In the Aftermath

Posted on Sun Nov 16th, 2025 @ 2:55am by Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Lieutenant Irynya & Lieutenant JG Kestrel & Ensign Davis Bryad & Crewman Ariadne Tolbert & LMH & Captain Björn Kodak & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross & Lieutenant Tork & Lieutenant Axod Qo & Ensign Tamblem Dravor & Ensign Noah Balsam & Ensign Mei Ratthi & Andrew Munro & Lieutenant Cassian Maritz & Lieutenant Bailey Good & Lieutenant JG Asmar Veshun & Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons & Ensign Sohlare & Ensign Eekit Drol & Petty Officer 1st Class Gatien Savoir & Kaldri

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Deck 4, Main Shuttle Bay
Timeline: Mission Day 0 at 2105

[Deck 4, Main Shuttle Bay, USS Sojourner]
[MD 0, 2105 Hours]
[Immediately after The Shadow of Subrek

Despite the adrenaline still coursing through her veins and the questionable state of some of the shuttle’s systems Irynya ran through the whole shut down sequence with a meticulous, almost excessive attention to detail. As soon as it was safe for the rest of them she opened the hatch, but remained in the cockpit going through the muscle memory motions of systems checks and standard procedures. By the time she had finally checked everything she could think to check the shuttle had emptied of its occupants. Finally she stood.

Safe. They were safe. Still she felt as if her heart were going to come out of her chest and there was a slight tremor to her hands as she made her way to the hatch and paused to take in the scene before her.

The shuttle bay was made up of organized chaos. It looked as if nearly every person with medical skills had been rousted. Or, no. That was just how it felt. The LMH knelt next to Andrew and Kaldri, working together with Marwol to help those who were most clearly injured. Nurses were attending to the rest.

Axod was on-hand, moving with practiced calm through the chaos that had overtaken the deck. He was there to assist the medical teams where needed, but also to serve the less visible needs, the shock, the confusion, the fear that clung to every survivor and crew member in the room.

The space buzzed with motion: medics calling out for supplies, stretchers weaving through narrow aisles, the low hum of diagnostic scanners mixing with the murmur of pained voices. The air was thick with antiseptic and tension. Amid it all, Axod tried to find his footing, not physically, but mentally, anchoring himself in the rhythm of triage and response.

Andrew perched on a crate near the shuttle’s hatch, trying to look like he belonged there. The painkillers had dulled the sharpest edges, but underneath the numbness was a hollowness that made his legs feel useless, like they might give way the moment he trusted them. He’d told himself the hypospray would make everything better—clean, instant, effortless. Instead, he’d needed help just to stumble off the ramp, and the shame of it burned hotter than the pain ever had. At least it had been the LMH running the triage scan, its calm, synthetic detachment a blessing. A living medic might have read too much in his face.

The crate was a refuge, sparing him the humiliation of limping across the bay in search of a chair. It also tucked him into a shadowed corner, as far from curious eyes as he could manage. Some had already seen him falter, and that was bad enough. What he couldn’t bear was Björn seeing him like this—weak, broken, not the man he wanted to be.

And yet, as Björn caught sight of Andrew from across the bay, none of those thoughts entered the Chameloid's brain. Literally none. As the rugged captain strode towards his paramour, a jagged smile of relief rent his bearded face. His body seemed to both abandon the breath he'd been holding since the whole nightmare had begun and draw in new air--that of relief and joy at the being reunited with the man he loved. And the closer he came to Andrew, the more his pace quickened until Björn finally could read the exact expressions on the man's weary, beaten face. And for all he wanted to scoop Andrew up in his arms, he knew sudden touch was the worst thing he could do.

"Andrew," Björn rasped, holding still at the periphery of the crate's area. The tonality of the said name carried both warmth and relief but there was also a hesitation not to overwhelm. Rather than pepper the scientist with questions--Are you OK?! What did he do to you?! What do you need right now?--the bear of a man approached slow, lowering himself into a half-crouch that brought his head level with Andrew's, his face radiating relief.

"I'm so happy to see you, handsome," Björn breathed. He was close enough to embrace if Andrew wanted that. And the reading of body language only possible by two people who loved each other very much would communicate that. This was on Andrew's terms, Björn's own desire to hug and kiss and hold and never, ever fucking let go again be damned. He did his best to offer a bastion of sanity and his body as physical anchor in the chaos of the shuttle bay.

