The bright yellow orb of 40 Eridani beat down unrelentingly on T’Sal’s bare-back whilst the orange tinged sky rolled on eternally into the distance. The tall Vulcan took a final step onto the overhang. Hovering at the edge, his chest swelled, drawing in a portion of the thin, dry air that would carry him into the horizon and onward over the Stalik Plateau. Once an island in Vulcan’s vast seas the plateau was a reminder that over time, ‘all things change’. T’Sal could hear his father’s dead-pan voice from across the decades. Vulcan’s held logic in such esteem as to almost deify it and the irony was not lost on T’sal as a child when he would listen to his fathers evening sermons, his grand rhetoric expounding the virtues of patience and consideration, beatifying Surak at the head of his non-religion. Standing here at the edge of the vast emptiness of the terracotta plateau, devoid of any sign of habitation, a gargantuan silent void into which he could soar or plummet, he heard another rise over the bluster off the winds. A young voice by Vulcan standards but wise beyond its years, both soothing and invigorating, a masterclass in dichotomy. 

“Are you really going to go over the edge?” Maine asked, hovering a few metres from the cliff face, clinging to a large boulder that acted as an anchor against the rustling breeze. His usually impeccable Starfleet uniform rolled up at the sleeves, his collar split open and damp with sweat under the baking sun. 

“Yes. I had hoped you would come with me.” T’Sal responded, a smile edging against his lips. Reaching into his pack he withdrew a gliding apparatus. Flowing silk rolled out from the frame as he unfolded it, the dark blue fabric cutting sharply against the tan rock as it billowed into life. 

“I’m not sure I’m able.” Maine whispered.

“We’ve walked this route several times, I had hoped this time you might make the leap with me.” T’Sal said, his smile widening as he clicked the final cross beam into place, lifting the handles into place the para-glider sat primed for adventure. “I would not wish to leave you here alone.” he continued. “It’s a lonely walk back.”

“I’m aware.” Maine said, his cheeks becoming tight and flustered as he watched the Vulcan close his rucksack and tighten it to the flying frame. “Aren’t you ever scared that you’ll just plumet out of the sky? Hit the ground and be gone?”

“Vulcan’s are not scared.” T’Sal responded, joining his fingers in a peak just as his father had done when he scolded the young boy who took too long to control his emotions. “Not out-loud anyway.” Smiling as he broke his peaked hands and reached forward to Maine’s pale fists as they clutched to the sanctuary of the boulder. 

Taking his long fingers between his own Maine sighed, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. Shaking his head he looked up into deep brown eyes. This man who soared through skies and stars, graceful as an eagle; this man who had breathed new life into Maine’s broken shell; this man who had whispered old fold tales as stars older than time raced past the windows. This man was gone.

“One day you’ll come flying with me Jacob.” T’sal promised, crossing over to the para-glider and taking up position at the end of his hastily cleared runway. 

“How do you know that? I’m terrified of heights.” Maine said, a disbelieving valley spreading across his brow. 

“All things change.” T’Sal smiled and ran. Taking a final leap into the emptiness the silk billowed and the wingless pilot took flight, lifted ever higher by the currents of swirling air, tumbling and arcing towards the horizon he flew. 

A chirp interrupted Maine’s vision of flight, the voice of Zaya cut through the ambient sounds of the breeze. “Jacob, we’ve had confirmation that the Vulcan survery ship Nayol will be arriving in a few minutes.”  

“I’ll join you in the observation lounge when they arrive.” Maine responded solemnly, closing the channel with a tap of his combadge. They had come to take T’Sal away, they were going to take him over the horizon; what remained of the his shuttle had been broken down into ashes and, combined with his personal effects, were being taken back to Vulcan for a memorial. “Computer, return to index 1553.”

The small holosuite froze for a moment as it reconfigured itself, returning T’Sal to the edge of the cliff, the glider folded back into his backpack, Maine still clinging to the boulder. 

“Are you really going to go over the edge?” Maine asked.

