“Ginsh, Ginsh, over here pal. Sit yourself down, got ya brew, pal.” Came the holler and wave from a corner of the establishment, a brown haired, tall, lanky, human male, Paolo RInish Sat in a corner table, with two hot drinks in front of him. He was brash and outspoken, which is probably why Ginsh and he got on quite so well. 

The off duty Tellarite was at her more colorful sight that on duty, plumbing for the thigh length tunic and loose pants, the wave of blues,greens, orange, and just the hint of brown were quite a slight as he waved in between the chairs and tables of the bright and airy establishment, simply titled Brew. He glanced at the groups cradling their drinks, some very clearly more used to the experience than others, with one or two more impatient faces being on display.

The Tellarite settled himself down on the other of the two places, swiveling his chair slightly to put one corner gently against the wall, to have himself seated looking across and out into the cafe itself rather than directly into the corner. His drink was pushed towards him by the person opposite, Ginsh noted the lip curl, that told of a position of dislike from his friend, but that argument had  long been had, both positions clear and immovable, so left alone for now. The drink in question was an off brown shade of mocha with enough caramel syrup to overwhelm the single shot of espresso. The order being given usually entailed a discussion or lecture of a professed ‘cofficinado’. Just the way Ginsh liked it, both the drink and the opportunity for a verbal joust. 

He took a deep mouthful and after being asked about current projects gave a description of the chance observation of the ‘Drig Bugs’ extra leg he launched into an explication of the exhaustive testing procedure he employed, the trials that were associated with it, the obligatory grumbling that Paolo seemed to grin at, ask the questions that were obvious and occasionally suggest that Ginsh might be at fault, which brought a stout defense from the Tellarite.

“Of course I’m currently assisting as required until the USS Fitzgerald gets in with a number of specimens. But she’d four days late as is.” Ginsh grumped, rolling to mug around his hands, before offering an opportunity for Paolo to speak, given the minute size of his work, the prospect of a project on the scale the man usually worked on was staggering and fascinating at the same time “I suppose that’s not too much of a concern for you folks, data carries much easier than specimens. What are you working on? Or have been working on?” Watching his opposite number take a gulp of drink before offering.

“Yeah there’s a few like that pal, Starships having to reroute around hotspot’s or being pulled in to help out, rowdy Kingons and stubborn Romulans and that’s what we get.” Paolo’s comment seems laced with weariness, possibly a hint of annoyance. But that faded a little as he ;launched into a account of the days spent tracking comet, it’s unusual composition was broken down, i’s irregular trajectory was highlighted, the trip though an asteroid belt and glancing blows it gave the rocks within, the skimming if a gas giant planet and the effect on the star system in question. 

“But that was last week, this week things are altogether different, borders are more of concern at the moment than the phenomenon contained within. That and who’s wandering where and how often and whether they should or not be.To be honest I feel more Strat Ops than Science these days.” Paolo related, but with a sigh and a shrug, and what he felt was a thin but growing layer of contempt for either the situation or something else entirely. “We might just be Ensigns but even i can tell getting caught in the middle of this AGAIN is not going to work well for Starfleet, stretched resources are going to end up even thinner.” He went on, now teetering on the edge of launching into a rant From where Ginsh was sitting, suspecting the public venue and the large amount of potential onlookers provided a hold for now.

He hit back with his own observations. “Are you forgetting Starfleet is committed to aiding those who need it with impartiality? It’s not just a duty, it’s moral, we have the ability to help, it may be limited but it’s still there, so we should. Besides, some elements of both call us friends now so that’s something.” Ginsh countered, with his own observations and feelings and to an extent beliefs, he was worried about the tone his classmate was eleceting to take,this was more than just a cultural thing now. 

The rebuttal that came back was blunt, harsh, and seemed to speak of Paolo’s own held beliefs “Because it suits some, yeah, but the other elements would blow us away or knife us in the night as much as they do it to the other. These people have knocking bells out of each other since before the Federation was a thing, before it was an idea. Stopping theme fighting for goo is like trying to dig a hole in a bucket of water. It Won’t Work.”

“It did about thirty year ago now. That’s the base for all we have now.” Ginsh countered pithily, he knew his history well enough, and chose his reference point with care, hoping it might provoke a bit of sense back into his old classmate. 

Paolo had other ideas, the reference only seemed to entrench him further and then gave rise to the most worrying of all admissions. “Because of the biggest war rhe quadrant had ever seen, marriage of convenience,  and practically a shotgun one. Sometimes i think the Dominion had the right idea.”

“I surely hope you don’t mean eradication of ‘The solids.’” Ginsh deliberately using air quotes and lowered his tone considerably, to the point where he leaned in to the table.”Because that would be you and me up for the chop my friend.”

Paolo had leaned in as well at this point offering a reply “Let’s not get too carried away, but divide and conquer.” There was a weighty pause and a shrug, that was far too carefree for the comment he had just made, effectively giving a nod to genocidal tendencies, for Ginsh’s liking. “Good thing i’m weeding out and classifying warp trails, decode one of each, throw a wide band subspace burst into the offending sector and see what bites.” He offered with a grin that was as unsettling as it was upsetting, then there was a moment when his expression changed again as if Ginsh thought he was unsure if he’d revealed too much of his own feelings and intentions, he leaned back and grinned letting the silence hang.

Reaching for his mug, tilting it towards him, Ginsh was almost relieved at the need of a refill. “Same again.” He enquired, and collected proffered mug, taking another look at the expression Paolo wore, trying to get read on how serious he was with his positions. Rising from his seat he walked past towards the counter, resisting the urge to look back, even that type of talk was a worry, but who should he share his concerns with, was it his division head or straight to councilor, and what if that was not talk but a serious plan he was going to enact, a security risk dictated involving security. But was it an over reaction on his part? Drinks order was placed amidst these thoughts.

The conference was just over. A lot has happened, from good moments to bad. But it was quite an educational ride for Arwa. She learned a lot and was required to learn to comfort her inner demons. But Arwa was not given the breathing air to let it be processed as the next major task revealed itself. Standing in the Cargo Bay of 15b, Arwa directed people to prepare medical supplies for shipment to Romulan space. 

One of those people would be Ginsh, a Tellarite Science Officer who had fallen in line with requests for additional personnel to assist the medical department in there preparations. Striding though the larger, solid cargo bay doors, he was instantly on the look out for a lieutenant, his point of contact. Stealing himself out of the way of and around a sled with crates on. He stood next to her, offering this as a greeting “Lieutenant el-Imam, you have yourself another pair of hands in the mix, whether that’s a help or headache remains to be seen, what can I do?”

Looking from her PADD to her side, Arwa saw Ginsh and smiled softly in his direction. “It is quite difficult for me to get a headache, I am a counselor by nature, so I know the tips and tricks to avoid those headache situations,” Arwa lowered her PADD “Pleasure to meet you Ensign…?” She looked a bit blinking at him. 

“Ginsh, sir, Ensign Ginsh.” He offered, pleased by the way she batted his remark back to him. “Zoologist by study field, but needs must at present.” He glanced around, taking stock of the goings on. “Is this effort to send or efforts to receive? also again what can I do? These hands are a wasting.”

“Pleasure to meet you Ensign” Arwa smiled at him once again  and looked at her PADD then into the cargo hold “Well they are sorting out what kind of material is being send to Romulan space as a spare of what we can miss” Arwa looked at a small group checking open cargo boxes “So our task is to move the boxes that got checked to the transport platform so it can be directed up to one of the shuttlebays for transporting” Placing the PADD on a box and pulling up her sleeves “So lets get our hands dirty Ensign”

“Always, Lieutenant, well nearly always.” Ginsh offered a smile back, looked to the side at a grouping of containers, as always neatly stacked, and gave the side a slap. “These have been checked? These are to go?”

Placing the hover element on the side of the cargo box and looking in Ginsh’s direction, “I do believe so; put some hover elements on it, so you can push them somewhat easier to the platform.” With that said Arwa started to push her box “So what brings the Ensign to Starbase Bravo, I am always interested in life stories”

Casting about in order to locate a free hover element, he responded to the background question, “First assignment out of the Academy, but I did study at the Betazoid campus mostly, aside for a semester on earth, so I guess it made more sense.” Finding the piece of equipment and attaching it, he started to move the crate.

Tapping the console, she walked to get the next box as the other box materialized behind her in a faded blue light. “Starbase Bravo is a logical starting point, and it makes sense for an average freshman, but you are a Zoologist. Would a planetary assignment not be a better spot to get your hands dirty?” She got the next box as Arwa checked the validation information. 

Pushing his crate into position, he stepped back and pondered her question, which was a reasonable one to be fair. “A goal for the mid future, and certainly something I would like. But the Starbase, being a hub for the sector affords certain opportunities.” He offered, glancing between her and the crate, until it disappeared. “As i’m sure it does for yourself.” He added, not quite sure what he meant by the comment. 

“Me?” She pushed the next box “I am here to help people and I go where Starfleet needs a counselor” Arwa placed the box on the platform “So I go with the flow, so to speak” Arwa looked at him “But I started on a starship and flew to the stars while keeping my fellow crewmates sanity in check” She walked to the console and taps it as the box disappears. 

