writing bear

“He’s a turian. And a damn good sniper. We’ve set him up with a fake tip about a squad of ours going to collect protection money from some people in one of the lower districts. He’ll be there.”

“Then I’ll be there too. And when I get back, you better have the money.” Duke didn’t know the Blood Pack leader’s name, and they were pretty sure he didn’t know theirs either. All he knew was Streak, the biotic bounty hunter, and that he was paying Duke to take out Archangel. They’d suppressed the self-loathing at killing a vigilante by now, and even if they hadn’t, the Blood Pack bastard wouldn’t be able to see their face though the one-way glass on their helmet.

They turned on their heel and started away, letting one hand crackle with biotics as a warning to anyone who was thinking of sneaking up behind them as revenge for a bounty they’d collected on another Blood Pack head.

Archangel. Strange name for a turian to choose.

Duke quickened their step.

The Duchess was silent as Duke crept through the district, motion detector and noise amplifier active on their heads-up display. Curfew had come and gone, and now was when gangbangers would be collecting on their protection racket: when the good citizens of Omega would be cozy in their living rooms, blissfully ignorant of the crimes outside their apartments.

Yeah fucking right.

A skitter of claws on the metal floor had Duke turning, raising the Duchess to sight. Nothing. They had to find Archangel fast. Just because Duke couldn’t see a sniper didn’t mean the sniper couldn’t see them. Close quarters, or at least a line of sight, was their best bet. They dashed out from behind the corner, sprinting for the elevator that would take them to the next floor.

They almost felt the bullet whiz past them. They whirled and raised the Duchess again, looking up to the rafters, looking for turian armor.

“Looking too high, Streak.”

Duke’s gun jerked down, leveling at the helmeted turian with his rifle raised. “You must be Archangel.”

“And you’re Streak. I had a feeling that tip was fake. Too easy. I put out some feelers, heard about your deal with the Blood Pack. Why are you working with them? I’ve heard about your other…exploits. You could be protecting the people here.”

“It puts food in my belly. Pro bono good deeds don’t.” There was something familiar about this fucker. His voice? Nah, all that flanging always sounded the same.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got a team. We take care of each other.”

“And where are they now?”

“I thought this would go better if I were the only one to meet you. Didn’t want you to come out shooting.”

“Funny you should say that, seeing as I don’t have to come out shooting.” Duke didn’t give Archangel a chance to answer. Blue flared around them, sparking along their spine and yanking Archangel toward them. They gave him credit for hanging onto his gun, even when they planted a solid, armored kick right at his skinny waist, knocking him back again. The Duchess was powering up, they were sighting down the barrel to put a slug in Archangel’s head, they could already see the credits—

“I know that move—Duke?”

They froze. “Who the hell—?”

Archangel’s gun clattered to the ground, and he fumbled to get his helmet off. The Duchess’s barrel dropped to Duke’s side just as their jaw dropped to their collarbone.

“Garrus?”

“Spirits. I thought I’d never see you again.” He pushed himself back to his feet. “What are you doing on Omega? I thought the Alliance didn’t come to the Terminus, and definitely not to work with the Blood Pack.”

“I’m not Alliance anymore,” Duke admitted, pulling off their own helmet. “I deserted after giving the admirals some serious lip about disrespecting Shepard’s memory.”

They both fell quiet. Shepard was still a gaping hole in both their chests. “What about you?” Duke asked finally. “C-Sec?”

“Same as you. Left when I couldn’t see them doing any real good.”

Duke sighed, rubbing at their undercut with a still-armored hand. “Well…it’s good to see a familiar face. Even your ugly mug, G.”

“I can’t see anything; you’re too far down.”

Duke grinned and punched Garrus’s armor with a clang. “Guess I’ll have to give up that bounty. It’s good knowing you’re still kicking around on this fuckin’ station too.”

“You could join my team. I know we could use your help.”

“Maybe,” Duke said quietly. “Maybe if you find me later. I’ll think about it. I know I could use a friend.” They held out their fist. “For now, we go our separate ways.”

Garrus touched his curled claws to Duke’s knuckles. “All right. Find me if you change your mind.”

Duke smiled at him one last time. “Stay alive, Vakarian.”

“Same to you, Wilder.”

“I wanted to be a doctor.”

Likar stopped in their rifling through the drawer in their desk, but only for a second. “Why would you? It’s a hard job, and you get thankless patients who keep going out and getting themselves hurt.”

“I…wanted to help,” Shiraya admitted from where she sat on the examination table, holding gauze to her gashed forehead. “I wanted to heal. Instead, they picked me out for the Imperial Guard when I was a child and started training me for that.”

“What, doesn’t the Imperial Guard have doctors?” Likar asked, returning with the dermal regenerator and gently pulling Shiraya’s hand away from her head.

“No. Just soldiers. The doctors aren’t technically in the Guard.” Shiraya closed her eyes as Likar ran the instrument over her wound, sealing it into a scar that looked several weeks old. “I wanted to be one of them instead of a soldier, but there were expectations on me from the day I was chosen.”

“You must have one hell of a concussion if you’re getting sappy on me.” Likar stopped and studied their patient for a moment. “Hey. Shiraya.” They gently turned her face up with a hand. “You didn’t follow their expectations anyway. You came to Starfleet instead. And I, for one, am glad you did. Not just because you’re an exemplary officer, or an eager explorer. You’re my friend, Shiraya, and that never would have happened if you’d just followed what they told you.”

