The light of Nasera’s K-Type dwarf star beamed through the wide sweeping windows of the Polaris’ private dining room. The table was set for four, the place settings immaculate, hors d’oeuvres and pitchers of fresh juice set on a side table. It seemed odd given the chaos beyond these walls, the horrors suffered and the damage sustained, but Chef Zirr Varas took pride in creating a tranquil moment for those who carried them through these impossible times.

Captain Gérard Devreux arrived first. The Polaris was his ship, and he was their host. The last week had been a frantic jumble, just trying to establish a foundation for the city to breathe. Things had finally begun to improve though with the arrival of the Verity, her equipment, and her crew. The opportunity had finally come to gather without being all consumed by logistical topics like industrial replicator capacity and provisions distribution.

“Zirr, this all looks incredible,” Devreux said with an astonished expression. He’d forgotten what an elegant meal looked like after the crucible they’d been through.

“It’s my pleasure Gérard,” the Bolian chef replied with a bow. “After playing quartermaster’s mate for the last twelve days, it’s been a delight to be back in my kitchen.” Everyone, the chef included, had battlestation assignments during critical operations, but this morning, the convening of the recovery effort’s senior staff had given him the excuse to return to his place of happiness.

Captain Dorian Vox and Commander Cora Lee arrived together. The sight of a finely set table with scrupulous small bites, fresh fruits, and pulp-rich juices snapped them from their conversation about ore refineries.

“Woah, Captain! You shouldn’t have,” offered Commander Lee. “This is far too much!” If she’d known they were going to be eating like this, she would have at least stopped by the USS Ingenuity to pick up a fresh uniform rather than one covered in soot from a long night on Nasera.

“Is this why it’s taking so long for you to repair the Polaris?” Captain Vox teased as he approached the hors d’oeuvres table and popped a Bularian canapé into his mouth. “Because y’all are too busy nomming canapés and squeezing lida fruits?” He wasn’t going to object though. After eating mostly MREs to preserve energy capacity for the industrial replicators, the captain of the USS Diligent was elated to enjoy a glass of fresh squeezed lida juice. He loved the bold flavors of the Trill fruit, although it was even better when fermented into lidashk.

Just as the three officers settled into their seats, the door hissed open once more. They rose in unison to greet Commodore Jori as she stepped through the threshold. “Good morning Commodore,” Captain Devreux offered.

Jori looked at him with a smile. She felt like correcting him, but didn’t. She had too much on her mind. “Looks great,” she replied before taking a seat next to Commander Lee. With how busy they all had been, she barely had time to fit in a good meal so this was a treat.

“How’s everything going down on the planet?” Captain Devreux asked as everyone began to eat. Since they’d subdivided his work, his focus was completely on the starship repair efforts, and he knew very little about the struggles of the world beneath them.

“We’re making progress,” Jori said, looking at them. “We haven’t been able to solve all of their housing issues, but most colonists have somewhere to live, even if it’s only temporary until their homes are rebuilt. It will be a long process.” Jori paused for a moment, and then added and she looked around the room, “As for the colonists, the wounded are all being treated and the hospitals are not overflowing like they were when we arrived.” 

“I hope that helps Doctor Henderson breathe easier,” Captain Devreux offered. He had been worried about their Chief Medical Officer ever since the happy-go-lucky exobiologist was converted into a battlefield medic. Henderson had been different, not himself. “Any feedback from your staff about him?”

“My staff are a bit concerned,” Jori began as she recalled a conversation with her Chief Medical Officer. “He seems to be having strange mood swings. One moment, he’s alright, and then the next, he’s jumping down someone’s throat for no reason. She also noticed that he seems a bit paranoid, always looking over his shoulder wondering if something or someone is going to jump out of the bushes, so to speak.”

“Don’t we all feel a little like that?” Commander Lee asked. She knew she did. She’d never been in a warzone before the battle of Nasera, and it had shaken her to her core. “As I walk around down there, sometimes it still feels like a Jem’Hadar soldier is about to unshroud and strike.”

“Meh, I dunno. The Jem’Hadar all did a pretty good job killing themselves off,” Captain Vox laughed. “And not a moment too soon.” He’d been coordinating aerial support during the battle. He’d heard the desperate calls come in as Starfleet officers begged for a lifeline. He still didn’t understand why everything changed on a dime, why suddenly the Jem’Hadar just gave themselves up, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the eye.

“Logically, we all get that,” Commander Lee agreed. “But trauma isn’t logical. It’s going to take a while to learn how to live with what happened down there.” She looked over at Devreux and Jori, who both had decades more experience than her. “How have you two learned to manage it all over the years?”