Andrew couldn’t look at him, not at first. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he did—so much, so fiercely—that he feared what might surface if he allowed it. The painkillers had taken the sharpest edges, but they hadn’t reached the places that mattered. Not the coil of shame still wound tight behind his ribs. Not the memory of screaming. Not the fact that someone else had helped him down the ramp because he couldn’t walk on his own.

He had told himself the hypospray would fix it, that he’d be strong again, clean and composed and whole. But that was a lie. The crate wasn’t a seat—it was a hiding place. His legs weren’t up to standing, and his pride wasn’t up to crossing the bay in front of a crowd. And worse than the crowd was the thought of Björn seeing him like this. Weak. Not the man he wanted to be. But Björn came anyway, undeterred by the lack of eye contact or audible greeting.

But he didn’t barrel in or make a scene. He just crouched nearby, eye-level, calm and open, just waiting. When Andrew finally dared to meet his eyes, he didn’t see pity or restraint or horror in their golden depths. He just saw joy. Love. That same gentle fire that had always burned behind Björn’s eyes, even when they disagreed or danced around things unspoken. It undid something in him.

“Didn’t think I’d…” Andrew began, then stopped, shook his head, and started again. “I kept thinking, if I died like that, you’d think I’d given up.” His mouth twisted, bitter and faint. “I didn’t. I just…I couldn’t stop him.”

He leaned forward—not collapsing, just closing the distance—until his forehead met Björn’s. A point of contact. A grounding wire. His hands trembled in his lap, and he let them. “I really wanted to see you again,” Andrew murmured, voice low, words stretched thin from everything he wasn’t saying. He shifted, barely, the motion fragile. “And I...I didn't want you to blame yourself for...for me," he stammered with more than a hint of shame.

Björn didn’t speak right away. He just held the moment, letting the soft press of Andrew’s forehead against his own sink into the spaces that had been clenched tight for too many hours. It wasn’t the time for apologies or confessions or poetic declarations, no matter how many were waiting just behind his teeth. Andrew didn’t need to be overwhelmed. He needed to be seen. To be held steady, not smothered. Björn could do that. He could meet this version of Andrew—trembling, wounded, still standing—and treat him with the same quiet reverence he always had.

He drew back just far enough to look Andrew in the eye again, the heat of contact still lingering in his skin. One hand came up between them, slow and careful, and he cupped the side of Andrew’s softly-bearded face with a tenderness that communicated more than words ever could. His thumb moved slightly along the curve of Andrew’s cheek, not just to comfort, exactly, but to anchor. “You didn’t give up. You’re still here. That’s enough.”

Björn lingered for a beat longer, then shifted his weight and rose from the crouch in a single practiced motion, joints aching but ignored. His gaze swept the bay, the loose constellation of crew still being tended to or triaged, chaos resolving into clusters of motion and purpose. He knew where he needed to be next. They all needed something from him: the presence of a captain, the calm of leadership, the promise that they were safe now because he said so. And they would get it. But Andrew needed something too.

His hand moved to tap his combadge. “Kodak to Sickbay. One to transport. Priority medical.” He glanced down again, eyes locking briefly with Andrew’s. “I’ll meet you there soon,” he said, voice low but certain. “I just need to check on the others. Make the rounds.”

Andrew nodded, though it was just the barest hint of motion. While they'd only just found each other again, the biologist found himself thankful for a few moments apart. Not because he didn't want to see Björn...but because he knew he needed time to mend his more serious injuries and gather himself a little before their reunion proceeded. "See you...handsome," he added somberly, the word--so often their shared pet name for each other--sounding hollow rather than lived in.

Björn reached forward one last time, pressing his hand gently to Andrew’s knee. Not a farewell, not a dismissal—just a reminder. A promise. And then he stepped back, the light overtaking the man he loved, even as the rest of the crew began to move around him once more.

There seemed to be more people present than needed to greet them and Irynya quickly spotted amongst those assembled Kestrel, Dravor, and Drol – holding down the for while both the Security Chief and his Assistant were off the ship. Captain Kodak was only a step or two away from Andrew and Commander t’Nai stood with Commander Cross and Lieutenant Maritz off to the side.

Almost unconsciously she scanned the room, heart spiking in worry until she spotted the lean dark haired figure of Noah. Sheldon stood right next to him and her heart clenched in relief at the sight of both of her friends. She lingered a moment longer at the hatch, watching Noah answer questions asked by a dark skinned nurse before her attention was interrupted.