The brown needle hull of the Vulcan deep space research vessel Nayol dwarfed the small raven-class transport as they floated in the inky blackness of Deep Space. From the small window of his quarters David gazed at the familiar smooth tan hull, sipping his coffee he remembered his time on Vulcan and a deployment on a similar deep space vessel with fondness. It had been an easier time, where amongst the tall peaks of the Vulcan Science Directorate David had helped discover new worlds and stars in the endless galactic frontier. Safe in the cloistered halls and secure foundations of the research labs he had been able to expand his knowledge of the universe and improve the expansive scientific world of research in security. No threat of surprise black holes, no roaming bands of pirates attempting to sell them into a slave market, no ultra-powerful space gods sending them across the galaxy. Even his time on the Shu’min was spent deep in Federation space, far from the threatening frontier regions. His parents had long drummed into him the dangers of space, and particular Starfleet, these fools who trotted about the universe butting into everyone’s business and getting innocent people killed. In Vulcan and its people David had discovered like-minded scholars who sought to safely peel back the veil of the universe. 

T’Sal wasn’t at all like the Vulcan’s David had worked with for so long. The man had been adventurous and exciting, constantly looking for the next mountain to conquer, usually with little backup. Though David was relatively new to the team T’sal had been quick to overlook David’s awkward nature when he had offered the pilot home-brewed Plomeek soup after hearing him complain in the galley. 

“The replicator rarely makes it correctly.” T’sal said as he sipped from the traditionally carved wooden spoon David had offered alongside the yellow dish. ”Your carving skills are to be commended also. The serving size is small enough not to lose temperature but not so small as to be unsatisfying.” David smiled at the praise. “Ensign Mitchell, may I pick over your brains?” T’Sal said, offering a small padd alongside the jumbled human expression. 

“Is this long-range sensor data?” David asked, reaching across for the padd and scrolling through the variety of sensor readings. 

“Our next mission takes us into the Higonian Nebula, I was hoping you might be able to assist me in charting a course through the spatial anomalies.” T’sal said, sipping again from the spoon. 

David smiled again at the memory, T’sal hadn’t really needed his assistance, already mentally charting several courses through the nebula dependant on a dozen environmental factors. It had been a kind offering of welcome to the small ship and team to a young officer who was clearly terrified and out of place. David’s sense of fear had yet to abate entirely but that day had offered him a reason to belong in the team. 

A chime from the doorway interrupted his pleasant personal wake for his friend. “Come.” he announced to the room.

With a quiet slide of pneumatics the doors opened and the short figure of Log entered the room. 

“Captain Tol is aboard, we’re assembling in the aft observation lounge if you want to join us?” Log whispered, his cheery disposition tinted with a quiver of sadness. Though new to the team himself Log had been welcomed by the pilot just as quickly, spending many hours covered in grease tinkering with the impulse manifolds. 

“I’m coming Log.” David said, rising to his feet. Casting a quick glance to the mirror he inspected himself and after pulling back a particularly difficult forelock he turned to join Log at the door. Placing a hand on the young Tellerite’s shoulder he smiled. “Let’s go say good-bye.”

Mother had told him when he left for Starfleet that it was full of fools and idiots. As the small doors swished shut behind them David smiled, glad that he knew these ones. 

Zaya massaged her temples with two long fingers as Bib pressed a small button in the desk of the office, deactivating the wide screen behind him and dismissing the familiar gold edged delta.

“So that’s about the size of it.” Bib finished, reaching across the messy desk for his cup of raktajino. “Thoughts?”

“Too many.” Zaya replied, life on the colonies of the Former demilitarised zone had been hard but never filled with such difficult propositions. “This is already decided though isn’t it?”

“Partly.” Bib responded, taking a long sip from his cup. “Fourth Fleet is still dealing with the Lost Fleet and we’ve been dispatched to support the a op at Farpoint station.” The Andorian took a long breath of contemplation. “After that, Theta Squad will be re-assigned.”

“Together, though which is a blessing.” Zaya thanked whichever gods were listening. They had already lost a friend, it wouldn’t do anyone any good to break up the team on top of that. 

“A blessing indeed.” Bib agreed, it had taken a touch sales pitch with the brass not to disperse the team to different postings. They had recognised that the team had uses and a good track record but the loss of T’Sal had highlighted fractures, for now at least Theta Squad had a gained a stay of execution. 

“How do you think Maine will take the news?” Zaya asked, the thumping in her temples continuing to bash against he scaled forehead. 

“That I’m now in charge? I’m not sure, at the moment I don’t think he’d even notice.” Bib admitted. The squad’s stalwart leader had taken T’sal’s death particularly hard and since departing the Oromal cluster had been locked in the small holosuite constantly. Leaving only to spend time in the aft observation lounge where Hermira & Ole had arranged T’Sal’s ashes with his personal belongings in a small memorial, turned outward towards the stars he had loved to adventure in. 

“Are you worried?” said Zaya, leaning towards the small replicator fitted into the wall of the room. “Raktajino, double strength.”