“Did you just follow what they told you?” Shiraya asked quietly. Her eyes were unfocused slightly. Definitely concussed, and Likar decided the risk was negligible if they answered honestly.

“I did, sort of. El-Aurians are a sociable race. A curious one. We’re listeners. We want to hear everything in the universe. And your chatterbox ass sure gives me a lot to listen to. But I didn’t go the usual route. I didn’t listen to stories. I listened to lectures. I got through med school and about five other different types of school before I decided it was time to do the expected thing—again, sort of. Starfleet is…kind of unusual, for an El-Aurian. But I do get to listen a lot.” Likar paused. “Do you still want to be a doctor?”

“Kind of?” Shiraya answered. “It’s…I admire you, Doctor. Even though you try so hard to look all annoyed and sarcastic all the time, you really do care. I can sense it.”

“Sense—? Oh. Right. Quarter Aenar. Goddamn empaths.” Likar shook their head, releasing Shiraya’s chin. “I expect you to never repeat that outside this sickbay, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Shiraya managed a small smile.

“Good. Then, so long as I’m showing my mushy center—lesson one.” Likar tapped Shiraya’s forehead with a finger. “Concussions require rest. Not much even my tech can do for an Andorian concussion. Avoid PADDs and other screens. I’ll tell the captain to keep you off the duty roster for a few days at least. You should heal up pretty quickly compared to other species. But, you know…if you wanted to come by for, say, extra checkups during those days…and wanted to hang around and watch me work, maybe learn a few things—I wouldn’t argue.”

Shiraya smiled so bright that even Likar couldn’t resist an answering smirk. “I already know lesson two,” Shiraya said.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Even the crotchetiest old bastard of a doctor will have a heart of gold somewhere.”

“You’re concussed, Ereen. Obviously talking nonsense. Go take a nap.”

“Yes, doctor.”

“I never realized so much of Earth was blue,” Sindar murmured.

“Over seventy percent oceans,” Benny confirmed, leaning against the observation lounge window to gaze at Earth as the Enterprise orbited it in drydock. “And all of them saltwater. Humanoids can’t even drink it. We have to rely on groundwater or rain or freshwater lakes, and even those all have to be purified before drinking. All that water’s a strange thing to boast about if we can only rely on such a small fraction of it.”

“You don’t like Earth much, do you?” Baki asked, sitting on the sill next to Benny.

“On the contrary. I love Earth.” Benny stood up straight. “Only homeworld left to me out of three.”

“Romulus’s sun went supernova, I know that,” Sindar said. “But what about Vulcan? Isn’t your mother from there?”

“No. Vulcans aren’t fond of half-breeds like Mom and me. Superiority complexes out their pointed ears. Nah, Vulcan’s never been home. Earth isn’t really, either. I grew up on ships. Both of my parents were Starfleet officers. Only time I’ve ever lived on Earth for any length was when I was attending the Academy. I spent summers with my dad’s family in Japan.”

“You must speak a remarkable amount of languages. English, Vulcan, Rihannsu, Japanese?”

“Et français,” Benny finished. “Mom’s dad was Canadian. She made sure I knew it all.”

“And here I am with only English and Bajoran,” Baki said, impressed.

“You probably speak more languages than I do, Sindar. Or at least, Kee does.”

“A fair few,” he answered modestly. “I don’t think Trill has as many languages as Earth does, though.”

Light slowly began to pour into the lounge as the drydock’s orbit crested and moved in between Earth and its sun. Benny closed her eyes, letting the light bathe her through the glass as she smiled. There was really nothing like the warmth of your home planet’s sun, she reflected.

“I’d like to see other places on Earth,” Baki murmured after a long silence. “Most of what I saw was San Francisco. I didn’t get out much while I was at the Academy.”

“Kee has memories of other places on Earth, but I’ve been to very few of them,” Sindar agreed. “There’s one of a restored rainforest in—I think—Brazil that I love.”

“The Amazon,” Benny answered. “It’s a hell of a place, or so I’ve heard.”

“Bajor has a few jungles, but I’ve never been to any of them,” Baki chimed in.

Benny grinned. “How about the three of us go on a trip to the Amazon while we’re on shore leave?”

“Big Dipper. There.” Tora leaned down, putting the finger he pointed on level with his daughter’s eyes.

“I see it.” Benny reached up to point out another. “And the Little Dipper near it. And if you follow the tail of the Little Dipper, it points you to—”

“The North Star,” Tora finished, with pride in his voice. “You did learn.”

“Of course I did,” Benny answered, turning to see her father. He was exactly as she remembered him: tall, smiling, in the prime of his life, his Romulan and Japanese heritage making a unique mix of features on his face. Something occurred to her. “I’m your age now, Dad. Thirty-five.”

Tora nodded. “So you are. And you wear it well, Ben.” His smile softened to something affectionate, something else she remembered well enough that it brought tears to her eyes. “You look like your mom, you know.”

“She says I look like you.”

“Of course she would. She doesn’t like how she looks, you know.”

“She’s started to. I think it’s the fact that I look like her.” Benny smiled, but only for a second. “I miss you,” she confessed.

“I think you’re doing fine,” Tora said softly. “T’Kon raised you well without me. I think I somehow knew she would have to. I think I knew I wasn’t going to be living with you two much as you grew up, since she and I weren’t married. It’s—”

A mechanical noise startled Benny, and she stumbled over the words once before saying, “Computer, end program!” The holodeck faded into black squares and yellow lines as she whirled to face the intruder.