“That’s a very poetic language, are you sure you didn’t miss your true calling Lieutenant.” Ginsh commented with a grin, as the walked back to the decressing stack, his thoughts strayed into the reason they were at this task, something he decided to share. “I suppose this sort of thing is a natural extension of such care, which i’m all for doing, help and aid those in need, it’s just a shame it happens so frequently still. What are your thoughts?”   

Tagging the next box for transport as Arwa thinks briefly. “The idea that there is nothing going on in the vast ever expanding universe is somewhat nihil, Ensign. Think about it….we got the Klingons going back to their roots, trouble at the Cardassian Union. I feel like it was somewhat an expecting happening” Arwa pointed out as she activate the hover device “If not, I think that is the moment we should start worrying”

“Of course I see your point, and I accept the universe and those that inhabit it are in constant motion, change is a product of that motion.” Ginsh agreed, this was a logical position that few of a scientific leaning would disagree with, he felt. 

Clamping onto a box, he tried again, restating his regret in what he hoped would be a more understandable manner. “My regret is not that things change, but that the change is as violent as we witness, and that some i’ve spoken to don’t seem to share that view.”

Placing the next box on the platform and catching her breath. “Wel yes and no, this is where the set of the mind comes into play and well my field of expertise. Things happening by a set of situations boiled to a degree resulting into violent out come is a given. But in case of the Klingons, at least of what I have read and seen, is one person saying…we need to go back to our nature and answering by that the call of a feeling boiling within every Klingon”  Arwa looked at the PADD checking what was next.

“So if violent is a result of a physical happening, an asteroid destroying a station or ecosystem being changed drastically. Or the set of the mind, a person that choose the path of violent by choice or by requirements” Arwa walked to a box and taps on it checking the idea “Mmm”

Another box delivered to the cargo transporter, and winging it’s way to a vessel cargo bay, which must be close to full by now. “I supposes the outcome is the same regardless. Also I suppose Starfleet would choose to aid, either event if it was capable of doing so. I think the whys and wherefores are a deeper conversation for another time perhaps. Would i be able to make an appointment?”

“Would you not have one already settled, I dont mind to appoint myself as that counsel session for you if you wish so” Arwa pushed her box onto the platform and press the console to transport it. “What you feel most comfortable with”

“Well I am aware of that appointment now.” Ginsh observed with a shrug. “Yes having it with yourself would be more comfortable, I’m aquainted with you now after all.”

Giving away a smile “Good, now lets get these boxes settled and round up this task” Arwa stated walking to the next box to get transported for the Romulan aid. It will be a long day until the two of them will be done with this task. 

The department was busy, be it their daily planning, helping out medical with Romulan resources, or being sent into the field for their expertise in being a mediator. Life was never the same on Starbase Bravo, that was something Arwa already concluded. She was sitting in one of the flex office, waiting for Ginsh to arrive, she already met him with one of the cargobay tasks, but a counsel session was set in motion before that. 

Reaching the specified office, at the specified time, Ensign Ginsh still clad in duty uniform, stepped into the doorway and, greeted the councilor with a mix of formality and familiarity. “Lieutenant el-Imam, it is agreeable to meet you again, especially as this is likely to be a less sleeves up affair. May I come in?”

Looking up from her PADD and giving a welcoming smile toward Ginsh, “Please Ensign, come in, take a seat.” Arwa gestures in the direction of the chair. “We did have the pleasure of spending some time together for the right reasons. But now we are here for the job-specific reasons, your medical evaluation reason.” 

Pacing straight over and easing himself into the offered chair, he shifted in it slightly, well padded, very comfy. “Of course new posting, new enviroment, a check up makes sense.” Ginsh leaned back a little more into the chair, might as well settle down for now.

“So tell me about yourself, why did you join Starfleet and how are you experiencing it so far?” Arwa sat back in her chair. 

“Straight in with a big one.” Ginsh responded with a grin, considering how to answer, and elected to go a more direct route. “A field trip for the degree I was studding for, crossed paths with a field trip of science cadets on Betazoid, I was impressed with the prospects they were entertaining to want to take a closer look, five years on and here I am.” Ginsh spread his arms wide at this point adding a bit of flurrish to his brief story.

Arwa took some notes and nodded slowly. “How is your life so far within Starfleet? How would you describe it?” It were basic questions, but even the very simplistic questions could be filled with long stories, not required for any session, but it gave any counselor an in-depth feel for the state of mind of a person. 

Pausing to think, running the past few weeks since arriving on the station, and going from what he thought was a fairly large campus, to the immense size and scope of the Starbase. “I would describe it as fullfilling. The opportunities for research projects are numerous. The equipment and facilities are cutting edge, an absolute dream for someone who wants to pursue research.”  He was enthused, genuinely happy with his choice at this point, even when outside influences demanded attention, as he went on to tackle. “Sure there are times when I end up in a supporting role, assisting another department, particularly when there’s potential crisis brewing, but it’s a small sacrifice in the grand scheme of things i supoose.”

“Well, those situations are given, and we all have to do our part, Ensign,” Arwa winks at him. But where do you see yourself in the future? Do you desire to research unknown worlds? Are you interested in the command chair, or what is Ensign Ginsh’s dream?”

“I prefer to have goals rather than dreams, goals sound a little more purposeful.” He responded at first, being deliberatly pedantic on that point. “Long term research missions, particularly planetside would be a goal. The chance to be hands on for an extended period, would be superb. A ship posting would be agreeable, for the experience, and the oppotunity to be first to find something.”

Tapping on her PADD, “Opportunity is always out there, Ensign. You are at the starting point of it all, and throughout your journey, you will see wonderful things that I am sure of.” Arwa smiled and looked up at him. “My initial conclusion is that you are clear for duty, and I don’t have any objection to it either. Do you have anything to ask or something troubling your mind?”

Smiling at the fact the formality and needed section was done without too much fuss. Where do you see yourself was always an odd one for Ginsh, to be truth he had yet to see the use for it, but it was done now. The final question caused him to pause. There was something. Something that had been niggling at him ever since the event. “There is something, I am not sure if this is the right environment but here it is. A recent conversation with a former classmate who is also assigned here, has bothered me. We got on to the current political and sociological state of the quadrant, and he made some honest and altogether troubling remarks. He suggested that we, as in starfleet, should be actively but subtly provoving the two against each other, rather than wasting effort and resources providing aid and mediation.”

Giving a slight nod to Ginsh and listening to the trouble that bothers him. Arwa took a second to think. “I can see where this might trouble you. The fundamentals of Starfleet come from the perspective of peace. Putting two forces against each other would defeat our purpose as Starfleet. If we wanted to put wars out, we would be scheming and plotting to place ourselves in a favorable position for dominance.” Arwa crossed her arms. “Self-centric mindset simple is a short-lived path within Starfleet, and I hope your friend will change this thinking. Because it will in the end harm not only himself but also those around him.” 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” The Tellarite afirmed, honestly, paused as he phrased the next part in his head before making a request. “My follow up would be if the person in question was talkking about doing something foolish and untoward, and I wanted both to help him see his error and stop whatever he might do, what would be the best way to go about that?”

“That really depends on the context of what he is doing wrong” Arwa bluntly pointed out. 

Sitting forward for the first time this session, he considered what he was about to tell; right here, right now, he felt a conflict of loyalties for the first time. But he had to say something, if it was nothing it would come to nothing, but if there was some substance maybe this was for the best, maybe. “He’s working with the astrometrics division, tracking warp trails, and he stated an intention to broadcast the selected results into the sector and I quote ‘to see what bites’, i don’t know if this it targeted or a general transmision. Would speaking to his shift or division leader  be appropriate?”

An eyebrow rose on her face in surprise. “That is quite the offensive act. It could result in injured people if not worse.” Arwa spoke pretty directly now. “I will report this to the shift leader. If that has no sound, please do report it to the division leader as soon as possible.” 

He slumped back now, it was out now, at least one other person knew and, to their credit had given him usable advice. “It’s for the greater good. Never though i’d have to use that phrase but still. I will locate and make an appointment with the appropriate person, Thank you Lieutenant.”

Giving a brief nod “It is out of my field of expertise and this session, but that situation clearly violates safety regulations. You had better get going before people get injured. If you want an additional session, feel free to plan something.” Arwa gave him a friendly smile.

“It’s truly incredible that we’re both stationed here on the same Starbase. It feels like our childhood dreams are finally coming true,” Ozzy remarked, his eyes gleaming with nostalgia as he clasped his tea. He traced the rim of his mug, as if trying to ground himself in the reality of the moment.

Cam returned the sentiment with a warm smile, though he made sure not to show too much emotion in front of his younger brother. Instead, he took a slow sip of his raktatjino, the steam rising in gentle wisps that curled around his face like memories. With a teasing tone, he replied, “Well, maybe we’ll ‘serve together,’ Cadet, once you finish up at the Academy.”

Ozzy’s cheeks flushed a soft shade of pink, but his grin didn’t falter. He leaned back in his chair, the metal frame creaking softly beneath him, and crossed his legs, his foot tapping a rhythm of anticipation against the floor. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he admitted before changing the subject. “So, now that you’re a fancy starfighter pilot, do you have a callsign?”

Cam’s eyes lit up mischievously as he nodded in response, his gaze flickering with a playful spark. He set his raktatjino down carefully on the table; the porcelain clinking against the surface like a secret shared between friends.

