Lieutenant Charlotte Callista Farnsworth would not have been recognizable out of her uniform; save for her unique purple “Peter Pan-like” style haircut she always wore. In her private life, people called her Charlie. It was a nickname an old boyfriend had started, and somehow it just seemed to stick. She didn’t mind the homogenization of her name. It was a cute nickname, and Charlie liked to play off of things that made her appear cute.

Charlie was the self-proclaimed “Mistress of Disguises.” Often was the time she would allow people to form misconceptions about her based off of her appearance. Secretly, she liked to dress up, wear extravagant makeup, clothing; anything that would get her noticed.

Inside, she was calculating, keen, and quick with her instincts.

All of her life, Charlie had been brilliant. Her brilliant life had begun filching personal belongings of others, when she was a child. She had not done this for lack of food, clothing, or warmth. She stole things because she’d enjoyed it. Like so many brilliant prodigy level children, she often had had difficulty finding challenge in her daily life.

Had she not been caught by one Petty Officer Dick Sullivan, a senior serving member of Starfleet at Jupiter Station, she might very well missed her opportunity to join Starfleet.

Charlie had always had an aptitude for engineering. In primary school, she had shown mechanical aptitude; her scores were exemplary. This trend continued on through secondary and finally when she was sponsored into Starfleet Academy. She might have joined the Starfleet Corps of Engineers, save for the fact that she had ambitions to command.

Now she sat waiting at her favorite table in the back of the 602 Club, for the arrival of her old friend Sullivan. She’d had good news to share, and “Sully” as everyone called him, was the first person she wanted to share it with.

Charlie sat sideways in her chair, as she always had. Her body posture was unorthodox, leaning her right arm over the chairs back, and her actual spine resting comfortably against the brick wall she was adjacent to.

Slowly she sipped on the Arcanis lager that had become her favorite vice. It had gotten a little warm in the afternoon in the club, and so she had removed her leather jacket and flung across her perfectly crossed knees. Etiquette was the rule of law to her, and even in pants, a true lady sat properly, revealing nothing.

Sully walked into the bar. The great old friend, who had served as her mentor for so long, had aged with the passage of time. His steely blue eyes had faded, after so many years of staring at view screens. His dark salt and peppered hair, was now mostly white. He looked old. He was seasoned, but not weary. Every wrinkle in his face reflected another year survived in the world.

He was an avuncular, dear sweet old man, and the closest thing Charlie would ever have to a father.

Immediately upon seeing her, he approached her table; his arms stretched wide for a hug.

“C’mon, kid, bring the shuttle in for a hug on landing pad Sully!” He said, as Charlie stood up from her chair.

Charlie was short, somewhere around 1.65 meters, and Sully, somewhere around 1.83 meters. With massive bear-like arms, he wrapped himself around the tiny young woman, and lifted her off her feet. His embrace was a tender warm loving hug. The grapple had been so unexpected, it had left her no time to put her jacket down, and it fell to the floor as a result.

Charlie allowed herself a giddy childlike squeak of happiness.

“Sully!” She said, in happy affectation.

Sully dropped her back to her feet and looked into the eyes of his former apprentice.

“Look at you kid, with your purple hair.” He said, pulling an extinguished cigar from his uniform pocket and placing it in his mouth for the flavor.

“You like it?” Charlie asked, genuinely seeking his approval.

Sully looked back at the young woman, and they sat together at the table, across from one another.

“Love it!” He said, “You always knew your style and you never let anyone bark you up a tree.”

Charlie shook her head. Chief Petty Officer Dick Sullivan was a salty old sea dog, and full of useful old platitudes what she had come to think of as “Sully-isms.”

Sully chomped a bit at his cigar, picked up a lit candle from the table, lit the cigar, and returned the candle to its proper place.

“So, what’s the good word, kid?” He asked.

Charlie got right down to business. Leaning towards him, she was bursting with excitement.

“I got my first command, Sully.” She said, with a low tone, almost as if she were preserving a secret.

Sully’s eyes widened with approval and genuine envy.

“Well, I’ll be go-to-hell!” He said, clapping her on the shoulder. “I knew you could do it, kid. Let me guess, they gave you a Galaxy?”

Both Charlie and Sully gave a sarcastic chuckle. She was only a lieutenant. Such things simply were not done. Sully had known that, he was merely busting the young girl’s chops for amusement.

“Hardly…” she paused. This time a genuine look of something serious passed her face.

Sully made notice of her troubled expression and so too, his face changed to match hers.

“What? They didn’t give you a damned Oberth, did they? I hate those ships. They practically lose warp field containment if you fart sideways.”

Normally Charlie would have laughed at the older man’s salty language, but the truth of the situation stuck with her. She needed his guidance, and she needed it now.

“…They gave me a Raven class, Sully.” She said.

Sully saw the pieces, but not the completed puzzle. He didn’t quite get the dilemma.

“So? Ravens are damned fined ships to start a career on.” He said shrugging.

Charlie paused, the next sentence she would speak to him would require little to no explanation.

She took a deep breath and her expression was clearly rattled.

“They gave me the Feuos, Sully.” She explained.

Sully scratched his beard. Now he understood the situation.

“Wasn’t that supposed to be Nate’s ship?” He asked.

Quietly, she responded with nothing but a slow nod of the head.

Now Sully grasped the magnitude of her feelings.

Lieutenant Commander Nate Wilmer, a mutual acquaintance of them both, had been in line for command for years. After years of service in intelligence, and on various vessels, he had been earmarked for command of a Raven some time ago, but had been held back for various reasons.

To make matters worse, Charlie had been romantically involved with Nate, on and off, for many, many years. Their latest romantic tryst, once again had ended badly, with them separating over long-distance subspace, flinging insults and damaging nothing but each other’s pride.

“He’s going to be so angry when he finds out, Sully.” She said, with genuine concern for Nate’s feelings.

Sully reached across the table and held her hand.

“This joyous day ain’t about anybody else but you, kid. Don’t let any history get in the way of that. You let old Sully worry about how to deal with Nate.” He said with sage wisdom.

Charlie smiled. Sully always knew the right thing to say.

She asked one more favor of him.

“Come with me, Sully.” She said pleadingly, “I know you’re close to retirement. But just one last time, it would mean the world to me if you come out on my very first mission as Captain.”

Sully hesitated only as long as it took to wink at the young woman, and squeeze her hand in acceptance.

“One last time, just for your kid.” He said with the love of a governing father, “Old Sully will always have your back.”