Being summoned to the captain’s presence was for lowly ensigns a harrowing experience. It meant that the next best thing to the keeper of all fates had taken notice of you in some capacity and unless appraised beforehand, the reasons why would only be revealed upon arrival. Would it be a good or bad encounter was a quantum decision awaiting the collapse of the waveform upon observation.

Which is why Kelly Tabaaha found herself gulping once, the whole bridge at her back, before tapping the call button beside the ready room door. She had to remark, since Atlantis’ near-disaster at the battle of Leonis, repairs had been completed quickly and you’d never know the bridge had been half destroyed. Though from what she’d heard from her engineering friends, the bridge she’d just walked across hadn’t been the one she nearly died on. Merely a space bridge module that was swapped as part of Atlantis’ hasty repairs before being dispatched back to the Thomar Expanse.

She’d not been privy to the other repairs yet, but Atlantis’ weapons were back online, her shields were fully operational and more importantly to her the engines and manoeuvring systems had been fully restored. She’d thought the ship would have been laid up for months, but they’d barely stayed in the hands of the yards for a week. It had been more expedient to get as many ships back out in operation as possible than to tend to the most damaged first and have ships with minor damage circling the Avalon Yards for weeks awaiting their turn at the slip.

“Enter,” came the captain’s voice from the other side of the door, interrupting her reverie and causing the door to part and let her step over that threshold into the mystic confines of the ready room.

She knew it wasn’t some special font of wisdom, some mystic retreat which granted the captain or commander insight beyond mortal understanding, but couldn’t help but feel a little disappointment at how normal the space was. It was just an office, admittedly as big as her quarters, but still just an office. But then an element of concern settled on her, not just the captain being present, seated behind a desk, but the presence of Lieutenant T’Val, standing to the captain’s left.

“Ensign Tabaaha, front and centre please,” Captain Theodoras said, slowly rising from her seat.

Three large steps into the office, the door closing behind her, retreat no longer an option, she brought herself to attention before her superior officer and the ship’s master. “Ma’am,” she said, trying to sound as confident as she could.

“First off Ensign, relax,” the captain said, offering a smile and just by her tone of voice Kelly could feel her back muscles relaxing. So, this wasn’t some sort of grilling for actions unknown to her. Then why? “I wanted to thank you Ensign for your actions in the Battle of Leonis. Your steady hand at the helm saw Atlantis through what I can reassure you was the worst fighting this ship has ever seen.”

“Just doing my job ma’am,” she said in an attempt to downplay her actions. In truth, she had been frightened out of her mind and could barely recall anything after the shouted order for evasive manoeuvres. She’d apparently had to be pried away from the helm when the bridge had been evacuated. Instinct and training had kicked in and shock had done a good job of blanking out what truly happened. She remembered the order, the frantic commands to the helm, then walking up in sickbay and immediately throwing up.

“I said the same thing to my captain once, after being so inconsiderate as to bleed all over the bridge,” the captain said. “Lieutenant T’Val, would you please?”

Lieutenant T’Val revealed the padd she’d been holding behind her back and held it up to read from. “Ensign Kelly Tabaaha, for actions becoming of a Starfleet officer, for your valiant efforts during the First Battle of Leonis and your innovative suggestions that allowed the starship Atlantis to attend the Battle of Deneb in a timely fashion, I have recommended you for a promotion to the rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade, effective immediately.”

The Vulcan helmswoman then passed the padd to the captain, who looked it over, held her thumb to a part of the screen for a moment, and then set the padd down. “Lieutenant T’Val, your recommendation is noted and accepted. Please attend to the Lieutenant’s uniform before someone writes her up for being out of uniform.” The captain’s smile took over her face and was punctuated with a wink of her right eye. “Congratulations Lieutenant Junior Grade Tabaaha.”

“Indeed,” Lieutenant T’Val said as she was pinning the hollow pip to Kelly’s collar. “Your performance has been most satisfactory Lieutenant and I look forward to training you for the Valkyrie-class fighter.”

“Ma’am?” she asked T’Val, confusion fogging her brain for only a moment. Then the implication hit her. “You want me as a Harpy?”

“Are you saying you don’t want to join Harpy Flight?” the captain challenged.

“No ma’am! I mean, I do! It’d be an honour.”