“I…the computer said it was running a simulation of Earth’s night sky,” Krya Baki said hesitantly, stopped in the doorway at the sight of Benny so startled. “I haven’t seen it since the Academy. And San Francisco is lit so brightly…”

“That you can barely see anything,” Benny sighed, relaxing. “Come on in, Baki. It’s…more than just the night sky.”

“I only saw the first few pieces of the program,” Baki admitted, stepping in and allowing the door to close behind her.

“I come in here when I can,” Benny said. “Computer, resume program.”

The grassy hill, the midnight sky, the picnic blanket—they all returned. As did Tora. “Krya Baki…meet Arisawa Tora. My father.”

“But…your father…”

“I died when Benny was four,” Tora answered in his daughter’s place.

“What he said.” There was an almost-laugh in Baki’s voice.

“I know,” Benny said. “I made this program—it must have been my first assignment as an ensign. I was lonely, but my mother wouldn’t understand. So I thought—why not my father? It was initially just him, and it wasn’t very accurate. But…that was twelve years ago. I added the sky, the hill, and fixed his personality some. I don’t have many memories of him…but this is one.”

“Pointing out constellations together in a holodeck,” Tora said quietly. “When you couldn’t sleep.”

Benny nodded mutely, and Tora put a hand on her shoulder. Baki watched them and felt a certain sadness in her own chest that prompted her to speak.

“Computer, run programs Krya beta two-three and Krya beta two-four.”

Two new figures shimmered into existence on either side of Baki, and Benny knew who they were before she even registered the similarities Baki shared with each.

“Mom, Dad. This is Benny Arisawa. My friend.”

Krya Kain and Krya Drina smiled together. “It’s lovely to meet you, Benny,” Drina said.

“Baki’s told us about you,” Kain added. It was his brown hair Baki had, but he had not passed on his blue eyes to his daughter. “From what we hear, you’re a very bright spot in her life.”

“Ty…”

“No—don’t.” Tyler rubbed his face down with a hand. “I get it. I do. Hard to carry on a close relationship with someone who’s light-years away.”

“Ty,” Kiki said quietly. “It’s not just that.” She was playing with a lock of her long hair, a habit that still made Tyler’s heart swell with affection. “I…I like someone else. Here. On Earth.”

“Okay…who?”

“Their name’s Teela; they’re a student at the Academy. I just…”

“Well, if they’re at the Academy, they’re a lot more conveniently placed for kissing than I am.”

Kiki smiled in spite of herself, and Tyler felt a small spark of triumph in the well of grief inside him. It was inevitable, he told himself. A relationship can’t survive on one subspace call every few days.

“I didn’t want to cheat on you.” Kiki’s admission was quiet. “But…it would still kinda feel like it, even if I asked Teela out after…you know, this. Breaking up.”

“Kiki, if you like this Teela person…go ahead. You won’t be cheating on me. This is us ending it, right?”

“I’m so bad at this,” Kiki said, and she sounded alarmingly close to a sob. “I don’t know why I do the dating thing if I’m so bad at ending it.”

“‘Cause it’s fun while it lasts,” Tyler soothed. “And ‘cause I’m still your friend. Kiki, I will always be your friend.”

Kiki gave him a watery smile over the screen. “You’re the best, Ty. You always have been. You’ve been so, so good to me, and I feel like an asshole for ending it like this…”

“Shush, Keeks.” Tyler wished he could hug her, give her reassurance that it was okay, that this was normal. Relationships ended all the time. “You’re gonna be fine. You can still call whenever you want. And I expect to be introduced to Teela on one of those calls.”

“Ty…I love you.”

Tyler knew the words had a different meaning now, but he caught them and held them close to his heart, letting them protect it from the cold sorrow starting to creep in. “I love you too, Kiki. Go get ‘em.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

The transmission blipped its end. Tyler’s stiffness left him with the long, slow breath he let out.

“He raised me himself, you know.”

“Jimmy did?”

“Yeah. Mom walked out on us when I was two. It was just me and Dad from there on out.” Tyler twisted his empty tumbler in his hands.

“Tann and I were on our own from the time I was, I don’t know, five? I didn’t quite understand what happened to our mother for a few years. Tann’s ten years older than me; he was the one that got the news. Mom was Bajoran Militia during the Dominion War. The Jem’Hadar destroyed her ship just a few months before the end. Dad was already gone; he died before I was born. Killed by a Cardassian who wasn’t happy about the end of the occupation.”

“So your brother raised you.”

“Pretty much. I followed him into Starfleet when I could. Didn’t know what else to do.”

“Starfleet was all I’ve ever known. I lived on ships with Dad until I entered the Academy. I guess I didn’t know what else to do either.”

“Looks like we both kinda stumbled our way through life.” Baki fiddled with her own empty glass. “Don’t know how I got promoted. Don’t know what K’Ralta saw in me to make me second officer after Jimmy died; don’t know why he recommended me for a first officer posting after our mission ended.”

“I think I know,” Tyler said quietly. “You’re brave, Commander. Brave and strong and smart and—and you care. You got me out of the way of that falling prefab; you worry about the captain when she goes on an away mission—”

“That one’s just standard protocol.”

“The captain not going is standard protocol. The first officer making sure the captain comes back safe and worrying the entire time is above and beyond. I know why the admiral wanted you promoted. You’re a good first officer, Krya.”

“Well, I learned from the best.” Baki smiled quietly for a moment. “Hey…I kinda avoided you at the funeral, so I never got to say…I’m sorry about Jimmy.”