Fingers touched in the delicate examining way on Noah's badly bruised eye and lacerations. His head tilted back, weathering this attention. Behind the milling bodies, he was holding on to Sheldon's hand, just a bit of an anchor to the moment. The nurse, gentle, moved to Noah's torso and began to touch, which elicited a few more responses from the skinny one. The nurse pat Noah's shoulder with whispered words between them. And the nurse moved to the next patient as they tapped their commbadge. They spoke in to it, reporting another ambulatory should be on the way shortly.

“Lieutenant!” The voice, unmistakably that of Ensign Bryad, caused her to turn. A knot of flight crew was making a beeline toward her from the shuttle bay control station where they had apparently all gathered.

Feeling just a little bit shaky she took the last few steps out of the shuttle and let out a long low breath when both of her feet were, finally, firmly planted on the Sojourner’s deck plating. They were on her in moments; Tolbert, Sohlare, Veshun, and Bryad along with a handful of enlisted flight crew.

"It's good to have you back," Veshun said, giving voice to the relief they all were feeling, now that they could finally see (and touch) their 'fearless leader' again. The shock of having seven of their own suddenly whisked away had taken its toll on everyone, himself included. Add to that him having to step up and take on the responsibility in her absence, not to mention the flying necessary to pull this off...it was a good thing none of them were in this alone. "Kept your seat warm for you..."

The Risian gave a soft tired chuckle at the statement. She appreciated the humor wrapped around a nod to a tradition among pilots of acknowledging the seat behind the controls as belonging to the highest ranked among them. "It's your seat when I'm out of commission," she said trying to muster some of the leadership-esque tone she'd used at various times of the last several hours. For what she suspected wouldn't be the last time she was glad she'd chosen Veshun to be her second.

She glanced at the group of them, looking them each over as she did while saying, "Ok. Catch me up?"

In another corner of the shuttle bay Emni stood with Cross and Maritz. “It’s good to see you both,” she told them with a warm and weary smile. “We’ll debrief fully later, but is there anything we should know now?” She couldn't help noticing the addition of a Ferengi in a significantly tattered Starfleet uniform and a Trabe who looked as if he would like to hide away somewhere. Her eyes slid across to both before returning to the two officers, waiting for them to offer explanations rather than rushing them.

Victoria was out of the shuttle and into the care of the nurses and doctors. She was given a off duty coat to dress herself in, as a tricorder and medical scanner were run over the gash in her forehead. The nurse activated a tissue regenerator and gave it a few passes over the wound, and it began to slowly knit itself together - enough to be covered with a bandage.

"XO," Victoria spoke, as relaxed as can be thanks to painkillers and the thought of being back home, "All crew accounted for, to my knowledge. For a moment, we thought the Sojo was gone. I'm - I can't express how happy I am we're home."

"Bastards jumped me when I was getting ready to relax and rest between shifts. I think we've all earned a good rest. But, as for anything pressing, sir, nothing that can't wait for the debrief. I'll explain everything from my point of view there."

Emni nodded her understanding and laid a gentle hand on the taller woman's shoulder, squeezing lightly. Weariness was, after fear spiked relief, the most prevalent feeling that everyone seemed to bring with them upon return. Even the two newcomers, whose emotional finger prints she didn't yet know, had clearly gone without rest or care. "More than earned," she told Cross and then, releasing her, turned her eyes to Maritz.

"What about you Lieutenant?" she asked, letting her eyes drift beyond them to the Ferengi and the Trabe that she hadn't yet been introduced to. No one seemed particularly worried about the pair and there was hardly anywhere they could go, so she felt comfortable checking in with her crew members first. "What can you tell me about those two?" She lifted her chin slightly indicating where the pair were lingering near the Starfleet shuttle.

Cassian looked from the XO to the Trabe and the Ferengi and back, thinking for a moment before answering. How was he really? "I... I'm alright. The Trabe here, Ikade, I may or may not have landed a punch square to the jaw because I wasn't sure if he was friendly or not and he set off a high-pitched device that mostly blinded me but turns out he was just doing his bit until we managed to get off that ship." He scratched the back of his head and added, "Jury's still out but he's a decent guy. The Ferengi is Tork, and he managed to prove himself useful to Subek as a technician, but he was a prisoner as well."