“I bet it’s something cool, like Thundertribble!” Ozzy exclaimed with enthusiasm, his voice echoing off the walls of the bustling lounge.

“Thundertribble?” Cam repeated, unable to contain his laughter. His shoulders shook with mirth, and he covered his mouth with one hand as if trying to stifle the outburst.

“Thundertribble!? Cool??” Cam managed to add in-between his amusement rippling through the air like waves on a shore.

“Well then, what is it?” Ozzy asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice, though his eyes still twinkled with curiosity.

Cam struggled to compose himself as the laughter began to subside. He ran a hand through his hair; the strands tousled and dishevelled, before finally meeting Ozzy’s gaze with a grin.

“Well, it’s…” He paused abruptly, his attention suddenly caught by a familiar figure by the replicator. “Hey! Isn’t that Mike Iane?” Cam sprang up from his chair, pointing excitedly across the bustling lounge. His voice rose above the din of conversation, a beacon of recognition in the sea of faces.

As Cam’s excitement filled the room, Ozzy sank deeper into his chair, feeling a flush of embarrassment wash over him. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against the armrest, as he watched his brother’s exuberance draw the attention of all nearby.

“Mike! Michael! Iane! Mike!” Cam exclaimed until he caught his attention.

Michael turned around when he heard the sound of a familiar voice while holding his Earl Grey tea, which he had come to like throughout the Academy. He found the famous drink that Admiral Picard drank to be a nice and refreshing drink compared to a normal cup of standard tasteless tea. 

“Cam, Cam and Ozzy Solari what on Earth are you to doing in a place like this let alone a Joint like this, I would have thought you would have been off on your adventures now Cam and you Ozzy should you not be back in the Academy learning to catch up with us,” replied Mike as he walked over to their table while putting his hand out to shake there’s.

Cam’s laughter rang out as he spoke, his eyes alight with amusement. “You sure are well-informed for someone I haven’t seen for years! Have our mothers been talking again?” There was a playful edge to his words.

Then, with a grin, he continued, “I am though, this appears to be my adventure, and for Cadet Solari here,” he nodded towards Ozzy, “he just returned from a rotation with the USS Blythe.”

Ozzy’s expression softened, a flicker of recognition and warmth dancing in his eyes as he exchanged glances with Cam.

Finally, sitting down at the table, taking the first sip of his hot Earl Grey and slightly burning his top lip. “Come on Cam, you should know that my mum and I are close and yeah our mums are even closer and still best of friends and closer than anything after all these years,” replied Ensign Lane. 

Taking another sip hoping that he didn’t burn his lip again, Michael asked the brothers, “So don’t you two keep in contact with your mum then that much? What are you guys up to and have you got your assignment yet, Cam?”

“Of course, we do,” Ozzy chuckled, his eyes glinting with a warmth that belied the ache in his heart. The laughter danced on his lips, but beneath the surface, a wave of nostalgia crashed over him, tugging at the corners of his smile. His gaze drifted momentarily, lost in a distant memory before he refocused on Cam, who was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Man, what a journey it’s been!” Cam exclaimed, his words bursting forth with boundless energy. “And right now, I’m soaring through the stars as a Starfighter Pilot, part of Bomber Squadron SB4-T1, also known as the White Squadron!” His enthusiasm filled the room, overshadowing the fleeting glimpse of homesickness in Ozzy’s eyes.

“Well, you finally did it Cam. You got to where you wanted to be. You made it to White Squadron! Are you the team leader or just a grunt on the team?” looking over at Cam he said. “So Cam where are you looking to be posted when it is time and what field of speciality are you heading to is it a starfighter like your brother or have you got your goals set higher like being a captain on your own ship maybe an intrepid class or even a Sutherland-Class?” 

“Me on the other hand, even though I’m in the science department, I’m still waiting on my posting.”

Ozzy’s eyes flickered anywhere but towards the person he was talking to, his voice barely audible as he muttered, “No, I’m majoring in Astrometrics, actually.” 

A puzzled expression crept onto his face, lines forming across his brow. “Wait? What do you mean by waiting? I presumed you were posted to the starbase. Are you just passing through, then?”

“yeah I’m posted here to the starbase but I’m still waiting on my first assignment. I reported for duty with the head of the department but still have not been assigned my assignment yet”. And did I hear that right you are in Astrometrics, so you not following your big brother in being a Starfighter Pilot, good on you man” replied Michael.

“Thank you!” Ozzy’s face brightened, his lips stretching into a genuine smile that reached his eyes, momentarily erasing the fatigue etched on his features. But as swiftly as the smile appeared, it faded into a somber expression. He glanced down, his fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve, before he spoke again. “Well, I guess they’ve got plenty waiting for you, especially after the Frontier Day Disaster. They’ve even roped in some of my classmates to help out.”

“Ease up, Oz,” Cam interjected, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Let Mike savour his freedom a bit longer!”

“Thank you Ozzy as much as I love the freedom to do what I want when I want, I want to get to work ASAP, there’s only so much holodeck time one person can endure” he said as he smiled at them and then continued. “But yes, I hope they do have loads of work for me to crack on with Cam, so I can keep myself busy as much as possible” looking at Cam as he spoke.

Finishing off his drink, he sat there deciding if he wanted to get anything to eat as he had missed breakfast. Still, while thinking this he said to the brothers, “So you two when you both back on shift, maybe we can make it a regular thing to meet up again and catch up, like the good old days.” said Michael.

“Count me in!” Cam exclaimed with a smile directed at Mike. “It’d be fantastic to bring a touch of home here. If we gather a few more, we could swap out ‘Bravo’ for ‘Frisco’.”

“Starbase Frisco?” Ozzy chuckled, then added, “I’m game whenever I’m on the station.”

Their camaraderie was interrupted by a familiar chirp, followed by a voice echoing through the room. “Vlček to Solari, report to Briefing Room Delta Six.”

Cam swiftly rose from his seat, tapping his commbadge as he replied, “On my way, Commander.” With a nod to his companions, he said, “Duty calls, catch you later!” before disappearing from the lounge.

“Well thanks for the company Ozzy, but I’m going to get a bite to eat and go look out at the ships coming and going then retire to my room for a bit of light reading” With that Michael got up from his seat and headed to the Replicator ordered a bite to eat and headed to stand near the nearest port window to watch the ships incoming and outgoing.

To Lt. Johnson

I request a meeting, in private, to discuss a matter of deep concern at your convenience. I request that it be outside of regular shift or watch hours as this involves someone under your direct supervision and said person is know to me.

I await your response.

Respectfully Ensign Ginsh

Seating himself carefully on one of the chairs facing the desk and the officer behind it. Ginsh took a breath, not for the first time in the past hour he contemplated if what he was doing was an overreaction or a breach of trust, once more decided it was neither he began with a polite acknowledgment. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, sir. Also to agreeing to my specific requests, the reason will become apparent in due course.”

“Please continue, Ensign,” he said as he leaned back in his chair.

“I had an off duty conversation with Ensign Paolo Reavas recently. The topic of conversation turned to the current state of affairs of the Klingons, their troubles and how that is impacting the Romulan people both Republic and Free State, and by extension, us in the Federation and Starfleet specifically.” Ginsh began, he was aware this may come across as rambling, but he felt the background was important enough to be stated up front rather than as an aside point. “He used the phrase, ‘The Dominion might have had the right idea’, which troubled me and I asked him to clarify what he meant.”

“What did he say in response, Ensign?” he asked the young officer. The phrase had caught Gideon off guard. How could someone say that after only four months after Frontier Day? Although it had been some time since the tragic events of that day, the memory of what transpired still haunts many people.

“Divide and conquer. That’s what he had to say.” Ginsh said slowly, carefully, making sure to mentally check and double check his remembering of events, he felt he owed his classmate that much. “Step back and let the two go at each other. I suppose the isolationist mindset still lingers.” Attempting to find some mitigating explanation, but it just felt shallow. He took a breath. “He mentioned his role in tracking warp trails at present and maybe that presented him with an opportunity to do something and that is what really concerns me, sir.”

Gideon sat still in shock at what he just heard. There was no way someone could say such things. ‘Divide and conquer,’ he thought to himself. He was shocked, how could someone wear a Starfleet uniform and say such atrocious words? Whether it was an off-duty conversation or not no one should make such comments about a sovereign nation with the possibility of war around the corner.

“Ensign,” Gideon started trying to clear his mindset enough so he could answer, “I want to thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will speak to my superiors and will personally handle this. I must ask was there anything else that you may have heard or seen him do?” Gideon wasn’t quite sure of how to proceed so he wanted to seek the advance of his superiors to see what was the best possible move. Ensign Paolo Reavas would most definitely be getting a call to his office very soon.

“Directly relating to this matter no sir.” Ginsh answered honestly, right now glad of the beard he wore masking the grimice creeping across his face. He couldn’t just leave things there though, the must be something he could offer that might count for his classmate. “As a person he can be quite reckless, he might act without a lot of thought, but he’s not a bad person, perhaps a little impulsive at times, but there are good intentions in there somewhere.”