“Me too,” Tyler admitted. “But I think he’d want us to be friends.”

“On three. One…two…three!”

With a shout of effort and a screech of metal, Tyler managed to lift the prefab just enough for Baki to scramble out from underneath it, freeing the leg on which the structure had collapsed. Tyler dropped the metal with a crash, already panting. “You okay?”

“My leg’s shot,” Baki said through gritted teeth as she pulled herself up to sit against another sheet of metal, her hands going to her injured leg. She let out a hiss of pain, yanking her fingers back a split second after they touched a deep gash in her calf. “Probably broken. Prophets’ collective balls, Likar’s going to be pissed at me.”

“If we ever see them again,” Tyler said grimly, sitting down next to Baki for a moment of rest.

“We will,” she said firmly. “We have to believe we will.”

Tyler looked out at the barren, stormy landscape. “What made Starfleet want to put any kind of outpost on this planet?”

“I’m more concerned about why they keep putting scientists who don’t know how to handle themselves in charge of said outposts.”

Tyler laughed despite himself. “And then sending Starfleet after them.”

“Galactic janitors, that’s us.” Baki grinned.

“Any idea when the storm’ll let up?”

“No clue. Hopefully the Enterprise’s sensors can figure it out and beam us up as soon as it does. My leg’s starting to really bug me.”

Tyler’s face fell. “I’m sorry.”

“What about?”

“You got hurt shoving me out of the way.”

Baki wasn’t sure what to say to that. “It’s okay. Probably my lingering issues making themselves painfully known.”

“Issues?”

“Jimmy.”

“Oh.”

“Hey…I’m the one who’s sorry. I kept letting my issues about your dad get in the way of how I saw you. You’re as good an officer as he was. Maybe better, since you’re not a hardass about it.” Baki managed another smile. “I think I would have liked you from the first if you’d been on the Genji with us. Sorry it’s taken me this long to get over myself.”

“No, it’s…it’s on me too,” Tyler admitted. “I was trying to impress you right up until I found out you’d served with my dad.”

Baki shifted her body, avoiding moving her hurt leg, to hold out her right hand to Tyler. “Truce?”

Tyler grasped her hand. “Better than truce.”

“To the Enterprise, and to one year of going where no one has gone before. May she have many more.”

“The Enterprise!”

Terese smiled as her crew raised their glasses and chorused her words back to her. “And to her wonderful crew. May she carry us to many more distant stars.” She turned her smile around the room, taking in each face, each person she’d come to know over the last year: Baki with her husbands, Tyler with his arm around Sindar’s shoulders, Benny and Shiraya on either side of them. Even Likar couldn’t quite keep up their irritated demeanor. “Enjoy yourselves, my friends. We’ve earned it.”

The observation lounge erupted in cheers as the crew toasted one another and drank.

“And to our captain,” Baki called over the din, “without whom we would be lost!”

“Captain Tanaka!” came the loudest collective cry yet as Terese bowed a little in acknowledgment.

The party broke up into conversation as Terese watched, sipping her champagne, a well of warm pride spilling in her chest.

“Eat, drink, and be merry. For tomorrow…we will fly.”

Terese smiled without looking. “Now that’s a new take on Shakespeare.”

“I’m not human; I have a ready-made excuse.”

Terese smiled down at Tann in his hover chair and at the two admirals with him. “I’m glad you three could make it out for the anniversary. Baki and Benny seem happier with you here.”

“As they should be,” K’Ralta answered. “How has Krya been getting on as first officer?”

“Admirably,” Terese said honestly. “I was worried at first, her working with Tyler, but I believe they’ve resolved their differences.” As if on cue, Baki gave Tyler a friendly punch in the shoulder as they both laughed.

“Mister Sloan seems to have shaped up well too,” T’Kon commented. “I had my doubts, but K’Ralta thought he owed Sloan after his father passed.”

“You’re lucky, then, Admiral,” Terese replied. “Your gamble paid off. Tyler has become one of my most reliable officers. I think I may put in for him to be promoted to full lieutenant. Along with Mister Ereen; she may be the most capable helm officer I’ve ever worked with. And Commander Arisawa has been a wonderful second officer, don’t worry, Admiral.”

“I had no doubts,” T’Kon answered serenely, smiling as her daughter slung an arm around Shiraya’s shoulders.

“It is truly remarkable how well this crew has come together in one short year. I believe Likar has unofficially adopted half my bridge officers.”

“More than half,” Likar said dryly from T’Kon’s other side. “Who else is gonna look after them? Sindar and Shiraya can’t go a week without one or the other or both injuring themselves. Where would they be without me?” Likar’s face softened, a rare thing. “And where would I be without them?”

“And where would each of us be?” Terese echoed. “Where would we be without the Enterprise?”

“You know, being a captain should mean you can delegate your duties to other people so you have time to call your sister more often.”

“Unfortunately, it means something more along the lines of I’m the only one with the authority to do some of those duties.”

“Which is why Starfleet takes so long to get so few things done.”

“Don’t insult my people, Madeline.”

“Call home more often, Reese,” Madeline Tanaka retorted.

Terese sighed. “I miss you too. How’s Corinne?”

“Cory’s got a new boyfriend, as she always does. I keep telling her to try dating women instead, but to each her own.”

“Mmh. Is this one any different than the others?”

“He’s interested in old Earth planes rather than misconceptions about space travel, at least.”

“So he might not break up with her because she knows more about his favorite thing than he does.”

