Star Trek: Fingers Crossed

I examined my reflection in the bathroom mirror at Starfleet Headquarters, turning my head to inspect my profile. My fingertips grazed the sides of my straight black hair, now streaked with carefully placed golden highlights - a skill I’d mastered using the hair resequencer. Too many gold streaks would make me look stupid, and heaven knows I always needed to appear perfect.

I snapped to attention before the mirror, arms held rigid at my sides in perfect Starfleet form. My uniform bore captain’s rank insignia despite my technical status as lieutenant - a detail sure to raise eyebrows. The admirals’ board awaited me in precisely thirty minutes.

I selected a uniform design from the replicator options - apparently we had that luxury now. The top featured dark gray material curving into an oval shape just below my chest, the remainder a deep crimson that matched the trousers and black boots.

The fabric clung snugly to my form, my breasts creating an elegant silhouette without needing to shout ‘hey, look at these’. All those mandatory Starfleet training sessions had paid off, leaving my hips trim and toned beneath the tailored lines of the uniform.

I considered the long line of captains and admirals who came before me – women in positions of command, certainly, though precious few Black women had occupied the center seat in Federation history. Perhaps I could bring something different to the role, a touch of personal flair to redefine what leadership could look like.

Some claimed discrimination was extinct now, a relic of our ugly past we’d supposedly eradicated. I remained skeptical despite the diverse alien species now residing on Earth. My own landlord was Vulcan - have you ever attempted rational discourse with one? Utterly impossible, and devoid of anything resembling humor.

I settled my hands on my hips and arched one eyebrow, turning my head slightly as I regarded my reflection. “Picture perfect,” I murmured with quiet satisfaction, a gentle smile playing across my lips.

“Captain Vance, my, don’t you look perfect today!” I declared to my reflection, a playful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as a faint blush warmed my cheeks. “Why thank you,” I responded in character, tilting my head with mock severity. “Must I keep reminding you of your duties, Ensign?”

The cubicle door hissed open behind me, making my eyes fly wide in the mirror. Shit! Of all people, it had to be Ethan Reeves. That infuriating man stepped out attempting—and failing—to suppress a smirk as he studiously avoided my gaze. He moved beside me to wash his hands, his familiar scent briefly filling the small space. “Vance!” he greeted with false cheer, as if he hadn’t just caught me in an embarrassingly unguarded moment. I narrowed my eyes at his reflection, fixing him with a look that could freeze plasma. “Reeves,” I replied coolly, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

The hand dryer roared to life as he dried his hands, yet I maintained my steely gaze on his reflection, my lips compressed in a tight line. Still, the he couldn’t resist tossing my own words back at me with a smirk: “My, don’t you look perfect today?”

I lingered outside the conference room where the admirals deliberated about my fate, or so I presumed. A familiar curiosity gnawed at me – did their discussions ever stray from weighty Federation matters? Perhaps they exchanged pleasantries about the weather, or compared notes on what they’d replicated for breakfast that morning.

Some believed I didn’t deserve to wear a captain’s rank since I’d never served as first officer. I dismissed those whispers with a mental shrug. After all, experience wasn’t everything - or so I tried to convince myself.

The conference room door hissed open and I snapped to attention. Admiral Hawk emerged, his eyes finding mine immediately. “Ahh, Delores,” he greeted warmly. I gave a crisp nod. “Yes, Admiral. Reporting as ordered, sir.”

A knowing smile touched his lips as he returned my nod. “At ease, Captain,” he murmured, leaning in slightly with a conspiratorial wink on that final word - Captain. My own smile broke through then, relief and triumph warming my chest as he gestured me inside with a sweep of his hand.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be as intimidating as I’d feared. Admiral Hawk—or Reggie, as I often teased him—seemed to have already decided in my favor. A quiet thrill ran through me at the prospect: commanding my own starship.