As the small shelf stirred with white light Bib considered her question. He was worried about Maine, when they had been in a relationship the man had always been realistic about the fact that service could be dangerous but duty came before personal concerns. He had constantly quoted Ambassador Spock; “the needs of the many” he muttered every time Bib expressed concerns. This was different, T’Sal’s death had shattered Maine’s idolisation of the dangerous duty they all undertook. Turning back to Zaya he let out a long sigh. “Constantly, but command has agreed to allow Maine to remain with the team when we re-locate though on a temporary leave from duty.” Bib paused. “We’re his family, I don’t think there is anyone else he could turn to.”

“Agreed.” Zaya quietly acknowledged. 

“What about you?” Bib asked. “What does my number two think?”

“That red clashes with my eyes.” said Zaya, a smile gently tugging at her lips. “I’m honoured that Starfleet deems me suitable to grant a provisional rank, let alone put me on the team but is it really the best choice?” she confessed. 

“You served Cardassia for several years and retired with honours. Not many people can say that about the Central Command.” Bib noted. 

“The honours were mostly ceremonial, they were happy to have my bothersome doo-gooding fingers out of the order.” Zaya admitted, “That’s what led me to the DMZ, restless hands.”

“But the rank wasn’t, you don’t make it to Glinn without having some skills. With Maine out of action I need capable officers who can take the lead. Mitchell & Log are too fresh to raise up.” said Bib, offering a pleading look.

“Hermira? Ole?” 

“Neither are interested in command. Maybe one day we can convince them to take a commission, maybe even their own teams, but for now they’re happy as NCOs.” Bib let out a long sigh. Whilst he wouldn’t admit it to Zaya, it had taken his best charm to convince command to grant Zaya a position, professional or otherwise.

“I was a different…” Zaya paused. “I was a different man back then.” She held her breath, waiting for Bib to catch up. 

Without blinking Bib smiled reassuringly. “I’m aware Zaya but you’re a better woman now. Take the skills you got from Central Command and combine it with the passion you were able to grow serving in the DMZ and you’ve got everything Starfleet needs.” 

Her fear at revealing her transition dispelled out the nearest airlock Zaya found the tension in her temples dissipating. 

“What do you say then?” Bib stood, offering his mug. 

A chirp interrupted their conversation. “Hermira to Bib. All ships systems are on automation and the visitors from Nayol are in the observation lounge. It’s time.” 

“I think we have a team to take care of.” Zaya answered, lifting her mug slightly in acceptance of the new position. 

The ceremony was completed quickly, solemn Vulcan chants and a few words from the team and the small box was taken from the room back to the transporter room. T’sal’s final excursion through the stars was about to begin. Maine stared at the triangular table that had held the urn at its centre. The display littered with empty holes in the arrangement where pictures and tokens of affection had been quietly collected by the visiting Vulcan’s, their distaste to these overt expressions of emotion barely disguised. They had however silently respected the teams wishes and taken their memories with them to inter alongside T’Sal amongst the red sands of his homeworld.

“I am sorry Jacob.” Bib whispered, left alone in the darkened room together he felt responsible for the man’s well-being. “On Andoria we like to believe that our loved ones carry on sailing out on the ice fields. Adventuring into the heart of Andoria.” It was a shallow offering but Bib was stuck for consoling words. There was both too much to say and not enough words to say it, their relationship had been long and complicated and Bib could only wonder at the sting of having an ex-partner witness the departure of the current one. 

“I assume you’ve been given command.” Maine stated, his voice cold as ice.

“I have.” confirmed Bib, like a weight had been dropped into the deck, the room resonated with the words. 

“And me?” 

“You’ll remain with the team on service leave whilst you decide what you want to do. You can stay with us as long as you want.” said Bib. “We’re all here to help you Jacob.” he added quickly. “For now we’re to rendezvous with the fleet at Farpoint Station for a big defense.”

Silence permeated every bulkhead as Noya began turning away from Nestus, her huge tan form passing across the large windows of the lounge as she arced back toward the heart of Federation Space. A building glow across the large circular warp ring elicited a sharp intake of breath from Maine. With a silent crack the ship catapulted to warp speeds and was gone from sight, carrying T’Sal on the next leg of his journey.

“He’s really gone Bib.” the words felt like posion in his mouth. 

“Yes, Jacob.”

Maine let the gasp slowly slide from his lungs, T’Sal had left him behind. “I guess all things change.”