“Might not, yeah. She has two degrees in physics, and he has one in history, so maybe they’ll make a good team. Or at least it might last longer than it usually does.”

“And you, Mad? How are you and yours?”

“Henny’s running Josie and me ragged. She’s a nine-year-old genius and she knows it and is constantly a little shit about it.”

“How’s Josie?”

“Oh, you know.” Madeline waved a mock-dismissive hand. “Working on her fourth degree; I swear she’s never gonna stop going to university unless we put her on a starship. And maybe not even then.”

“You wouldn’t let her step foot on a starship, Mad.”

“One family member in deep space is bad enough. I nearly stopped you entering Starfleet, remember?”

“All too well…”

The sisters fell into a moment of silence. The destruction of the Phoenix was a hard thing to forget.

“Anyway, you’re living up to the legacy just fine on your own, Miss Captain of the Enterprise. You ever gonna get married, or are you gonna be in a relationship with your ship forever?”

“It’s a new ship,” Terese fired back. “Who knows if I’ll like her enough to make it serious?”

“It’s the Enterprise,” Mad said flatly. “No one is gonna pass up a ship with a legacy like that.”

“So that’s two legacies I have to live up to now?”

“No pressure, Reese.” Mad sighed and fixed her younger sister with a look. “Visit when you can, stay safe out there, and I’ll be happy. Okay?”

“I’ll do my best,” Terese promised. “My love to everyone there. I’ll send something for Henny’s birthday.”

“I love you too, Reese. Stay alive.”

“Sorry to call you down here this late.” Sindar didn’t look up as he said it, tapping away at the console to set up the diagnostic to sync with his PADD. “Ensign Liga usually helps me with my last bits of work, but they came down with a virus. I told them to go home and get well and I’d call someone else in.”

“And that someone was me?” Tyler asked, comparing his own PADD with the data on the wall screen.

“I figured if I went to the bridge and asked the most qualified person there, they couldn’t say no in front of the captain.”

“Running a level one diagnostic on secondary inertial dampers.” Tyler tapped a button on the screen and stepped back to wait, letting out a long breath.

Sindar paused in his own work. “I…suppose I also asked you because I wanted to know how you’re doing.”

“Fine,” Tyler said, waving a dismissive hand. “It wasn’t gonna work out. Kiki didn’t wanna leave Earth, and I took a deep space mission. Was great while it lasted, but neither of us is really good at long-distance relationships. We’re still friends; I still write to her.”

“I was sorry to hear about the breakup,” Sindar offered. “I know you liked her a lot.”

“Still do,” Tyler sighed. “It’s okay. It was a few weeks ago now. It was mutual. She liked someone else back on Earth.”

“And you?”

“I’m recovering.”

“You said it was mutual.”

“The relationship was getting strained; even I could see that.”

“Was there someone else for you?”

Tyler finally turned around to face Sindar. “What are you getting at?” The beginning of a flush was touching his cheekbones.

Sindar’s blue eyes were steady on Tyler’s for only a second before he dropped them. “Nothing. Sorry. I was being pushy.”

Tyler turned back to his diagnostic with a strange bit of disappointment in his stomach. The process had finished, and Tyler scrolled through the readout. “Secondary inertial damper strength less than standard. Setting field base at three-zero-zero and reinitializing.”

“Hang on, is that going to fix it?” Sindar slid over the center console. “Reinitializing might just delay the problem. Why’s the strength down?” He scrolled through the diagnostic himself, frowning at the words, until he stopped and said, “Here. Auxiliary power was briefly rerouted to shields and not restored properly. The shields are still taking up some of the power that the inertial dampers need.” His fingers were flying across the screen, mesmerizing as he murmured, “How much, how much…there…reroute to inertial dampers…there!” He stepped back. “Computer, status of secondary inertial dampers.”

“Secondary inertial dampers functioning at normal power,” the computer answered as Sindar grinned with his triumph.

“Nice work,” Tyler said.

“I’m chief engineer for a reason, you know,” Sindar teased, turning to Tyler—and faltering.

Tyler had an expression on his face that Sindar had never seen turned on him before. There was admiration there, certainly, an appreciation of Sindar’s skill, but something else, another a word…

Affection.

Tyler’s eyes were soft, the hint of a smile touching his mouth as he looked at Sindar, and Sindar could feel his own face heating up.

Go for it.

Sindar wasn’t sure whether it was Kee or one of the previous hosts speaking to him, but it didn’t matter, because Tyler got there first.

Tyler’s hands were callused, odd for a Starfleet officer, but not one who had trained as extensively in hand-to-hand as Tyler had, and they were gentle as they cradled Sindar’s jaw and Tyler leaned down. Sindar closed his eyes a split second before Tyler kissed him.

It was as soft as Tyler’s expression, as quiet as the empty engineering deck around them. Only the low, slow pulse of the warp core provided a background to the thumping of Sindar’s heart. Sindar worried momentarily as he put his hands on Tyler’s neck about his own hands; Trill hands felt cold to most other humanoids. But Tyler made no sign he’d noticed, only tilting his head a little to kiss Sindar better.

The end of the kiss found them both flushed, foreheads pressed together, eyes still closed, Sindar trying to regain his breath.

“Yes,” Tyler whispered.

“What?” Sindar asked, his head still spinning.

“Your question earlier. Yes. There is someone else for me.”

“You two,” Likar grumbled, pressing the osteogenic stimulator to Sindar’s wrist, “have got to stop practicing parrises squares when I’m on duty.”

“If that’s how you talk to your favorite patients, I don’t want to know how you talk to the others,” Shiraya quipped, antennae twitching in amusement.