I released a long breath as I followed Reggie into the conference room, only to freeze mid-stride in the doorway. Seated in their customary positions were several other admirals, including Admiral Johnson. His famously bald head caught the light in its usual blinding fashion – scientists having long since abandoned hope of effective hair regrowth technology.

Admiral Riker, Picard’s former first officer on the Enterprise, had certainly put in his time as a first officer—I just hoped he wouldn’t hold my own accelerated path against me. Once renowned as quite the charmer, his current physique and that wild beard seemed more likely to send potential companions running in the opposite direction these days.

But where I truly lost my composure was at the sight of Admiral Janeway, the legendary captain of the starship Voyager. The woman who’d been stranded in the Delta Quadrant for seven years—and some whispered she’d engineered that disappearance deliberately to evade Federation bureaucracy.

Reggie gestured toward the table with an open palm. “Have a seat, Delores,” he invited, his tone softening as I approached the empty chair. The seat swiveled smoothly to meet me as I settled into it, then rotated back with silent efficiency until I faced all four admirals across the polished surface of the oval table.

My gaze drifted from one imposing figure to another as their collective scrutiny pressed down upon me. I forced the corners of my mouth upward in what I hoped resembled confidence rather than the anxiety tightening my chest. Drawing a deliberate breath, I met Admiral Janeway’s piercing stare directly.

“Welcome, Delores,” she began, her tone measured yet carrying undeniable weight. “We’ve heard so much about you.” Her attention flickered briefly toward Admiral Hawk before returning to me with sharpened focus. “Tell me...” Janeway paused, her voice lowering almost imperceptibly as she leaned forward. “...why are you here?” The unexpected directness of her question landed like a physical blow, momentarily stealing the carefully rehearsed words from my tongue.

My chest constricted under the sudden pressure of Janeway’s question. Why was I here? The answer burned bright within me—I wanted to command, to become captain—but the stark simplicity of it felt inadequate beneath such scrutiny. As I exhaled slowly, gathering my composure, I began: “Well, Admiral, first of all, I want to express how deeply honored I am to be in this room with all of you.” Janeway’s expression remained impassive, clearly expecting me to continue. “I am here because commanding is my passion,” I elaborated, my voice steadying with conviction. “I’ve served on many ships—” Admiral Riker cut in before I could finish, his observation landing with quiet precision. “As I’ve heard,” he remarked, steepling his fingers as his gaze held mine. “Though you haven’t advanced beyond the rank of lieutenant.”

“No,” I simply replied. Admiral Johnson leaned forward, his gaze sharpening as he posed the critical question: “Do you believe you are capable of captaining a Federation starship?”

“I don’t believe, sir,” I stated without hesitation, my voice resonating with unwavering certainty. “I know I can.”

A ripple of startled breaths moved through the room. “That’s doubtful,” Admiral Janeway countered. My head snapped toward her, eyes widening slightly as I processed her challenge. “Ma’am?” The single word carried both respect and genuine bewilderment. “In what way?”

Janeway’s gaze never wavered from mine as she delivered her rebuttal with surgical precision. “Admiral Riker is right. You haven’t even served as first officer.” Her pause hung heavy in the air before she pressed the crucial point. “How can you be so certain of your capabilities?”

“Kathryn!” Admiral Hawk’s voice cut through the tension, drawing my gaze as he intervened. “This isn’t an interrogation chamber. We’re here to get acquainted with Delores.” He paused deliberately before adding, “After all, I’ve already commissioned her rank as captain.”

Admiral Janeway met his statement with cool composure. “I’m fully aware of that, Reginald,” she returned evenly, her focus shifting to me with pointed intensity. “But I still need to determine whether we made the right choice.”

Turning to face Admiral Janeway directly, I met her skeptical gaze with steady resolve. “Admiral,” I began, my voice measured yet firm, “I understand your reservations completely. Were I in your position, I would harbor similar doubts.” I paused, allowing the weight of my admission to settle before continuing. “While it’s true that I haven’t accumulated the conventional experience expected of a first officer,” I acknowledged, my posture straightening with conviction, “I possess absolute certainty in my capabilities—and Admiral Hawk has clearly recognized that potential as well.” My tone softened slightly as I concluded, a note of quiet determination coloring my words. “Grant me the opportunity and time... and I will demonstrate that your confidence was not misplaced.”

