Bib tugged in frustration at the hem of his sleeves, feeling the tension spread across his recently maroon shoulders as he battled with the fabric, desperately bidding it to magically extend. As he tugged once more, channelling his fury into the effort he heard a subtle crack of stitching from across his shoulder as the fabric buckled under his desperation. 

“Nervous?” A voice called from a reclined figure in a nearby chais. 

“I’m pretty sure the replicator got my size wrong.” Bib muttered in frustration as he attempted to reach the tear. 

“It replicates it based on your file.” the figure smacked its hands across a taught belly, “are you sure you haven’t put on a few pounds?”

The tall Andorian snapped his head towards the figure, forgetting completely about the tear on his shoulder. “Hardly.” he whispered, his eyes narrowing. “In fact i’ve been spending a lot more time in gym.”

“Much to the approval of many of the ships young ensigns.” the voice smiled back, a wry grin spreading across his face. “And even some of the senior staff.”

“You’re very funny.” Bib returned to running his fingers across his shoulder blades, hunting for evidence of the damage. “In any case, what have I got to be nervous about?”

“Oh! Nothing much.” The voice gesticulated around the wide lounge, dimly lit by the dull glow of ensconced holographic flames along the wall. “Big ship, big crew, big mission.”

“I’ve been in command before.” Bib mustered all his confidence, his voice faltering slightly. He swallowed a lump that threatened to leap from his throat as his own stomach threatened to betray his bravado, Helios was one of the larger vessels he had served on as anything more than a visiting officer on assignment, and the most populated. His stomach churned again at the thought of the several hundred crew going about their business aboard the main body of the ship, visible out the wide windows behind him. Satisfied the tear wasn’t visible he stood from the wide couches, taking the opportunity to reset the patterned cushions, before crossing to a long oak side table where he began checking the glassware was as perfectly arranged as it had been several minutes ago. “I’m not nervous.”

“It’s alright to admit it. It won’t change my opinion of you.” The voice felt nearer, hovering at Bib’s shoulder. “It’s a big step up.”

“There’s a lot at stake.” Bib admitted, lifting a tall glass to his level, turning it in the dim light, he was sure he spotted a smudge. “Starfleet’s still reeling from Frontier Day; we’re short ships, officer, resources.” Satisfied the smudge was a trick of the light he returned it to an ornate metal tray. “Everything is in short supply.”

“Hope?”

“Almost definitely.” Bib took a few steps along the counter top, running his fingers across the smooth lacquered surface. “We’ve taken a lot of hits recently but Tanek was right when he said it was time to take the next step.” The newly minted commander could still hear the Captain’s ship-wide address ringing in he ears, Tanek was inspiring when he spoke and today’s general welcome had been no different as he spoke of an exciting new adventure for them all. No-one but Bib had seen the man choke when he spoke of carrying the flag for all the recent lost friends and family, a fact Bib was willing to take to his grave in the, hopefully, distant future. After the message he had privately spoke to his new XO of the need to draw the crew together, both personally and professionally; the fleet was full of nervous crewmen, young and old, Tanek had emphasised kindness in the face of inexperience. He felt the lump in his throat rise again. “There’s a lot people taking steps they weren’t expecting.” 

“That’s how officers like you get jobs like this.” The voice was unexpectedly dripping with venom. 

A wash of chilly air rolled across the polished floor, it’s tendril snapping at the mock holographic flames in the lighting sconces as it caused a shiver to run across Bib’s back and through his gut, stirring the guilt that lay nestled beneath all his choices. His eyes moved on to inspect the memorial china arranged on the counter top as he chewed through his own doubts, bitter in his mouth despite remaining unspoken. Satisfied the delicate cups and saucers were chip free he finally summoned a response.

“I never had you pegged for a bitter man.” Bib’s hand hovered over a pile of napkins. 

“It was meant to be me.” The man’s voice called from lightyears away, a sadness carried on particles of the solar winds. 

“I know.” The words hung in a sorrowful fermata as Bib began tugging at his sleeves once more. “How do I look?” he asked, turning to face the figure of the young Bajoran man that emerged from the shadows of the faux-candlelight. His dark blue eyes danced across the surface of the Commander’s uniform before settling on his face, a quiet tinkle escaping his earring as he tilted his head.

“Very impressive; and officerly, and smart, and executive and…” the man faltered momentarily “… very handsome.”

“Thankyou Khos.” Bib smiled at the face of his friend and former commander. His body felt numb, colder than the ice-storms he had sailed in his youth on Andoria. “I should have been abord the Unimatrix Sphere with you.” He confessed, feeling the words drop like leaden weights from his lips. 

“Then it would have been someone else in that uniform. I’d be dead either way.” Dil Khos had always made a point of being honest, he didn’t see a reason that should change in death. In the silence the two shared a lifetime of unspoken words, their minds racing to futures that would now never exist. 

A familiar smile extended across Dil’s face, Bib’s heart breaking once again. 

“Now wake-up. You’re drooling.”