“Who the hell said you were my favorites?” Likar demanded.

“No one had to.” Sindar grinned. “It’s obvious. You’re less grouchy with us.”

“You’d be grouchy if you were over 200 years old too!”

“I am,” Sindar said frankly.

Likar pulled up short, then let out a short, frustrated sigh. “I keep forgetting you’re Trill. All right, amendment: Kee has lived for over 200 years. Sindar has not; therefore, your goddamn chipper nature is understandable.”

“And you don’t look a day over 150. I’m sure you still have a soft and sweet center under all those rough edges, Doctor,” Shiraya said.

“Wrong; I’m just as hard and cold and grumpy underneath.” But Likar’s gentle touch on Shiraya’s injured shoulder as they ran the tricorder past it belied their annoyance. “Dislocated. What did you do, tell a Klingon to grab your arm and pull as hard as he could?”

“No, I played parrises squares with a Trill who’s been playing it for a century,” Shiraya said dryly.

“They’re both stupid ideas.” Likar pulled a hypospray from one drawer and a vial from another, clipping the vial into the hypo. “Mild sedative to relax your muscles and dull your pain receptors for a bit. And since you’re an Andorian…” They held Shiraya’s uninjured shoulder in place and pressed the hypospray to it. With the soft hiss of releasing pressure, Shiraya felt her muscles begin to relax, starting with the deltoid the sedative had released into. “Goddamn intramuscular injections. Why can’t I just put the hypo to your carotid artery like everyone else?”

Shiraya could feel her body going numb and limp, her eyelids drooping.

“But no, your physiology has to make that impossible.”

On the last word, Shiraya felt a jolt, and feeling rushed back into her dislocated arm—her formerly dislocated arm, she noted as Likar stepped away from her.

“There,” Likar said. “No more parrises squares until I give you the all-clear.”

“And when will that be?” Sindar asked.

“Never, if I have my way,” Likar muttered, ejecting the empty vial from the hypo and moving to dispose of it. “A few days,” they said louder for Sindar and Shiraya to hear.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

Likar heaved their falsest sigh yet as they turned to face the two lieutenants. Sindar and Shiraya were smiling, and Likar couldn’t help a tiny twitch of their own mouth in response. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up at your crotchety old doctor. I’m just glad I could patch you up. Now get outta my sickbay before you peel away every single layer of my hard, cold, grumpy exterior.”

“I don’t think Commander Krya likes me.”

Sentta’s face fell. It was only for an instant before he recomposed himself, but Tyler’s heart sank. “She doesn’t, does she?”

“Baki’s…struggling,” Sentta admitted. “The admiral was afraid of this when he assigned the both of you to the Enterprise.”

“Admiral K’Ralta?” The pieces were falling into place. “He assigned Krya to the Enterprise too…” Shit. “She was on the Genji, wasn’t she?”

“She was,” Sentta relented. “She was the conn officer.”

“So she was friends with my father, and every time she sees me—”

“No, actually,” Sentta interrupted. “Baki was never friends with Sloan.”

“Oh, even better. She hated my dad, and now she won’t look at me.”

“Tyler,” Sentta said softly. “James Sloan saved Baki’s life. She doesn’t know how to feel about him. Or, by extension, you. She first saw you at his funeral, you know.”

“Yeah, but I’d heard so much from him about his brilliant son. Most often when I made some stupid mistake.”

Sentta let out a breath and closed his eyes, even as Tyler whipped around to find Krya in the doorway. “Baki. You know that isn’t true. He talked about Tyler, yes, but—”

“You weren’t there, Lexie.”

Sentta looked up again, at Krya this time, and for the first time, he looked angry, and he did not speak. At least, not aloud. Tyler’s head went back and forth between the two before he shook his head and stood to leave. “I’ll let you two argue it out.”

As he stormed back to his own quarters, he couldn’t help but regret what he’d thought at the end of James’s funeral. He didn’t want his father back. He wished their lives had been entirely different.

“The Ancient Greeks thought Chaos came first,” Tanaka mused. “From Chaos was born Earth, and from Earth the cosmos and the sea and every other facet of the universe.”

“How incredibly human-centric of them,” Krya answered dryly.

“The Ancient Greeks had no idea Bajor or Vulcan or any other planet existed, not even the ones in their own system.”

“But aren’t the Terran planets named after Greek gods?”

“Roman gods,” Tanaka corrected. “And their names came much, much later, when astronomers first realized that the stars that didn’t move with the others weren’t stars at all. And then five hundred years after that…we finally discovered that we weren’t alone.”

“I never expected this level of sentiment from you, Captain,” Krya said.

“Only when it comes to astronomy and my sisters,” Tanaka acquiesced with a smile. “But what do you think, Commander? Do you think Chaos came first?”

Krya considered the question, holding her captain’s calm gaze. “No,” she said finally. “It came last.”

“How do you figure?”

“The cosmos came first; we know that much. Then Earth and other planets, and then some of those planets made life. And some of that life developed sentience.”

“Krya, with that logic, everything came last if sentient beings developed the concept.”

“No, Captain, sentient life didn’t just create the concept. It created chaos itself.” Krya took Tanaka’s raised eyebrows as an invitation to continue. “Think about it. The universe moves in order. Gravity dictates the places of stars, galaxies, planets, moons. Non-sentient life lives by instinct, driven to procreation and little else. But sentient beings? Beings that can think, are self-aware, have consciousness? It opens up so many more possibilities. Each decision contributes to development. No matter how small. No matter how much order we try to bring, no one can predict exactly how a situation will turn out when sentient beings are involved. Chaos came last. Captain.”

