Captain’s Log, Stardate 2401.3 

In response to unprovoked Breen aggression and the sudden emergence of a rogue Dominion Fleet, Arcturus has been deployed to Deneb IV to defend Farpoint Station. We will remain in orbit for the time being to handle any threats to the station itself or the planet’s civilian population. First Officer Alesser and I are shuttling down to the starport for a conference with other captains and first officers from Task Group 514, which is so far failing to hold back the tide.

The spire of Farpoint Station gleamed in the light of Deneb, standing out starkly from the ruddy brick Bandi city surrounding it and the ochre hills beyond. The main Starfleet offices—the heart of Deneb sector command—were spread throughout the tower, a copy in real concrete and real tritanium built in the 2360s to replace the original mirage. Once billed to the Federation as a miraculous feat of Bandi engineering, the Farpoint Station encountered by the Enterprise-D had, in reality, been a massive spacefaring life form that the Bandi had enslaved and forced to assume the form of their grand spaceport. After Captain Picard freed this being, the Federation (somewhat reluctantly) committed the resources to build the port, but it never became the gateway to the “great unexplored mass of the galaxy” that Picard called it, due to the discovery of the Ferengi Alliance and Breen Confederacy sitting right in the Deneb sector’s backyard and blocking exploration deeper into the Alpha Quadrant for most of the 24th century.

Farpoint found new life at the dawn of the 25th century, however, when Starfleet committed more vessels to the frontier to keep Breen expansion in check. While intended to serve as a hub for trade and exploration, it was now unexpectedly thrust into a role it was not well suited to: a strategic command and control headquarters. Farpoint’s delicate, glittering architecture was utterly vulnerable to attack, and so it relied on orbital defenses and a powerful planetary shield. Briefing Room 42-C was at least bright, spacious, and comfortable. 

As he glanced at its arched ceiling, Captain Michael Lancaster wondered how well the airy room on the forty-second story of the spire would fare against the Dominion and Breen forces that were now on the border. He remembered vividly the Breen attack on Earth; the valiant defense of the planet by Starfleet had been one of the things that had led him to apply to the Academy in the first place. Beyond the desire to serve, it also left him with a deep and unshakable belief that the Breen were monsters. Irredeemable. It was a belief proven once again when he bore witness to the Breen Attack on Barzan II and Starbase 38, an attack that left his mentor, Admiral Jonathan Knox, dead. It had also led directly to his promotion from first officer to the center seat on Arcturus, with Elizabeth Hayden forced to take the reins of a renewed task force to put down the Breen threat. They had fought for months on that border until they were relieved, and Lancaster had hoped never to be sent to the Deneb Sector again.

“They didn’t seem very happy to see us,” Larus Alesser noted, referring to the captains of the local defensive starships also present at the strategy conference. His voice was low as he and Lancaster left the briefing room to go find a turbolift. “This is not our first foray with the Breen. Why were they so defensive?”

Their fellow captains had been pretty unwelcoming, though Lancaster had interpreted it as the normal chaffing that local task groups experienced when the Fourth Fleet got involved in their business, especially when such an important and powerful ship as Arcturus was dispatched. As Alesser mentioned it, though, he wondered if it could be something else. The level of disdain in the room seemed unusual, given that neither of the two of them had interjected out of turn.

“Our presence does imply that they’re not doing their jobs well,” Lancaster suggested. He then remembered the elephant in the room. “You would think the sudden emergence of a lost Dominion Fleet in the area would make them appreciative of outside help.”

Alesser shrugged at that and shook his head. The two of them slipped into an empty car in the turbolift bank, and the first officer reached over to hit the ground floor button for his captain. The glass-walled lift wasn’t particularly “turbo,” which allowed them a view of the countryside around the base as it descended at its leisurely pace. Lancaster liked the way the sunlight was concentrated through the glass to make Alesser’s bronze skin seem to glow with warmth. He thought about complimenting him, but Larus Alesser could never let a compliment just stay a compliment. A broad grin spread across the Ardanan man’s face as he rocked gently on the balls of his feet, and Lancaster wondered if he’d been caught.

“What?” Lancaster asked.