Admiral Janeway released an audible exhale as she pivoted toward the other admirals. “Very well,” she conceded, her gaze locking onto mine with grudging interest. “You’ve intrigued me.” I gave a single, respectful nod, a smile touching my lips as I responded formally: “Thank you, ma’am.”

Before the words had fully left my mouth, Admiral Riker interjected with characteristic enthusiasm. “We’re assigning you the U.S.S. Seeker,” he announced. My reaction was immediate and involuntary—a slight recoil of surprise as I processed the assignment. “The research vessel?” I questioned, unable to mask my bewilderment.

“That’s correct,” Admiral Janeway confirmed, her tone carrying an unmistakable undercurrent of wry amusement. Her next words landed with the weight of lowered expectations: “...and it will be decommissioned in six months.” The implication in her voice was clear—‘what did you expect, a Galaxy-Class starship?’”

I drew in a sharp breath, forcing the words out with practiced composure. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” I said,though I wasn’t entirely sure I sounded convincing.

As I moved down the line, shaking hands with Admiral Johnson first and then Admiral Riker, the latter held my hand a moment longer than necessary. Leaning in with a disarming grin, he said warmly, “Good luck, Captain. I know you’re going to do great!” His words, delivered with that signature Riker charm, caught me off guard. My eyes widened almost imperceptibly, heat rising to my cheeks as if I were some green cadet fresh out of the Academy. “Thank you,” I managed, withdrawing my hand with what I hoped passed for professional composure.

Admiral Janeway offered a perfunctory handshake and nod before making her exit from the conference room. In contrast, Admiral Hawk enveloped me in a warm embrace as my arms naturally encircled him. “Thank you, sir,” I murmured within that brief circle of camaraderie. He responded with quiet conviction, “I expect good results, Captain,” to which I affirmed crisply, “Affirmative!”

I caught up with Admiral Janeway down the hall, my footsteps echoing slightly in the polished corridor. “Admiral?” I called out as she turned, her expression unreadable. “Yes?” she responded, her tone neutral yet guarded. The air between us felt thick with unspoken tension; I knew she harbored reservations about my capabilities. Taking a steadying breath, I met her gaze directly. “I’m aware you have concerns regarding my command,” I stated, my voice calm but firm. “But I want you to know—I will deliver results, ma’am.”

Janeway sighed, her posture shifting as she spoke my name softly. “Delores,” she began after a deliberate pause, her voice devoid of its usual command. “I don’t have concerns,” she admitted with unsettling candor. “It makes no difference to me whether you deliver results or not.” My breath caught in my throat as she finished with cutting simplicity: “I simply don’t care.” The dismissive finality of her words struck me like a physical blow, my carefully maintained composure crumbling as anxiety tightened its grip around my chest.

She turned and walked away, her parting words—“Good luck, Captain Vance”—hanging in the sterile air as she receded down the corridor with that familiar, commanding stride. I pressed my lips into a bloodless line and pivoted sharply toward the opposite direction, releasing a slow, measured exhale that did little to ease the tension.

Kathryn Janeway had been my idol, the fearless captain of the legendary starship Voyager, the very inspiration for my own command aspirations. I closed my eyes to gather myself, letting my arms fall loosely at my sides with palms facing downward as though preparing for levitation. Inhaling deeply through my nose and exhaling slowly through parted lips, I centered my thoughts. When I opened my eyes again, a measure of calm had returned. “Bitch,” I uttered under my breath with quiet venom.

Back at my downtown San Francisco apartment, I finished packing my single suitcase, stuffing it with civilian clothes while questioning if I’d even wear half of them. After all, I knew I’d likely live in my uniform for the duration.

