A workbee pulling a cargo train chugged past Arcturus as maintenance pods, shuttles, and DOTs flitted around the massive starship, which was nearing the end of a three-week refit and resupply at Starbase Four. Counselor Kora Sharma watched it with a smile, not because she was particularly interested in speculating on what it might be carrying or the mechanics of such a small pod pulling so much cargo, but because she hadn’t had an office with a window in nearly twenty years, not since she’d started out during the Dominion War aboard Starbase 471. On the three other ships she’d served on after that, viewports had been too much of a scarce commodity not to keep reserved for crew quarters, but this new posting was a horse of an entirely different color. 

Though just over a year old, Arcturus was undergoing preemptive physical maintenance. Her crew had similarly been given three weeks of shore leave down on the paradise that was Mellstoxx III. For all of the Fourth Fleet, 2399 and the first few months of 2400 had been trying on ships and organics alike. While it wasn’t Risa, it was hard to beat a vacation on a Betazoid colony. Sharma had taken in enough of the sights in the few days she’d been granted as a layover between her assignment on Artemis and her new posting but had otherwise dived right into getting situated.

Getting familiar with the dossiers and mental health records of the ship’s senior staff was easy enough. Still, she found the prospect of serving a crew of 2,500 daunting, even with a team of twenty-four counselors and another dozen support staff working under her. She was still grappling with managing a staff, as she’d had at most two or three colleagues on her other ships. That staffing level kept caseloads at “just” 100 so that every crew member would be seen at least once a month for regular therapy and evaluation. However, she still felt she needed to be familiar with the entire crew herself.

Just as the workbee passed out of her field of vision, the door chime sounded. 

“Enter,” she said, turning around.

The doors to her office were wider than usual and fitted with transparent panels, which let her keep an eye on the reception area. They opened to reveal a tall Human wearing Starfleet-issue workout apparel, ARCTU emblazoned on the chest of his tank-top. She recognized him immediately from her study of her own staff’s files, Lieutenant Commander Austin Carver. As the assistant chief counselor, he’d likely have considered himself next in line for the position she now held. Navigating the next steps was likely to be tricky for both of them.

“Austin. I didn’t realize you were back on board yet,” Sharma said, offering him a bright smile and stepping around her desk. “I’ve heard so many good things about you.”

Several of her new staff had already mentioned Carver’s bright personality and popularity without prompting. He also had a medical degree, was a qualified psychiatrist, and had become certified in physical training and kinesiology in his spare time. By all accounts, he was impressive, just like everyone else aboard the Arcturus. His impressiveness seemed to stem from broad preparation and interests rather than any sort of laser focus, though, and Sharma had to imagine it was part of why he hadn’t advanced to full commander yet. 

“Likewise,” the young man said, returning her smile. “I just got back from the planet. I’m leading a group fitness session in twenty minutes, but I thought I’d stop by to introduce myself,” he explained.

“No rest for the wicked,” Sharma observed. “Please, sit,” she added, gesturing to the sofa in front of her desk as she took a seat in the armchair opposite it. 

Carver looked hesitant for a brief moment before he smiled again and sat down. He was on the very edge of his seat, looking like he was ready to spring up and sprint out of the room. He kept his legs spread relatively wide as if he was avoiding seeming small—ironic given that he was nearly two meters tall and probably a hundred kilos of pure muscle. Every bit of his posture and behavior signaled to Sharma that he was insecure and wanted to project an image of strength. 

“From all accounts, shore leave was well-deserved for everyone. I hope you managed to take some actual time off,” Sharma noted.

Carver nodded. “Matthew and I went camping for a few days, and then we stayed with Luca and Michael at their new house,” he explained. “Err, Captain Lancaster and Dr. Sheppard.”

Sharma was utterly unable to discern whether that particular name drop was done consciously or not, but the fact that Carver was close to the Captain was worth noting. It must have made him not getting the role she now found herself in even harder for Carver.

“Matthew…?” she asked, skirting the issue.

“Belvedere. We’re… something. Dating, I guess?” he replied.

“Is that a positive ambiguity or a negative one?” she asked.

The young man chuckled. “Positive, more or less. I don’t know if either of us is the right or perfect person for the other, but we enjoy spending time together and also find value in time apart,” he explained. 

