Standing on the upper level of the Starlight Lounge, in the safest if places she could, Hathaway’s Betazoid counsellor watched the young man go back to his ritualistic blessings, sensing sadness, and loneliness, but also some semblance of peace. So much had transpired in the last week. Despite the overwhelming positives of having liberated the Un’gar system, having secured the Starfleet listening post on Uviri, and having defended Farpoont alongside ships such as Constellation and Discovery, there was still so much loss to deal with. By seeking blessings here, Or’uil was imparting blessings elsewhere, and it was giving him just a glimmer of light at the end of a very long tunnel of darkness. Smiling, she nodded her head and tapped the guard rail in front of her a couple of times before she began to walk away, stopping for the briefest of moments to listen as the Ungeat spoke his beautiful native tongue once again.

“Mo gbe soke si o, Ẹmi Nla ti awọn baba, awọn ti o sọnu li ọjọ oni,” he spoke again, a blessing for much, much more than just the creature he held in his palm. A blessing for all those who had been lost.

Glancing back at the newest member of the Hathaway senior staff, her smile faded when her gaze shifted to the devastation around her. At that moment, she found herself connected to many different souls aboard the ship as they asked a single question in unison: How could it have come to this?

It was a very good question, and it was one that the Trill commanding officer had been asking since conducting an inspection of the damaged systems across the ship and checking in with many of the crew. It wasn’t Captain Kauhn, however, but Captain Nazir. She’d beamed aboard in the lead-up to the Battle of Farpoint and had resumed command at the behest of her former XO. It was mad to think she had only been in command of the ship for a matter of days herself, but there was no way an injury was going to keep her out of the fray in such a defining moment. Ship and crew had performed admirably in the battle that ensued despite the damage they had sustained elsewhere and the hurt they were still feeling over their losses. She wasn’t going to pretend that she was as hurt as the rest of them; while she grieved the loss of talented officers such as Tuca and Bellurr, officers who had served her admirably, they were the friends of the crew, a crew she was simply safeguarding until a new replacement had been found for Captain Gor. Did she hope it would be her? Of course she did, it would be a privilege to command such a team on a permanent basis, but Starfleet rarely acted out of sentiment or respect for what had occurred previously. They had, once upon a time, but of late it was hard to escape the feeling that something was peculiar about a lot of things at Command. Recent events in the Deneb sector had led some to question and speculate as to whether something truly sinister could be afoot in the corridors of power.

If she were to assume command on a permanent basis, she’d already been alerted to the fragile state of mind of two of the crew, something she would have to deal with for certain. Giarvar was busy blaming himself for the death of his colleagues in a misguided attempt to take responsibility as the mission commander. Perhaps it was a sign of his naivety when it came to the hot seat of command, that he had a lot left to learn, but then she was reminded by her symbiont that she, too, still had a lot to learn about command.

Then there was Or’uil, a young man who was feeling guilty for other reasons, reasons on a galactic scale. He couldn’t stop apologising for what the Hathaway crew had been a part of the last few days in the name of his people. There was no need, of course, as no one aboard the ship blamed him for anything, but he was finding it hard to accept that. Both men had thrown themselves into their work as a way of coping, but they needed to face the reality of their situation sooner rather than la…

“Bridge to Captain Nazir.”

Stopping mid-stroll down deck seven, the Captain nodded to some passers-by and exchanged pleasantries before tapping the badge in acknowledgement. “Go ahead,” she addressed the unknown voice.

“Captain Romaes is here to see you and Captain Kauhn ma’am,” the voice told, a sense of trepidation evident in their trembling words. Unannounced arrivals of senior officers were rarely good news.

“Put him in the observation lounge and summon Kauhn. I’ll be there shortly,” she told, hitting a slow, albeit painful jog on her way to the nearest turbo lift.

When she arrived at the lounge several minutes later, Captains Kauhn and Romaes were already waiting for her, seated around the table and deep in conversation.

“Sorry I’m late,” the woman frowned, holding her abdomen, “still a bit achy.”

Romaes smiled and nodded as he welcomed her to the table and relaxed in his chair. “Captain Kauhn has been filling me in on recent events. I want you both to know that Starfleet acknowledges the losses this crew has taken in recent weeks, and you are both to be commended for a job well done in very difficult circumstances,” the older man looked at the two officers in turn. “Tracking down Thot Rodyn was no easy task, Keziah. And you, Giarvar,” Romaes shook his head and puffed out his cheeks. “The Legate in charge of the Cardassian forces said you were to be commended for Hathaway’s performance during the Battle of Un’gar.”

Neither officer looked particularly thrilled with the praise, but appreciated it nonetheless.

“Now as we all know, in the absence of Captain Gor whose whereabouts is still unknown, command of the Hathaway must be established. Fourth Fleet Command has considered both of you for command, but in this instance, experience has won out,” Romaes declared, sliding a data PADD across the table towards Nazir. “Congratulations, Captain. You are Hathaway’s new commanding officer.”

Romaes and Nazir shook hands briefly before the Captain shared a hand with her XO. To his credit, Giarvar was more than happy for his fellow Trill, having watched her acquit herself admirably during the hunt for Rodyn. “Congratulations ma’am. Very well deserved,” Giarvar grinned.