“Be that as it may, Ensign Ginsh,” Gabriel said readjusting his uniform, “He still did something that disgraced his uniform and he will be dealt with in accordance with Starfleet regulations,” he said to him. He didn’t want to come off as a hard ass, but this had to be dealt with. If they laxed the rules for this Ensign, they would have to do it for everyone. For a short while he zoned out trying to figure out how this next meeting was going to go. Refocusing on the present he noticed the pen drop silence in the room.

“Thank you, for coming Ensign,” he said breaking the silence and standing up his arm stretched out.

The harsh tone caused Ginsh to instantly question his course of action, should he have held off for a short while, what if this was just a bust of frustration, what if the man’s career never recovered, what if this very action pushed him to even more radical steps. He cursed himself a thousand times as an idiot for not at least questioning which officer would handle this delicately. 

When the silence broke the Lieutenant was standing and offering hand, the meeting was over. Ginsh felt sick for the first time since the Academy. He couldn’t just let this go. “I was phrasing this as a concern rather than actual wrongdoing, Sir. I was hoping for some for of intervention before disciplinary procedures, but I am sure you know best, Sir,” One last appeal before shaking the offered hand. Turning smartly. Then stalking to the door, hoping to leave his guilt behind somehow. 

Stepping out of the turbolift he began walking down the corridors of sector kilo towards the science lab he had been assigned. ‘It would seem I will be working with Commander Nuni,’ he thought to himself as he read the PADD, ‘Working with the head of investigations will help gather more intelligence.’ Gideon that having the Bajoran officer work with him would allow him greater access to the sensor array and maybe even the security reports from the border.

In the science lab, Irric settled into a shadowed nook, his posture relaxed but his gaze keenly fixed on the entrance. The hum of activity around him faded into the background as he observed the comings and goings of the lab personnel. Every now and then, his eyes flicked to his PADD, a subtle sign of his anticipation.

Lieutenant Johnson was due any moment now. Irric could have easily summoned him with a quick call, but he preferred a more hands-on approach. By observing the people he was about to work with, he could gain valuable insights beyond what any report could offer. It was a habit born of years of experience, a way to gauge personalities and assess potential collaborators before diving into a project. So he waited, content to watch and learn before making his move.

Gideon turned the corner and walked into the science lab. ‘Where is he?’ he thought to himself as he walked around the room to see the small group of people already in the lab. As he surveyed the room he spotted the distinctive nose ridges of the Bajoran officer in a dimly lit corner.

He narrowed his sights in on the Bajoran, crossing the distance in quickly.

“Commander Nuni, nice to meet you, sir,” he said to him as he stretched his hand out.

Irric’s eyes widened imperceptibly, a subtle acknowledgment of both surprise and admiration as he observed Lieutenant Johnson’s keen perception. Before Irric could even register his presence, the Lieutenant had already identified him. With a swift but composed gesture, Irric extended his hand, feeling the warmth of respect in his firm handshake with Lieutenant Johnson.

“Doctor Johnson,” Irric’s voice resonated with genuine respect tinged with intrigue, “your reputation certainly precedes you.” A flicker of a smile danced across his features, reflecting his admiration for the Lieutenant’s perceptiveness. “Shall we bypass the formalities and delve straight into the heart of the matter?”

“Yes, sir,” Gideon said, “As head of investigations you are responsible for ensuring the safety of the station’s occupant. Correct?” 

Irric nodded, affirming, “It falls within the scope of my responsibilities.”

“So you would have access to the sensor array and reports from ships nearby, correct?” he asked him. Johnson was beating around the bush something his father hated. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to ask him if he could see all of the reports and ask for permission to use securities systems to help in his investigation so he thought this would be his best method.

Faint lines creased Irric’s brow as he leaned in slightly, his gaze fixed on Gideon with a hint of curiosity. “As you’re likely aware,” he mused, his words measured, “I do indeed.” A faint quirk tugged at the corner of his lips, betraying a hint of amusement. “Didn’t we decide to skip the formalities, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir,” he said as he walked towards one of the displays, “Sir, I ask for permission to access the reports from the ships that have been near both the Romulan and Klingon borders,” he asked him. He wasn’t sure of how to get the question out without being upfront about it so this is how it went.

“That’s quite a significant request, Mr. Johnson,” Irric remarked, already discreetly preparing on his PADD. “Normally, such permissions require a minimum of two weeks’ notice. If you don’t mind my curiosity, what exactly do you intend to do with those reports?”

“The ships have been closer to the Romulan-Klingon border than Bravo,” he started, “I hoped that I could compile the sensor readings of each other ships overlay them with what the starbase, and hopefully be able to detect whether or not the Klingon have crossed into Romulan space and where they have gone if they have,” he said to him looking at the console he had been standing next too.

“I know it’s a long shot, Sir but I believe it will work,” he said to him anxious. His hand had been shaking a habit he had when he was nervous.

Irric’s brows furrowed in concentration as he manipulated the holographic interface of his PADD, his fingers moving with practiced precision. Suddenly, a cheerful chirp broke the silence, signaling an incoming message on Johnson’s device. Irric glanced up, his eyes locking with Johnson’s.

“You’ve got access for 24 hours starting now, Lieutenant,” Irric declared, his voice carrying an undercurrent of expectation. “Make the most of it. Report to me the moment you get any results.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said trying to hide the smile that was creeping in. “Thank you, Commander. I will inform you of anything I find immediately,” he said, focusing on the console in front of him. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he brought all the sensor readings and reports from the past three days. He meticly scoured through the data trying to find something. Commander Nuni had given him twenty-four-hour access to the reports and now all he had to do was connect the dots. If there are any dots to connect that is.

Having sought out a quiet spot high on a section of promenade that overlooked the rest. Ginsh watched on as daily events unfolded, His eyes roving for one particular group. Security. Like the guards of the insect world, unseen and quiet for the most part, the gold uniform should stick out, make them obvious, but it only did so when they acted decisively, obviously. It brought to mind the minicary of various species, Sesiidae Ver’tar or Bolaris, Denob Tipulidae of Denobula.

Thoughts of whether he had perhaps acted in line with this particular trait, in the manner he acted after Paolo’s assertion had caught him of guard were nagging at him, was he in fact a mimic without being aware. A friend in name but, so infused with ideals and principles of starfleet that, when the situation called for it he would act counter to the friendship and align with said ideals. Or was that an act of a friend to call out behavior that was counter to the oaths they both took. Or would it be the act of a friend to do both, call out but also warn of impending consequences. 

Perhaps that was why he had chosen this particular spot, knowing his pal would walk by on the way to and from his assigned duty post. Catching sight of the olive-skinned male striding forward, he was moved at pace, as he often did, as ever made it look effortless, calm and unhurried. Ginsh moved quickly along the walkway, throwing up a hand at least twice before Paolo caught sight and caught on, watching the human male slowing, Ginsh considered what he was about to say, how to start, which was quickly rendered unneeded.

“Ginsh, you’re a bit out of position for this time of day.” Paolo greeted in a cheery air, a good sign nothing had happened yet. “What gives?”

“It’s true, I need to talk to you briefly, and with a little discretion.” Ginsh admitted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder into the small alcove to his right, one that faced the railing and the vantage point, another reason for choosing this particular area. 

“Sure thing, sure thing, but let’s keep it quick, my Lieutenants like promptness.” He admitted, a slight evidence of gritted teeth on the end remark, poaching backwards out of the general traffic flow, into the alcove, with Ginsh following with measured pace.

“Well they are a consideration in what I want to talk about. Also our conversation in Brew the other day, i fear…..” He began to know full well some of what he was saying was coming out stiff and formal, his mouth was now dry with nerves, he trailed off. But not because of nerves but his pal raising both hands and making a stop motion, even turning his head slightly.

“Ginsh, I’ve got nothing more to say on that matter. I believe what I believe, no one, not you, not a lieutenant, is going to convince me otherwise.” He said firmly, his head turned back to face, or more accurately looked down on the tellarite, his eyes had a coldness to back up the words. His pause and the questioning look followed, as if he was drawing the point without much having to be said. “You said they were a consideration? Do other know what was said between us?”

Ginsh nodded, then went on to explain. “A Councilor, for my review, and I ended up working with them preparing supplies to send.” He paused  observing a noticeable wrinkle for his Pal’s face at that remark. “Then your Lieutenant,  surname Johnson, at her prompting and my own niggling sensibilities.”

“I see.” His reply was simple, delivered with a shrug, noncommittal and hinting at disappointment, but nowhere near the strong reaction he readied himself for.“

You’re not disappointed?” Ginsh pushed for an acknowledgement.

“Not really, you acted on your own sensibilities, somewhat shaped by our superiors, but I from your reaction and your defence it was not beyond reason you might say something.” Paolo responded still keeping a level tone, almost resigned to the fact he was going to be caught out, but unapologetic at holding the views he did.

“Based on what Lieutenant Gidion was talking about, you’re going to get pulled in for discipline.” Ginsh went on, still not much of a change in his pal’s demeanor. “Say it was a prank, say I misunderstood, I will back that, probably get sanctioned for wasting time or some such but at least it’ll be us both and not just yourself.” 

“Ginsh. Ginsh. my friend , this is why I’m not mad or raging. You’re just being you. I’m just being me. They are just being them.” He flashed a smile and directed a friendly punch into the Tellarites shoulder. “Maybe i’ll see you, maybe i won’t, we all play our parts my brother.” Paolo stepped past, the smile dropping, but no scowl or hate or rage, just neutral. 

