Jetta nudged her XO with a smirk, pointing to the food right in front of them both. It was good food, make no mistake, but an inside joke between the two left them wanting more. Shortly after the two’s giggling fit, Captain Dowe turned to the man sitting next to her with a smile.

“Food’s good, isn’t it?” She chirped, face bright and tone friendly. “I’ve always found that food is the cultural way to most people’s hearts–you can have language barriers, but never food barriers.”

Captain Samson Bradley turned his face to her, a curious look crossing his face. He was new to being with other captains and crews – the introduction to the Montana Squadron had been fast and furious. He was still working to build bridges between the different captains. Now he was facing another challenge – Task Force 21’s gathered captains and crews. He kept telling himself that learning was important and change was necessary. He didn’t have to like it, was all. Respect the process, sure. Appreciate it?

No, thank you.

“The food is above average,” he replied. He considered her question momentarily and continued, “It is almost its own language in itself. Something about the vulnerability of sitting down with someone. Disarming, even.” He took a bite of the main dish, appreciating the flavors as they washed across his palate. The disarming part hadn’t kicked in for him, but given Jetta’s attitude and that of her XO, they’d dropped whatever metaphorical weapons from their hands long ago. He resolved to attempt to forge something with Jetta.

“Ooh, that’s a new way to look at it.” Jetta chuckled, taking a bite herself. “Sometimes when I’m on shore leave or traveling somewhere new, I’ll make sure to get as much information about the local cuisine and try to recreate it later.”

To prove a point, Jetta moved parts of her food into three sections, moving her fork in coordination with her words. “Then, I add it to a personal database. Shortly after, I’ll cross-reference and even try to combine other recipes. Do you know the best accompaniment to most Cardassian food is Caitian spices?”

“Bah!” Sylvester scoffed from his seat, leaning over and staring at them both. The Kiznti officer was imposing. Large figure, Russian accent, sharp-tooth smirked…If he weren’t Starfleet, he’d be a sure as hell scary man to run into. “Cardassian food isn’t much of anything compared to food back home. Dowe, you must expand your taste palette! You as well, Captain.” His eyes flicked up to Samson’s gaze.

Bradley’s face remained placid as he took in the man. There were plenty of things to be scared of in the far reaches of the rimward. This wasn’t it. He had to respect the man for how he held himself. Play to your strengths, Samson reminded himself. He replied, “I prefer mixing Vulcan and Klingon fare together – at least that’s what we got up to in our senior year at the academy.” He allowed a crack of a smile through, “Expanding the tastes isn’t a game…it’s a battle.”

They continued through dinner, cracking wise back and forth as they grew to know and maybe even like each other. There was hope yet, Samson realized.

The dinner had broken up, and officers had gone this way and that. Samson saw Jetta looking out over the balcony, seemingly in through. He picked up a hot tea from the dessert table and joined her. “You seemed to be in deep thought.”

“Haha, is it that obvious?” Jetta chuckled uneasily. “I can spare my thoughts if you want to hear them.”

Samson’s slight smile returned, but his eyes were projecting the warmth in the conversation. “I’m on a learning curve when it comes to playing well with others. So, in the interest of applying myself…yes.”

“I don’t know how well-known what happened on the Morro Bay is, but it was bad. God, it was awful.” She muttered. Jetta’s eyes shifted to Samson. “I know that Starfleet is still dealing with the aftershocks of the blackout, but I have my crew—my people—suffering still.”

Jetta’s grip on her mug tightened as she continued to speak, brow furrowed; the more she spoke, the more emotional she got. “We’re doing everything we can. I understand there’s so little we can do, sacrifices we have to make, but taking a life in self-defense? It…” She paused, glancing at Samson and then glancing back. Jetta cleared her throat, re-adjusting her posture and putting on a more professional face. “Apologies. I’m just worried, is all.”

Bradley let the silence hold, the sounds of the world around and below them crafting a light symphony of nature. He turned to her after a long pause, “It is our duty to worry, Captain.” He gestured to his four rank pips, “They are some of the heaviest things in the universe that can be carried.” He leaned onto the balcony, deep in thought. Memories of the past drifted around in the back of his mind. “But you don’t carry them alone, Captain Dowe.” He turned to her, “You have us – the captains and commanders of this little task force. Some of us have been where you are now.”

Jetta’s eyes shifted back and forth a few times before she let out a heavy sigh. “That’s true. It’s just—so strange. Half of my senior officers are older than I am, and being a new Captain…it’s almost bizarre.” Her head looked back at some of the other commanders and captains in the room. “But, you’re right. Twenty-one is pretty great at having each other’s backs, huh?”

There’s another heavy pause from Jetta as her smile slowly started to fade. Sylvester’s laugh in the background snapped her out of the trance she had fallen into, and her gaze landed back on Bradley. “What happened during the blackout for you?”

Samson’s smile slipped away. “We took a beating. The rimward is trouble on a good day.” He chuckled a dry, morbid cackle, “It was not a good day. Yet, we endured.” He sipped at his drink, “I’ve learned something over the years, Captain Dowe. The power of the word ‘yet’ helps in the moments of darkness.”

“That, and a good sense of speech, can do wonders for your crew.” Jetta snickered, nudging him. “But—seriously. We’re alive, right? I guess it’s one of those ‘be grateful for what you have’ moments. I don’t know, I’m not fully sold on it yet.”

The captain of the Zephyr considered her statement. “I read a line from a book once – ‘We’re still here’ or something like that. We’re still here. Take consolation in that.”

“…We’re still here. I mean, we’re Starfleet!” A smile slowly crept onto Jetta’s face. “Damn right we’re still here. Damn right.” She glanced back at the now beautiful night sky, watching as the stars danced along the endless space and warped into what many people would call a story. Maybe, just maybe, things would be alright. If not now, then surely later. Bradley stood with her, and they remained in silent thought, standing in quiet awe of the night sky above them.