I attempted to close the overstuffed suitcase, triggering its automated warning system. A synthesized voice chimed out with irritating precision: “Case is too full. Consider packing less.”

The familiar chime of my front door interrupted my struggle. “Enter!” I called out in frustration just as the panel slid open. There stoodTovan, my Vulcan landlord, hands clasped formally behind his back as he surveyed the disordered room with one upswept eyebrow arched in silent observation.

“May I assist you, Tovan?” I asked, irritation coloring my tone as he turned his impassive gaze toward me. “Will you be departing this residence... in this condition?” he inquired with clinical detachment. I followed his glance around the space before releasing an audible sigh. He moved to stand beside me, his attention shifting to my overloaded luggage and the glowing crimson indicator announcing its capacity status.

He regarded me for a moment before I relented, removing several articles of clothing and placing them on my bed. The indicator shifted to amber—just sufficient to secure the latches with satisfying clicks.

“How long will your residence remain unoccupied?” he inquired. I explained that I would be gone for six months and had intended to inform him. With that, he turned without further comment and departed. God, he was infuriating.

Seated beside Ensign Daniels—a certified pilot maneuvering our shuttlecraft—I braced myself as she warned, “Hold tight, Captain. We’re exiting the atmosphere, and the inertial dampeners aren’t operating properly.” The craft shuddered violently during our ascent toward the docking station where my new command, the U.S.S. Seeker, awaited. Though the vessel felt like a hand-me-down destined for decommissioning, anticipation thrummed through my veins at the prospect of taking the helm.

“Despite what people say about this ship, ma’am, it’s still a fine vessel,” she remarked as I offered a skeptical smile. “We shall see, Ensign,” I responded with a knowing smirk. “Yes, Captain,” she acknowledged crisply.

As we approached the U.S.S. Seeker, I took in the vessel’s aged but functional form—a compact research ship with an oval saucer section connected to a narrow secondary hull by a short neck, its twin warp nacelles extending from swept pylons.

My initial impression was of a tired workhorse that had seen better days. The pale silver-gray hull showed patches where newer plating met older sections, evidence of countless refits over its long service life. It wasn’t sleek or imposing like the larger explorers I’d served on before; this ship looked built for pure utility, its lines more functional than elegant. As our shuttle maneuvered toward the dorsal docking port atop the saucer.

“Docking clamps engaged, Captain,” Ensign Daniels announced crisply as a metallic thud reverberated through our small craft. The airlock cycled with a hiss of equalizing pressure before the inner hatch slid open to reveal my new command.

I ducked through the airlock into my ship, standing tall in the corridor as I nodded to Ensign Daniels. Behind me, the heavy hatch sealed with a satisfying thump, followed by the deep vibrations of docking clamps retracting from the hull.

As I stepped fully into the corridor, a lieutenant snapped to rigid attention before me. “Captain!” he barked, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space. I drew myself up to my full height, savoring the moment. “At ease, Lieutenant,” I commanded, the words rolling off my tongue with an unfamiliar but welcome weight - a phrase I suspected would never lose its thrill.

He relaxed as I clasped his hand in a firm handshake. “Lieutenant Garret Stone, ma’am,” he introduced himself, “head of security.” A playful smile touched my lips. “Well, Garret,” I mused, letting go of his hand, “do we really require security on a research vessel?” His responding grin held a hint of knowing amusement. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll prove more useful than you know, Captain,” he replied smoothly. My answering smile carried genuine warmth this time.

“Lieutenant!” I snapped, watching him snap back to attention. “Yes, Captain,” he responded crisply, maintaining perfect posture. Keeping my head high with newfound authority, I issued my first order: “Show me my ship!”

Garrett swept his arm in an inviting gesture as we walked side by side down the corridor of deck one. “How capable is this ship, Garrett?” I asked, my curiosity piqued about my new command.

