Stardate 74981.6

Akia drifted at the surface of his workstation, enveloped in the familiar acoustic soundscape of the ship’s systems as he studied the diagnostic report that the lieutenant had brought. He held the padd in the claw of a manipulator, scrolling down the information with a light touch of sonar. His dataport flashed as he filed the information away before handing the padd back to her across the curvilinear desk that divided the aquatic section of his ready room from the dry.

“This is a comprehensive report, Lieutenant,” he praised, his manipulator folding back into its housing. “You’ve proven your abilities quickly.”

“Thank you, sir.” T’Shan explained as she took the padd back, wiping the slightly-splashed surface against the pant-fabric on the side of her thigh to dry it. “The modifications are not.. as I would have implemented them. But I am confident with the assistance of the Esquimalt teams we will have revised operating baselines before the end of tomorrow.”

“That should make our guests happy,” Akia reflected. He glanced across the room, where a human technician was working at an open access panel next to the replicator, his breath fogging in the chilly atmosphere. Like many cetacean commanders, the Captain liked his living spaces at a somewhat cooler temperature than most humans.

“Take a break, Crewman,” Akia suggested.

“Aye, sir.” The human rose and exited with a nod to T’Shan, his mind already fixed on the mess hall and a hot drink.

While he waited for privacy, Akia took a moment to contemplate the officer standing before him. His ambient sonar couldn’t help picking out the thermal underlay beneath her uniform, not all that unlike his own in function. But while his was part of the standard cetaceanoid uniform, designed to assist with thermoregulation when outside of water, hers was one of a kind. Thirty-two scientific papers had been published about Lieuenant T’Shanthosa’s unique biology before she had even been born. And her journey to her current position, he was aware, had been neither direct nor without incident. The latest of which was presently on his mind.

“Lieutenant,” he began when they were alone, “As you know, Starfleet is more than just a collection of ships and outposts. It’s also a community. I heard about your father’s predicament. This must be a challenging time for you.”

“It is unfortunate that he will no longer be of service to Starfleet. He had served for nearly a century. There is however no further action I can take to remedy the situation, so I have not considered it further.” T’Shan responded with mild exaggeration. “Are the two of you acquainted?”

“Not well,” Akia replied with candor. “Still, even from how little I know the man, it’s hard not to give credence to his—allegations.”

“One’s reputation as a Vulcan does have such advantages. I do not believe I am qualified to criticise the outcome.” She responded with a Vulcan cool that seemed to bristle as she finished. A slight twitch in one eyebrow that she noticed and forced to relaxation betrayed T’Shan’s unfinished thoughts.

The dolphin watched with equal detachment, vaguely sensing something of the turbulent crosscurrents beneath the surface of her apparent cool. He realized that to get under that Vulcan armor, he would have to shed some of his own.

“Lieutenant,” he began slowly, choosing his words with care, “You and I are both products of Starfleet’s ideals. The strength of the Federation lies in its ability to weave disparate threads into a unified whole. But, for those who stand at the nexus, the journey can be… isolating.”

T’Shan did not respond, but the Captain’s words indicated an awareness she had not expected. As she listened, she noticed for the first time the Vulcan script in the insignia on his dorsal fin: a familiar pentad, attributed to Surak for a millennium: but that we grow wise. She made a mental note of it.

“We all have our battles,” he continued. “But on this ship, we don’t have to fight them alone.” He paused, searching her lavender gaze. “I hope that’s understood.”

“Understood, sir.” T’Shan said with a nod. “It may not be apparent, but I appreciate the reassurance.” She let out a small sigh.

“The greatest challenge may be that we are Vulcan. My father could not act deceitfully or incompetently. Whether he was manipulated or is somehow unwell, the fact remains that he made accusations of criminality against a superior and was unable to substantiate them.” T’Shan maintained her composure but let out a slight exhale as she finished. “The family honour is tarnished, but remains well-esteemed thanks to a long family history of service. It is not possible to take a logical position, so I have avoided considering it.”

Akia let her words reflect around him, melding with the ambient soundscape of the ready room.

“Have you spoken?” he asked.

“He has not responded to any communications since he entered the Forge. Likely they have not reached him, given the characteristics of the area. My brother – a half-sibling from my father’s first marriage – has received only a single text message that we have deduced suggests he remains confident in his conclusions. Beyond that I have no knowledge of his status or intentions.” T’Shan responded.

Akia nodded, watching. “I need you for this mission. But after our return, if you’d like to request a leave of absence, I want you to know that it will be granted.”

“Thank you sir, but my place is here. If I thought I could be of assistance elsewhere, I would not be serving.” T’Shan told him.

“Very well, then. Dismissed, and keep me updated on those projections.”

“Aye, Captain.” T’Shan said with a nod, and turned on her heel to leave.

As the door whispered shut behind her, he drifted, letting his thoughts wash over him in waves. The picture confronting him was still a murky one, if any part of Rovak’s allegations should turn out to be true — and, he realized now that he’d reflected on it, he’d never really doubted that they would prove to be.

But there was, at least, one bright star in the galaxy of doubt surrounding him. If the mission ahead was to succeed, he would need officers who understood not only the advantages, but also the challenges, that came with upholding the Federation’s principles. In T’Shan, he felt he had found one more such officer — another piece of the puzzle.

As T’Shan reached the bridge turbolift, she realised that the encounter had evoked a feeling of familiarity she had not expected from a being so unlike herself. There was something… Vulcan, in his heart, she reasoned. This was encouraging.