“Oh… Just thinking. They’re probably jealous. They’ve got a bunch of cruisers, and we show up with the biggest, strongest ship in the fleet,” Alesser suggested. It seemed plausible, though Alesser was exaggerating slightly; plenty of ships had more teeth than Arcturus did. “Plus, we were definitely the most intelligent, most charismatic, and most attractive people in the room.”

Lancaster scoffed. 

“Everyone wanted us.”

“Captain La-ran is a Rigellian. Their species is monogender and lays eggs. Even them?”

“Everyone. It explains all of the tension in the room. It explained all the tension between us when we started on Arcturus,” Alesser teased, briefly putting a hand on Lancaster’s bicep. Lancaster glowered for a moment. “What was that look for?”

“We’re in a glass elevator. I’d rather you not feel me up,” Lancaster noted, gesturing to the curved window around them. His first officer’s amber-colored eyes glinted as he thought of some quip. “I was considering complimenting you on how nice you look in this light, but since you’ve already self-complimented, I guess that’s unnecessary.”

“I guess so,” Alesser said, though he seemed genuinely pleased. “Nice preterition.” 

The lift continued to go down, and about two-thirds down the spire, it entered a standard enclosed shaft. The Ardanan leaned over and rested his head on Lancaster’s shoulder, and Human reciprocated with a peck to the top of the other man’s head. It had been over a year since they were marooned together during the Century Storm. Through an unlikely combination of mind-altering atmospheric properties, unique vulnerabilities in Ardanan physiology, alcohol, and close physical contact, the two had inadvertently created a chemical bond between one another. It had affected Alesser more; until the physicians on Starbase Bravo figured out the cause, there was a week where he felt euphoria while in physical contact with Lancaster and agony if they weren’t at least in the same room. One psychiatrist had likened it neurologically to what Vulcans experienced with their septennial mating drive.

It was an extremely strange experience for both of them, as they’d spent their first year on Arcturus at each other’s throats. Their careers had been very similar to one another; they were young, ambitious officers who had spent time in both operations and science. They were both demanding and self-assured. It was like trying to press two magnets together, at least before the crash, when the opposite became true.

Surviving together made them develop an understanding. Recovering from their time on that world led them to grow even closer. Starfleet Medical was able to abate the most intense effects within a few weeks. Some of the less intense effects had lingered for a few more weeks for Lancaster, and months for Alesser. There was now absolutely nothing physiologically compelling them to touch, but they both found pleasure and comfort in it still, whether that was a remembered feeling of chemically-induced bliss or just the feeling of the act on its own terms.

“Luca is making dinner tonight,” Lancaster noted. The kitchen in the quarters he shared with his husband had gotten far more use than he anticipated; he’d had it installed as a surprise, but Sheppard had really embraced his Italian culinary heritage and cooked several nights a week. “He knows how you feel about synthetic beef, so he wants to try something with mushrooms.”

Lancaster’s marriage was the one thing that mattered more to him than his career. Even though strict monogamy had never been one of their ground rules and the situation originated in a freak chemical reaction, he worried in the beginning that his connection with Alesser would be an impossible complication to resolve. Sheppard had taken it in stride and had even encouraged it, though. It quickly developed into a mutual attraction between the three of them, which is something none of them saw coming. It wasn’t necessarily always a symmetrical relationship—the feelings Lancaster had for Sheppard were different than those he had for Alesser. He loved Sheppard and they had committed to being life partners. He was in a different sort of partnership with Alesser, one blurring the lines between the often intimate relationship between a captain and first officer with absolute trust between another and true intimacy. In turn, Sheppard and Alesser’s connection was still evolving as the weeks and months went on.

“We have such good taste in men,” Alesser replied. He stepped back from Lancaster and smirked. “Once we’re done with this brushfire, the three of us should go to Risa.”

“This doesn’t sound like a brushfire to me,” Lancaster replied a moment before the doors opened. A combined Breen-Dominion offensive wasn’t something that they could put a stop to over a weekend. “Risa sounds nice, though.”

