A dull thudding against the carpet of the turbo lift drew the confused gaze and raised brow of the ship’s assistant Engineering Chief, who regarded the other occupant of the lift closely during the final stages of its journey to the command centre. As her dancing feet caused his eyebrows to curiously shift, the Vulcan trained his gaze on his companion. Her complexion had changed in the weeks since he had last seen her; cracks had formed on the surface of her emerald skin and betrayed the undoubted stress she had been under during the Zaran Inquiry. Even as a Vulcan, he wasn’t immune to the anxious feelings felt by his crewmates in recent weeks, and he appreciated just how well most had dealt with the consequences of their collective failures. The Orion standing in the lift with him had been placed under the microscope for a variety of reasons, some being somewhat xenophobic in nature, he was sure. She’d been hauled before the hearing to testify on the nature of her people, to defend the masses against the prejudice still prevalent in the modern Federation, and the cracks were on show for all to see. She’d had to defend the squadron’s failures, and given the fact they all still had jobs, she had clearly done so satisfactorily.

“You appear tense, Commander,” the Vulcan finally remarked, hands clasped behind his back as he turned to the front of the moving platform again, aware that he might have been staring.

“Noli and I haven’t seen each other since… well,” Vashara took a deep breath and turned to look at the junior Lieutenant with pointed ears. “What if she blames me?”

“It is illogical to think the Commander will assign any blame on your part,” the Vulcan remarked while trained on the doors before them. “It was Starfleet Intelligence that let you down Commander. If there is blame to be laid at anyone’s feet, it should be there.”

Vashara couldn’t help but smile. Voran, like many others, had suffered the consequences of the squadron disbanding but had never blamed her or the intelligence she had been provided. It made things easier for her, especially in the days before the inquest, to know that she had some people on her side still. Noli, however, was still an unknown entity. They’d not seen each other since, with Vashara recalled to Intelligence while her Bajoran colleague had been shifted out to the Columbia, seemingly as a punishment.

She didn’t have long to dwell on the matter though as the doors to the lift parted and the sight of the bridge being abuzz with activity caused the Orion to double take. Was there more to her summoning than she was unaware of?

“Commander.”

Voran’s voice caused the brunette beauty to look in the direction of the intended recipient of his call. Standing at the heart of the bridge, with a younger officer beside her and data PADD in hand, Commander Noli was clearly busy but took a moment out of her time to look up and offer her visitor a smile.

“Vash! Glad you made it,” the Bajoran greeted her happily, instantly putting the Orion at ease.

“Glad to be here… wherever here looks to be?” Vash grinned, stepping towards the tactical rail.

“Command have issued us a new set of orders and we’re about to get underway,” Noli took a step towards the tactical rail and looked up at her green-skinned colleague, “and I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Command if I could steal you back for a while?”

“Of course not. I’m happy to serve however you need,” Vashara lent on the rail before her. “Do you need me at tactical? Ops?”

“Not quite…” At that point, the Bajoran stepped to her left and gestured to a seat near her. She saw the look of horror on her friends’ face and moved to assuage her concerns. “It’s only temporary, but I can’t think of anyone else who I’d want by my side over the coming days.”

Vashara stared at the XO’s chair for a time before relenting with a sigh. “If you’re sure, Commander, then I’m at your service.” Rounding the rail and heading down the ramp, the Orion took her place at the Commander’s right hand. “Do we have a destination, ma’am?”

Slipping into their chairs, the two women began a very hushed conversation whilst the departure preparations continued a pace around them. Personnel who had been in danger of becoming as dormant as their ship now flew around the awakened beast with a renewed sense of purpose.

Fruit bowls remained plentiful, coffee cups continued to steam and computer terminals continued to flash with activity, but an eerie fog of silence descended over the lifeless bodies collapsed into their seats. Not so much as a stifled breath could be heard.

Standing at the head of the observation lounge table, Noli surveyed the devastation before her.  She’d expected her news to be difficult, to cause heated conversation and maybe an argument or two, but for the entire room to fall silent was not something she had anticipated. She had known some around this table for years, people like Henry and Prida, and to see them stunned into silence was something akin to a Ferengi donating their wealth to charity. Yet, here they were, as silent as the rest.

With her arms folded across her chest, the Commander searched for someone, anyone, to take up the mantle and be the first to break the silence. The source of her relief came from an unlikely origin. Three chairs down on her right, a grey-haired gentleman with pointed ears sat forward, hands clasped on the table top between the gathered crew.

“If Starfleet deems it necessary to send a crew to Zaran, it is only logical that it should be a crew with an experience such as ours,” Commander T’Kir remarked, looking around the table. “We do not even know the nature of our mission, so to assume the worst is counterproductive.”

“Until earlier, Zaran was Planet Forbidden. We weren’t even allowed to talk about it with anyone outside of this ship,” Lieutenant Mora spoke up from across the table. “Three starships, an entire squadron, decimated as a result of what transpired. You expect us to believe this could be a positive? We’re utilising our experience?” The Bolian scoffed and shook his head in disgust. “We’re being sent to right a wrong. That can be the only reason.”

“Starfleet Command is not vindictive in nature,” Commander Akaria Okan, the ship’s medical officer, retorted. “We don’t always agree with them, but they aren’t in the habit of sending crews off somewhere as a matter of revenge.”

“Maybe if ship’s like Columbia had been there in the first place, nothing would have happened,” Henry chimed in from the seat at the end of the table, directly opposite the Commander.

“Are you saying we weren’t up to the task?” Prida sat forward, turning her head to glare down the table at her colleague.

“No, of course not,” Henry shook his head, “I’m saying that Starfleet should have given us more support. Three ships to hunt down an entire cartel and prevent mass catastrophe was a dereliction of duty on their part.”

Raising her hands, Noli called a halt to the conversation. “I agree with you, Henry. I agree with you all. If I had my way, I’d have told Starfleet to go to hell with their orders and we’d go somewhere else, but this is where we are at. They want us there, for whatever reason they have. Melbourne will meet us there and we’ll get our new commanding officer. That, in itself, is worth the trip,” her words were honest and true, and listened to by everyone around the table. No one could disagree with her in that regard – a new CO would be welcome, even if many of them thought the woman at the head of the table should have been given a chance at redemption herself. But for now, that wasn’t an option.

“We’ll be at Zaran by the morning. For now, everyone get some rest.”