Commander Tehm Mall continued to crack his knuckles for the entirety of the turbolift ride, pausing every so often to just grab his fingers tightly, squeezing them until he winced. They were red and aching by the time the doors slid open and he exited into the hallway that led to the shared quarters of Lieutenant Commander Betty Walker and Nurse Sora New’all.

He stood outside the door, staring angrily at the touchpad that would alert the occupant on the other side of his arrival. Tehm resented this impromptu summoning. His place was on the bridge. No officer who wanted to be taken seriously would want to be taken away from the action when their ship had arrived someplace new – let alone dangerous.

But he had come dangerously close to insubordination. And what frustrated him the most was that he wasn’t sure which Tehm it was that was so defiant towards his captain. This prime version of himself, who resented the placement and actively sought a new posting? Or one of the others – the ripples – who were themselves already captains? Regardless, he needed a moment’s escape. A second to regroup. And this meeting – whatever it was – was as good an excuse as any. The last thing he wanted was to jeopardize his career by openly defying the Captain – especially now that he could taste the possibilities.

He slammed his finger against the button, and only a second later came a calm, somewhat familiar voice inviting him in.

These quarters could not be more different than his own. Nearly every inch of space was occupied with decoration or adornments. Family photos were arranged around the room so that at least one of Sora’s children was visible from any angle. Flowers, too, were placed around the room which, in turn, was pleasantly scented. Faerie lights dangled from patches of bulkhead, taking up any wall space free of artworks, picture frames, or other accoutrements. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how long it took for the couple to turn these quarters – nearly identical to his own in shape and size – into such a lived-in space.

Nurse Sora, a round, older woman with gray hair, entered from the bedroom, a tray balanced between her hands. “Please, Commander, have a seat,” she said, warm yet serious, as she sat down in a fuzzy-looking armchair. She placed the tray, teapot and two cups shaking slightly, on a nearby table. “I hope I haven’t pulled you from something important.”

She was staring at him, her eyes nearly shaking with intensity. She followed his every movement until he came to the seat next to her, taking it swiftly.

“No, no, I’m sure I did. The first officer is always busy, no doubt,” she added quickly.

Mall admittedly didn’t know Sora well. She was Bajoran and had enlisted late in life as a nurse in Starfleet so that, according to all accounts, she could stay close to her wife, Lieutenant Commander Walker. While her official Starfleet record was short, he did remember she had registered ample field experience on Bajor both during and after the occupation. Now, sitting across from her, his Betazoid talents sensed a rainbow of emotions – determination, curiosity, and, most definitely, fear. His curiosity began to get the best of him, his anger and annoyance slowly slipping away.

“You asked to see me, Sora?” he asked, prodding her. He noted that she was still staring.

“Yes,” she said, shortly, and he saw her break eye contact just long enough to grab a knitted blanket from the back of her chair and toss it over herself. “Damn cold,” she muttered. “I know it’s for the mission – but I’ve grown accustomed to being spoiled by Federation abundances. Do you need a blanket?” she asked, realizing in the moment she might be acting rudely.

“Please tell me you didn’t ask me here to discuss the temperature, Sora. You said yourself it’s for the mission.” He frowned.

“No. That’s not why,” she replied, and she began to pull the blanket tighter around herself. “Are you… are you still seeing those ripples from other lives?”

He was momentarily stunned, caught off guard by her question and unsure how he should feel. Before he knew it, his hands were twisting between each other, squeezing again. His Betazoid senses still did not sense anything hostile but… he was unsure why she asked. Yet, still, he responded, truthfully.

“Yes,” he said, slowly.

“Oh, dear,” she replied nearly instantaneously. “Me, too.”

The two sat there in silence for an uncountable amount of time, the steam from the forgotten kettle slowly billowing up in the cold room. She stared at him. He stared at her. Eventually, his curiosity won out.

“What do you see?” he asked.

She took in a heavy breath, then exhaled. The cloud of her breath nearly reached his own face before she answered.

“Betty doesn’t know,” she said quickly. “No one does. But I see two… two points of view,” she added. “In one, I’m still very much so on the Gilroy. Everything is almost the same. Except,” she said, pausing.

“Except?” he asked, pushing her.

“Except Betty’s gone. I can’t seem to find her anywhere. No one mentions her. And they – the other crew, that is – they look at me with pity in their eyes. I think… I think she might have died.” The words tumbled out of her quickly, and the blanket was pulled even tighter.

“And in the other perspective,” she said, slowly but continuing. “I’m not here. I’m not on the Gilroy. I’m back on Bajor. People don’t call me Nurse Sora.” She paused for a moment, still staring at Tehm. “They call me… they call me Doctor Sora.” She finally breaks eye contact, turning away from him and towards the large window, streaks of light rushing by while the ship’s at warp. The silence again returns between them.

Tehm allows his thoughts to focus on her for a moment. He forgets about his own ripples, trying to imagine instead what it must feel like to know there’s a timeline out there where someone you love has died. It’s an alien concept for him, really, to imagine. He struggles, shifting instead to her second point of view. That one – the one of a different rank – he can understand intimately.

“I’m a captain,” he said, breaking their mutual silence. “In both of my ripples. I’m the captain of my own ship. Neither of them are the Gilroy.”

“Naturally,” she says, like it’s the most obvious reply in the world.