“I don’t,” admitted Captain Devreux. “I took a medical assistant job on an Oberth class surveyor to stay out of the Dominion War, and I’ve been lucky for most of my career that I just never seem to be where bad things happen.” Until now. Now all of that had changed. He looked over at Jori. “What about you Commodore? Any tips for us combat newbies?”

“I was still in the Academy during the Dominion War,” Jori admitted as she looked at them. She knew others who had fought during that time though, and she could only imagine what they had gone through, only to be here now, fighting them again. Allison Reyes was one of those people, and maybe that was why she behaved the way she did.

Those answers had given no real guidance to the young Commander. If anything, they only confused her more. These captains and commodores just looked so much more composed than she felt, but they seemed to have no good answers about how or why. Maybe they were just better at concealing it?

Captain Vox, sensing the awkwardness of the moment, redirected the conversation somewhere more comfortable for his young colleague: “And Commander, how goes your work down on the surface?” He knew this was where Cora Lee shined. She might not have been a fighter, but she loved to build things.

“Similar to what the Commodore was saying,” Lee replied. “Thanks to the added support from the Verity, we’ve restarted operations at some of the critical refineries and processing planets, prioritizing capabilities that will either support our rebuild or support our continued war effort.” The sheer damage the Jem’Hadar had inflicted on the planet made it a complicated exercise in triage, but once they got down to it, she was in her element rigging creative solutions to complex problems. “I’m hoping that with another week or two, we can move from facilities that build weapons to things like schools and parks. I can’t imagine being a kid down there right now.”

“We have set up a temporary school to help them at least get back to some kind of normalcy,” Jori added. She had spent some time on this particular problem, getting kids back in their classrooms. “But they are pretty shaken up from what they went through and witnessed. Some of them lost one or even both parents, now living with other relatives, or as orphans altogether.” Her heart ached for them.

“Lieutenant Balan shared with me some of what she’s heard down there,” Devreux shook his head. “Absolutely tragic. Children without parents, and in some cases, parents without children. The Jem’Hadar were using loved ones as leverage to force the colonists to do their bidding.”

“What kind of sick monsters do that shit?” Lee asked. She’d heard things from the locals while coordinating the rebuild that absolutely shook her.

“The type that deserve to be put down,” Vox replied flatly. He looked out at the stars. “I wonder how the Fleet Admiral is doing out there.”

No one had heard from Allison Reyes in days. Her last communique had just said she was taking the USS Serenity beyond Leonis, deep in Dominion occupied territory, to work an op she thought might end the war. She hadn’t elaborated further. That was the problem with former spooks. They always spoke a bit too cryptically.

“How about the others?” Vox continued, looking over at Jori. “Any word on how the Fourth Fleet is faring across the sector?” They had only won the Battle of Nasera thanks to heroics and a bit of luck, and he wondered whether or not the others had found similar success.

“From what I know right now, Saratoga Squadron is currently hitting the Breen Fleet Yards to take them out of commission,” Jori explained. “And Endeavour Squadron is currently fighting to take back Izar.”

And from there, the four senior officers continued to talk through a variety of other topics, the conversation eventually turning less business and more personal. 

As the plates were emptied, and the conversation wound down, a feeling of restlessness began to settle over them. They’d all been so focused on the rebuild that the reprieve, while nice, was also starting to weigh on them. It really was time to get back at it. Before anyone rose to depart though, a crewman stepped through the door. 

The crewman looked around, embarrassed to be interrupting a flag officer’s meal with the squadron senior staff, but he had an urgent message: “Commodore, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a priority one message coming in from Fleet Captain Azras Dex.”

“Thank you,” Jori replied before looking at the others. “Sorry but I have to take this.”

“No worries,” Captain Vox offered as he set his fork down and rose from his chair. “I’ve got to get back to my ship. So many things to do.”

“And I have a duranium mill to get restored this morning,” Commander Lee added, also rising and making for the door.

“Feel free to take the call here Commodore,” Captain Devreux offered, gesturing to the display against the wall in the dining room. “I’ll be up in the Ready Room if you could stop by after. Just want to chat through a few logistical items when you’re done with your call.”

With that, the three officers were gone, leaving Jori alone to take the call. Jori tapped the console to see the face of Fleet Captain Azras Dex of the USS Saratoga on the other side.

“Is everything alright?” Jori asked. She knew the Saratoga and her squadron had been at Lungurn Fleet Yards, and she could tell something was bothering the captain just by looking at Azras.

