Órlaith stood at one of the windows aboard the Markonian Outpost staring out at the void.  The preliminary debriefing with command went mostly as expected.   The damage to the Crazy Horse was severe and the old ship would need tractored back to Barvo Fleet’s ship yards for repair or to break it up and recycle the hull into a newer ship.  Either way, she was relieved of command.  

Not the most auspicious first command, Órlaith thought. 

“Captain Murphy?”  a timid female voice asked.

Órlaith turned to see a young Ensign wearing command red.  By the looks of things she appeared to be fresh out of the Academy.  Her blonde hair was in a perfect bun, and her uniform crisp including spit-polished boots. “Yes Ensign?”

“I’m from the USS Coeur d’Alene.  I’m Ensign Bardot, Captain Martin’s Yeoman.”

“What can I do for you Ensign?”

“We understand you and your crew are seeking passage back to the Alpha Quadrant.   The  Coeur d’Alene is heading for Starbase 75 and can give you and your crew a ride.”

Órlaith nodded, “Thank you Ensign.  I would be grateful.”

Bardot nodded, “We are berthed at docking port 54 Alpha. Captain Martin asks that your crew is onboard by tomorrow an hour before the wormhole opens.”

Órlaith nodded, “I’ll see to it Ensign.  Thank you, and thank Captain Martin.”

The Yeoman nodded, and turned on a heel and headed down the corridor without so much as a glance backwards.   Órlaith tapped her combadge,  “Captain Murphy to Commander Torin.”

“Go ahead Captain,” Torin’s voice returned sounding small from her combadge. 

“We need to talk.  Meet me at the Telaxian restaurant on level eight?”

“I’m on my way Captain. Torin out.”

Órlaith was sitting at one of the tables not far from the entrance sipping a glass of water when Commander Torin walked into the restaurant.   Devix, the owner of the establishment greeted him, and lead Torin to the table.  “Your guest is here Captain,” The Telaxian said with a conspiratorial grin.

“Thank you Devix,” Órlaith said hiding a laugh behind her glass.

“Today’s special is Ga’vern tube root soup. It us quite popular with you Starfleeters. I guess it’s similar to a creamy potato soup. Whatever that is.”

Torin smiled, “Yeah, I’ll take that, and I guess a water.”

The Telaxian smiled, “Coming right up commander.” Without further preamble he turned and walked away.

“Well, he certainly has a personality,” Torin replied. 

“Indeed.  So, how do you feel about going home?”

“You found us a ride back,” relief on Torin’s face evident. 

She nodded, “The USS Coeur d’Alene.”

“That’s an Intrepid-class is it not?”

Órlaith nodded, “That’s the one. It will be a bit crowded,  but we’ll get a ride to Starbase 75.”

“I can live with that. We roughed it on Eden, and then on the Mackenzie and now we’re finding wherever we can sleep here.”

“Annnd here you go Commander,” Devix said as he set an enormous bowl of a creamy soup before him and a tall glass of water.  He slid a plate of greens and a meat he recommended in front of Órlaith.  “Seared Nor beast, mashed Ga’vern root with a flavian salad.”

“Thank you Devix,” Órlaith her stomach growling as the smells wafted up from her plate.

“Enjoy,” the owner said and disappeared to take care of other customers. 

“I know we’re all scattered about, but spread the word.  We need to be onboard the ship tomorrow no later than 09:00.”

Torin nodded, ”I’ll get the word out. Finally.”

“We can start boarding now. The sooner we get this herd of cats corralled the less hectic it will be for tomorrow.”

Torin sipped his soup from a spoon obviously enjoying it, “Good idea.  Give us a chance to find our wayward lambs well before departure.”

“Good.  They are berthed in port 54 Alpha.”

USS Coeur d’Alene, next day…

Freshly showered and in a new uniform Órlaith checked on her crew. The bulk of which were being housed in Cargo  Bay 3.  The senior officers were offered VIP suites, and while she didn’t deny them to her staff Órlaith had opted for one of the uncomfortable cots located in the cargo bay.  

