Captain’s Personal Log, stardate 76539.55. It has been two days since the Akira Squadron left orbit around my homeworld of Trill. I am still grieving the loss of my father, and the weight of such an event is undeniable. I was unsure if I could seamlessly slip back into the captain’s chair and command as I used to, but both training and duty have made the process surprisingly smooth. I wonder if, in reality, I had never truly left the chair in the first place, or if I am merely dreaming that the orders my squadron received are nothing more than a dream. I half-expect to wake up any moment now, realizing that it was all just a figment of my imagination and that my father’s death is also part of that dream.

 

Deep in my heart, I recognize that this is just a misguidance of a child missing their father. The pain in my chest is merely a response to the recent events. God knows I wish that none of this had happened, but I also understand that everything happens for a reason.

In the quiet solitude of her ready room, Captain Vausees reflected on the passing days since the Akira Squadron had departed orbit around her homeworld of Trill. The grief for her father still cast its heavy shadow, a weight that seemed almost insurmountable. She questioned her ability to seamlessly slip back into the captain’s chair, unsure if the training and duty that had guided her were enough to shield her from the profound loss she carried within.

As she faced the responsibilities of command, Vausees grappled with the surreal notion that perhaps she had never truly left the chair, that the reality of her squadron’s orders was a mere dream, and that the pain of her father’s death was an illusion. Yet, deep down, she recognized the futile yearning of a grieving heart, the desperate wish that the events unfolding around her were nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

In moments of vulnerability, she acknowledged the child within, yearning for the comforting presence of her father, and the pain in her chest was a visceral response to the recent upheavals. Despite the internal struggle, she knew that such wishes were born from a misguided desire, and the reality of her father’s passing was an undeniable truth. Everything happened for a reason, a sentiment echoing in her thoughts as she navigated the complex emotions.

Deep in thought, Captain Vausees paced the length of her ready room, wrestling with the lingering concern over the sudden dizzy spell that had gripped her upon coming aboard the Akira. The weight of duty battled against the pressing need for self-care, and her wife’s imagined words urged her to seek medical attention. The internal struggle played out in her mind, a silent war between the responsibilities of command and the potential risks to her health.

Sighing, she tapped her ComBadge, initiating a connection to the bridge intercom. “Commander Fergouson-Vax, please report to the ready room,” she instructed. The decision to address her concerns finally weighed heavily on her, and the internal debate continued as she awaited her wife’s arrival.

Moments later, the chime of the ready room door echoed through the silent space. Vausees, lost in contemplation, didn’t immediately respond. The second chime, however, brought her back to the present, and she granted entry with a distracted, “Enter.”

Debrah walked in, her eyes reflecting a genuine concern for her wife. Vausees focused on the saucer section of the Akira visible through the bay window, and instructed, “Secure the room.”

Debrah, though momentarily perplexed, complied and activated the security protocols. The room’s status shifted to a pulsing green, indicating it was now safe and secure. Turning her attention back to Vausees, Debrah noticed the captain’s preoccupied expression and moved swiftly to sit beside her on the sofa.

“Talk to me,” Debrah urged, her voice filled with empathy as she sought to understand the turmoil brewing within her wife. Vausees, however, remained ensconced in her thoughts, the struggle evident in the furrow of her brow and the distant gaze fixed on the stars beyond the window.

As Vausees struggled to voice the weight on her heart, the internal conflict evident in her tone, Debrah, sensing the gravity of the moment, gently intervened. Placing a reassuring hand on the side of her wife’s face, she turned it, encouraging Vausees to meet her eyes. With unwavering support, Debrah spoke words of reassurance, promising to weather whatever storm lay ahead.

“Whatever it is, we will work through it,” Debrah affirmed, her calm voice a balm to Vausees’ internal turmoil. The connection between them, palpable in the gentle touch and the sincerity in Debrah’s eyes, offered solace.

Vausees, visibly moved by her wife’s steadfast support, nodded in acknowledgment. As she closed her eyes, Debrah’s touch radiating warmth against her cheek, Vax, the symbiont within Vausees, exerted a calming influence on her turbulent thoughts. In the shared realm of their bond, Vax encouraged her, emphasizing the necessity of sharing the truth.

With a soft sigh and a tender kiss against Debrah’s hand, Vausees summoned the strength to open her tear-shimmered eyes. Locked in a gaze with her wife, she began to reveal the unsettling event that had transpired two days ago.

“Two days ago, before we left orbit of Trill, I was in the corridor outside of Transporter room one when a sudden and out-of-the-blue wave of dizziness overcame me,” Vausees confessed, the weight of the revelation hanging heavy in the air. Debrah, ever silent and understanding, listened with empathy as Vausees laid bare the unsettling event that had shaken her to the core.

Debrah opened her mouth to tell Vausees what she needed to do but was silenced by a finger over her lips.

“I already know what you are about to say, and I agree, but we both know if I do this I will lose my commission until I am fit to command again, and we both know that it may not be on the Akira,” Vausees stated as she looked into the vibrant green, Emerald hues of Debrah’s eyes.

They both knew what this meant, both if she was to seek medical attention and if she didn’t have it looked at. Debrah knew what her wife was going to do; finish the mission.

A soft sigh left Debrah’s mouth as she nodded, “Once this is completely over with you and I are going to have a long conversation about your duties. Both as a Captain and as my wife,” her tone was matter-of-fact as she spoke.