Tanaka was truly smiling now. “I never expected this level of eloquence from you, Commander.”

Krya ducked her head, smiling at the praise. “If I may go?”

“I supposed I expected you to be more…”

“Vulcan?”

“Yes.”

“Tactful, Captain.”

“You can shove it, Commander.” Terese sipped at her synthwine, unperturbed as ever.

Benny grinned back at her. “You know I’m only a quarter Vulcan, right?”

Terese raised an eyebrow as she lowered her glass. “Oh?”

“I know, I know, pointy ears and slanted eyebrows. They’re dominant traits anyway. But only one of my grandparents was Vulcan. Mom’s mom. Dad’s mom, on the other hand, was Romulan.”

“Really?” Terese asked.

“Really really. And I grew up on starships. Didn’t have time to go to a Vulcan academy. Don’t know if they would have accepted me anyway. Things are still tense after Romulus…well. You know.”

“Ah. After its star went supernova.”

“I was twenty-two. Just graduated the Academy,” Benny said. “Hru’nanov—Grandmother—was still alive on a colony world somewhere in Romulan space. But Mom was the one who called me. Told me what had happened—the initial reports, anyway. She sounded more upset about Ambassador Spock going missing than Romulus. I called Hru’nanov. I was dreading having to tell her, but…she already knew. She said she’d known from the minute it happened, from a sudden hole in her heart. Well, not exactly that; she was speaking Rihannsu. But that’s the English equivalent.”

“You speak Rihannsu?”

“And Vulcan. Triple the heritage, triple the language lessons as a kid.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard Rihannsu spoken,” Terese mused aloud.

“Turn off your translator for a moment, then.” Benny leaned across the bar. “T’Nazzn! Kaeha bontwe vr’qiuu’n!”

T’Nazzn shrugged his lack of comprehension, but Benny shook her head, waving off the sentence and laughing.

“What did you tell him?” Terese asked.

“That you’ll pay for our drinks.” Benny smiled again as she picked up her bottle and raised it in a salute. “Thanks for that, Captain.”

“Commander. Message coming in on subspace.”

“From who?” Sloan asked, turning in his chair.

“The USS Argo.”

Baki looked up. Tann’s ship.

“On screen.”

“Sir, it’s on a private channel.”

“I’ll take it in the captain’s ready room, then.”

“Sir…it’s for Lieutenant Krya.”

Every head on the bridge turned toward Baki at the conn station. “Krya?” Sloan prompted.

“I’ll…can I use the ready room?”

“All right, but just this once,” Sloan acquiesced.

“I’ll take it in there, then.” Baki stood up, her legs feeling weak and shaky, and turned toward the captain’s ready room in the corner of the bridge. She didn’t breathe until the doors slid shut behind her, leaving her alone in the room.

She sucked in a deep inhale and sat behind the desk, turning the console toward her. “Computer, patch through subspace communication from the Argo.”

The Starfleet logo popped up on the screen, a momentary interim before an Andorian woman’s face appeared on the screen. “Lieutenant Krya?”

“Yes, Captain.” Baki sat up straighter. “How can I help you?”

“It’s not me that needs your help, Lieutenant,” the captain admitted. “It’s your brother.”

Baki could hear her heart thundering in her ears. “What happened? Where’s Tann?”

“Tann’s in surgery. He was injured on an away mission. Badly. Last I heard from our CMO, he was in critical condition. I wouldn’t have called you, but…she said that a blood transfusion is essential to saving him, and you’re the closest to us with his blood type. I’ll talk to your deck officer and make the formal request, but I need you to be ready to donate blood. Tann needs you. Jalda, Krya Baki.” Please.

Baki nodded. “I will.”

It took less than an hour to get to the Argo at warp, after her captain explained the situation to Starfleet Command and the Svalbard was given permission to put a temporary halt to their data-gathering.

Baki stood on the transporter pad, feeling the ship slow in the low rumble under her feet. Almost time.

“Krya, we’re within transporter range,” Captain Ulana’s voice said over Baki’s commbadge. “They’ve requested you transport directly to their sickbay. Good luck, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Baki looked to the transport tech, took a deep breath, and said, “Energize.”

It was the last calm moment she had for hours.

The first hint of tranquility came when she was sitting by Tann’s bed, exhausted and dizzy from the blood loss, head between her legs to ward off nausea. Finally, finally, her brother was sleeping peacefully, even if it was thanks to the sedatives. Baki had heard parts of the story, enough to piece together what had happened: an away mission gone awry, Tann’s back slashed open with a blade, partially severing his spinal cord, nearly making him bleed out. It’s a little too soon to see, but I doubt he’ll walk again, the Argo’s CMO had told Baki gently. But you got here just in time to save his life. Thank you, Krya.

Why had the CMO thanked her? Baki wasn’t the one who had worked for hours to operate on Tann’s spine, to keep him alive. Baki had just given blood, blood she owed Tann anyway.

Baki sat up slowly, carefully keeping the dizziness at bay, ready to lean back down if she felt faint—but her body allowed her strength enough to put her hand over Tann’s. It was still warm. Her brother was still alive.

The harsh sounds of Klingon were audible even before the door to Admiral K’Ralta’s office opened. Tyler hesitated before ringing the door chime, but his only answer was an abrupt halt of the argument within and the admiral’s gruff, “Come in.”

