“Captain’s log stardate eight-zero-two-five-nine point seven-six. The recent withdrawal of key forces from the Kazon-Nistram sect in the Tenarus Cluster, it has meant we have been able to explore it. We are proceeding with caution alongside the Concordia and Triton, as several non-aligned Kazon worlds remain nearby. So far, we’ve encountered no hostile vessels. Today, though, is April Fifth, First Contact Day.”

The crew lounge pulsed with energy as the evening’s celebrations carried on in full swing. Rock ’n’ roll blasted from the speakers, the same music once favoured by Doctor Zefram Cochrane over three centuries earlier. Coloured lights swept across the crowded room, catching on glassware and polished surfaces as laughter and conversation filled every corner.

For once, the crew were out of uniform. An array of smart, casual attire had replaced Starfleet departmental colours. Jackets were discarded, sleeves rolled up, and collars open. The atmosphere felt loose and light.

Captain Krabreii paused just inside the entrance, hands resting loosely behind her back as she took in the scene. She, too, had set aside her uniform, though in a manner that remained unmistakably her own. A crisp white blouse hung open at the collar, tucked neatly into tailored dark navy trousers that followed the sharp lines of a formal pant suit. High-heeled boots completed the look, practical yet refined. Even out of uniform, she carried the same unmistakable authority, inspiring respect and confidence in those around her. No one could say the captain ever looked unprofessional in front of her crew.

She stepped further inside. For a moment, she said nothing, simply observing.

Conversations softened as she passed, not out of fear, but habit. A few crew members straightened instinctively before relaxing again as she gave a small, permissive nod. The captain said nothing. She didn’t need to.

She had attended many First Contact Day celebrations since joining Starfleet, yet she had never quite understood humanity’s fascination with it. Most Federation worlds marked their own first contact, including her own people, yet none seemed to carry the same weight beyond their own cultures. She understood its importance. It had been a turning point in Human history. Still, to those who had grown up among the stars, celebrating a civilisation’s first warp flight and meeting the Vulcans felt distant. Almost abstract.

A burst of laughter drew her attention as two ensigns attempted a coordinated dance near the centre of the room, neither of them particularly successful. Krabreii watched for a moment, her expression unreadable, before continuing.

“Captain!”

Lieutenant Anderson approached with Ensign Florrick just a step behind him. Both men were dressed similarly, open-collared shirts worn just a little too loose, exposing more of their chests than was strictly necessary. The scent of strong cologne reached her before they did. Did they honestly think that was attractive? She did not want to know the answer to that question.

Krabreii’s eyes moved over them briefly, taking in the details without comment. Her chief security and tactical officer had eagerly accepted the job of organising this year’s celebrations, and she had no qualms with it. Rumours had reached her that he had enlisted the help of most of the senior staff and several junior officers, including Florrick. In the last few months, she had noticed how much Florrick had easily fitted into Anderson’s social circle of close friends. The former cadet from the Astra followed Anderson around the ship during off-duty hours like a lost puppy.

Krabreii knew she couldn’t complain too much. Since the incident involving the Botha last year and Florrick had saved them all, the young man had gained celebrity status among many of the crew. She had noticed he was quite modest in most social gatherings; however, he certainly appeared to struggle in saying ‘no’ to Anderson when he suggested something. By their appearance, she had wondered if Anderson had suggested to Florrick what to wear, noting that Florrick’s dark purple shirt matched Anderson’s, and his hair was styled similarly, which seemed almost deliberate.

“I hope everything is to your satisfaction,” Anderson said, a note of pride in his voice.

Krabreii let her gaze drift across the lounge once more before returning to them. “It meets morale requirements,” she said evenly.

A beat passed as Anderson tried to read her tone.

“Well done.” She added.

Relief flickered across both their faces.

“Thank you, Captain,” Florrick added, “we wanted to ensure it was a good event for everyone.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from enjoying yourselves,” She gestured for them to return to the party and watched as the two of them moved back into the crowd, already being pulled toward the chaos near the dance floor. She could see her chief engineer, Nali, already dragging them back to the middle to dance with her. Krabreii then turned toward the bar, deciding that dancing was not her thing, especially that kind of dancing where they just seemed to be jumping around a lot and bouncing their heads to the heavy bass being blared.