Carver’s gaze was fixed on something past Sharma’s ear, likely one of the paintings she’d had the computer produce to liven up the space. Sharma made a mental note to look up Belvedere later.

“Well, I think ‘mostly positive’ is hard enough to achieve in this universe, so it’s something worth having,” she offered, smiling. 

“I think so, too.”

The counselor reached for a PADD that she had strategically stashed between the cushion of her chair and the arm. She pulled up Carver’s duty file with a few taps, which listed all of his clients and his other activities.

“So, besides seeing thirty clients a week and managing the duty roster for the department, you’re also leading a group fitness class and a mindfulness yoga group,” Sharma noted. “That’s a lot.”

Carver shrugged. “I don’t do well with idle time,” he explained.

“I can see that,” Sharma replied, drumming her fingers on the PADD for a moment. “I’ll never stop you from taking on projects that you’re passionate about, and I know that fitness is an important part of your personal life and integrated deeply into your counseling praxis.”

“But,” Carver offered.

Sharma chuckled. “But, I’m fully aware that someone in your position needs to be encouraged and supported to realize their career goals,” she offered. “I can’t imagine you would have said ‘no’ if you had been offered this position, right?”

Carver shook his head.

“Well, I don’t want you to see me as in any way being a barrier to your advancement, just because I happen to be above you, for now,” she continued. “Which is a long way of saying that I’m going to push you to focus, Austin. You’re a doctor, a counselor, and a physical trainer. That’s all been proven. Now, the next goal is that third pip,” she added, though neither of them was actually wearing a duty uniform.

“I can’t say this is how I imagined this meeting going,” Carver replied, narrowing his eyes for a moment. He let his posture release for the first time, reclining and putting his arms on the entire length of the back of the sofa. “I don’t resent you if that’s what you’re saying.”

Sharma laughed. “Well, I think we’re both good enough observers of Human behavior to know that we don’t always hold those things in our conscious mind. This is the largest staff I’ve ever had, and I need the person working next to me to know that I’m on his side.”

“Even if you think I’m easily distracted by shiny objects and pet projects,” Carver replied, his voice teasing but with a slight glint in his eye that suggested a hint of truth.

“Even then, yes,” she replied.

“Fair enough,” Carver said, his leg bouncing for a few moments. “The captain put us together for a reason—he doesn’t do anything without gaming it out a hundred moves in advance—so I’m happy to see where it goes.”

Sharma nodded. “Good. We’re on the same page then. You better get to your class,” she said.

Carver stood up.

“Does this time work for you every week, or shall I have the computer check the duty roster?” Sharma asked, also standing and going towards her desk. “Well, since you make the duty roster, I’m sure you can pencil yourself in around this hour?”

Carver cleared his throat. “Uh, sure. We have our staff meetings on Wednesdays usually, but… But that’s not what you meant,” he said, the realization coming to him mid-sentence.

“Even counselors need counseling, Austin,” Sharma confirmed.

The young man nodded and left the room, not voicing whatever concerns or thoughts he may have had about that. However, what Sharma wasn’t sure about was who would be counseling whom in the long run. She could see much potential in Carver—someone who needed to focus his boundless energy finally and for once—both as a complement to her more reserved, traditionalist approach to therapy and as someone who might be able to help her question her assumptions about the job. The chance would be a fine thing, though, to get her in front of an aerobics class in a leotard. 

When Counselor Sharma had first boarded Arcturus, there were no more senior officers aboard to report to. She managed to go about a week nominally as the highest-ranking officer present before the first officer arrived. Since the reconfigurations to the bridge and deck two were still being finished, Sharma found him reading reports from the center seat of the battle bridge instead.

“Captain Alesser? Commander Kora Sharma, reporting as ordered,” she said, finding some of the formalities associated with starting on a new ship to be a little archaic.

Captain Alesser had one leg crossed over the other but put both of his feet flat on the deck when Sharma interrupted the report he was reading. He stood up and walked the two steps down from the throne to offer his hand.

“Welcome aboard, Counselor,” he said, offering her a bright smile. “I hope you’re settling in okay?”