Making these calls never got easier, thought Azras to herself. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed it down, trying to keep her voice from cracking as she spoke. “There has been an accident, sir,” Azras said.

Now it was Jori’s turn to grow concerned. “What kind of accident?”

Azras swallowed hard again and worked her jaw as she tried to find the words which usually came easy to her. Now she was finding it difficult. “I am sorry sir, but Captain Derohl was killed in action,” Azras explained as her voice cracked.

The look in Jori’s eyes said it all. “W-what?” she asked. “How?” Jori wanted to know what had happened.

“He ordered the Gagarin into oncoming fire from a Jem’Hadar ship as the hazard team was returning from their mission. A console exploded, killing him almost instantly,” Azras responded. “The doctor was able to save the Derohl symbiont, which was transferred to Lieutenant Junior Grade Nilah Virahl.” Azras paused and then added: “I am so sorry Imya. I really am. He was a good person and a fine officer who ultimately gave his life to protect others.” Azras’ eyes swelled up with tears.

Jori took it all in as tears began to fall down her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment. Opening them back up again, she looked at Azras. 

“Thank you for letting me know,” Jori said. She really didn’t know what else she could say. She knew the risks when she sent them on their mission, knowing anyone could die at any time, even her own brother. The communication ended a short time later, and she sat there with her hands over her face trying to collect herself before she headed to the Ready Room.

Captain Devreux could tell something was wrong from the moment Commodore Jori stepped through the door. As much as Commodore Jori was trying to play the role expected of her, there was a deep shadow over her face. He knew it well. He’d seen it all over the ship. It was the shadow of debilitating grief, the pain of loss of someone so close to you. “What’s wrong Commodore?” he asked gently, forgetting whatever it was that he’d meant to speak to her about. Clearly, there was something more important to discuss. “What happened?”

She looked at him for a moment, trying to hold back the tears that were swelling in her eyes. She sat down at one of the chairs in front of the desk. Silence had filled the room as she tried to collect herself. “Just got off the phone with Fleet Captain Azras Dex, who just informed me that…” Jori began before pausing to close her eyes as tears streamed down her face. “Captain Tajir Derohl of the Gagarin was killed protecting the returning hazard team from a Jem’Hadar ship that turned their attention to it.” She paused for a moment. “He was my younger brother,” she explained as she opened her eyes.

“Oh my… oh my god, I am… I am so sorry,” Captain Devreux stuttered to say. This war was so wretched, so heartless. Everywhere he looked, there was just more death. “I wish there were words, Imya, I really do. But there aren’t. I… is there anything I can do?” He extended his arms to offer a hug, the only thing he knew to do.

She embraced him, holding it for a bit before letting go. “Thank you,” she said. There really were no words. She knew the risks when she sent them on their mission. She knew there was always that chance. But she just never really believed it would happen to her brother. No one ever thinks that. “No, not right now,” Jori replied with a soft smile. “At least I know they were able to save his symbiont, that Derohl lives on in another Trill that was onboard the Gagarin.” Even though she lost her brother, knowing that his memories would live on brought her a little comfort.

The Trill experience was an interesting one. It had always fascinated Captain Devreux, the idea that a person’s consciousness actually lived beyond them. He wondered what it would be like when Jori once more met Derohl, but it was no longer Tajir. “I’d asked you up here to talk logistics… but they can wait,” Devreux offered compassionately. “You have more important things to worry about. Take whatever time you need, and please let me know if there’s anything I can cover for you on the Verity or down below. I’m here for you.”

“I appreciate it, but I’d like to keep going,” she said as she looked at him. “I need to keep helping these people. It’s what I have done my whole life even as an engineer. So what logistical things did you want to cover?” Jori mustered a smile, appreciative of his thoughtfulness and caring nature.

“Commodore, please, they’re really not that important,” Devreux replied, raising his hand in a stopping motion. He knew it wasn’t healthy to just keep going. He saw it constantly with Allison Reyes, and just as he would sometimes draw Reyes to a stop, so too would he draw a stop here with Jori. “I’m sure I can sort them. Please, take the time you need, or stay busy if you must, but just know I’m here if you need it.”

Looking at him for a moment and taking a deep breath, Jori could see it in Devreux’s eyes that he truly cared and probably wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Alright you win,” she responded. “I’ll take the remainder of the day off, though I do request that if anything major happens, please notify me.”

“Understood,” he nodded as he watched her turn to leave. Captain Devreux would rather not have won. He’d rather that they could have just sat here and talked about the logistics of the squadron, that an impossible tragedy had not just befallen the Commodore, but alas it had. This war was personal, and the scars it left would live with them forever.