She approached one of the holographic servers who held a tray of chilled glasses of Dom Pérignon. She took one and placed it into her hand. If there was one thing she did love about Human culture, it was their beverages, especially champagne and whisky (obviously not together). She took a sip from the flute. The bubbles rose steadily through the pale liquid. Satisfied with her drink, she turned, scanning the room once more.

She found him where she expected.

Commander Saval, her first officer, sat alone at a small table off to one side, his posture impeccable and expression calm, subtly indicating his detached yet observant nature.

Krabreii crossed the room and took the seat opposite him without invitation. She knew what he was thinking about this whole event, so she knew there was only one thing to do with him. A bit of light teasing.

“You’re not participating,” she remarked. “I thought you would be out on the dance floor enjoying the same beats your ancestors enjoyed with Doctor Cochrane a few centuries ago?”

Saval glanced briefly toward the dance floor before returning his attention to her. “Observation does not require participation, captain.”

Krabreii lifted her glass slightly as a smirk started to form. “A popular Human philosophy would disagree.”

“Indeed,” Saval replied. “It is a philosophy I have never found compelling.”

Her gaze followed the movement of the crew for a moment. “They mark this day with remarkable enthusiasm.”

“It is a significant moment in Federation history,” Saval said.

“So I’m told.”

There was a brief pause between them, not uncomfortable, simply understood.

Krabreii took another measured sip of her drink. “Are you making a speech?” she asked.

Saval inclined his head. “I will be reciting the first words spoken by my ancestors to the Humans, over three hundred and forty years ago.”

Krabreii sniggered softly into her glass before taking another sip, the faintest hint of amusement breaking through her otherwise composed expression. She had always valued Saval’s company, and since the death of her husband a few years ago, Saval had become a source of strength she had relied upon. The fact that he had been a good friend of her former husband also helped. His counsel had become priceless.

“Did you receive a message from T’Len in the last datastream?” she asked quietly.

Saval nodded once. “I did.”

“Are they all well?”

“They are,” he answered, referring to his wife and daughters back on Vulcan. “V’Rel has been accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy.”

Krabreii smiled at hearing that news regarding Saval’s eldest daughter. “Please pass on my congratulations in your next letter.”

“Thank you, captain,” Saval replied.

Counsellor Coralia approached, a drink in hand, dressed in a long, slim-fitting dark red gown. “Captain, Commander, may I join you?”

Krabreii looked up at the Lanthanite woman. She had her hair tied up in a bun, whereas it usually rested straight just above her shoulders. “Of course, counsellor,” she replied, gesturing to the empty seat nearby.

As Coralia sat down, she looked at them both. “Are you both enjoying your evening so far?”

“It is satisfactory,” Saval responded.

Krabreii suppressed her grin behind her glass before answering. “As long as the crew are enjoying themselves, that is what matters, Counsellor.”

Coralia took a sip from her glass. “Brad and Scott have certainly put on a good party,” she said,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Kulucis or Tomraf dance so much!”

Scanning the dance floor again, Krabreii spotted her chief science officer and chief medical officer moving to the music. They, along with Nali, Anderson and Florrick, had formed an uneven line, each gripping invisible instruments as they mimicked the opening guitar riff blasting through the speakers. Their movements were wildly out of sync, yet performed with complete confidence, drawing cheers and laughter from those gathered around them.

Krabreii watched them for a moment, her expression unreadable, before taking another measured sip of her drink. The music swelled again, louder now, the rhythm infectious as the crew lost themselves in the moment. Krabreii did wonder what the song was about and couldn’t work out what an ‘Ooby Dooby’ was.

“Bridge to Captain Krabreii.”

The voice cut cleanly through the noise.

Krabreii lowered her glass slightly, her expression settling back into its usual composure. “Go ahead, Mister Jines,” she replied after tapping her combadge.

“Captain, we are receiving a distress call from a Federation shuttlecraft. It does not match any vessel assigned to the squadron.”