Tork plodded off the shuttle, only to walk right back up to it with a small cutting tool in hand. The Ferengi cut through the hull at a rather odd spot and pulled off the paneling with about as much ceremony as someone rummaging through garbage might cast aside something that was beyond usefulness. He took a peek inside before reaching in and grasping something unseen by any passersby before yanking the thing he'd grabbed out.

Behind him, Bailey Good has raised her eyebrow at this. Noting he'd taken something. And she'd follow up, at the appropriate time. She studied him a moment, and then with her arms behind her back, she went on to locate Maritz.

"I knew the shuttle was vibrating weirdly," Tork said with a sagely nod before turning to Ikade, "See this? One of the dampener coils crapped out on us on the way back. These things are about as sturdy as a Slug-o-Cola can. You should get at least a hundred thousand or so light-years out of them before they start to wear out, but this one looks like it's been in there for a least half a million."

Tork tossed the part at the Trabe while shaking his rather large head, only to stumble a bit when he lost balance, "Drat... I forgot about that little 'present' of yours messing up my ears. Need to have someone look at that."

Ikade had watched the little Ferengi slice through the hull with interest, wondering what would compel an engineer of all people carve a hole rather than open an access hatch. When the coil was tossed his way, he made an effort to catch it but was just a little on the hair of too slow. The coil bounced off his hands and fell to the deck with a thunk sound. The Trabe bent to retrieve the device, then rolled it over in his hand as he examined its surface and connection housings. So caught up was he in the examination that he heard Tork several moments after the quip, looking himself like he was hard of hearing as his mind caught up.

“Oh,” Ikade said, looking a little sheepish. “Well, my people have a saying. When someone gives you a gift, it’s only polite to give one back.” The words were said amiably enough but there was just the slightest edge to them: an edge born of being physically assaulted first, which had sparked the use of his little sonic overloading device.

Drol, whose orders had included security on the exit from the shuttlebay into the rest of the ship, scanned each figure as it stepped off the shuttle. Her eyes snagged first on those she didn't recognize-- a Ferengi and a Trabe? What in the hell? Shoving her curiosity brutally to the side, she kept half her attention on these newcomers as she continued to catologue each of those she did recognize. She didn't even realize she was holding her breath until Mei appeared, and she had to consciously control her exhale to make sure it didn't explode out of her. Not a good look to slump with relief. As if to counteract this response, she squared her shoulders and straightened her spine, keeping only half an eye on Mei as she resolutely turning her attention to Tork and Ikade.

For her part, Mei had offered Drol a half-hearted and mostly fake smile before she turned away, looking for Kaldri among the confusion and doing her best to keep breathing deeply and not throw up all over the floor. She folded her arms tightly against her chest and looked around. When she finally spotted Kaldri, she hurried over to her. After idly hovering for a moment, she swallowed hard and said softly, "Can I help?"

Though a nurse was already tending her wounds—focusing on sealing up and repairing several vicious slashes from Subrek’s knife—the Kazon woman looked quite rough. “Little sister,” the universal translator had now learned to translate the term correctly, “I will be alright. I have been in worse shape before. But I thank you,” Kaldri nodded slowly. “How are you?” Pride began to show from her eyes like a spotlight suddenly pointed. “You acted quickly back there. I was impressed with your kick to that bastard’s knee. And…the rest, too,” she admitted, something dark flitting across her face. “You should have never gotten caught up in all this. But I thank you for your help in ending it.”

"I wish it didn't have to happen that way, but since it did, I'm glad I had a good teacher. It was your training that helped get us out of there." Mei gently took Kaldri's hand and hoped the other woman didn't notice how shaky she was. "And now you'll never have to deal with him again. He won't be looking for you anymore."

Kaldri’s fingers tightened briefly around Mei’s hand before she withdrew it, the movement slow but deliberate. The nurse gave her a cautionary glance, one hand still guiding the dermal regenerator across the torn skin of her shoulder. Kaldri barely noticed. Her eyes were on Mei—searching, studying, cataloging as she always did, though there was something gentler behind the scrutiny now. “No,” she said finally, her voice rough but steady. “He will not be looking for me again.” The statement carried the weight of fact, not relief. “But others might. He had followers. Those who whispered his name in the dark because they thought him strong.” Her mouth twisted, not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. “They will whisper mine now instead.”

For a moment, silence filled the space between them, thick as smoke. Then Kaldri’s gaze softened, her pride returning like a shield. “You speak of teaching,” she said quietly. “You learned quickly and struck when it mattered. You saw the chance, and you took it. That is strength, Mei.” She exhaled through her nose, a sound that could have been approval or exhaustion. Her tone shifted slightly, though, the edge of something unspoken bleeding in.