Sharma accepted the handshake. “Thank you, Captain. Everything has been more than fine so far. You think you’ve seen everything you can see on a starship, but Arcturus is certainly something else.”

“That she is. Let’s step into the ready room,” Alesser offered, leading the way through a door to the starboard side of the main viewer. “Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”

Sharma followed Alesser off of the battle bridge, entering the secondary ready room that was just as large and impressive as any ship she’d ever served on. The only way she knew she wasn’t on the main bridge was that she could see the lower hull plating of the primary hull covering the viewports.

“Computer, give us something to look at,” Alesser ordered.

In an instant, the computer hid the view of grey duranium past the viewports with what Sharma guessed was the view past the ship had the saucer not been in the way. The atmosphere of Mellstoxx III glinted with the light of a recent sunrise. As impressive as that was, Sharma wasn’t distracted enough not to see that Alesser made a beeline behind the desk to put a level of physical distance between them. She accepted an offered seat in front of the desk.

“Just so you’re aware, the captain prefers that all crewmembers appear in uniform on the bridge,” Alesser said, eyes flitting to the grey business suit that Sharma was wearing. 

“I anticipated that, but thank you, sir,” she replied with a chuckle. “Neither of your files scream laissez-faire to me.” 

Alesser laughed. “I am perhaps one degree towards the more lenient side from the captain, but you’re safe in assuming that we prefer things done by the book whenever possible,” he confirmed. “Speaking of the regulations, is this merely your required check-in with the first officer, or do you have something for me?”

The question was accompanied by a slight narrowing of the Ardanan man’s brown eyes. Sharma could already tell that Alesser wouldn’t be someone she could ever hope to get something past. Until a few weeks ago, he had been the ship’s Chief Operations Officer and a commander. After a harrowing shuttle journey with Captain Lancaster, he was now the Executive Officer and a captain. It was a lot for anyone to process in a short amount of time.

“Well, sir, I suppose I’m hoping to accomplish a few other things, too,” she said. “Namely, seeing how your shore leave went and how you’re settling into your new role.”

The first officer laughed again, though Sharma sensed that this time it was to give him a few seconds to think about how to reply. One of the things she had gleaned from both his dossier and the captain’s was that neither of them had seen fit to see counselors regularly, even if they both could probably benefit from it.

“Jumping straight in, I guess?” Alesser quipped. “Other than not having a proper bridge for a few more days, I’d say that things are going very well. The captain and I have reached an understanding, and I think we’ll do great things together.”

Sharma nodded. “I read the reports from your impromptu vacation together. Given that he asked you to be his first officer following those events, can I guess that you made a breakthrough?”

“You can. I think you know that I’ve already been cleared for duty, psychologically and medically,” he added pointedly.

“I do. The difference between me and the analyst you spoke with on the starbase, though, is that we will be working together for the foreseeable future, and it’s my job to make sure you stay fit for duty,” Sharma reminded him. 

Alesser pursed his lips. “Fair enough. Let’s cut to the chase, then: I believe our survival experience did bring us closer together as shipmates and personally. It couldn’t have worked better, even in a teambuilding scenario cooked up by Starfleet. Both of us are clear-headed and ready to get back to work,” he said.

Sharma thought about that response and then decided to stop pushing the issue. There was something he wasn’t saying, but there were no apparent signs that he had any lingering effects from being stranded and forced to survive on a water world. 

“Did you find time to relax during the refit? I’m guessing you didn’t go to the beach,” she quipped.

“I definitely did not,” Alesser agreed, smirking slightly. “I spent most of my time home on Ardana. The captain and his husband hosted me and some others at their new house for a few days, too. It was… incident free.”

Sharma wondered what kind of man Alesser really was to casually describe a social interaction’s success as being defined by whether or not there was an ‘incident,’ but that seemed like something best investigated at a future session. 

“That’s pleasantly surprising to hear. Unless you brought your technical manuals along with you,” she said.

Captain Alesser laughed. “I did, but I can relax and learn at the same time, Counselor.”

“Do you regularly visit home?”

“No. Ardana is… stranger every time I return,” Alesser noted, his mask seeming to slip before he shook himself out of it. “Just little things. Different replicator programs. Being on a floating city in the clouds. Lingering cultural issues. But my family is well, and that was also an incident-free visit.”