Perhaps that was how he’d existed so long, thrived even, to go unnoticed among the masses of new cadets and graduates and officers was a greater form of mimicry. Ginsh turned and watched him walk away, there was the swift tap of the insignia, a comm call, perhaps that was it. 

Feeling a little relieved, if not at ease with the resolution that had occurred, Ginsh too walked, only in the opposite direction, another metaphor if one were looking for such things.

Cam’s footsteps echoed through the hangar, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he approached his designated berth. He felt a knot forming in his stomach, the sense of dread growing with each step. As he rounded the corner, his eyes widened in disbelief. There it was, his beloved Apsara-class fighter, ‘Sunshine,’ but not where it belonged. It stood in the far reaches of the hangar, tucked away in sector ‘Golf-One,’ away from its usual spot. The frustration burned within him, his jaw clenched tight.

Amidst the flurry of activity, Cam’s gaze swept over the bustling scene, searching for any sign of his craft’s caretakers. He didn’t need long; his eyes locked onto the figure of an engineer, their back hunched over a panel near the port wing of his ship. Anger flared within him, his chest tightening with indignation.

Without a second thought, Cam charged forward, weaving through the maze of personnel and equipment. With each step, his frustration mounted, boiling beneath the surface. Finally reaching his ship, he stood before it, hands clenched at his sides. His eyes narrowed as he watched the engineer’s fingers dance across the panel, a surge of irritation coursing through him.

“Hey! You there!” Cam’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the din of the hangar. “Hands off! Don’t touch that!”

As the figure slowly turned, Cam’s brows furrowed, his eyes squinting to discern the identity. A jolt of recognition shot through him as he made out the features. “Dauul?” The name escaped his lips in a breathy whisper, disbelief coloring his tone.

“Dauul!” His voice echoed across the hangar, carrying a mix of emotions. He approached with measured steps, his eyes fixed on the familiar face. “What… what are you doing to my babe?” Each word was laced with a blend of curiosity and concern, his gaze shifting between Dauul and the intricate workings of his beloved ship.

Dauul, caught slightly off guard by Cam’s sudden outburst, turned to face the pilot with an expression of calm professionalism mixed with a hint of surprise. “Cam,” he said, his tone steady and reassuring, designed to ease the palpable tension in the air. “I was just performing a minor enhancement on Sunshine’s shield generators. The diagnostics showed a fluctuation that needed addressing. Something that could be crucial in a tight situation.”

He stepped back from the panel inviting Cam to view the open schematics on his datapad. “Look here,” Dauul continued pointing to the specific readings on the screen. “These were outside the normal operating parameters. It’s a small tweak, but in combat, it could make all the difference. I meant no overstep. My intention was solely to ensure Sunshine is in peak condition for you.”

Dauul’s gaze then returned to Cam, searching for signs of comprehension, hoping his explanation would convey the good intent behind his actions. “Your ship is in good hands, Cam. I know how much she means to you.” he added, with a slight reassuring smile, hoping to bridge the gap his unsanctioned tinkering might have caused.

Cam’s voice carried an edge as he spoke, his stance exuding authority. “It’s Lieutenant Solari, and Sunshine isn’t my babe’s name,” he asserted, his eyes locking onto Ensign Dauul’s. The lines of his brow tightened as he continued, gesturing towards the screen displaying data. “And these parameters might seem off-kilter to you, but they’ve proven effective in the field. I’m tired of engineers like you performing unscheduled maintenance without consultation. Collaboration is key, Ensign.”

Upon receiving Lieutenant Solari’s pointed critique Dauul instinctively straightened his stance, coming to a position more closely resembling attention, though not entirely formal given the hangar’s working environment. “Understood, Lieutenant Solari,” he affirmed, his voice carrying a clear note of apology and respect for the chain of command and Solari’s experience. He took a brief glance at the data Solari had indicated, acknowledging the lieutenant’s field adjustments.

“My apologies for any overstep, Lieutenant. I assure you, it won’t happen again without prior consultation,” Dauul promised. “Your field experience with these configurations is invaluable and I respect that.”

He paused for a moment, considering his next words carefully. “I’m here to learn and support, Lieutenant. My aim is to enhance the capabilities of our ships ensuring they’re as effective as possible, without compromising the pilots’ preferences and proven tactics.”

Cam’s eyes bore into the Ensign’s, a silent assurance passing between them. With a slow, deliberate nod, Cam allowed a small smile to play at the corners of his lips. “Alright, now that we’ve ironed out those details,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of excitement, “how about we take her for a spin?” 

Dauul’s eyes briefly scanned the fighter, a sense of pride mingling with curiosity. This was an opportunity not just to mend fences but to learn and possibly to contribute from an engineering standpoint. “Absolutely, Lieutenant,” Dauul responded, “I’d be honored to assist and observe her performance firsthand.”

“Secure that panel and make your way over,” Call instructed, his voice echoing in the metallic confines of the hangar as he smoothly entered the Starfighter, his gaze fixed on the controls awaiting his touch.

Ensign Justin Brax sat on the edge of his field bunk in the silent darkness of the cargo bay, reading the details of his newest assignment on his computer terminal sent by his mysterious handler, codenamed “Helix”. The cargo bay, located along a long corridor of identical cargo bays, had become Justin’s ad hoc workspace and was far removed from the office he had been assigned deep within the station’s administrative levels. When Starfleet Intelligence assigned Justin to Starbase Bravo, they had created a superfluous billet for him with no assigned duties or supervisor, allowing Justin access to the information nerve center of the station with no one to monitor his activities. On a station with a crew of nearly 100,000 individuals all wearing the same uniform, it was easy for Justin to hide in plain sight on the station. No one gave an ensign a second glance as he wandered the corridors and promenades. 

Justin had also been assigned quarters appropriate for rank and billet upon his arrival at the Starbase, although he spent very little time there- typically only to engage in social interactions which served as both recreational distractions and intelligence gathering. He had found the waitresses at many of the station’s more popular cafes and bars often overheard critical information regarding the comings and goings of the various ships and their cargo throughout the sector. While mundane and uninteresting to the waitresses, the information was of great importance to Justin’s superiors at Starfleet intelligence who were preparing for a possible war between the Klingon Empire and the Romulan Republic- both of which had mutual defense treaties with the Federation. While Justin didn’t have access to the proverbial “bigger picture” taking shape in the nearby sectors, he knew that sometimes the most innocuous piece of intelligence could provide the missing piece of information which could make or break strategies. As such, Justin had formed close relationships with a half dozen waitresses from the station’s most popular watering holes and regularly met with them when his other duties allowed. 

His new assignment, however, had nothing to do with waitresses. 

Ostensibly, Justin was to conduct a strategic survey of several star systems, including the infamous Nimbus system, along the tri-shared border region where Federation, Romulan, and Klingon controlled space met. Commonly referred to by many as simply “The Triangle”, logic dictated it would be the first battleground if the Romulan-Klingon conflict escalated to open warfare with the Federation. In preparation for such an eventuality, Starfleet wanted to have the latest astrological intelligence on the systems in the region where the Klingons may try to advance, triggering the Federation’s mutual defense treaty with the Republic. This intelligence included, at the very least, a cursory scan of all celestial bodies, including moons and asteroids, solar conditions, and nearby nebulas. This would allow Starfleet strategist the most up to date information for logistical bases, supply routes, observation posts, and staging area for quick reaction task forces. 

While the survey mission was important, Justin’s primary mission was also to contact a Romulan officer and scientist on Nimbus III. Centurion Ruval wasn’t just any Romulan scientist. Ruval was a member of the Romulan team attempting to create a next-generation cloak detection system for the Republic. While the Federation was still bound by the Treaty of Algeron with the Romulan Free State, which prohibited Starfleet from developing or using cloaking technology, it was not prohibited from developing the technology to locate and track cloaked vessels. As such, Starfleet had secretly been working with Republic scientists over the past decade to develop the technology to level the tactical playing field between Starfleet ships and those using cloaking technology. Until recently, both the Republic and Starfleet presumed the technology would be used in the event of war with the Romulan Free State, but the recent political upheaval in the Klingon Empire suddenly made the research invaluable to both the Republic and Starfleet. Starfleet Intelligence had decided to move Ruval to a secure location deep within the Federation to protect the research and prevent it from being disrupted, or worse yet, discovered, by Klingon forces loyal to the Duras family. Justin was tasked with completing the first stage of the operation- extracting Ruval from Nimbus III and back to Starbase Bravo, where they would be met by another team to convey Ruval deeper into the Federation. 

Why the secrecy? Justin asked himself. Why not have Ruval travel directly to Starbase Bravo himself? 

It only took Justin a moment to think of the reason for the clandestine mission. The Tal Shiar. 

While the Klingon Empire was never known for the stellar performance of it’s intelligence network, the Tal Shiar was infamous throughout the galaxy for it’s ruthlessly efficient intelligence network. Since becoming the ruling body of the Romulan Free State and unburdened by the bureaucracy of the old Empire, many within the Federation believed the Tal Shiar’s capabilities had reached even new heights. It was a foregone conclusion then, Justin realized, that the Tal Shiar knew about Ruval and his work with the Federation on a cloak detection system. And while not directly involved in the galactic politics engulfing their fellow Romulans and Klingons, the Tal Shiar may very well make an attempt to capture or kill Ruval if they believed he was seeking refuge within the Federation. Ruval’s capture or death would be a significant blow to both the Republic and Federation, doubtlessly setting back the development of the cloak detection system by years, if not decades. 