“I was wrong about you when we first met. I thought your kindness would break you.” Kaldri tilted her head, eyes distant for a heartbeat, seeing not Mei but the blood on the throne room floor. “Now I think perhaps I was wrong in a different way. I thought I could show you my world and still walk away from it.” Her lips pressed together, the muscles in her jaw flickering with tension. “But the only thing I ever really taught you...was how to survive it like me,” she breathed, sorrow flickering around the edges of her observation.

The nurse murmured something about tissue regeneration, but Kaldri didn’t answer. Her gaze had fallen to her own hands—scarred, bloodstained in memory if not in sight. “The cycle continues,” she said softly, as if only to herself. “One cut answered by another. One victory paid for with another wound.” Then she looked up at Mei again, and the flash of pride in her eyes returned, though now it was tinged with something emptier. “You should go see to your own hurts, little sister. You have done enough.”

Her voice gentled at the end, but beneath it, the hollow truth lingered—Subrek was gone, yet his shadow remained. The duel was won, but the war within her had only changed shape. Perhaps if she'd learned to turn away from the violence, she might have escaped its shadow falling across her future. But in the end, it was her own viciousness that resolved the battle rather than a redemption for her soul. And as Kaldri focused on finishing up with the nurse, it was clear that fact would haunt her, likely forever...

Noah had started glancing through the crowd. He needed to see his people. He had Sheldon and he was reticent to let the engineer's hand go. But he ultimately did. His eyes found Irynya- wave of relief. Now his eyes searched for Chief Basheer. His stomach felt sick and heavy, worried about his boss who... kind of was his underling now? Which was not something he'd really worked through yet. His eyes went to Irynya again.

Flutter.

The LMH passed through his peripheral and Noah felt himself walk- hobble- toward him. "Hey, hey... um..." The LMH really needed to choose a name. "Doctor, wh-where is Chief Basheer?" His hand found the hologram's shoulder- it was solid but felt the usual room ambient temperature rather than Human warm.

With a slowing step the LMH paused in his trek across the shuttlebay to turn and look at the ensign who had stopped him. A warm smile, one he had practiced throughout several games of chess, lit his features adjusting even within the glint of his eyes. It was a genuine smile. "Mr. Balsam," he responded in quiet exclamation. "It is good to see you." The LMH's eyes roamed the young engineer as if ticking off a list of obvious potential maladies. As he did so he answered the question. "Chief Basheer is in Sickbay. He sustained significant injuries when the Kazon ship fired on us, but has been stabilized and will fully recover. He is, however, for now on prescribed medical rest. He may be awake, though, if you would like to check on him there." The LMH's gaze slid over to Marwol and the Captain where he knew he was expected to return.

Noah nodded. "Ok... ok... um... thanks. I'm sorry. I-I know you're busy. I'll head to Sickbay soon..." Noah began to walk with another glance back toward where he'd seen Irynya but she'd moved. But she was safe. She was safe, Shelly was safe... he had more people to find. Dravor. His new roommate Khrys. Debbie. Tor. His walking stilled on the last name. He started to look around, and he spun. She was definitely the type to be here. He took a few more steps to try and get a better angle near the door. Maybe she was just on the way.

The doors opened- a heavy grinding, aching sound that grated on his tired ears. A couple of Yeomen with a hover-stretcher ushered themselves in quickly. A couple of people wanting to find colleagues and friends, or support. The doors closed. Noah found the comm panel and tapped it, "Balsam to Tor." There was a long pause. It stretched longer and Noah's stomach hollowed, then started to vibrate. He started to feel like his insides were melting. "Balsam to Tor, respond? It's Noah." Again, silence... "Computer locate Ensign Jyl-eel Tor...? Is she wearing her badge?"

Drol, with most of her attention on the movements in the cargo bay, was only half-listening to Noah's communication with the computer near the doors. When the computer finally answered him, it snagged all of her attention and her head snapped round to look at the little systems specialist with wide eyes.

"Ensign Jyl-eel Tor's commbadge is inactive."

Noah's knees buckled and he braced against the wall. And then he bolted. The doors barely had a chance to open and he had to squeeze through. The great lock-like shaped scraped against his back as he sidled through and he broke in to a run. Panting. Quaking. It was rising. Vibrating. The prickle of deep, visceral panic on his neck. He had to get his bearings for a moment. Ikade's weapon and fatigue had still left him a little addled. Panic didn't help, trying to tear him in multiple directions. Then he remembered. Turbolift to deck two, from deck four. Starboard. He bolted toward it.