“You’re going to have to appoint a new executive officer before you arrive back at Deep Space Seventeen,” Romaes advised her, noting the confused expression on the face of both officers. “Captain Kauhn, in recognition of your leadership in the Battle of Un’gar and the liberation of the Ungeat people, Command have authorised your permanent promotion to Captain. After a period of shore leave, you’ll report to Starbase Bravo to be assigned your own command,” the Bajoran offered his hand to the younger Trill.

“Thank you, Captain. That is greatly appreciated,” Giarvar grinned, shaking hands with the Task Force XO, and then Keziah, before realising just what that meant. “Who will be replacing me here?”

“I may have an idea about that…” Keziah smirked, folding her arms across her chest and eliciting a knowing grin from her former XO.

Early the next day, Hathaway was already underway and headed for her home port of Deep Space Seventeen, accompanied by Discovery and Constellation. The crew had said goodbye to Captain Kauhn in a get-together hosted aboard the Task Force flagship, and now with repairs underway, there was some semblance of normality restored aboard ship. Almost. One thing remained.

Emerging from the port turbo lift, Commander Noli Auru arrived on the bridge. An additional silver pip adorned her collar, a reward for her new assignment as the permanent executive officer. “Commander Noli reporting as ordered Captain,” the Bajoran grinned, approaching the command chair Nazir occupied.

“Good morning Number One,” Nazir greeted her, using the informal honorific that was customary aboard starships these days.

“Good morning,” the XO nodded, assuming the chair to Nazir’s right, a chair that would now be permanently hers. “Engineering is reporting that the upper starboard nacelle is fully functioning once again. Save for some minor repairs at DS17, we should have warp eight,” the Captain’s right-hand woman advised her.

“Henry, you know what to do,” Keziah grinned, a playful nod towards the conn giving Flyboy all the incentive he needed to kick the ship into high gear, the Sagan-class zipping into high warp one more time.

As night approached several hours later, much of the ship had gone dark. While much had returned to normal, many still valued the ability to spend time with their loved ones, or doing the things they cherished most. In one particular set of quarters, the lights had been dimmed and a small family had got together to pay their respects to members now gone from their circle.

Having heard about the beautiful nature of Or’uil’s blessings from their Betazoid colleague, Noli and Prida had joined the Counsellor in Or’uil’s quarters. Sat around a flickering flame, legs crossed and almost in a meditative state, the three women listened to their Ungeat host as he whispered the blessing of peace that his people shared when thinking of those they had lost.

Deactivating his synthesiser for a minute and reverting to his native tongue, with whispered words danced from the tip of his tongue, bringing the whole room to peace. “Baba ọrun,” he whispered,  “pa awọn ọrẹ mi mọ lailewu ninu ifaramọ ifẹ rẹ. Ibukun ni fun awon olorun.”

“Ibukun ni fun awon olorun,” the three women echoed back at him in equally hushed tones, having been taught just a snippet of the Ungeat language, enough for them to take part in the blessing.

After a few moments of peace, the four opened their eyes again, strangely at ease in the flickering light.

“So, Or’uil,” Vittoria spoke first, “have you decided what to do?”

Taking the Bajoran’s by surprise, the two looked at each other, and then at Or’uil. “What is she talking about?” Noli asked, looking the Ungeat in his swollen eyes.

Reaching for the synthesiser control on his chest, the Ungeat let out a sigh. “Minister Al’mir of the Interior Ministry has presented me with an opportunity to return home and help with the rebuilding of my planet,” the adolescent confessed, “whilst also working to better improve relations with Starfleet.”

Prida, like Noli, looked stunned at the revelation. “That’s a very noble thing to do,” Prida smiled coyly.

“Noble my ass,” Noli growled, looking at her best friend. “He’s worked his ass off to get where he is, and he’s made a life for himself here, with us,” the Commander was never afraid to voice her opinions and was more accustomed to having them heard than questioned, “We’re your family, Or’uil. We need you, and you need us.”

“And that is exactly why I have rejected the opportunity,” he cocked his head and looked around the group. “I have come to realise that my place is here, with this crew. People who fought for me, and died for my people, a people who wouldn’t lift a finger to defend themselves. I could not entertain the idea of leaving,” he told sincerely, looking at the anxious Commander. “Besides,” he added, “someone needs to keep an eye on you all. And I have the biggest eyes you will ever come across.”

Almost stunned to silence, the three women looked at each other, then at the Ungeat, then back at each other before falling about in fits of laughter.

“We are family,” the Ungeat reminded them sometime later, drawing them back to the blessing circle again. This time, when he turned off his synthesiser, he surprised them all.

“Heavenly beings,” he whispered in their language, having taken the time to learn their language and speak it freely, despite the pain it did to his vocal chords. “Keep our family safe in your loving embrace. Blessings be to the gods.”

If he had learned anything from his time among the crew, it was that coming together as each other’s supportive world was essential to any kind of future that was good. And in the presence of these three people, Or’uil knew the future would be good aboard the Hathaway.