Quelis Drevan stood in his dimly lit office, his contemplative gaze fixed on the mesmerizing tapestry of stars that shimmered in the inky black expanse beyond the panoramic viewport. The hum of the Bltyhe’s engines rumbled beneath his feet, a subtle reminder of the reality he existed in.

The door's chime, a gentle interruption, yet, Quelis’s eyes stayed drawn to the celestial panorama, he uttered a simple, “Enter,”

Quelis heard two sets of footsteps enter the room in a determined stride. His fist clenched, It was like the gravitational control systems in the office had choked on Quelis' demeanor.

Ensign Lirana’s voice broke the silence, she reported with a crisp and precise “All reports have been meticulously completed and are now awaiting your review, sir.”

Quelis acknowledged her report with a subtle nod, his jaw clenched, his posture cool and quiet as if the vast cosmos outside were part of his very being.

Ensign Rivers's voice carried a hint of concern when he asked, “Is there anything else we can assist you with, sir?”

Quelis's response was terse yet commanding, “No, thank you. Carry on, Ensigns.”

As the sound of footsteps picked up again Quelis noticed only one pair made an exit, the other pair seemed to linger, and felt his gaze on his neck. Rivers' voice carried a gentle tone, an unspoken understanding behind his words. 

“Sir?” He sighed deeply before he continued, “I've noticed you've been unusually quiet the past couple of days, even quieter than your usual self.” 

Quelis inhaled deeply, followed by a slow exhale, this apparently prompted the Ensign to press on "I-I guess I’m trying to say, I know you are my superior officer, But, If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here." 

Quelis concentrated on the trembling beneath his feet - an equilibrium between a pervasive thumping and a mesmerizing rhythm. It reminded him of the turmoil he felt within. 

Rivers felt a need to press further, to dig into the unspoken emotions that hung in the room. 

"Well, especially with what happened to the Percheron," he added, finally vocalizing the tragedy that had cast a shadow over the ship.

Quelis inhaled deeply, he felt an ache in his chest when he heard the word - Percheron. His gaze darted between the constellations before him as if he was trying to find a pattern. With a flat emotionless voice, he said “I'm just trying to put things into perspective.”

The response came in Rivers' voice empathic voice saying "What do you mean?"

Quelis's body felt heavy as he pivoted to face the Ensign, his voice started to tremble as he began "We are Starfleet," He let out another sigh, his words carried the weight of an unspoken burden. “We just witnessed pirates destroy a civilian freighter, an act that goes against everything we stand for.”

Rivers nodded, silently acknowledging the emotional turmoil that Quelis was grappling with.

Quelis continued, his voice trembling with unresolved conflict, "Yet, here we are, flying away and continuing our routine cargo inspections. What are we really doing if we can't protect those in need?"

"We couldn't have saved the Percheron, sir." Rivers reminded him, his words expressing the painful truth.

Quelis maintained his composure, but his frustration was evident. “I know, but we didn't seek justice for them either.”

Rivers met his comment with a supportive smile and a gentle suggestion, “Perhaps you should discuss this with the Captain?”

Without uttering a word, profound turmoil within Quelis propelled him forward, determination in his every step.

Quelis entered the turbolift and crisply announced, "Bridge." 

The moment the doors closed, the metal chamber came alive with a subtle vibration. It was a sensation that crept through his feet and up his spine, a gentle reminder that the lift was propelling him toward his destination. The advanced inertia dampeners, while efficient, couldn't entirely erase this underlying sense of motion.

His mind, a maze of uncertainty, embarked on its familiar wandering. There was a yearning for answers, but it was like grasping at shadows – he couldn't quite pinpoint the questions that stirred within him, waiting for recognition and definition.

The turbolift doors whispered apart, granting Quelis passage to the bridge. With each step, his heart reverberated in his chest, the sound echoing in his ears like a drumbeat. His throat constricted, as if invisible hands were gently, yet firmly, gripping it.

Quelis felt his muscles contracting and releasing, a silent dance of tension and release that mirrored his inner turmoil. It was almost as if his body was rehearsing for an important moment. He had traversed the bridge swiftly, arriving before the entrance to the Captain's Ready Room.

Quelis's hand inched toward the chime, but just before contact, it hovered in mid-air. His hesitation was palpable, a testament to the lingering doubts that danced in his mind.

Turning his gaze to the Bridge's Viewscreen, he found solace in the familiar inky expanse, a tapestry of stars akin to the one he had been staring at from his office's viewport. It was the same endless, starry abyss that had swallowed the Percheron's crew.

Another sigh escaped his lips, a silent acknowledgment of the weight upon his shoulders. Finally, with a deep breath, he sounded the chime to the Ready Room, the tone lost in the turbulent setting of the bridge.

"Come in," Captain Crowe's voice beckoned, offering a comforting invitation.