Not only did Justin have to worry about being intercepted by Klingon patrols in the area, some of whom may be loyal to the newly risen Chancellor Duras, but also the most efficient clandestine intelligence agency the quadrant had ever seen. And that wasn’t even taking into account the rogues, revolutionaries, pirates, and outlaws who notoriously made their livelihood within the bounds of The Triangle. 

While he had briefly considered conducting the mission alone, Justin had quickly dismissed the idea as near suicide. For starters, Justin did not know much about astrometric sciences, and while the survey mission was a pretense for the recovery mission, the information gathered would be useful to Starfleet’s strategic planners. As such, Justin wanted the survey conducted properly by an expert in the field rather than rely on his own amateur abilities. Conducting the survey properly might also belay any suspicions regarding a Starfleet vessel- even a runabout- being seen in the star systems along the Klingon-Romulan border. Should the mission be intercepted by Klingon, Republic, Tal Shiar, or pirates, few would question the validity of a Starfleet craft and crew conducting a scientific survey. Exploration, after all, was Starfleet’s primary mandate. 

Knowing he needed an astrometrics officer, Justin searched through the station’s crew manifest, including the “Classified” files his Starfleet Intelligence clearance gave him access to. It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. A science division lieutenant, distinguished scientist, parents who both obtained flag rank, siblings in billets of responsibility, and most importantly, a wife working as a case officer with Starfleet Intelligence. Requesting Lieutenant Gideon Johnson lead the survey mission would certainly make it seem credible to anyone who might ask questions. Also, as Gideon’s wife worked in Starfleet Intelligence, it likely made him more likely to support the covert recovery of Ruval as a part of his duty to Starfleet and his family’s legacy. Being fluent in Klingense may also prove beneficial should the survey mission run into a Klingon patrol. 

In addition to a lead scientist, Justin also determined he needed a pilot for the mission. While Justin scored near perfect marks in his academy flight training class, he also knew his limitations and relative lack of “real world” experience. If the recovery mission required a quick escape under fire, Justin wanted an experienced combat pilot at the controls of the runabout to ensure the best likelihood of survival and completion of the mission. 

Again, Justin searched through the station’s manifest, this time focusing on the combat pilots who had commendations for quick thinking and inherent skills. After narrowing the list of candidates to a half dozen, Justin settled on Lieutenant Junior Grade Camden “Cam” Solari. The young pilot seemed to meet Justin’s criteria- anxious, talented, experienced, and with a bit of a competitive chip on his shoulder which drives him to excel at whatever mission he is assigned to. While Cam’s family did not have the deep rooted connections to Starfleet Gideon’s did, Cam’s family appeared to have instilled in him the “salt of the Earth” values of selflessness and coming to the aid of those in need which drove him to a career in Starfleet. Those values, properly encouraged, could drive Cam to push the limits of himself and his craft to ensure the mission’s success. 

Being junior in rank to both Gideon and Cam, it would be improper for Justin to order them to go on the mission with him. He could, of course, request his superiors at Starfleet Intelligence order the two to partake in the mission, but that would reveal the true nature of the “survey” mission too soon. Justin intended to fully brief the two, but not until they were underway and far from the Starbase. Additionally, Justin believed the two promising officers would volunteer, if given the opportunity. That initial willingness to participate may prove useful should the mission face difficulties. 

As such, Justin composed a personal communication to both Gideon and Cam. Justin kept the message short and as ambiguous as possible:

TO: LT. JOHNSON, G. AND LTJG. SOLARI, C. 

FROM: ENS. BRAX, J. 

RE: SURVEY MISSION, NIMBUS SYSTEM.

REQUEST YOUR ASSISTANCE OF ASTROMETRIC SURVEY OF NIMBUS SYSTEM. WILL INCLUDE CONTACT WITH ROMULAN REPUBLIC OFFICER FOR SCIENTIFIC EXCHANGE. SFI ADVISES POSSIBLE KLINGON PATROLS ITA. HOSTILE CONTACT POSSIBLE, BUT UNLIKELY. PLEASE ADVISE ON ABILITY TO PARTICIPATE ASAP. MISSION TO COMMENCE NLT 24 HOURS AFTER CREW SELECTION FINALIZED. 

Justin reviewed the message briefly, nodded to himself in satisfaction, and hit the “Transmit” button. While he hoped Gideon and Cam would volunteer for the mission, Justin knew it was a possibility one or both men would decline. So, Justin returned to the station’s crew manifest to search out other potential candidates while he waited on the reply from Gideon and Cam.

One of the benefits of routine was familiarity, and with that familiarity came the knowledge of the little things like where to go, where to find lists, where to find tasks, and just be able to get down to a task without too much preamble.So every four days Ginsh the Science officer became Ginsh the relief volunteer, he found his way though the more industrial area of the starbase to the one of the cargo bays set aside for the ongoing operation. Although not the same as the one he went to last time, that being at capacity of crewmembers working within, it was as was often the case with Starfleet laid out and organised in the same way. As such he was able to find his way to the tasking list, navigate it for something he could do today, solo and relatively unskilled, obtain step by step instructions, and where to locate equipment and supplies. 

For today he would be making up care packages, not the official name of course, but the official name was often longer than it needed to be in the Telarites opinion. The packages contained; Water pouches, with added electrolytes. The trusty ration packs. For extreme cases, nutritional supplement powders, or pastes for infants. A heat/cooking source. Given the nature of the items, Ginsh surmised that at least some items would not be stored close to another item, calling up the manifest for the cargo bay in question, confirmed his assumption.  

The afternoon would effectively be a giant scavenger hunt, only for grown academics of a prestigious exploratory organisation, the thought was enough to put a wry smile on Ginsh’s face, as he paced across to the first stack followed until he found and end, turned about the end and made a dozen paces down. Just below waist height were a number of crates marked carryall. An idea was now forming, he’d spotted a place he could use as a perch to make up said packs on his walk in. Now six sets of items including the bag. Could mean two arm fulls of carryalls back to perch. Then a single round trip for each other item, returning with fully laden carryall, spend the rest of the time putting the care packages together, might even squeeze in a hot beverage or two. 

Just over an hour later, Ginsh sat cross legged on an oversized crate, a partially filled caryall in fron of him, to his left and on the floor sat another three holding, water pouches, nutritional supplements one powders, one pastes, respectively. Set slightly above on a crate two more with ration pack, and heat/cooking sources respectively. Positioning himself in a way all five were in reach, it was a case of select one of each, package neatly, close up, deposit on the growing pile to his right. 

He sipped from the mug, set it down and leaned over picking up the packets, the ones  designed for those who had gone long enough without food to need something tailored for the body to kickstart the most basic process as putting said food to good use. It baffled and angered him that such a thing had to be thought of, kept on hand in such quantities, or worse still included in packs made for the desperate. Paolo was wrong, having this task to do only served to affirm his personal convictions, his thought train was interrupted.  

“Sir, where did you find the water packs?” The front most pair of crewmen, guiding a anti-grav sled with two drum-like containers loaded, asked with a slightly eager expression. 

“Aisle Three-Bee, but you have to go up Aisle Four and come back in yourself of course, it’s anything but straightforward.” There was a hint of offhandedness to the remark which he let hang and then went on to add. “they’re about a quarter of the way into the stack, torso height.” As they went to move off Ginsh asked. “Any chance of having eight pouches off you, as your passing.”  

“Certainly, sir.”  The one at the front, unlatched the drum, pulled out a one handful and then a second, handing them off to Ginsh. 

“Much obliged,” Ginsh replied, placing four pouches and sliding them across like a hand of cards, then another four below. He zipped up the carry-pouch on the makeshift workbench, and dropped it over the right side. Glancing up to see the rear most of the pair pointing animatedly, with the echoing of ‘hard left, the officer said’ just about reaching Ginsh, he grinned to himself and reached for his mug once more before starting the next pack. 

Despite her excitement, Thrala was a bit nervous. She was on her first assignment, fully aware that it demanded her absolute best to impress the high command of Starbase Bravo. As she navigated through the bustling corridors of the Starbase toward the counselor’s office, she couldn’t shake off a sense of apprehension. She had received orders to visit the counselor without a clear explanation, but she dismissed it as a routine evaluation. Finally reaching the office, Thrala’s patience wore thin. The wait seemed interminable amidst the sea of individuals in the waiting room. Ever since her arrival at Starbase Bravo, Thrala had been tirelessly dedicated to her duties, regardless of their nature. Whether it was a coveted task or a tedious chore, she threw herself into it wholeheartedly. Just recently, a confrontation with an engineering crew member over minor discrepancies in her calculations had escalated into a heated argument, leaving her frustrated and drained. 