Garrett detailed the Seeker’s defensive capabilities, explaining how our research vessel possessed only basic shield emitters and minimal phaser banks—primarily Type VI arrays—strategically positioned to cover critical zones. He emphasized these were strictly last-resort measures, suitable for deterring hostile probes or navigating asteroid fields, not engaging in combat.

As we moved toward the turbolift, I considered his assessment. “So essentially,” I summarized, my tone laced with wry amusement as the lift doors parted before us, “we’re a floating science lab that can dodge debris and discourage overly curious aliens?” Garrett’s chuckle rumbled beside me as we stepped inside. “Precisely, Captain,” he confirmed while inputting our destination. “Though between you and me,” he added in a conspiratorial murmur as the car began its smooth descent, “I’ve heard whispers that some... creative engineers have jury-rigged a few non-regulation enhancements over the years.”

“Oh really?” My interest sharpened at this revelation. “I’ll need to consult with the chief of engineering about these... creative modifications.” The prospect of discovering what unofficial enhancements might have been added sent a spark of curiosity through me.

As soon as we entered the turbolift, Garrett stated “Engineering”. The lift began its descent just as I raised an eyebrow and remarked, “I thought I was in command.” Placing his hand to his chest, he responded with a hint of deference, “If I may, Captain, I want to show you things in sequence.” A slight smirk touched my lips before I gave my permission with quiet finality. “You may.”

“How has the crew reacted to my impending arrival?” I asked, genuinely curious. Garrett drew a deep breath before answering. “There have been mixed feelings,” he admitted. My lips pressed together as I nodded slowly, absorbing this information. “Do they already have an opinion of me?” I pressed, watching his expression carefully. He met my gaze squarely. “You are the captain,” he stated with quiet conviction. “Their duty is to follow your orders. I believe their personal feelings are secondary.”

As we exited the turbolift onto Deck five, Garrett immediately launched into an explanation of the engineering section. The air hummed with the constant thrum of machinery, a deeper resonance than I’d felt elsewhere on the Seeker. Exposed conduits snaked along bulkheads where newer systems had been integrated with older frameworks, evidence of decades of refits and repairs.

The engineering section wasn’t as sleek as I’d envisioned; I had to navigate around several thick cables strewn across the floor just to reach the warp core. Near its base, a pair of legs protruded from beneath an open access panel. Without warning, a voice called out sharply from under the conduit: “Silas!” The abrupt shout made me flinch slightly. “Pass me that PRAC!” he demanded again from within the cramped space.

A blur of motion caught my peripheral vision. A young ensign had been rushing toward the access panel but froze mid-stride when he spotted me. His mouth fell open in surprise, the Plasma Relay Alignment Calibrator clutched tightly in his hands.

I raised a silencing eyebrow and pressed a finger to my lips before he could speak, then extended my hand palm-up for the PRAC. The ensign gave a quick nod and passed me the tool.

Crouching down toward the legs protruding from beneath the access panel, I passed the unseen engineer his tool. His calloused fingers accepted the PRAC without revealing himself as he barked another order: “Fine-tune the flow rates through the relays.” I glanced at the Ensign and gave a confirming nod, watching as he rushed to adjust controls at a nearby console.

“Flow rates are tuned, sir,” Silas said, his voice tight with tension. I straightened up and shot a knowing smirk at Garrett. He leaned in close, whispering as he pointed toward the legs still protruding from beneath the access panel. “Lieutenant Darius Carter, Chief Engineer,” he murmured. I nodded in acknowledgment, filing away this first impression of my new chief engineer.

“If I sever this cable right here,” the chief’s muffled voice chuckled from beneath the panel, “nobody would be the wiser. We’d be stationed here until this heap of junk gets decommissioned.” I felt my eyebrow arch upward at the remark. “Uh, sir?” Ensign Silas stammered from his console, clearly unsettled by his superior’s dark humor.