“Good! Now, take the rest of the shift off,” the captain said, which caused T’Val’s left eyebrow to raise slightly, she noticed. “I remember being lower decks and how much showing off a new rank pip meant.”

“No frigging way,” Matt said quietly as he sat himself down on the couch next to Kelly in Port Royal, eyes on the new pip on her collar. “When did this happen?” he asked, a happy tone to his voice.

“About three hours ago,” Kelly answered, tilting her head slightly to show off. “But you were on duty, so thought I’d wait. Been here having a few drinks. Already met up with Nerys who was furious and overjoyed at the same time.”

“That’s amazing,” he said, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Can I ask why?”

“The captain and Lieutenant T’Val both said it was for seeing the ship through Leonis.” She couldn’t help the vague discomfort that came with saying that name. The sense of dread and panic. She’d been talking with one of the counsellors about it; they promised it would ease. One day.

“Well, they’re right you know. You did a damn fine job,” he reassured her.

“If I’d been better those three on the bridge wouldn’t have –“

“You saved everyone else,” Matt interrupted her. “You kept the ship flying and you got us out of trouble.”

“I guess,” she admitted.

“You then did work with Lieutenant Michaels to fly us into danger at Deneb,” he teased. “But think of it this way – without your idea, Atlantis and all our allies would have been late to the party. You saved a lot of people’s lives with that idea.”

“Wouldn’t have worked as well as it did without that Fleet Formation hardware letting us slipstream behind Papakura as close as we did,” she added. “But I’m not going to talk you out of heaping praise on me, am I?”

“Nope, don’t think you will, Lieutenant Junior Grade Tabaaha,” he answered.

“Well then, how about I promise to send a thank you note to whatever boffin on Earth came up with that system, we consider me to be blanketed in praise and adoration from my boyfriend and we get a drink before we try to figure out who’s quarters are safe for a bit of private celebrations?” She watched Matt’s expression change as he nodded in agreement with her, and then his eyes took on a mischievous gleam at the end.

She watched him rocket away towards the bar and had to admit to herself she really did enjoy sending him to get the drinks all the time. It gave her something to look at. And she did enjoy watching his confident demeanour as he conversed with the bar staff while they made the drinks, then his not-swagger as he returned. All of that and a caring gentleman to boot.

“For you, Lieutenant,” he said, a flourish on his delivery as he set her drink down, giving the glass a slight tap and causing a storm of colour to briefly appear, the chemical reaction fluorescing momentarily.

“Thank you, Ensign,” she answered. “Maybe, just maybe, I won’t write you up on report.”

“Or maybe you can?” he suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows she couldn’t help but recoil from, cringe at the expression. “Okay, don’t do that again,” he conceded.

“Yeah, don’t.” She leaned into him as he sat back down. “I love you Matt, truly I do, but don’t ever waggle your eyebrows again. You like so stupid when you do.”

He laughed in good humour. “No worries there Kells. So, if you’ve been off duty for a few hours, then you hadn’t heard about the distress call we picked up.” He sipped experimentally at his drink – something peach-coloured and still mostly frozen. The look on his face suggested it needed to warm up first.

“No, what was it?” she asked.

“Some Cardassian ship, a Gul Malek asking for any and all assistance. Though from what I heard it’s more a case of them repeating someone else’s distress call.” He shrugged. “But alas, I’m just a junior officer.”

“So am I mister,” she said. “So don’t expect me to have some miraculous insight you don’t have.”

“Of course, Kelly,” he said, a bit more seriously. Or at least less jokingly. “Just having a bit of – oh, look at that.” His attention had gone from her to the windows facing into space, along the top of Atlantis’ saucer.

She turned herself and was greeted instantly by the purple and peach disk of a gas giant, large in the windows and dominating their view. Atlantis had dropped out of warp exceedingly close to the planet, a testament to the skill of Lieutenant T’Val. It was only that proximity that allowed the masses in Port Royal, getting to their feet at the view, to see some of what had called their ship here.

Just on the terminator between night and day hung a Galor-class starship, not in a standard orbit, but low enough to be buffeted by the gasses of the planet itself. Its tail was pointed straight down as if she was trying to climb out of the gravity well, or at least arrest any further descent into the depths.

“Well, that’s not good,” Kelly said as she and Matt approached the windows with a few others. “Not good at all.”