As Thrala looked around to where to sit within the waiting room she had lost almost all hope of having any sort of space to herself seeing all other spots having been taken up by a ginormous mix of humans and other federation species. The only spot that she had seen that was available however was next to an absolute tank of a Kzinti and by the look he had on his face he looked like he was in the exact same mood that Thrala was in. Seeing no other option Thrala had simply decided to just bite the proverbial bullet and just approach the Kzinti, upon approaching the Kzinti it had almost immediately gave her a bit of a mean look as the looked on her at for what felt like a couple of painful minutes, he would then begin to speak in a very deep and raspy voice. “What do ya want?” with little bits of sweat going down Thrala’s face she would then ask, “Uhhhh, would you mind if I sat here it seems like all the other chairs around us are taken.” Thrala said. The kzinti would then just give her a long stare and would then just sigh seeming to want to tell her off but clearly not having the energy to do so, “Fine but other than that I’m about spent. So don’t try and drum up some dumb conversation or whatever.” 

He would then fold his arms and look to his right and said nothing else. Quietly sighing in relief and some semblance of joy of not being told off by the large cat she would then move to sit down and wait for her name to be shallowed so that she could finally meet with the counselor, after having waited for about a half an hour for the counselor she would then see some other girl leave the office appearing to be in a bit of a more happier mood then she had clearly been before she had went in. As Thrala had sat there with her own thoughts she had become a bit more gleeful about her appointment with the counselor, thinking that if that one girl that she had seen earlier was in that really down and depressed mood then maybe just maybe they would be able to give her some good advice and guidance about on her new life within her fresh career within the service of the Federation. As she had patiently waited then she would then hear her name being called to the office and upon this happening Thrala then made her way over to the office and stepped inside to meet with the counselor for the very first time.  

Stretching behind her desk as Arwa has been adding it for hours behind her PC. She took a deep breath and saw a notification that her next appointment was already waiting. As a cadet, new and fresh to the base, it was always fun to meet new people and try to understand them, their passion, their motivation, and their willpower. The door opened before Arwa. As she looked into the waiting room, her eyes stopped at the Andorian female. “Cadet Ojhosi? You are up next,” Arwa offered a warm smile in her direction before turning back into her office to take her seat again behind her desk. As Thrala had entered the inviting office of the counselor, her hopes, and her predictions that she had were pleasantly proven to be true, but she had still held a lot of built-up anger over the amount of stress that she had found herself under at engineering, with her both antennae lowered. She then quietly went over to the seat that was in front of her as she greeted the counselor. 

“Hello Counselor Arwa, nice to meet you sorry about my current abrasiveness it’s just that……” she would then take a short pause. “Stressed out and overwhelmed regarding my current duties aboard this Starbase, and I just wanted some advice on how I would go about dealing with this built-in stress that I have over it all if that makes any sense to you.” Thrala would then proceed to pour out what was on her mind in an almost perfect stream of consciousness. “When I decided to join into the Federation as my mother had done a long while ago and served during the time of the Dominion War. I’ve come to realize the huge amount of importance and impact that my line of work has to the others aboard Bravo.” As Thrala spoke, her mind would then go back to memories of some of the things that her mother had told her that she would inevitably have to face going down this path that she has chosen with serving with the Federation. “I don’t know if you were told but I had gotten into a bit of an argument with one of the other engineers over numbers and really complicated stuff and I simply could not keep a clear head over the number of insults that came my way over some minor miscalculations.” Not wanting to plague the counselor from anymore of her thoughts she had finally began to draw her thoughts to a close. “…. But other than that, I just really wanted to know how I should maybe go about handling situations like this in the future.”

Placed a glass of water before the cadet as Arwa smiled. “Take a deep breath, Cadet, and take it all in.” Arwa sat down and looked at her. She points a finger up. “First things first, I am Lieutenant el-Imam; it is ….frown upon while being on duty to address a senior by their first name, especially if you don’t know that person.” She winks at her. She sat a little back in her chair pointing her second finger up “Secondly being stressed out is a natural reaction, you are new to do job, to Starfleet and being placed in a huge place such as Starbase Bravo is overwhelming. That is understandable; it is no crime to take a step back to let it sink in.” A third finger goes up. “And finally, getting into arguments is not a real good start; try to understand the situation. Ask if you do not understand, if your counterparty is frustrated, ask why they are frustrated and how you can improve the situation. Well, got to say, the last one is one out of the counseling books.” She smiled. 

After absorbing Lieutenant el-Imam’s words, she reached for the glass of water placed within her reach. A sip followed, and she settled back, crossing her legs as she spoke, her tone subdued. “Apologies for my earlier candor, Lieutenant el-Imam. I’ll temper it in the future.” Another sip punctuated her sentiment. “I’ve struggled to showcase my abilities due to past traumas. Previous holodeck simulations at the Academy subjected me to relentless scrutiny for minor errors, evoking memories of a pivotal failure among a bridge crew.”

Shifting in her seat, Thrala reflected, “Advancing in Starfleet has taught me much. The constant risks we face perhaps make me more cautious, influenced by my mother’s ordeals during the Dominion War.” With a final placement of the glass on the table between them, her thoughts hung in the air. Thrala’s thoughts turned inward, dwelling on the haunting echoes of her mother’s PTSD. She recalled the nights when her mother’s cries reverberated through the halls of their home, mourning the friends lost and the burdens carried from past horrors. As these memories resurfaced, she fought against the rising tide of tears threatening to overwhelm her. “I revisit those moments from my childhood every day,” she admitted softly. “It’s a constant weight on my mind, a fear that I’ll mirror my mother’s struggles.” With a gentle swipe, she brushed away tears tracing down her cheeks, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within herself.

Arwa rubbed her chin for a brief moment and nodded while listening to Thrala. “Alright, let’s park the trauma for now. I do not think taking a deep dive into your history right now is wise. This is an evaluation step. It requires more time and space to talk about it. I advise you to make an additional appointment for this subject after this. It is good to talk about it and share your experience of that time and learn how to deal with it.” Arwa leaned forward and looked at her. “The question that is needed for this evaluation is, does your past trauma affect your ability to work right now?” 

Lieutenant el-Imams pragmatic response brought a sense of relief to Thrala. Nodding in agreement after having calmed herself down, she appreciated the suggestion to table the discussion of her past traumas for another time, acknowledging that delving into such deep-rooted issues required a dedicated space.

“Thank you, Lieutenant el-Imam ,” Thrala responded, her voice carrying a note of gratitude. “I’ll definitely consider scheduling another appointment to explore this further.”

As Lieutenant el-Imam leaned forward, Thrala met her gaze, recognizing the seriousness of the evaluation. The question posed lingered in the air, prompting Thrala to pause and reflect. After a moment of contemplation, she replied, “I don’t believe my past trauma directly affects my ability to perform my duties. I guess that this is just something that I need to work on more in future. As to not help make any of my deepest fears become a reality.” Being that this would be how the way that things were going to be for the rest of her career, she knew that this will have to be the moment where she makes a change for the better for not only herself but for her career within the Federation.

“Good, I was afraid you were in the position of denial or grievance. But you have come to terms of your trauma and accept it. That is a good first step. I do advice you to take it to a Chief if you do experience symptoms of trauma that could effect your work. There is no shame is stepping back and take a moment for yourself” Arwa smiled in her direction “How is your experience with Starfleet so far? Is it what you dreamt off? Or did you get a cultural shock?”

Thrala would then take a couple of moments to think about this question and would finally finish off her replicated glass of water that the Lieutenant had given to her to drink at the beginning of her session and would set it down at the table. “You know despite some of my short comings that I’m still in the process of overcoming. I’ve really just adored having been chosen to come here work as it would really help me perfect my craft within the operations department. .”

Nodding towards her, “How are you settling into your department? Are there any hiccups or problems you are currently having? I mean it is important to get yourself into a warm welcome and be happy where you work” Arwa asked with a smile. 

Thrala then returned the Lieutenants overwhelming kindness with a small smile, appreciating the genuine concern in her superior’s inquiry. “I’m settling in quite well, thank you,” she replied her voice steady. “The department has been very welcoming and kind, and I’m slowly but surely gaining my footing.” 

Thrala then took a beat to quickly think about anything that had she had found challenging, “Overall, things are going smoothly,” she began, “though there have been a few minor hiccups with coordination between teams, as I have pointed out to you before. Nothing insurmountable, but it’s something I’m actively working on improving.” She then met the Lieutenants smile with her own, reassured by the supportive environment she found herself in. “Despite some of the proverbial bumps in the roads, working here so far has really been pushing me to assure that I am a valuable asset to my crew.” 

As Thrala’s conversation with the counselor stretched on, she found herself immersed in their dialogue, each moment feeling like a lifeline in the midst of her struggles. Lieutenant el-Imam’s genuine concern and compassionate words provided a sense of solace she hadn’t realized she needed.

After enduring what felt like an endless barrage of challenges aboard Starbase Bravo, Thrala finally glimpsed a ray of hope. The weight that had burdened her for days seemed to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of optimism. In those moments with the counselor, she dared to believe that things were indeed looking up. 

– Part 1 concluded –

As Thrala remained in Lieutenant el-Imam's office, the passage of time seemed to blur as their conversation unfolded. What had initially started as an emotionally charged discussion about life's challenges gradually transformed into something more akin to a heartfelt exchange between friends.

With each shared anecdote and personal revelation, Thrala sensed a genuine connection forming between them. Lieutenant el-Imam's empathetic demeanor and understanding nature created an atmosphere of trust, allowing Thrala to open up in ways she hadn't anticipated.

