Captain Sands allowed himself to sink into his most comfortable armchair, exhaling deeply as he did so. He sat quietly, arms folded over his large stomach, and watched as dots of light flew by his window—the telltale sign that the Gilroy was at warp.

He had nearly drifted to sleep when his door chimed. It took him a minute to rouse himself fully awake, and he pulled himself back to sit up straight. “Come in.”

A moment later, the doors to his quarters slid open, then closed.

“Captain,” called a voice, deep and serious.

“Please, Tehm, come join me,” offered Sands to his first officer, lifting a large hand to gesture to the armchair opposite his own. “And in my quarters, I go by Sands or Jericho.”

He offered the Betazoid man a warm smile and then allowed the quiet to fall back between them. He turned back to admire the stars as they seemed to rush by.

The quiet lasted for nearly two minutes before Tehm spoke, clearly uncomfortable in silence.

“Helm estimates four hours until arrival at the portal’s coordinates, sir.” Tehm sounded uncomfortable, and he squirmed when Sands gave him a frowning expression. “Sands,” Tehm added, quickly.

Sands noticed that Tehm was still heavily bandaged, with a black patch over his eye. Though the dim lights made it difficult to tell for sure, he thought he saw clear signs of scarring around the edges. He had only just gotten rid of his own bandages an hour or so ago.

“How are you feeling, Tehm?” he asked, genuinely curious about the answer.

Tehm seemed to squirm at the question, and he turned away from the window to look around the captain’s quarters. Sands smiled patiently, hands back around his stomach, and waited until Tehm felt like he could no longer avoid the question.

“Miserable on about a hundred different levels,” he finally said.

“Let’s take it one level at a time then, shall we?” offered Sands. And then he waited, humming slightly.

“I’m… I’m mad at myself,” Tehm said. He spoke slowly, and when he noticed that Sands wasn’t going to offer an interruption, he continued. “The visions—these ripples. They made me unable to serve in my capacity as first officer. They made me… a liability.” Tehm leaned forward in his chair and punched the armrest, clearly frustrated.

“Let’s talk about the ripples, then,” offered Sands, who too leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me about them. What have you seen?”

Tehm sighed. “A lot. Sometimes I’m on a big ship in the middle of a fierce battle. Everyone’s turning to me for orders, asking what to do. Other times I’m still on a California-class but it’s different. More… important feeling.”

“Is everyone still looking towards you for orders?” asked Sands, voice still warm.

“Yes,” Tehm replied, honestly. “When it started, though, I wasn’t on the bridge.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sands, eyebrows raised.

“I was in my quarters. Some version of my quarters, anyway. But they were… more lived in. More like a home than…”

“Than the sparse closet you treat yours as,” Sands continued for him. “No judgment,” he followed up quickly, waving his hands dismissively. “Just an observation.” Sands sat up with some effort. He motioned for Tehm to stay seated and moved to a cabinet tucked in the corner. He pulled out a bottle and two glasses, filling each halfway. Returning to his chair with a hearty drop, he offered the second glass to Tehm and took a sip.

“I don’t know why I haven’t unpacked yet,” said Tehm, slowly, as he took a sip. “Damn it. Yes I do.” Tehm leaned back in his chair, tilting his head as far back as he could. “I never wanted to be here, Captain.”

Sands laughed with a hearty chuckle. “Oh, I know.”

It was Tehm’s turn to laugh, and he did, though it was softer. “It kills me to see all these different versions of myself as captains. Like somehow they’ve succeeded and I’ve failed.”

“I think you’ve done the opposite of failing,” offered Sands. “You managed your duties as first officer as best you could all while your mind slipped between realities. That sentence alone sounds exhausting. And when you needed to—when I, as your captain, had to ask you to leave the bridge—you did. You didn’t put up a fight. You didn’t further distract the crew. You left. That’s part of being a great leader.” He paused, taking a long sip from his glass before continuing. “And when I was incapacitated, you dragged yourself to the bridge—no doubt disoriented—and passed command to the best man you could find: Jules.”

Tehm grunted before lifting his glass to his forehead.

“The you from a week ago would never have transferred command to Lieutenant Ashworthy. Not in a million years. Because he was too obsessed with—what did you use?—succeeding. But now—my friend—you put your ship first.” He locked eyes with his first officer, a broad smile on his face. “And speaking of Ashworthy—don’t think it’s gone unnoticed by the crew that you’ve been calling him Jules as of late. You’ve been showing him—and everyone—more respect. And they’ve all been working harder for it.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tehm, confused. He winced when Sands let out another note of laughter.

“They all look up to you. You’re this big hotshot who everyone believed was on the fast track to being the captain of a real ship.” Sands leapt up again from his chair, moving to the window and resting his arm on its bend. “Though I stand with the thought that the Gilroy is a real ship. But regardless, your expectations were high. You were this higher-than-god figure they all wanted to impress. But when you turned out to be a cold dick—forgive me—they stopped admiring you and started to resent you.”

Tehm bowed his head.

“But I don’t think they would have worked so hard on the mission when it really mattered if that was still the case. They heard the change in your tone. They noticed you started addressing them as real Starfleet officers and not inept cadets. You’ve grown—and just in a few short days.”

“I was scared,” added Sands, still looking out the window at the strings of light rushing by. “They woke me just before surgery. Told me with the power shortages they weren’t sure if they could save me.”

Though Tehm couldn’t see Sands anymore, he could hear the smile on the man’s face fade away.

“They said you were still being rocked by the ripples, too. I didn’t know what was going to happen when I woke up. If I woke up.” He swirled the final contents of his glass for a moment before finishing it off. “Fear is part of being in Starfleet. Fear of your ship getting destroyed. Fear of getting lost in some anomaly. Fear of not finding a family or, in your case, of making a name for yourself. But we have to fight through the fear. To get to the other side. To enjoy… space.”

Tehm stood from his chair and moved slowly to the cabinet he had seen the captain go to. He grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass. Then, even slower, he approached Sands and poured.

“What if I’m not good enough?” asked Tehm, joining his captain on the other edge of the window, eyes peering forward.

“You will be,” offered Sands, as the two men clinked their glasses together.