Tyler touched the control, and the doors slid open to reveal the admiral sitting behind his desk and a woman who looked like she had just hastily backed up from leaning her hands against it to get in the admiral’s face.

Tyler had never known a Bajoran to go toe-to-toe with a Klingon like that, especially not if she were a commander and the Klingon an admiral.

“We’ll talk later, Krya,” K’Ralta said in a clear dismissal.

She shot him a quick glare and a word in Klingon that made Tyler’s eyebrows shoot up and walked out of the office, sparing Tyler a contemptuous glance.

“Please forgive the Commander,” K’Ralta said. “I don’t think she’s aware that you understand Klingon, but she will be soon, and I think the embarrassment will be sufficient reprimand.”

“Sir?” Tyler asked. “What do you mean?”

K’Ralta smiled. “I pulled some strings, Sloan. You have a new assignment.”

Tyler stepped out of K’Ralta’s office, his head spinning. An assignment to the flagship. As a bridge officer. As a twenty-four-year-old lieutenant junior grade. Pulled some strings, indeed. And he had a sneaking suspicion about the Bajoran woman, too…

Voices abruptly halted just a few yards from him, and Tyler looked over to see three people huddled together—and looking at him. The Bajoran commander’s gaze had lost none of its angry skepticism, and Tyler hoped it was just the ridges on the Klingon’s forehead making him look angry. The most human-looking of the trio looked almost…amused?

You must be Lieutenant Sloan. Welcome to the crew.

Tyler nearly jumped at the sound of a voice in his head. Sorry for the intrusion. Baki wouldn’t take kindly to me making nice with someone she’s mad at, the voice continued.

Tyler’s eyes flicked around the trio, landing on the human—no. Not human. His irises were pure black, no distinction between them and the pupil. Betazoid?

Correct, the Betazoid said in Tyler’s mind, amused. He turned back to the other two, nodding once, probably communicating telepathically with them too, and they started down the hall away from Tyler. I look forward to seeing you on the ship, Lieutenant.

Tyler watched them go, even more confused than he had been before the Betazoid spoke. Welcome to the crew? Were these three assigned to the flagship as well? The Klingon and the Betazoid had been in civilian clothes, though… And a full Commander, evidenced by the two silver bars on her jacket…oh fuck.

Dear Kiki, he started, composing his next message to his girlfriend in his head as he started the opposite way of the trio, I got my new posting two minutes ago, and I think the first officer already hates me.

“You shouldn’t be so angry at the lieutenant, Baki,” Lexie chided. “None of this is his fault.”

“He’s K’Ralta’s pet project,” Baki answered sullenly, leaning back against T’Nazzn’s chest on the couch. “And I don’t want to serve with Jimmy Sloan’s son. The father was bad enough.”

“At least the positions are reversed,” T’Nazzn observed. “First officer and helmsman. You’re his boss now.”

“He seemed all right,” Lexie assured Baki.

“Already poking around in his mind?” Baki asked, the first hint of amusement crossing her face. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself first? Take him to dinner?”

“There’s our Baki,” T’Nazzn chuckled, hugging his wife closer.

“I don’t think you’ll have anything to worry about from Tyler,” Lexie assured. “Just don’t take out your anger at Jimmy on him.”

“We’re not on the ship yet, Lex; you don’t have to play counselor.”

Baki absently rubbed at the long-disappeared needle scar in the crook of her elbow. He’s alone today, of all days…

Which is why I keep saying you should give him a call, Lexie answered patiently.

He wouldn’t want my pity.

Would he want your comfort?

He’d see it as pity too.

Five years ago, when he was first injured, maybe he would. Maybe four years ago, when he was still adjusting to the wheelchair. Now, though? You’re his sister, Baki. He loves you. Any comfort you give would be important to him.

Baki sighed and sat up, rolling the shoulder that had been leaning against the window. What does Naz think?

He’s worried about you.

About me?

Imzadi, you’ve been sitting alone in the back corner of his bar for over an hour. Yes, he’s worried.

Baki finally turned her head, just as T’Nazzn looked up too. She managed a smile for her husband, and he beckoned another server over, murmuring to him for a moment before ducking under the bar and making his way back to her.

I’m on my way, imzadi, Lexie said too.

“Hey, bach,” T’Nazzn said, turning her name into his favorite Welsh endearment. “How’s Tann?”

“I haven’t talked to him yet today,” Baki admitted as Naz pulled up another chair next to hers. “Lex is trying to convince me to.”

“Nosy bastard,” Naz said affectionately.

I heard that. Lexie’s amused voice echoed in both their heads.

Naz reached over to wrap an arm around Baki, tucking her close and resting her head on his shoulder. “He’s still alive because of you,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” Baki answered absently.

“We can talk to him together if you want.”

“Maybe after I talk to him,” Baki said, pushing her uniform sleeves up to her elbows and stretching her arms above her head. “Anyway, it’s probably not a good idea for everyone on this ship to see their superior cuddling with her husband. Much as I enjoy it.” She leaned down to kiss his ridged forehead. “Diolch, par’Mach’kai.”

“Rwy'n dy garu di,” Naz answered, smiling at her use of Welsh. “Tell Tann I say hello.” He watched her walk to the door of the bar, head held high as anyone there, and he suspected that she knew as well as he did that her timing was perfect to meet Lexie at the door.

Lexie greeted their wife with a kiss—for which she obligingly leaned down—and tossed a smile to Naz. I’ll take care of her. You take care of your customers, babe.