Acting Captain’s Log.
Stardate 40212.05

We are on our way back to Framheim Station from the Palrilles system. We lost Captain Bowman, my dearest friend, in a tragic accident on the surface of Palrilles IV, and the crew is understandably subdued, as am I. I have had to confine Lieutenant Dathasa to her quarters, as she went into a fit of hysteria upon our return, and I fear she is a threat to herself as well as others while she deals with the loss. I have ordered the ship’s counsellor to speak with her and the away team about what happened.

Starfleet Command has deemed Palrilles IV, as well as the whole Palrilles system, a no-fly zone after our encounter with the Vezda entity, who took over Captain Bowman’s body in an attempt to escape the planet’s surface in a shuttlecraft, which was destroyed when a freak earthquake caused a deep fissure to open beneath the shuttle, swallowing it whole. I believe the falling rocks from the cliff’s face may have caused the shuttle’s warp core to go critical, resulting in an explosion.

I have also been informed by Starfleet Command that my request to assume command of the ship permanently has been rejected, and after a two-week break at Starbase 86 for crew changes and resupply, we are to welcome a new captain to the Falcon, although they have been tight-lipped about who is going to be taking over.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must prepare to deliver a eulogy.

End log.

The majority of the ship’s crew was gathered in full dress in the aft observation lounge, save for those junior officers who were manning the essential systems. In front of the large, panoramic viewscreen, there was a dias and a podium, behind which stood five large posterboards, the largest of which was a photo of Captain Bowman. Standing off to the side, their faces raw with emotion, were the Falcon’s senior staff.

Commander Saberwyn set his face in stone and stepped forward onto the dias. The gentle murmur of the crowd died away as he took his place behind the podium. Mustering all the courage he had, he took a deep breath and then began to speak.

“Captain Scott Bowman believed that command, meant accountability. He believed that every order, every risk, and every outcome, ultimately belonged to the person who gave them. And that belief shaped every day he spent in that chair.

“Scott Bowman was not a reckless man. On the contrary, he was a careful one, deliberate, thoughtful, and sometimes, infuriatingly patient. That patience was not hesitation – but respect. Respect for the lives of his crew, and respect for the consequences of command. Respect for the belief that Starfleet exists to preserve life, not gamble with it.

“He always led from the centre of the storm, not above it. When things went wrong, and they did, he didn’t ask anyone else to face a danger that he himself would not face. And when success came, he was the first one to shift praise onto the people around him, keeping none for himself.

“He trusted his officers, sometimes more than they trusted themselves. To me, he was not just Captain, he was my oldest friend and my mentor. He challenged me when I was stubborn, grounded me when I was impulsive, and above all else, reminded me time and again that command is not about certainty, but responsibility.

“He loved his ship, and his crew. I saw it in the way he would stay on the bridge after a crisis, going over sensor logs, or visiting injured officers in sickbay, or hosting those damn Jazz parties in the lounge. He believed, without reservation, that what we do out here matters.

“His absence will be sorely missed. We will feel it in every decision we make from this moment forward. We’ll feel it in the silence of the bridge where his voice should be. In every moment where we ask ourselves: ‘What would the captain do?’

“If we honour him properly, the answer will not be found in heroics, though he was a hero to many of us, including myself. The answer will be found in compassion, and restraint.

“Captain Scott Bowman gave his life in service to Starfleet, the Federation, and to the ideals we swore to uphold. The best way we can remember him, to to live up to them. He stood the watch.”

Bema’s voice broke, unable to hold back his emotion any longer.

“We will take it from here.”

Later, in the Captain’s ready room, the senior staff stood alone, crowded around the small desk. On the desk’s surface was a ring of empty glasses surrounding a bottle of deep amber liquid. Bema pulled the stopper and poured a couple of fingers into each of the glasses, and handed them out one by one to Scott’s closest friends.

There was an unclaimed glass, which held the same amount, left by the bottle. They drank, bidding a silent and tear-filled goodbye to the only captain a lot of them had ever really had. He was loyal, of that, the whole room was sure. He had bought each of their loyalty at one time or another, and would remain the best, no matter who came next.