The two captains stepped out of the lift and into the spire’s ground floor lobby, which was full of officers speed-walking from meeting to meeting to coordinate the Deneb Sector’s response to the incursion. No one was really paying attention to either of them as they crossed the marble floor, but Lancaster still felt some degree of a thrill at the thought of being able to conceal the nature of his relationship with his first officer in plain sight. They left the spire into the bright, warm sunshine and the whipping wind that characterized the shift on Deneb IV between the dry season and the rainy season. 

“Speaking of good taste in men… How is Noah Armstrong?” Lancaster asked as they walked towards the shuttle parking area. Transport inhibitors had been activated to strictly control traffic in and out of the spaceport. “It would have been nice if Antares hadn’t already gone out on its supply run so the two of you could have seen one another.”

Alesser shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him. It’s pretty clear that he wants to keep things strictly on an ‘I’ll see you when I see you’ basis,” he said. “Trying to get rid of me?”

“No, I was just asking,” Lancaster demurred. 

Neither he nor Alesser nor Sheppard knew how long their relationship would last, but the status quo they had settled into was comfortable. Alesser’s on-again-off-again fling with fellow captain Noah Armstrong didn’t make Lancaster jealous so much as it made him worry the Ardanan would once again get himself hurt.

“I’ve kind of decided that I’m happy with my life the way it is right now, and pursuing him isn’t going to make me happier. I deserve to be chased, you know?” Alesser admitted. “I’ve finally realized that a man not expressing interest in me shouldn’t be an attractive feature.”

“Good,” Lancaster said simply.

Alesser’s declaration that he was happy gave Lancaster mixed emotions. He, too, was happy with his life. The Breen always had a way of interfering with that, though, and the last time they’d come calling, he’d had his world turned upside down. Serving with Sheppard was difficult at times because of the constant reality that he might have to one day make a call that put him in danger. The same was now true of Alesser, which gave him so much more to lose—but also that much more drive to protect.

“You’re making a face again.”

“This is just my face.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Lancaster sighed. “I hate the Breen. Truly. The Dominion, too. The only language they understand is violence, and yet again, they are the reason that we’ve been pulled off of an exploratory mission,” he admitted. “It’s embarrassing that we’re once again in a position to have to drive them back.”

“We’ll make sure they learn their lesson this time,” Alesser said. Mulling that thought over in his head as they approached their type-14 shuttle, Lancaster nearly didn’t notice the woman leaning against the fuselage with a duffle wedged between her feet. “Captain Vane, you’re early,” the first officer said, shaking Lancaster out of his reverie. 

“I was able to coax a few more points out of the warp engines on the Achilles, just to show dear old Akintoye how things are done. The trip from Avalon gave us plenty of time to catch up and for her to brief me on the state of your engines,” the Bolian woman replied, chuckling to herself. She extended a hand to Lancaster. “Captain Mira Vane, at your service.”

With Akintoye Okusanya now in command of her own ship, Commanders van Dorland and Slater had been running the engine rooms aboard Arcturus for the past several weeks. Lancaster was initially reluctant to accept a new transfer, he found it preferable to having to make a choice between the two very qualified commanders who were also his close friends. Mira Vane had an excellent reputation as an engineer and a long service record to back that reputation up. Lancaster wasn’t ready to end the conversation he was having with Alesser, though.

“Michael Lancaster,” Lancaster replied, accepting the handshake. Not too long ago, he would have bristled at her lack of formality, but he had too much on his mind to insist on it. “I assumed you would have beamed over directly.”

“I’d have preferred that, but I had to consult on their defense grid upgrades down here. Plus, there’s a certain glamor in arriving aboard a new ship for the first time by shuttle, don’t you think?” Vane asked. Lancaster could hear the chipperness and easy humor in her voice; she sounded like the sort of person who could be fun to be around, but only for about five minutes. “Anyway, shall we?” she asked, pointing her thumb back towards the shuttle.

Lancaster nodded, and the three of them boarded the shuttle through the aft ramp. He and Alesser took the two forward stations and began preparing their craft for take-off, while Vane settled into one of the passenger seats. The captain spun around in his chair to leave the flying to Alesser.

“So, you know Captain Okusanya?” he asked.

