Captain Tharia sh’Elas sat at the head of the conference table aboard Drydock AFY-22, her mind wandering as her staff discussed the details of the Hathaway’s refit. She absentmindedly dragged her fingers on the polished surface, the monotony of her rehabilitation period becoming unbearable.

Weeks had passed since her rescue by the crew of the USS Hathaway, and while she had made significant progress in her recovery, she found herself confined to Avalon Fleetyards for further rehabilitation. Whilst starships and crewmembers came and went in the aftermath of Frontier Day, she remained. The once daring and fearless Andorian first officer of the Santa Fe now felt trapped in this purgatory, longing for the familiar embrace of space.

Her attention wavered as her staff members delved into technical specifications and schedules. The refit of the Sagan-class USS Hathaway was crucial, she knew, but her heart yearned for the thrill of exploration and the freedom of command. She longed to be back at the helm of her ship, charting new courses and facing the unknown.

Lost in her thoughts, Tharia’s antennae perked up at the mention of a possible new commanding officer being assigned to the Hathaway. Her interest sparked, a glimmer of hope ignited within her. Could this be her chance to escape the purgatory of Avalon?

Suppressing her boredom, Tharia focused her attention on the conversation unfolding around her. The news of a new commanding officer injected a sense of anticipation into the room, breathing life into the stale atmosphere. The possibilities swirled in her mind, and she couldn’t help but wonder what this change would bring. The thought of possibly being the new commander of Hathaway made sense and rekindled her spirit. It promised a fresh start, an opportunity to regain her position and prove herself once again, and also be reunited with some colleagues from before her captivity.

As the meeting continued, Tharia became more engaged, her mind shifting from boredom to determination. She listened intently, making mental notes and offering insightful suggestions. Despite her physical limitations caused by lingering pain in her shoulders, she knew she could still contribute, still make a difference.

Her team, recognizing the newfound energy in their leader, responded with enthusiasm. The atmosphere in the room shifted as if a dormant fire had been reignited. They fed off Tharia’s renewed passion, and together they began to envision the possibilities that lay ahead.

Alas, Tharia’s heart sank as the truth unfolded before her. The commanding officer situation aboard Hathaway wasn’t as simple as she had hoped; Captain Nazir and her command team were only being seconded somewhere for a mission and someone needed to oversee things while they were gone. The glimmer of hope that had ignited within her was extinguished, replaced by a deep sense of despair. It felt like a cruel twist of fate, a bitter disappointment she couldn’t bear.

Her dreams of escaping the purgatory of Avalon Fleetyards shattered, Tharia felt a profound sense of loss. The weight of her confinement grew heavier, and the walls of her self-imposed prison closed in on her. She had allowed herself to hope, to believe that a new commanding officer would be her ticket to freedom, only to have those hopes dashed.

Forcing herself to her feet, the meeting came to a stop as the team stared at their commander blankly. “I need to attend my review on Brahms,” she told her people, each of the team profoundly aware of the situation she found herself in. “Everything sounds good so far. Keep it up, folks. You’re all doing a great job,” she smiled as best she could.

Deep down, Tharia knew that her own journey would continue, albeit on a different path. Though disappointed, she refused to let despair define her. She would rise above it, determined to make her mark in the vast expanse of the galaxy once more. But for now, she let the disappointment linger for just a little while longer.

Captain Tharia sh’Elas stared out of the observation window aboard Brahms station, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the polished surface of the table before her. She had been through countless missions, and faced dangers that most could only imagine. But now, she found herself in an altogether different battle—one against the invisible chains of her own mind.

The soft hum of the station’s ventilation system was a constant reminder of her confinement. She hated this feeling—trapped, just like she had been during those long, torturous months of captivity by the Changelings. The nightmares were still fresh in her memory, the echo of their taunting laughter haunting her thoughts. Hathaway‘s crew had rescued her, but the scars, both physical and emotional, ran deep.

“Captain sh’Elas?” The voice of Counsellor Laren Voss snapped her back to the present.

Tharia turned her attention to the counsellor, a poised and empathetic Betazoid woman with a calm demeanour that seemed to radiate warmth. “Yes, Counsellor?”

Laren Voss leaned forward slightly, her dark eyes locked onto Tharia’s. “How have you been feeling since our last session?”

Tharia sighed, her fingers now tracing the edge of a data pad on the table. “Honestly, Counsellor, I feel like I’m losing my mind here. I should be out there, on the Hathaway, or some other ship, leading my crew and doing something useful…”. She huffed, “and instead, I’m confined to Avalon Fleet Yards, subjected to months of evaluations and assessments.”

Voss nodded understandingly. “It’s only been a few weeks, Captain. And it’s completely natural to feel frustrated in this situation. But the medical team wants to ensure that you’re fully recovered, both physically and mentally, before you return to active duty.

Tharia clenched her jaw, her eyes narrowing with a mix of irritation and anxiety. “I’ve been through worse and bounced back. I’ve faced death more times than I can count. This should be a cakewalk.”

Voss tilted her head slightly. “And that’s precisely what concerns me, Captain. You’re accustomed to pushing through pain, both physical and emotional. But this time, it’s different. You’re not just bouncing back from an injury; you’re healing from trauma. Rushing back into the field without addressing the underlying issues could lead to even more problems down the line.”

Tharia’s fingers tightened around the data pad. “I don’t need more counselling, Counsellor. I’ve talked about what happened with you, with the medical team, with the people on Hathaway. I’m ready.”

Voss leaned back in her chair, her expression unwavering. “I believe you think you’re ready, Captain. But there’s something else beneath the surface, something that’s eating at you. Every time we’ve discussed your captivity, you deflect, you avoid delving too deep. I think you’re afraid to confront your vulnerability.”

Tharia’s nostrils flared slightly, her gaze turning cold. “Vulnerability is a luxury I can’t afford, Counsellor.”

“And that’s the mindset that could lead you down a dangerous path,” Voss leaned forward again, her voice soft but insistent. “Your strength is unquestionable, Captain, but denying your emotions, your fears, will only build walls around you. It won’t make you stronger; it will make you more isolated.”

A tense silence settled between them, the weight of Voss’s words hanging in the air. Tharia’s fingers had stopped their tapping, her gaze now fixed on a distant star visible through the window.

“You’re right,” Tharia finally admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ve been trying so hard to put on a facade of strength that I’m losing myself in the process.”

Voss’s empathetic gaze softened. “It’s okay to ask for help, Captain. It’s okay to lean on others when you’re struggling. The people here, and the people who know you, admire you, not just for your strength, but for your humanity as well.”

Tharia’s shoulders slumped as she let out a heavy sigh. “I just… I can’t shake the feeling of being a captive again. Not in the literal sense, but like my own mind is holding me hostage.”

Voss nodded, her expression gentle. “That’s a natural response to trauma, Captain. But remember, healing takes time. It’s not a linear process. You’ve survived the worst, but now it’s about learning to live with the aftermath.”

Tharia looked down at her hands, the data pad now forgotten. “I’m so used to being in control, to being the one who leads others. It’s hard to accept that I need help.”

“Needing help doesn’t make you weak, Captain. It’s a sign of strength to acknowledge your own limitations and seek support when you need it,” Voss smiled softly.

As the session continued, the walls Tharia had meticulously built around herself began to crack, allowing the vulnerability she had been suppressing to surface. She spoke of the nightmares that plagued her, the moments of paralysing fear that would grip her unexpectedly. And as she spoke, she realised that she wasn’t alone—Voss was there, offering understanding and guidance, helping her navigate the tumultuous sea of emotions. These sessions were a necessary evil if she ever hoped to get out of this place.

Oh, how she hoped.