“Have they shared what’s wrong, lieutenant?”

“I’m afraid not, ma’am, and we are the nearest ship in range.”

Krabreii exchanged a brief glance with Saval and Coralia. The shift in her posture was immediate. “Understood,” she said. “Alter course and proceed to intercept. Maintain a cautious approach. Inform the Concordia and Triton, too. Commander Saval and I will be on the bridge shortly.”

“Aye, Captain.”

The channel closed.

Krabreii set her glass down on the table without finishing it, then rose to her feet. “It seems, Commander, you won’t be performing your speech. Saved by the universe, apparently.”

“Indeed,” Saval stood with her, letting out a small sigh of relief that only the captain heard, and followed her out of the lounge after they excused themselves from the counsellor’s presence.

---

Moments later, the turbolift doors to the bridge parted.

Krabreii stepped out first, the remnants of the celebration still evident in her appearance, yet somehow sharpened by the shift back to duty. The relaxed lines of her attire contrasted with the precision of her movement, her posture straightening almost imperceptibly as she crossed the threshold. Whatever ease the evening had allowed was gone.

The captain had returned.

Saval followed at her side, composed and measured as ever, though his own attire marked him as equally out of place against the disciplined environment of the bridge.

Lieutenant Jines rose quickly from the captain’s chair, almost too quickly, stepping aside as Krabreii approached.

The bridge seemed to tighten around her arrival, conversation dropping away into focused silence. The young pilot had appeared to be enjoying himself a bit too much while in command. His posture and attitude changed significantly upon seeing his superiors.

“Report,” Krabreii said as she moved to take her seat.

“We are approaching the shuttle’s last known position, Captain. There’s no response to our own hails,” Jines replied, moving to the helm. “The distress signal remains active, though.”

At operations, Ensign Bollwyn leaned over her console. “I am reading a single lifeform aboard,” she reported. “Sensors indicate mixed heritage. Human, Klingon and El-Aurian.”

Saval sat down in his own chair and turned his console inwards towards him, before reviewing the data for himself. “Life signs are weak,” he confirmed.

Krabreii did not hesitate to ask him for his opinion on their next course of action. She knew the former doctor in Saval would want them to do anything they could to save this individual. Alongside that, they had served beside each other long enough that they almost knew what the other was thinking. Well, Saval probably could read her mind with his Vulcan telepathic abilities.

“Mister Jines, bring us within transporter range,” she ordered. “Ensign Bollwyn, beam the pilot directly to sickbay.”

“Bridge to sickbay, standby for an incoming patient,” Saval stated after tapping his combadge.

“Aye, Captain,” Bollwyn replied, her hands already moving across the controls to bring the transporter controls online.

“Put the shuttle up on the main viewer,” Krabreii ordered.

Immediately, what looked like a modified type-twelve shuttle appeared before them. It was heavily damaged with tears across its hull and its starboard nacelle leaking plasma. It was a drift and barely operational.

Krabreii rose from her chair and gazed at the image before them. “Once we have the pilot and as long as it is safe to do so, tractor the shuttle into the main shuttlebay. Let’s find out who they are and where they came from.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jines replied.

Before her pilot could complete her orders, Krabreii was already turning toward the turbolift. “Commander,” she called towards her Vulcan first officer.

Saval fell into step beside her without question.

As they crossed the bridge, Krabreii issued her next set of commands without breaking stride. “Lieutenant Jines, you have the bridge. Have Doctor Tomraf meet us in sickbay, along with Lieutenant Anderson.”

Jines glanced back from the helm. “Aye, Captain.”

Krabreii paused briefly at the turbolift, her hand hovering near the control. “And Lieutenant… inform the crew that First Contact Day celebrations are suspended until further notice.”

Jines gave a quiet sigh before answering her again. “Aye, Captain.”

The turbolift doors slid open, and Krabreii and Saval swiftly stepped onto the cart.

Without another word, Krabreii stepped inside, Saval following as the doors closed behind them.