As Quelis crossed the threshold into the room, a heavy weariness tugged at his shoulders, urging them to droop. But he refused to yield to that impulse, maintaining his outward composure. With each measured step he took closer to the Captain's desk, his determined stride spoke volumes, slightly masking the inner turmoil he bore.

Captain Crowe's office was an oasis of order and composure, its pristine walls and neatly arranged furnishings reflecting the man in charge. Quelis, however, tried to hide his storm of internal conflict. He stood in front of the desk, his arms folded in a self-contained stance of inquiry.

"Ah, Mr. Drevan, what can I do for you?" Crowe's voice was a tranquil stream, gently breaking the silence that enveloped them.

Quelis, resolute but burdened, posed his question, his posture a silent testament to the seriousness of his concerns. "Captain, I was hoping for some clarity regarding our current orders and the strategic implications of our withdrawal from this sector."

A quizzical expression washed over Crowe's face. "I'm not quite following, Lieutenant. Please, take a seat." He gestured toward an empty chair positioned across from Quelis.

Sitting down, Quelis let out a weary sigh. His gaze dropped briefly to the floor, collecting his thoughts, before rising to meet the Captain's gaze. There, in Crowe's steady eyes, he found a beacon of understanding.

"Relax, Lieutenant. I can sense that something's weighing on you. Please, speak your mind," Crowe said, his voice a soothing breeze in the room.

With a deep breath, Quelis began to reveal the tempest within. "Well, I'm grappling with the concept of... yielding."

Crowe leaned forward, intrigued, his eyes locked onto Quelis, silently urging him to continue. “Yielding? Can you provide more context?”

"Sir," Quelis began, his voice carrying a hint of unease, “I usually don't question orders, but this... I just can't wrap my head around it.”

Crowe's gaze met Quelis's, the tension in the room palpable. Quelis chose his words carefully, “We watched that civilian freighter crumble under the pirate assault, and we're sitting idle.”

A sigh escaped Crowe, and he looked down at his PADD, his fingers tapping the screen with a calm rhythm. "Lieutenant," he said, his voice steady, "We've already done something. Starfleet's been alerted, and they're taking action as we speak."

As Quelis absorbed the information, his brows furrowed. "The Percherons crew's families have been notified, and a special task force is already en route to cleanse the nebula of pirate threats," Crowe explained, his eyes never leaving the PADD.

"But, sir," Quelis persisted, frustration lacing his words, “we're not part of that task force, are we?”

Crowe nodded, confirming, “No, Mr. Drevan. The Blythe's orders are to stick to our patrols in the Deneb Sector.”

The suffocating feeling returned to Quelis. His breaths grew shallow, his heart pounded. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he choked out, "Sir, we can't just turn our backs on this. We have to go back!"

"We can and we will, Lieutenant," Crowe's voice held a stern edge as he spoke. 

His gaze bore into Quelis, who was left momentarily speechless, taken aback by the Captain's determination.

In the ensuing silence, Crowe continued, “I've pored over those reports. I won't put our crew at risk just because you and Captain Mulgrew hit it off.”

Quelis, his mind racing, struggled to find the right response.

Crowe's unwavering tone persisted as he addressed Quelis directly, “You're our Chief Tactical Officer, You understand the tactical disadvantages we faced.”

Quelis nodded, his voice tinged with reluctance. 

"I do, sir," he admitted, a heavy sigh escaping him.

“The reality of the matter is, the Blythe is a fine ship, yet, she is a California-class Starship.” Crowe's lips curled into a sardonic smile as he elaborated “Heck, only a few years ago, ships of her class were literally falling apart!”.

As the Captain's words took hold, a sense of clarity washed over Quelis, dispelling the lingering fog of uncertainty. The weight that had been bearing down on him seemed to lift, like a passing storm, leaving him to open up to a different perspective.

"I'd be the first in line to charge into that nebula and make the pirates pay," Crowe admitted, his tone tinged with frustration. "But we're not the Titan, not even yesterday's Enterprise. I wouldn't venture into the Ciater Nebula on the calmest of days, let alone with pirates lurking."

After a brief pause, Crowe questioned, "Do you have any lingering questions regarding our mission, Lieutenant?"

Quelis shook his head and replied, "No, sir, it's all clear." He offered a grateful nod and added, "Thank you, sir."

Crowe's response was warm, “Anytime, Quelis.”

Emerging from the Captain's Ready Room, Quelis strode onto the bridge, a renewed vigor coursing through his veins. He couldn't help but take in the expressions on the faces of the crew. It was as if their shared sense of duty and unity had been etched onto every countenance. 

He silently contemplated the alternative - the chilling prospect that his request might have sealed the fate of these same individuals, leaving them forever trapped in the unforgiving grasp of the Ciater Nebula.

Quelis took his place at the Tactical terminal and turned his attention to the mesmerizing tapestry of stars on the viewscreen. 

This time it didn't look like an endless void of hopelessness, the celestial beacons radiated with purpose and new challenges that awaited them.