I glanced at Garrett as he suppressed a smile. “SIR!!!” Silas shouted abruptly. “What!?” Darius snapped, twisting to see what the commotion was about. His eyes narrowed upon spotting me standing there, my hands planted firmly on my hips. “So you want to sabotage my ship before its departure, huh?” I challenged, watching as Darius’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Captain?” Darius said, his voice cracking with surprise. Beside me, Garrett muttered under his breath, “Sorry, Darius... but you really stepped in it this time.” The chief engineer scrambled to his feet, shoulders slumping as he stammered, “Uhmm...”

My command cut through the air before he could formulate an excuse. “Stand to attention, Lieutenant!”

The engineer snapped upright immediately. “Yes, Captain!”

I closed the distance between us, my gaze sweeping over him from head to toe. “Tell me, Chief,” I demanded, locking eyes with him. “When I give the order to depart, will that be a problem?” His posture remained rigid, eyes fixed straight ahead as he responded with clipped formality. “No problem, Captain.” Satisfied with his compliance, I gave a curt nod. “Good,” I acknowledged before adding crisply, “As you were.” I turned to Garrett and jerked my head toward the exit – our silent cue to withdraw from engineering.

On Deck four, I surveyed the compact facilities—first the small sickbay, then the transporter room with its two-pad platform. The security section appeared equally modest: a weapons locker stood beside a two-cell brig that might prove useful someday. Notably, this level seemed entirely devoid of personnel at present.

Garrett gestured at the empty spaces. “These facilities aren’t utilized as frequently as you’d expect,” he remarked. I frowned, my gaze lingering on the deserted sickbay. “Shouldn’t they be staffed continuously? Especially medical?” His expression tightened almost imperceptibly. “On this particular ship, crew readiness has become... somewhat relaxed.” My lips pressed into a thin line as I met his troubled frown with resolve. “We’ll be rectifying that shortly.”

Deck three appeared to be the nerve center of activity, the true heart of the ship’s purpose. Here lay a complex of laboratories where our research teams conducted their vital work. Within each compartment, I noted at least one or two crew members engaged in various tasks. The moment they caught sight of me entering their workspace, they snapped to immediate attention.

I smiled and nodded. “As you were,” I said as Garrett began introducing me to the numerous crew members who would be my shipmates for at least six months. The majority appeared to be research specialists—scientists, astronomers, and biologists. Among them, I noticed a particularly youthful Bajoran womandistinguished by the traditional d’ja pagh earring worn on her right ear.

As I approached, I saw she was peering into a microscope at some specimen. “What is it you’re examining?” I asked. Startled, she looked up. “Uhh, I... was just—” I gently interrupted before she could finish. “May I take a look?” She nodded her assent.

I leaned closer to peer through the microscope’s eyepiece.From the outside, the sample appeared to be an unremarkable bluish liquid, but magnified through the lens, I could discern countless cells suspended within it. “Is this blood?” I asked without looking away from the specimen. The young scientist nodded beside me. “Yes,” she confirmed quietly. “Starfleet provided this specimen for our analysis.”

I straightened up. “Intriguing,” I remarked, my gaze still fixed on the microscope. “I look forward to reading your full report, Miss...?”

“Kestal Lira, Captain,” she supplied, her voice soft but clear.

“Lira,” I repeated with a nod and a warm smile. “Excellent work.”

The young scientist returned my smile with an endearingly shy one of her own, dipping her head briefly before meeting my eyes again.

“Thank you, Captain. I’ll have the complete analysis to you as soon as possible.”

In the turbolift, Garrett asked if I wanted to see Deck Two - the crew’s living quarters. I shook my head. “Take me to where it matters,” I said with conviction. “Very well, Captain,” he replied before addressing the computer: “Computer, Bridge.” We ascended toward Deck One, where my central focus would now reside.

The turbolift doors parted, revealing the bridge. Garrett and I stepped onto my new command center. My eyes swept across the compact space—bright, almost starkly so—with its single helm station positioned near the main viewscreen. Data panels lined the walls, displaying schematics and controls in crisp detail. And there, commanding attention at the very heart of it all, stood the captain’s chair. My chair.