Their rapport had deepened as they had both heavily delved into shared experiences and mutual interests, discovering a common ground that had began to bridge the gap between their professional roles. What had initially began as a session for Thrala to just air out some of her mental pain and grievances had evolved into genuine exchange of camaraderie and support, which had left Thrala feeling very grateful for the unexpected connection that she had began to form in the midst of extreme adversity.

“So to continue on …” Looking at her notes, Arwa smiled softly and then looked at Thrala. “What would you say is a strength and weakness of yourself? Can you name two and why?” Arwa waited for her to answer the question. Thrala sat back in her chair, cradling a cup of replicated tea she had prepared moments ago. As she pondered Lieutenant el-Imam's question, her mind then drifted back to her days at the Academy, a time filled with challenges and future career aspirations. 

One particular memory that had stood out to her very vividly was the Kobayashi Maru exam. It was a trial by fire designed to test cadets' decision-making under extreme pressure. Thrala had then recalled the whole gambit of nerves and emotions that she had felt when taking the exam upon stepping onto that simulated bridge, surrounded by her fellow cadets and her friend Maya. Thrala had held some regrets that day for not doing certain things that she believed would have been just for the training scenario and she had also recalled putting up one hell of a fight alongside her friend as they had bravely crossed the border that would had violated the rule within the scenario as they barreled through countless Romulan vessels in order to make their way toward the Kobayashi Maru. 

Upon arrival to the failing vessel she had recalled having saved fifty lives aboard that day before her simulated vessel had gone up in flames. However despite this she had recalled feeling oddly proud of herself having gone through the exam as she had felt that it had given her the experience needed to better understand what would lay ahead for her when she would finally be ready to take helm of her own assigned federation starship.

Having finally gotten out of her head Thrala would then take a sip out of the replicated tea cup, she would then slightly smile. “I think that I would describe myself as being very disciplined and detail heavy regarding my work that I have done so far throughout my time at the Academy. I know that some of my results on some of the holodeck sims don't really display that unfortunately. But however I do feel like I did one hell of a great job during the examination that I had done for the Kobayashi Maru, for some reason on that day I feel as though something just changed inside of me and I was fully able to carry out my job until the bitter end of the mission which obviously ended in my crew and I getting obliterated.” She would then take a short pause and recall some more details of the day that she had taken the exam, “Although somewhere in the middle of the mission I remembered just shutting down almost in a catatonic state due the heavy amount of pressure that I had felt when making certain choices during the exam, which I feel to be a weakness that I feel that I need to personally address and work on in the future.”

Leaning back in her chair, Arwa said, “Ahh, the Kobayashi, that brings out some memories,” in a nostalgic tone. Do you know what the original goal of that simulation is?” Arwa looked at Thrala. It is to test the ability to make correct judgment calls under high pressure in a very difficult situation. No one will blame you if you fail the test, there is no success in that ….cruel exam" Arwa smirks a bit at the last two words.

She leans a bit forward. “But as a counselor, I take a different perspective on it. Starfleet wants to know how you are, what you are, and what makes you tick. Questions that can't be answered on paper or any exam. Sure, you get a wide view of the skills you hard-earned over those four years, but can you go out there and do what needs to be done? The Kobayashi is, in my fair opinion, designed for that. To test your mental capacity. Will you freeze, will you run, or will you fight to put everything you have learned into action in a split second”

Thrala had began to intently listen on to Lieutenant el-Imam's perspective, her words deeply resonating with her. As the counselor leaned forward, Thrala had felt a renewed sense of focus, recognizing the full gravity of what was being discussed .

“Its very true”, Thrala responded thoughtfully, her gaze perfectly meeting her counselor's. “The Kobayashi Maru isn't really just about about testing our technical skills and such- it's about probing fully our resilience, our adaptability in the face of the unknown and unwinnable scenarios that we will all have to inevitably face in our careers in Starfleet. Can we make the tough decisions that nobody else wants to make when lives are on the line? Can we lead with true conviction and clarity, in the midst of complete and utter chaos?”  

She then paused, reflecting on the lessons that she had learned during the exam. “Its a trial of character as much as it is competence. And though the outcome may be already predetermined, it's our response that ultimately defines us as Starfleet officers.” Thrala would then quietly get up from her chair to fetch herself another replicated cup of tea from the replicator, and then quickly returned to her seat. While in the back of her mind she had hoped that some of what she had just shared with the counselor had also rang true for her as well.

Giving a brief nod to Thrala “Lets continue, because I can talk for hours about this subject” Arwa admitted and looked at her PADD “You are a cadet, with promising records and talents. But how do you feel about this? Do you feel it is justified?” 

Thrala acknowledged Arwa's nod with a slight smile, appreciating the counselor's eagerness to delve deeper into the conversation. As Arwa expressed her willingness to continue, Thrala took another sip from her tea, the warmth of the liquid soothing against the backdrop of their discussion.

"Well, I believe it's absolutely necessary," Thrala responded thoughtfully, setting down her cup. "The Kobayashi Maru isn't just a simulation—it's a crucible, a test of character and resolve. It forces us to confront the harsh realities of command, to make split-second decisions with far-reaching consequences."

She paused, a somber note entering her voice. “Cheating the simulation, as Admiral Kirk famously did, only deprives us of the invaluable lessons it offers. We can't save everyone, no matter how much we may wish otherwise. Loss is an inevitable part of our line of work—a bitter truth that the Kobayashi Maru lays bare.”

Thrala's gaze met Arwa's, her expression resolute. "Facing that truth head-on, learning to navigate it with grace and integrity—that's what truly prepares us for the challenges that lie ahead in Starfleet." Despite having heard many great things of Admiral James T. Kirk she wasn't too fond of a good portion of the choices that he had made throughout his career seeing him more as one of those cowboys from those old mid-western shows from earths past that she had heard so much about from her other peers at the Academy. 

Feeling the need to express her thoughts on the famous Starfleet officer she thought it wise to slightly veer the conversation to mention the preferred captain that she wanted to follow the example of.  “ I believe that me sharing this has just made it blatantly obvious of my personal thoughts on the Admiral.” Thrala would lightly chuckle to herself as she continued on with her point, in very recent history I personally preferred the way that both Picard and Admiral Janeway had ran both of their respective starships but that's just me, she would lightly stir her tea with a spoon that she had also replicated.

Nodding, “That is a good in-depth look at how you look at it, but it was not quite what I was looking for.” She taps her chin while thinking for a brief moment. And nods to herself. “Let me rephrase that question: your being assigned to Starbase Bravo is based on your talents and skill set. This base gives cadets the chance to outshine themselves,” Arwa explained calmly. “How are you different from all the other cadets? What future do you have in mind within Starfleet?”

Thrala would then look up into the ceiling and scratch her head, pondering the counselors question. “Well, I feel like I've got an immaculate work ethic and am really good on my engineering craft that I've studied heavily during my stay at the Academy. Despite some of the other minor setbacks that I've already discussed with you I believe that with proper focus and determination on my end goal will completely rid me of some of the stress that I've got on my shoulders." She would then look back down at her tea and would lightly stir it once again in an attempt to not come off as being slightly anxious, Thrala would then look back up at the counselor. “If I am unable to ever get the position aboard a Starship as a captain, I'll simply strive to become a chief engineer on board whichever Starfleet ran base or ship that there is out there in the Federation. My mother had served a great deal during the Dominion War and a little bit longer after that and had eventually become a captain so if I had ever had the chance to reach her level of prowess within the federation that would be the greatest honor of all time."

War was, on paper, a fast-track promotion rollercoaster in both a good and bad sense. Arwa was quite aware of this and saw the outcome of the Lost Fleet invasion, the trickery of the changeling's plot during Frontier Day, and the aftermath of the Borg's sudden appearance. Arwa looked at Thrala and knew she had a person in front of her with a bright future ahead of her, but… Taking a deep breath, Arwa smiled in Thrala's direction. “Well, that concludes the regular entrance checkup. You have to do it when being assigned to any new location. Do you have any questions?”

Thrala finished her tea and set the cup down, a warm smile graced her lips. Despite her initial reservations about the entrance checkup, Thrala found herself surprisingly engaged in the conversation, grateful for the opportunity to connect with Arwa on a deeper level.

"I appreciate the thoroughness of the checkup," Thrala responded, her tone sincere. "And I'm grateful for the chance to discuss these matters with you." She paused, considering Arwa's question before shaking her head. "No questions for now, but I'm sure they'll come up as I settle into my new assignment here at Starbase Bravo."

With a newfound resolve burning within her, Thrala rose from her seat, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead with determination and purpose. As she bid farewell to Arwa, she carried with her a sense of optimism for the bright future that awaited her within Starfleet. As she had said her goodbyes, she would then make her way out of Lieutenant el-Imams office and be met with the hustle and bustle of Starbase Bravo once again and had then begun to make her way over back to her assigned section within the base itself.

Sitting back down in her chair, she saw the door close and a soft smile appeared on Arwa face. These talents are rare these days, but quite wanted and it should be treated with care. Arwa tapped onto her personal computer and approved the checkup of Thrala. “May you find your luck among the stars cadet” She mutters to herself.