There was that word again.

Sharma smiled. “Well, that all sounds lovely. I just hope a few weeks of rest now won’t mean that I’ll never be able to get you to take a break when we’re back in space,” she suggested.

“Anything’s possible, Counselor,” Alesser replied. “Now, if you’re done prying into my psyche, is there anything you need that you don’t already have for your department? Your predecessor was extremely low-maintenance.”

“I’m not really used to having a ‘department’ at all, so I really can’t say without getting to know them all better and seeing what our needs are,” Sharma replied. “I’m still becoming familiar with the dossiers of the senior staff, and I should be caught up on the next wave of crew evaluations long before they’re set to occur.”

The Ardanan nodded. “Good. There has been a lot of turnover amongst the senior staff, and I want to know if there’s anything we need to be aware of sooner rather than later. Day-to-day, I imagine you’ll work more with Captain Anjar, but the door’s always open if you need something.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sharma replied. “He’s actually at the very top of my list to see.”

“I can imagine, after what happened,” Alesser replied, furrowing his brow for a split second. “They say that doctors make the worst patients, though.”

“Not quite as bad as captains, though.” 

Part of any good counselor’s role was to get to know the general atmosphere and feel of the ship she served on. Aboard Artemis, Counselor Sharma had found things, for the most part, to be relatively sedate. The Obena-class ship had been assigned to diplomatic duties and had a large number of social scientists, protocol specialists, and staid personality types aboard. She could already tell that Arcturus was different, and not just because it was such a larger vessel. Most of the crew were at the top of their fields, and the median age was somewhere around 30; it wasn’t quite the youthful energy you’d find on a scout or frigate, but the reputation aboard Arcturus was one of hard partying as much as hard work.

As one example of this, one of the two forward lounges was unabashedly a gay bar. The Plowman’s Tap was run by Miss Nomer, a drag queen from San Francisco picked personally by Captain Lancaster. Sharma had a hard time squaring that decision with Lancaster’s reputation for being so reserved and even isolated, but she knew that meant there was far more to him than his files might indicate. Far from the neutral pastels and ochres of many Starfleet facilities, the bar was bright, colorful, and very busy even at 1930 hours on a night where nothing, in particular, was planned.

Sharma had changed from her standard on-duty grey suit to a saffron-colored sari for the evening. Most everyone else, despite the atmosphere being joyful bordering on frenetic, was in their duty uniform, so she stood out. This was partly by design; she felt that the crew had to see her, to know that she didn’t just exist on the other side of the therapist’s couch like some sort of holoprogram.

“Could I please have a glass of red wine?” Sharma asked once the proprietress walked over to her at the bar.

Miss Nomer snorted. “I suppose you go to a salon and ask for ‘a haircut,’ too, huh? I’ll lead a little more detail, babe. Earth? Vulcan? Betazed? Synthetic?”

“I suppose I was attempting to be low maintenance. Not synthetic. Otherwise, whatever you have open,” Sharma offered.

“You’re our new chief headshrinker, right?”

“Sure, if you like. Counselor Kora Sharma.”

“Miss Nomer, but I’m sure you already knew that. I’m sure you’re used to giving the advice, but since this is my bar, I’m pretty used to dispensing it myself: Don’t be afraid to ask for what you want. This is the 25th century: no one should have to sit in my place with a drink they don’t like or only kinda like,” she said bluntly. 

It wasn’t bad advice at all, though Sharma was initially caught off-guard by the boldness with which it was given. The suggestion that she was used to giving advice resonated at least. 

“Now, if you’re asking for recommendations, we have a very bright 2378 Barolo if you’re looking for something a little lighter, or we have a big, bold 2390 Cab from Penthara IV.”

“The Barolo, then,” Sharma replied. 

“Good choice,” the bartender replied. She disappeared for a moment and then returned with a very healthy pour. “Does anything particular bring you to my little corner of the ship tonight?”

“Just getting the lay of the land, really. I’ve got some catching up to do,” Sharma replied, sliding the drink over and taking a sip. As advertised, it was bright and cheerful, without being sweet. “I’m told this is the heart of the ship’s social scene.”