Vane chuckled. “I do. We’ve never served together directly, but the starship design community isn’t exactly huge in Starfleet, so we’ve corresponded many times over the decades. She’s a formidable sparring partner,” the Bolian said with a wide grin.

Alesser snorted at that last comment. “Understatement.”

“I was surprised she accepted the command. She mentioned that you two left her alone during the Century Storm, and it had put her off of the idea,” Vane continued. “Didn’t you end up with a free, non-optional beach vacation during that mission?”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Lancaster said, clearing his throat. 

“Must not have been too bad if you decided to stick with him,” Vane said, chuckling again. “Then again, survival situations often cut to the core of a relationship and let you see who someone really is when pushed.”

Lancaster glanced at Alesser. “We came out of it alright,” he noted.

The shuttle took off and quickly left the surface of the planet, soaring upwards through the atmosphere until the wisps of clouds began to fade away. In orbit, several starships were clustered around the Presidium-class station that anchored the planet’s defense grid, but the Arcturus stood out as the largest among them. Lancaster could also see the new Achilles off in the distance near one of the satellites. Seeing their Odyssey-class ship up close always filled Lancaster with a sense of pride—not that he particularly wanted to admit that to their new colleague. As Alesser keyed in the final approach sequence, the computer chimed.

“Incoming Transmission from Fourth Fleet Command,” the computer reported. 

“Open it,” Lancaster replied. 

The face of Admiral Liam Dahlgren appeared on the small monitor between the pilot and co-pilot’s stations, somehow both ageless and distinguished. The chyron under him indicated that he was transmitting from aboard one of the fleet’s flagships, the Susan B. Anthony. Ever since Commodore Logan had been relieved, they had been taking their orders directly from fleet command without a flag officer aboard.

“Captain Lancaster, I’m told you’ve finished your briefing with Deneb sector captains. How was it?” Dahlgren asked.

“Frosty, Admiral,” Lancaster replied, bluntly. “My first officer and I both felt a strange sense of… resentment in the room.”

“I’ve been getting that from several other Fourth Fleet captains. We’re not sure what’s going on out there,” Dahlgren replied.

“Their opinion is irrelevant, Admiral. Arcturus will hold the line in the Deneb System, whether they like it or not,” Lancaster said.

“I appreciate the bravado, Captain, but I’m currently on course for Farpoint Station myself. The Anthony might not be an Odyssey-class ship, but she’ll shore up the garrison there. I need you for another mission,” Dahlgren replied. “Fourth Fleet Intelligence has identified a distress call from a Ferengi trader in our space that warrants immediate attention. The cargo they were carrying is concerning. I’m sending the details to Arcturus.”

“Understood, sir. I’m guessing this isn’t a customs inspection?”

“No. If the Breen or Dominion took what we think they’re carrying, this conflict could get even uglier,” Dahlgren said, which sent a chill down Lancaster’s spine. “You will take your orders directly from me and no one else. Understood?” 

“Understood, Admiral,” Lancaster replied, knowing that meant that local forces were being cut out completely—but it also meant that a whole swathe of the Fourth Fleet Command hierarchy was being excluded as well.

“Good. Coordinates have been sent. Report in as soon as you know anything. Dahlgren out.”

The screen went blank, and Lancaster immediately opened a channel to Arcturus.

“Arcturus, this is Lancaster on shuttle Picard. Set a course for the coordinates you were just sent by Fourth Fleet Command. As soon as we’re on the deck, engage at maximum warp,” Lancaster ordered. 

“Acknowledged, sir,” Odea replied.

“This ship is already exciting—I’m not even aboard, and I’m already about to experience a combat landing,” Vane enthused.

The shuttle was on course for the forward hanger bay. Alesser bypassed a few of the normal approach procedures to fly directly into the bay without tractor assistance. It was faster that way. Lancaster briefly felt the urge to grab the handrail on the console when the aft bulkhead of the hanger seemed to come far too close, but Alesser made an agile pirouette to park the shuttle dead center in the bay facing forward. Before the massive bay door even began to close, they all saw the ship jump straight to warp.

“We try not to be boring around here,” Alesser quipped.