"Balsam?" Drol called after him, but it was too late, he had already disappeared into the corridor beyond. Grinding her teeth with frustration at being unable to leave her post, the Cardassian spun back to face the main cargo space, searching wildly for someone to go after him. He had not looked good, quite apart from the troubling answer from the computer about her suite-mate. Kestrel and Dravor both had their hands full with incoming casualties and the newcomers, Good and Maritz were obviously in some kind of high-level discussion with the XO. Finally, her gaze landed on Marwol and the nurse with the purple locks he'd twisted up into a knot at the base of his neck. "Nurse! Uh--" she couldn't remember his name but he turned at the shout and she gestured wildly at the door, "Ensign Balsam just ran off-- he didn't look too good."

Gatien frowned-- he'd just checked the ensign out and sent him to sickbay-- and turned back to Marwol, murmuring something final before crossing the space to Drol. "I should t'ink not, cherie," he said, "He's been t'rue a lot. I sent him to sickbay," he explained. Drol shook her head, trying to rearrange her ridged features into something that would persuade him to go after Noah, "No, I mean, worse than before. He didn't even let the doors open all the way before he was actually running. Not a figure of speech."

Gatien's expression deepened into concern. "That'un shouldn't be runnin'," he agreed, glancing back over his shoulder at the rest of the organized chaos in the shuttlebay. The triage line seemed in good order, and Marwol even seemed a little steadier, directing the yeomen with the stretcher over to Andrew. "T'anks, cherie. I'll check on 'im." Gatien patted Drol on the shoulder and squeezed momentarily, and then he too disappeared out the doors. Drol stared after him for a moment before turning back to her visual scan of the shuttlebay, ridged brow furrowed.

Though her team was talking with her, sometimes several of them at once, Irynya's attention was split and it was Tolbert who ultimately shoo'd the rest of them away, waving to a nurse to get their attention.

"Thanks," Iry said to the taller woman who, despite insisting everyone else leave stayed by her side. "I'll brief everyone as soon as I can, but... it's a lot to process."

Tolbert nodded, "Of course," she said. "Everyone's just relieved that you're alright."

The Risian nodded, eyes scanning the room almost unconsciously until she saw Noah again. "We didn't loose anyone off ship," she said absently to Tolbert, making conversation as much as anything else. "Did we fare as well here?"

He was up and moving. Her eyes tracked him, relieved to see him upright, and then darted sideways to Tolbert as the woman spoke, trying to make herself focus. "Yeah, we lost a few," she said and her expression and tone gave away that she, herself, hadn't quite processed this truth yet. "Chief F'rar didn't make it," she said. "And the Arboretum was hit. One of the botanists..."

Exhaustion and distraction was replaced by immediate focus. "Which one?" she asked Tolbert with some urgency.

"I didn't know her. A Valt woman," Tolbert replied just as Iry's eyes once again found Noah -- or the back of him -- as he barely dodged his way out the door at a scrambling run.

She and Tolbert had been sitting, but she was on her feet right away, Tolbert right on her heels. "What is it?" the redheaded woman asked. She looked around as if she could figure it out, but Irynya was already moving, an urgent certainty sinking into the pit of her stomach like a boulder.

Trying not to draw too much attention to herself, she disentangled from Tolbert, who had grabbed her arm to stop her going anywhere. "I'll be right back," she promised, willing the other woman to believe her," and then she made for the doors, pausing just long enough to stop in front of Ensign Drol.

"Ensign Balsam?" she asked, trying to keep her tone level though the sudden gnawing worry in her gut made her voice come out tense and short. "Did he..."

"He ran outta here like a scalded wompat," she said, still looking concerned as Irynya turned to go, "but Lieutenant--" When Iry paused, Drol said, "Be careful. The computer couldn't find... couldn't find Jyl-eel and the Sojo took some damage while you were gone--" Visibly gathering herself, the woman tried to summarize and only came up with, "Just be careful."

She was out the door without another thought, pausing just outside and looking either way before heading for the nearest Turbolift--not quite running. The purple braids and medical uniform of the nurse she had seen tending to Noah earlier caught her attention half way down the corridor and she called out to get his attention. "Wait," she said. "Hold the lift!"

