a heavy-set man in a tan polo with the city’s logo on his chest and black slacks. His honey-yellow eyes were bright and intelligent above a neatly trimmed ebony beard streaked with grey. His bald scalp gleamed like a polished billiard ball.

Aoife grinned and tugged at the bottom of her black Starfleet-issued winter jacket trimmed in red. Her red hair fell over her shoulders in soft curls. Her back ached, and she longed for a cup of coffee or tea, but it was too late in the day for caffeine.

“Thanks, Jerry. How’s the wife and kids?”

The operator grinned behind his beard, eyes brightening. “They’re great, thank you. Oh, Lindsey got accepted into Starfleet Academy. We appreciate all the help you gave her.”

Aoife beamed and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “That’s wonderful. I didn’t do much, but tell her she can call me anytime she needs something.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jerry said with a shake of his head. “You helped her prep for the entrance exam. Without that, I doubt she would’ve passed.”

Aoife shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious. She only mentored; Lindsay put in the work. “She’s a good kid. Smart too. She just needed a little smoothing around the edges, is all. It was a pleasure working with her.” She gave Jerry a tired smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“God willing and if the creeks don’t rise,” he said with a grin.

Aoife laughed. “You never know. With much of the 4th Fleet mucking around in the Shackleton Expanse, anything could happen. Goodnight.”

Jerry nodded and turned his attention back to his console as the transporter hummed with the next batch of travelers.

She moved through the bustling concourse, weaving past the crowd. Her boot heels clicked against polished marble, barely audible amid the hum of voices. Overhead lights reflected across the open spaces, casting shifting patterns over the sleek flooring. Above, hanging from the ceiling, large meter-sized monitors were scattered throughout the terminal, broadcasting FNN.

“We have Erin Andrews reporting from Terra Alpha for our top story.” The anchor, a middle-aged Bajoran in a sharply tailored grey suit, sat at the news desk, arms casually braced on the smooth black surface as the FNN logo danced in the background. The image cut to a young woman standing on a rise above a coastal city, the ocean behind her stretching into a cerulean sky. Her tight black curls framed a warm face the color of milk chocolate.

“We are on day four of the geological instability that has been rocking the planet, causing a series of earthquakes, including a 9.1 last night, 20 kilometers from Hag Harbor. The city has sustained significant damage, but thankfully, casualties have been light, though that is likely to change as officials sift through the rubble and the nearly a dozen missing are found—”

“What a damn mess,” Aoife muttered as she wove her way through the crowd, tuning out the rest of the FNN broadcast. She had dealt with that crisis all day at Command, and the last thing she wanted now was more of it away from the office. At last, she reached the entrance, and the doors slid open as she approached.

At the far end of the lot, she turned right onto West Midland Avenue, which had once been old US-24 before cars became obsolete. Now the road was lined with broad sidewalks and storefronts, both modern and historic, all built through city ordinance to capture the charm of the American West. Ornate street lamps of green-painted bronze bathed the way in golden light, while windows spilled their glow across the pavement, inviting shoppers into their warm embrace.

At Center Street, she turned left, and the night settled in over her as she left the business district and entered the residential side street. Pines stood tall overhead, black and amorphous, blotting out the dark sky, still too soon to see stars. Two doors down, a porch light illuminated the front door of a replica Victorian home, replete with wood siding and rounded turrets.

Aoife pushed open the wrought iron gate with a squeal of protesting hinges and let it slam shut behind her as she clicked up the walk, climbed the two steps to the porch, and pushed open the door. Warm air washed over her, and the savory scents of shepherd’s pie baking in the oven made her stomach rumble and her mouth water.

An older man sat reclined in his chair, a PADD propped on his chest, using his bulging belly to help support it. His ring of pure white hair surrounded a smooth crown that glistened under the dim living room lights. Chopin played as soft background noise as a fire danced red and orange in the fireplace. A bit of pine resin popped, sending sparks upward into the chimney. Aoife resisted the urge to warm herself next to it; she knew if she did, she would never get away. It would suck her in like a black hole, and she would be useless for the rest of the night.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” the man greeted without looking up from his PADD.

“Hey, Dad.” Aoife shrugged off her outer jacket and hung it on the peg by the door. Then she unzipped her duty jacket and slipped it off, carefully hanging it on the next open peg. “What are you reading?”

“Louis L’Amour.”

“Sacketts again?”

He grunted. “Yeah, Sacketts again.”

“What else?” she teased.

Leaning in, she kissed her father on his smooth dome and squeezed his arm affectionately. Smiling, she walked through the open doorway into the hot, steamy kitchen where her mother bustled about, a baby perched on her hip.

“Oh, guid, ye’re hame,” her mother said in her lilting Highland brogue. “Here, take the wee bairn, wull ye? Ma arms are fair done in,” Janet Marsali Grant-Cameron MacKenzie replied, placing her right hand at the small of her back and stretching.

Aoife chuckled and reached out, taking her daughter into her arms. The baby cooed and smiled up at her mother, and Aoife couldn’t help but laugh. There was a faint odor of baby powder and sour milk to the child, and she loved it as she drew her daughter in close, inhaling the baby’s scent. Her auburn hair tickled the child’s nose, and she giggled in delight in the way only babies could.

“How was she?” Aoife asked at last.

“Och aye, the lass was wonderful as ever, but I’m gettin’ a wee bit too auld tae be playin’ mam again,” Janet said, sliding a frying pan under the sonic faucet. “When’s that deadbeat husband o’ yours finally comin’ back?”

Aoife sighed. “Not for a while. They’ve got him buried in the rebuild at Utopia Planitia. This assignment keeps him in the same system, at least. The other offer was a five-year deep-space mission aboard the Shenandoah. We weren’t ready for that.”

“Aye, well, we love the wee lass, and it’s nice tae have ye home,” Janet said as she put the pan away. “Feels like this is the first time you’ve truly come back since headin’ off tae the Academy.”

Aoife sighed. This was an old argument that had been going on for nearly 30 years. One that her mother wasn’t entirely wrong about, but it wasn’t like she could pop in every Sunday for dinner. She had been out there amongst the stars. The fact that she rarely came to Earth was just a hazard of the job. She hated it, but that was how it was.

But she was home now. Every night. She missed being out there in the black, and she knew someday she would return. Being at Starfleet Command was temporary. She needed to be out there with the stars, and she had no desire to become an admiral despite rumors to the contrary. She was here for her daughter, and nothing else.

“Yeah, I know, Mom. Has she been fed?”

“She had a bottle aboot two hours ago. I was just about tae replicate another when ye walked in the door.” Janet said as she pulled the shepherd’s pie from the oven.

Aoife’s stomach rumbled, happy as she was to be home finally. She snuggled her daughter close, kissing her on the cheek with a crooked smile.