“It’s an impressive résumé.” Captain Ceix appraised before setting the PADD aside and reaching for the fork instead. Seth Thompson, on the other side of the table, inclined their head. And waited for the “but” that was sure to follow.
One piece of jumja pie and a sip of tea later, it finally came.

“But… “ Ceix said and shifted ever so slightly. “It also tells me you prefer administration over practice,” he said eventually. “And a spacious office in a well-equipped sickbay aboard a comfortable vessel. The Spirit is nothing like that.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Seth replied. They had expected the question. The prepared response came easily, and with a smile. “I am aware of that. This isn’t a rash decision on a whim.”

Ceix gave a thoughtful nod and took another piece of pasty while Seth placed their hands on the table in front of them. Open body language. They had nothing to be ashamed of.

And, usually, they wouldn’t have to remind themselves of this. But they had noticed how, one booth further but not out of earshot, its occupants shot them curious glances, probably wondering why Ceix was conducting the conversation here, in a café, instead of somewhere more private.

Seth wondered the same. And tried to ignore the glances, the conversations around them, and the waiting staff checking in on them.

“Then why transfer?” Ceix asked. He sounded earnest, if a little skeptical.

​“I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” Seth said calmly. They noticed they hadn’t touched their cup of coffee yet, and quickly remedied that.

“I was on Risa when the Vaadwaur attacked.”

They took a sip and tried to ignore the shuffling of people turning ever so slightly towards them so they could hear better.

Ceix jaw set. Seth felt their own heartbeat rise, and set the cup down again. The wounds had closed. The scars were still there.

“There was no sickbay,” they continued. “No team of doctors and nurses waiting for my instructions. Just… civilians stuck between the rubble, and others trying to help.” A pause. “I didn’t even have equipment with me.”

​“And you found you liked it?” Ceix’s eyes met theirs. Seth shook their head.

​“Were you good at it?” he continued.​

“Not good enough,” Seth said quietly. “It took me several attempts to find a pulse manually. Too long to remember the baseline blood pressure for different species.” They shook their head. “I took things for granted. A medical tricorder that tells me what I need to know, tourniquets, analgesics.. I had none of that.”

Ceix’s gaze softened, and Seth felt their body stiffen. They knew that expression. It was the one they wore when referring officers to the counselor.

“It’s why I stepped down as Chief Medical Officer,” they continued quickly. “Over the past year, I dedicated my time to field medicine.”

“Why?”

Seth hesitated. They’d been asked that question before. They never had a good answer. “Because…. a surgical suite is… a fantastic thing to have. But sometimes you just have your hands. You need to know what to do with them. That’s why I asked for the transfer.”

“You won’t be leading a sickbay,” Ceix said, as if wanting to make sure Seth knew what they had signed up for. “Or a team. Your rank will mean very little. It’s a step down from where you could be. ”​

“I know,” Seth said. Then, carefully, they added. “I also know that didn’t stop you when you left Caireann Station and took command of the Spirit.”

A smile flickered across Ceix face. “No. It didn’t.”
He returned his attention to the apple pie when a high-pitched beep from his badge stopped the fork midway to his mouth. In an instant, the chatter around them seemed to die down.

“All officers, prepare for transport,” an automated voice followed. Ceix rose from his chair and dropped the fork onto the plate before the sentence was finished.

He offered Seth his hand.

“Welcome aboard, Commander.”

​
Around them, tables, the people, and the high walls dissolved into white mist. Then the Spirit’s bridge resolved around them. Ceix seemed to move before the transport had put him back together, and was halfway to his chair when Seth’s eyes found him.

Seth took a step forward to follow, only to be cut off mid-path by an officer moving towards one of the consoles. He didn’t apologize.

The Bajoran who’d been occupying the Captain’s chair rose before Ceix announced himself.

“What have we got?” he asked.

“Cave-in on Naroli II, sector thirteen,” the woman said, jutting her chin towards the overlay on the viewscreen.

Ceix gave a nod. “How many?”

“Four,” the Bajoran replied, already turning towards the turbolift. “Two Shadow, two Fogg.”

“Shadow closeby?”

​“In orbit, but sensors aren’t calibrated, they can’t get a lock.” She passed Seth, sparing them but a single glance as if expecting them to know what it meant.
They didn’t.​

“Life signs?” Ceix continued, a little louder now that the Bajoran was further away.  ​

“One confirmed, three minutes ago. Nothing on the rest,” the woman said and entered the turbolift. Its doors began to close, but stopped when she held her hand between them.

Seth had expected the conversation to continue, or to end like it was supposed to.
With orders or dismissals. This one didn’t.

Instead, the hand remained where it was until the woman stuck her head out and looked straight at Seth.

“When I move, you move.”

“Got it.” Seth nodded. Which was not entirely true.​ She followed anyway.

“I’m Lieutenant Jalixa, leading the SAR unit,” the Bajoran said as the doors finally closed and the turbolift began moving.

“I am-…” Seth started, but Jalixa cut them off.

“Commander Seth Thompson, the new transfer.” She said. “I know. I hope you’re good at learning by doing.” The doors opened again, and she stepped outside.
“Consider this your orientation.”