---

Krabreii and Saval entered sickbay side by side, moving straight towards the main surgical bay. Doctor Tomraf stood by his patient, his tricorder sweeping steadily across the young man who lay in a torn Starfleet uniform, unconscious on the main surgical bio bed. Tomraf, like them, was still wearing his party outfit from earlier. Somehow, Krabreii had noticed he had glitter in his hair, on his face, and over most of his shirt. She did not want to know what happened after she and Saval had left the crew lounge for the doctor to appear in that state.

As they drew closer, Krabreii noted the cadet uniform. Almost. One detail stood out. The combadge was wrong. A silver delta rested against four narrow backing strips, three black and one gold. It was not a design she recognised.

It was unfamiliar.

Her gaze shifted to the young man himself. Dark, curly hair lay in disarray, and faint Klingon ridges marked an otherwise Human and El-Aurian face, softened by his mixed heritage.

“How is he, Doctor?”

“Third-degree burns, a hairline jaw fracture, and a ruptured cerebral vessel,” Tomraf replied, not looking up. “He’ll need immediate surgery.”

“Any clue who he is?”

Tomraf gestured toward a nearby console. “Genetic analysis is already underway.”

Saval, a trained doctor, went over to the display and began reading it. After a few seconds, one eyebrow rose. “Fascinating.”

“What is it, Commander?”

Krabreii remained where she was. She could read the display, but not interpret it as Saval could. She was a pilot by training.

“If these readings are correct,” Saval said, “this individual is genetically linked to Commodore McCallister and Captain Reyas.” He highlighted several genetic markers on the display.

Krabreii looked back at the patient. The resemblance was there, faint but undeniable.

Not enough.

She had met McCallister and Reyas’s son, Alfie, who was a cadet on the Astra. This was not him. “Commodore McCallister and Captain Reyas have three sons,” she said. “None with Klingon DNA. Run a comparative analysis against their sons and all known records.”

Saval complied, and moments later, Anderson entered sickbay, still in his party attire with a PADD tightly held between his fingers. As he approached his captain, Anderson handed her the device. “Ma’am, the shuttlecraft has been secured. Lieutenant Jines asked me to pass this on.”

Taking the PADD out of his hands, Krabreii glanced down at the device’s contents. Krabreii scanned the data. She understood enough to recognise what she was seeing. One eyebrow rose. “How certain are we on these scans?”

Anderson replied. “Andron said he and Cheryon did them more than twice and had others perform the scans as the shuttle was brought down onto the hangar deck. The readings are accurate, ma’am.”

“Chroniton levels are off the chart, and the quantum signature does not align with ours,” Krabreii said quietly.

Saval looked up. “That would explain these differences I am detecting.” He pointed to the screen, which showed similar quantum scan results to those taken of the shuttle. “Our patient is not the son of Commodore McCallister and Captain Reyas. He is their grandson. One half of his genetic profile belongs to Cadet Alfie McCallister-Reyas.”

“Alfie’s son?”

All three officers turned as Florrick entered sickbay.

Krabreii knew that Florrick had trained with Cadet McCallister-Reyas back on the Astra. She was surprised to see Florrick here at first, but soon realised he had come in to hand over a phaser to Anderson, which he did once he had closed the gap between him and his superiors.

“How can he be Alfie’s son?” Florrick asked as he passed the phaser over. “He’s at least in his twenties. Alfie doesn’t have a son. He’s only twenty himself.”

“Given the chroniton saturation and the quantum variance found on the shuttle,” Saval said, “I would hypothesise that our visitor is not from this universe. Nor this time, but most likely an alternative future where Cadet McCallister-Reyas is his father.”

“Who is the other parent?” Florrick asked eagerly. “You said that he shares half of his genetic profile with Alfie. Who does the other half belong to?”

Krabreii found herself asking the same question, though she said nothing, but was intrigued by why Florrick wanted to know so much.

Saval returned to the screen. “The computer is taking longer to determine that through our records.”

“Is it…” Florrick took a moment to take a deep breath before finishing his sentence. “…is it Cadet Jordan Duncan-Court?”