Dravor moved through the shuttle bay with his security detail, eyes constantly scanning the crowd as they conducted their sweep. With both Maritz and their Assistant Chief off-ship, he and Drol were holding down security; she was at the doors, and he was with the general perimeter.

But then his sweep stopped. There was Sheldon, standing where Noah had been only moments before, and looking shaken but whole. Something tight in Dravor's chest that he hadn't even realized was there finally loosened. "Continue the sweep," he instructed his detail. "I'll catch up."

He changed course, weaving through the medical personnel with fluid confidence until he came up beside Sheldon just as a nurse finished with him. "Well," he said, his voice pitched low enough for just Sheldon to hear, carrying that familiar cocky undertone, "looks like you managed to keep yourself in one piece while I was gone." There was genuine warmth beneath the teasing words, his dark eyes doing a quick assessment of the engineer.

"More or less," Sheldon replied, grim-faced even in the sight of his literal Trillian God. Well, not literal of course...but standing there all puffed up with those fitness-toned and grown muscles and his easy half-smile, how could Shelly think of him as anything but? The relief at seeing the man relaxed his jaw and posture some then, the engineer nodding to the departing nurse in thanks for her ministrations.

He experimentally stretched and rotated his right arm, damaged as it had been when the Kazon shuttle had crashed into the Kordra-Lisrit, and sighed with relief when the arm did not catch. "Least it was my offhand," Shelly tried to quip more casually than he actually felt, eyes fixed now on the door Noah had exited some moments prior--and Iry moments after that. Part of him felt like he should run after his friends: he'd done so much to try to get them back. But what whatever was happening with Noah seemed like something maybe only Iry could help with in that moment.

"Tamblem," Shelly pursed his lips, eyes flicking back to the Trill, "I've decided something. As much as I love this little will-they/won't they thing we have happening," his eyes expressed the truth in that, "I've recently been reminded that we don't always have the time we think we will." In the wake of seeing Iry run off after Noah, he seemed to be gathering himself--his courage, as little as that usually was--before saying what came next. "I want you to ask me to dinner. Like a real proper date. With, you know," Sheldon gestured randomly, "actual food and conversation...in addition to any other good stuff that might follow."

For a moment, Dravor's cocky grin faltered into something more genuine, surprise mixed with pleasure, like he hadn't expected Sheldon to be the one to push things forward. But the expression was fleeting, quickly replaced by that trademark swagger, though his eyes stayed warm.

He glanced around the shuttlebay, at the medical personnel hustling between patients, the returning crew being triaged, the general controlled chaos of the situation, and let out a low chuckle. "You know," he said, shaking his head with amusement, "most people wait until after the crisis to have the 'define the relationship' talk. But I'm not complaining."

His attention snapped back to Sheldon, and his voice dropped to that low, intimate register he seemed to reserve for the engineer. "And trust me, Shelly, I've been waiting for you to be ready." He let that hang in the air for a beat before adding, with a grin that was equal parts charming and dangerous, "Debbie's. Tomorrow night, 1900 hours. I'll even let you pick the booth."

His hand came up, fingers brushing lightly against Sheldon's forearm, brief, deliberate contact that promised more. "Fair warning, though, I clean up pretty nice when I'm trying to impress someone. And I am trying to impress you." The sincerity in that last statement cut through his usual bravado, making it clear this wasn't just another casual hookup for him. Not by a long shot.

I’ve been waiting for you to be ready… Shelly rolled that around in his mind like you’d roll brown liquor around in a tumbler. Tamblem may have initiated their quick-fire hook up on Risa, but he’d been very patient in letting the rest unfold. Given how anxious Sheldon was even in everyday, small little life moments, it made sense that the Trill would let him set the pace. And with a quick breath and a nod of finality, the engineer accepted his ownership of said pace and his place in moving it forward.

“Alright then. But,” Shelly held up a staying fore-finger, “that was more of an order than a question. But I don’t mind. Sometimes it’s nice to do as you’re told.” Was that…a wink? Was there more behind that remark? What was he trying to say? That would have to come later because the engineer was already moving on. “I accept your invitation. And while I do appreciate the sentiment behind wanting to impress me, you should know…you can’t impress me more than you already have. Saving me from a goo monster cemented that in a hurry. But…I do like orchids, if that helps.”

Dravor's grin turned absolutely wolfish at Sheldon's comment about doing as he's told, and there was a definite spark of interest in his dark eyes. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, his voice dropping to a register that promised interesting things for their future. But then his expression softened slightly, genuine pleasure breaking through the swagger. "Orchids, huh?" He filed that information away like the tactical advantage it was. "Noted."