“For the most part, yes. I think everyone on the ship ends up here, at least occasionally. There are a dozen other bars, but they’re all a little more… standard,” Miss Nomer said. As she said that, two men approached the bar with empty glasses. The bartender quickly took the two glasses and replaced them with brand new, quite full glasses of whiskey. “Counselor, these two fine specimens are Timothy Marshall and Arco Armstrong. Two of your bridge officer colleagues.”

“Kora Sharma,” Sharma offered to them.

She recognized the two of them from her scrutiny of the senior officer dossiers. The man in red was surely the ship’s helmsman; he fit the stereotype quite well, with an impressive physique and bright smile. His counterpart was also quite handsome, but there was something about his general demeanor that served to cloak that in a way.

“Welcome aboard!” Marshall said, seeming to show off even his molars with his enormous grin. “I’m sure you’ll have your hands full with all of the personalities we have aboard Arcturus,” he teased, elbowing Armstrong in the ribs.

“A pleasure, Counselor,” Armstrong noted in a much quieter voice.

As Armstrong said that, Sharma noticed Marshall slip his arm around him and give him a quick squeeze. There was nothing in their files about a pre-existing relationship, so she found herself curious to unpack the nature of their interactions.  

“You should join us. We have a table by the windows,” the pilot suggested.

Sharma initially demurred, not wanting to interrupt or intrude, but Marshall wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of them settled in at one of the tables near the floor-to-ceiling windows on the leading edge of the bow. Marshall was more than happy to talk enough for the three of them, though Armstrong would sometimes step in when he felt that Marshall was being too modest for his part in recounting the adventures of the starship Arcturus.

“So, how long have you two been dating?” she asked during a break in the conversation.

Marshall chuckled. “Oh, we’re not dating…”

“Oh! I’m sorry. I just… You seem very close.”

“Well, we are definitely having sex, so maybe that’s what you’re picking up on?” Marshall clarified.

All of the color had drained from Armstrong’s face, and he looked sullen for a moment, as if that was a reminder of something he was unhappy about or if that was as much an announcement to him as it was to her.

“Ah, that clears things up,” Sharma replied, regretting asking the question at all.

Armstrong was quiet for the rest of the conversation, though Marshall seemed oblivious to any lingering awkwardness. Sharma glanced over at the scientist a few times, but he didn’t make eye contact. 

“I need to check something down in the science department. It was nice meeting you, Counselor,” Armstrong said abruptly before grabbing his empty glass and leaving the table. 

“See you, Arco,” Marshall said, watching him leave and then turning his attention back to Sharma.

“I think you upset him,” Sharma pointed out.

“Oh. Really?”

Sharma wondered for a moment if the young man was serious, but she couldn’t detect any guile in his eyes or in his voice.

“Are you two on the same page about ‘not dating’?” she asked.

“Well, we’ve never said we were dating, so I thought so.”

“Well… you might want to clear that up with him. It doesn’t take a counselor to see that he has feelings for you.”

“Yeah, I know that. He’s really sweet. I just don’t think we have to be ‘dating’ to have a good time and be friends. I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings,” Marshall said, finally seeming to get it. “I guess I should apologize.”

“Probably,” Sharma agreed, studying him for a moment. “Even better would probably be having this whole conversation with him rather than me. I could help with that if you wanted.”

“Like couples’ therapy? Isn’t that for couples?”

Sharma chuckled. “Counseling is a good idea for any type of relationship, romantic or not.”

The pilot nodded his head. “And you’re sure I can’t just apologize, and we go back to the way it was before? Because that would be great.”

“Yeah, I don’t think there’s any un-ringing that bell, at least not in any healthy way,” she replied.

Marshall looked thoughtful for a second. “It’s probably better not to get sexually involved with your co-workers, I guess,” he said as if that were something that had never occurred to him before.

“There’s no rule against fraternization on a starship, but, yes, let’s also try to maintain a healthy working relationship on the bridge. As a good start, you might want to run after him,” Sharma suggested.

“Right. Nice to meet you, counselor!” Marshall said before running off.

Sharma finished her drink, and a few moments later, Miss Nomer appeared with another one for her. 

“Looks like you either earned that or need another one,” the bartender said.

“Normally, I’d say that’s not a great coping response, but I think I’ll just go with the flow this time,” the counselor quipped.