That caught Krabreii’s attention. Anderson had once told her that Florrick had some issues with a couple of other cadets after an away mission on the Astra revealed some personal truths. Even Captain Niro, Astra’s skipper, didn’t explain much when she had called him about it; he just assured her that Florrick joining the Orion was the fresh start he needed and would be an asset to her ship. That point she could not argue with.

On the other hand, she wondered if she really wanted to know the ins and outs of the past drama between hormonal cadets.

She thought about it for a second and decided it wasn’t worth her time or energy. She remembered what it had been like for her at the Academy, and there was more drama in it than in an episode of some Ferengi drama holo-series.

Saval looked at Florrick, and his expression of curiosity was kept by that question. Krabreii also shared her first officer’s curiosity as to why Florrick had asked that. She knew that the cadet he mentioned was one of Captain Duncan’s sons and that Jordan Duncan-Court was engaged to Alfie. She gave Saval an approving nod to check it himself. Nevertheless, she knew what the answers would be. There was no Klingon DNA in Duncan’s family.

Quickly, Saval ran the check and then looked up. He shook his head. “Negative, none of Cadet Duncan-Court’s DNA matches.”

That surprised Florrick. Again, the captain noticed that and wondered if whatever happened to Florrick on the Astra had something to do with the two cadets he was all of a sudden concerned about.

“Remember, Scott, if we are potentially dealing with a parallel universe and alternative future timeline, things won’t align with ours,” Anderson remarked after he saw Florrick’s reaction to Saval’s news. “Plus, are you surprised it isn’t Jordan? He doesn’t have any Klingon heritage.”

“I know, but I also know Jordan and his brother William had to undergo some genetic treatment after the Odyssey saved them. I didn’t know if there was some sort of Klingon mutation.” Florrick shrugged.

“I’m no doctor, Scott, but that’s not how genetics work,” Anderson remarked. “Right, Tomraf?”

The doctor only looked up briefly as he treated the pilot. He appeared a bit annoyed by the interruption. “Indeed.”

“Well, maybe he’s related to Athena or Brook!” Anderson suggested, sounding a bit desperate as he mentioned other cadets from the Astra.

Krabreii knew they were Captain Banfield’s twins. She still couldn’t get over the fact that most of the cadets in the squadron were related to senior officers. She wasn’t promoting the idea of nepotism from her fellow colleagues and superiors. Still, she had wondered on a few occasions how Commodore McCallister got a state-of-the-art Protostar-class assigned to the squadron. Krabreii certainly thought the Telemachus, the Aquarius-class escort attached to the Odyssey, should have been enough to conduct training exercises. Ignoring that, though, for a moment, she crossed her arms and looked at Florrick.

“Ensign, if the computer was quick to determine he’s related to Cadet McCallister-Reyas, it would have done for anyone else in the squadron,” Krabreii said in a soft voice. She was getting a bit frustrated by the young man’s need to find answers without any patience.

Immediately, Florrick looked embarrassed for his behaviour and quickly mumbled out an apology to her.

The nearby console beeped, and everyone, except Tomraf and his medical staff, turned to it. Saval read the update, then looked up. “Match confirmed from the Starfleet database. The second genetic contributor is Third Year Cadet Parker Hart.

“Who?” Florrick asked, frowning at not knowing that name.

“He is half-Human and half-Klingon, and he is currently assigned to the U-S-S Pythagoras,” Saval reported from the console.

“The Pythagoras?” Krabreii echoed, curious to hear that name.

“Isn’t the Odyssey en route to rendezvous with the Pythagoras to receive over two thousand new officers to join the squadron?” Anderson asked. “Aren’t they replacing the ones that transferred to the Whirlwind?”

Krabreii nodded as she looked back at the unconscious young man still being cared for by Tomraf. Where had he come from? Who was he? How was he related to these two cadets who did not serve on the same ship as one another? How did he arrive in their part of space? Was it a coincidence that they were the ones to find him? She had too many questions and knew they needed more answers, but most importantly, Krabriee knew she had to do something else first.

She exhaled slowly, and her smirk slowly reappeared before she spoke. “It seems I need to inform Commodore McCallister and Captain Reyas that they are grandparents.”