The USS Mackenzie thundered through space toward Starbase 72.  T’saath sat in the center chair, ruminating on the changes.  A new task force and a new station.  She had been working through her experiences that had occurred during their last mission.  Vulcans appeared unemotional and strictly logical.  This was true.  Beneath the calm waves and placid exterior was another story.  Mediation had been challenging.  It usually was simple and effective.  The image of her doppelganger from the mirror universe haunted her as she worked to restore control of her emotions.  Starfleet Command had taken the older version of herself into custody.  Several times a week, she had started composing a message asking about her status.  Each time she abruptly deleted the words.

Her mailbox held a pending invite from the chief counselor, one which she was steadfastly ignoring.  She needed to feel the refreshing sensation of control.  She felt like one of her legs wasn’t strong enough as she walked through her mind.  T’saath recognized the logic in accepting the meeting with Woodward, but there was a small part of her that was fighting it.  She was trying to figure out why, but she was finding it challenging. Something in her was pushing back.  It was causing the waters within her to storm more than usual.

“Commander, we’re approaching the sector.”  

Prentice’s voice pulled her out of her introspection.  “Disengage warp drive…plot a docking course with the Starbase.  Ensign Atega, request docking privileges when in range.”  The officers went to work, and T’saath sat back in the command chair.  She accessed her messages and tapped ‘accept’ to Woodward’s invite.

“Welcome to Starbase 72, Captain Harris.”  The dock technician glanced at his PADD and then to the Mackenzie, “We’ve received your list of supplies and punch list.  Captain Fontana wanted to see you as soon as you arrived.”

Ambrose made his notes on his PADD and signed the tech’s PADD.  He walked down the gangway, taking in the beauty of Starbase 72.  She was the classic design that inspired awe, even among long-time Starfleet veterans.  They were floating nations in space and had everything you could imagine needing.  Harris mused, and probably more than you could imagine, I think.

He took his time walking through the expansive station.  The sights, the smells, and the sounds were sometimes overwhelming, but he pressed on, wanting to soak in as much as he could from the collision of culture, species, and, most importantly – food.  An hour later, he reached the Task Force 72 section of the station.  The administrative assistant led him back to the XO’s office, and he stepped in, greeted by a still-smiling Captain Fontana, “Captain Harris!  Welcome to Task Force 72.”  He gestured to the chair and then to the rest of the room, “I’m still slowly moving in – trying to figure out how and what my office will look like isn’t something I imagined being part of the assignment.”

Sitting in the chair, Harris agreed.  The blank walls were noticeable.  “Why am I here, Captain?”

Fontana’s smile faltered, “We wanted your experience.”  He leaned over his desk as he sat down, “You don’t believe me.”

The Mackenzie CO paused and contemplated how to answer the fellow captain.  “Truthfully?  There are plenty of crews in Fourth Fleet that are far more experienced than we are in every way.  We haven’t even made it a full year on the Mackenzie.”

Geronimo listened to him speak.  Harris was still a young captain at 35, and he could understand his thinking and feelings.  “They might be more experienced or more seasoned…but…Ambrose, I served with you.”  He explained, “You had every right to raise a full mutiny on me when I stepped on every single one of your toes on the Edinburgh.  You didn’t.  You stood on principle and kept your crew on the clean side of the sector when it came to me.”  He nodded at the large display screen to his left, “This sector…and the sectors we’re responsible for require those principles.  You were free to operate on your own in your previous task force…but it’s even more so here.  We want to make sure our captains are people of principle who need to fight for the right thing.”

Harris grumbled, “Even if we don’t like it or want it?

Fontana felt for him.  “You’ll never get exactly what you want in life, Ambrose.  I’m living proof of that.  After the Edinburgh, I had some proving work to do…and I threw myself into everything I could get my hands on.”

A scoff from his former XO, “Did you want this gig?  Be honest, Geronimo.”

“I think…I think I’ve been looking for where I fit in in Fourth Fleet.  I wasn’t the best captain, and I learned a lot from you and your crew.  Thing is….I know how to organize things and work within the bureaucratic world.  I can do a lot of good sitting in this office.”

Ambrose shook his head, a sly smile slipping over his lips, “Or a lot of damage.”

Fontana laughed out loud, “There is also that.  He regarded Harris for a moment.  Would he be able to adapt to the world of 72?  Was his transferring the officer to his task force a mistake?  Only one way to find out.  “I’m looking forward to what you do with us, Ambrose.”

Harris stood to attention, “I’ll get to the point of accepting my new place in this world, Geronimo…it just might not be today.”  He stepped forward and extended his hand.  The two former enemies shook hands, and Fontana nodded as Ambrose left his office.  He sat down, wondering what was next for him and the task force.