I surveyed my bridge crew. A female crew member sat at the helm while a male colleague hunched over her panel, apparently showing her a few things. Two others stood near the side panels.

“Captain on the bridge!” Garrett announced, snapping to attention. Everyone froze mid-task, turning with startled expressions before scrambling upright in formal stance.

I crossed the short distance to stand before the chair and drew in a steadying breath.

“I’m Captain Delores Vance,” I declared, my voice resonating through the suddenly silent bridge. “I hereby take command of the U.S.S. Seeker.” With deliberate movements, I stepped back and settled my palms on the cool metal armrests of the captain’s chair. Lowering myself into its embrace, I leaned against the firm support, feeling the weight of responsibility settle upon my shoulders as I claimed my place at the heart of this vessel.

“Lieutenant?” I turned to Garrett, who stood attentively beside me. “Yes, Captain?” he responded with practiced professionalism. I met his steady gaze. “Are you stationed on the bridge?” His head moved in a slight negative motion as he replied, “I move around, Captain, but I’m usually at my post on deck four.” Without hesitation, I issued my first command decision. “From now on, I want you on the bridge,” I stated firmly. He accepted without question, nodding once in acknowledgment. “Of course, Captain.”

I shifted my attention to the woman at the helm, her mixed Cardassian-human features catching my eye. “Your name, Ensign?” I asked. She snapped to attention, hands clasped behind her back. “Mira Rejal, Captain,” she replied crisply. Nodding, I continued, “Well, Ensign Rejal, how soon can we get underway?” Turning toward her console, she reported without hesitation. “All ship systems are fully operational. We’re ready to depart at your command, Captain.”

I shifted my focus to the communications officer, a young man whose posture straightened as our eyes met. “Open a channel to Starfleet Command,” I instructed, my voice carrying clearly across the bridge. My fingers curled around the cool metal of the armrests as I added, with a note of finality, “Inform them we’re ready to depart.”

“Captain, we’re being hailed by Admiral Hawk,” the communications officer announced. A smile touched my lips as I gave the order: “On viewer.”

Reggie appeared on the screen from Starfleet Command, his expression warm as he greeted me. “Delores,” he said, a hint of pride coloring his tone.

“Admiral?” I responded, a playful lilt in my voice. My hands rested lightly on the armrests, testing their contours.

He chuckled softly. “It looks like that chair was made for you.”

I nodded, running my palms thoughtfully along the smooth metal surfaces. “It may need a little adjusting,” I conceded with a wry smile.

“Set course for the Andoria System,” he instructed, his expression turning serious. “I’ll provide a full briefing upon your arrival.” I met his gaze with equal gravity. “Understood, Admiral. I’ll notify you as soon as we reach the system.” His face softened momentarily. “Good luck, Delores,” he said before the viewscreen went dark, leaving only the stars ahead.

“Do we have permission to depart?” I asked the communications officer. “Starfleet Command has given us the green light, Captain,” he confirmed. A small smile touched my lips as I murmured, “Perfect.” Turning to the helm, I commanded, “Ensign Rejal, set a course for the Andoria System.” She swiveled in her chair, hands poised above the controls. “Yes, Captain. What speed shall I set?” I considered our options for a moment before asking, “How long would it take at warp five?” Her fingers moved swiftly across the console. “Approximately fifty-four hours, Captain,” she reported crisply.

“Make it happen, Ensign.”

“Aye Captain.”

“Docking clamps have been released,” Ensign Rejal announced with professional detachment. My fingers tightened around the armrests as Earth’s orbital station slid from view, replaced by the star-dusted canvas awaiting our journey. “Setting course, speed, go!” she declared, prompting a slight arch of my eyebrow at her crisp efficiency.

The warp nacelles hummed with gathering energy, and in the span between heartbeats, we slipped into the star-streaked embrace of warp.