The comm beeped, “Captain Martin to Captain Murphy. Would you like to come to the bridge?”

She tapped her combadge, “On my way.”

When she stepped onto the bridge a few moments later the command center was a buzz with activity. There was excitement in the air.  It was a throughly modern bridge with sleek consoles,  and stainless steel railings and accents.  

“Captain Murphy,” Captain Benjamin Martin greeted.  He was an middle aged man with grey at his temples and salt and pepper in his goatee.  Martin was a handsome man with a pair of ice blue eyes that seemed to be able to peer into your soul.  “Sorry about the Crazy Horse. She was an icon.”

“That she was,” Órlaith said accepting Martin’s extended hand.  His hand was large, calloused and judging by the forearm that accompanied it, it was likely powerful too. But, Martin didn’t squeeze the life out of her, which Órlaith was happy about.  

“Would you care for a seat?” He gestured to the observer’s seat.  “Is your crew on board?”

Órlaith slid into the the comfortable replicated leather seat and smiled, “we tracked down the last of them last night at 01:00.”

“I appreciate you taking care of that,” Martin commented as he settled into his own seat next to Órlaith. “As you know traffic through the wormhole is tightly controlled and we need to be in position.”

“I understand,” Órlaith said with a smile.

“Operations,  notify station for clearance,” Martin announced. 

“Contacting Station Ops for clearance,” the operations officer replied.

“Disconnect all moorings and umbilicals.  Airlock is sealed ” the helm officer said from the front of the bridge.

“We have been granted clearance for a departure along waypoint Papi,” Operations said. “We are limited to one-quarter impulse until we clear Victor and free to navigate to the Barzan Wormhole.”

“Course set for waypoint Papi. One-quarter impulse,” the helm officer announced.

Martin smiled at the efficiency of his crew.  “Make it so.”

Órlaith caught a glimpse of the USS Crazy Horse docked with the station,  but black in space awaiting its fate.  She wondered if that would be last time she would see the old ship, and she hoped they wouldn’t scrap her.  Worst case scenario maybe Starfleet could make a museum out of her.

72 Hours Later…

The USS Coeur d’Alene dropped out of warp, and the aging Spacedock class of Starbase 75 had orbited Betazed for nealry one-hundred years.  The Coeur d’Alene approached the massive entrance as the doors parted to let the starship slip within.  Inside there were dozens of starships including a stately Galaxy class and several sleek Akiras.

The Coeur d’Alene approached one of the docking ports and was soon berthed.  Captain Martin smiled and stood offering a hand to Órlaith,  “Welcome back to the Alpha Quadrant.”

Órlaith accepted the hand up and smiled, “Thank you for the ride Ben.”

“Let me walk you to the airlock,” he said.

Órlaith shouldered her duffle which contained a few of her personal effects salvaged from her quarters on the Crazy Horse. “Thank you.”

The pair walked mostly in silence just making small talk here and there. She had enjoyed her time with Captain Martin finding him to have a keen philosophical mind. Of course,  it didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes too, but it would never work.  Two Starfleet captains do not make good couples since they would never see each other. But, their time together had been rewarding. 

Late night talks had evolved into late night back rubs, which evolved into more.   Both Captains were lonely.  Dating subordinates wasn’t against regulations, but definitely complicated,  and both Ben and Órlaith chose not to cross that line.   So, for a time the two captains gave each other what they both desperately needed. 

At the airlock they paused, and Órlaith pushed his extended hand aside, “I think we are beyond that Ben,” she said with a grin and wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek that wasn’t exactly friendly nor was it romantic. “I’ll see you around.  Thanks for the ride.”

Without any further delay or even a look back Órlaith walked down the gangway and disappeared into the hum of the station.  Martin stood watching her go with an expression of regret on his face. He hoped they would meet again.