He squeezed Sheldon's forearm once more before letting his hand drop, taking a reluctant step back as reality reasserted itself. Around them, the shuttlebay was still organized chaos, and he could see one of his security team trying to catch his eye from across the bay. "I should get back to it," he said, gesturing vaguely at the controlled pandemonium. "But tomorrow, 1900 hours. Don't stand me up, sunshine." The last was delivered with that trademark confidence, but there was an undercurrent of something more vulnerable - like maybe he actually was a little worried Sheldon might change his mind.

With one last lingering look and that cocky half-smirk, Dravor turned and headed back toward his detail, though not without glancing back over his shoulder once to catch Sheldon's eye. Yeah, he had it bad.

Having gotten the short explanation of the presence not only of a Trabe, but also a Starfleet engineer that had not come from their ship, amongst the returning party, Emni excused herself from her Ops and Security chiefs and made her way over to the newcomers. They made an interesting pair. The Trabe, tall and thin to the point of appearing almost emaciated and the Ferengi, short and bedraggled, but clearly not yet starving. She'd only ever met a few Ferengi in her life and this one was no exception to her earlier experiences. Where every other crew member in the room had a resonant emotional fingerprint that she could, in most cases, identify fairly quickly--the Ferengi was the opposite. It was almost as if an emotional void existed where he stood. Quiet stillness--a rock of nothingness in her senses amidst the flow of turbulent emotions throughout the room.

Next to Tork, Ikade's emotional signature practically screamed. Fear, exhaustion, a bruise-like collection of long suffered emotional hurts all seemed to engulf him. Amidst them the tiniest thread of disbelief wound outward--as if he couldn't quite grasp that he was well and truly clear of Subrek and the patchwork of engineering elements that made up his ship.

She stopped a few feet clear of the two, clearing her throat to get their attention. With a nod to each she offered a smile that she hoped came across as welcoming. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai," she said by way of introduction. "Ship's executive officer. Our captain," here she glanced to find him crouched before Andrew, "will be by to introduce himself as soon as he can. Welcome aboard the Sojourner."

"Hmm?" Tork murmured, turning his head a lot slower than normal and giving the woman who'd walked up a puzzled look, "Wasn't aware Starfleet had execution officers. Is that something new they came up with while I was held on that ship? Are we even in the right century? I mean... the uniform looks right but..."

The Ferengi's face went through several shifts as he seemed to wrestle with the obviously wrong interpretation of the woman's words before he finally snapped his finger, "We're in the Mirror Universe! That makes sense now why there would be an execution officer. I read about that in an Academy class I barely passed. Something about the Federation being some dystopian hellscape or another."

Emni blinked and then blinked again, struggling to formulate an immediate response to the Ferengi's odd assertion. Then she remembered that Maritz had mentioned some kind of sonic device. If it had been strong enough to blind the security officer then it was strong enough to wreck havoc with a Ferengi's hearing.

"Ex-ec-u-tive Off-i-cer," she said, enunciating far more than was likely necessary. "I'm afraid you're still in the usual universe Mr...." She let the comment hang, waiting for the Ferengi to fill in his name. Maritz had mentioned it, but this seemed like the polite thing to do.

"Tork," the Ferengi replied, his features dropping a bit in disappointment, "Shame, really... I remember hearing that the Mirror Universe had gadgets we just can't get around here so I was almost looking forward to getting my hands on something interesting. Nothing to be done, I suppose. Just have to make do with tinkering with my shuttle until I can get myself to... whatever ship I was suppose to transfer to. Can't be the chief engineer if I'm not on the ship I'm supposed to be on. Now what was the name of it again? Salad Dressing? Solenoid Burner? No... that can't be right... I'm terrible with names... What did you say the name of this ship was?"

"The Sojourner," Emni answered dryly with the smallest quirk of amusement to the corner of her mouth. "But I'm afraid we weren't your destination. Our Chief Engineer is..." she hesitated, slowed, frowned, "...was just getting settled in her role. She was, unfortunately, fatally injured when the Kazon boarded us."

A wave of sadness flowed through the XO, feeling the weight of those they'd lost and the many many hours of repairs ahead for many on their crew. "Either way, you're welcome aboard. We'll get you set up with some temporary quarters. We'll have a debrief with our senior officers in the morning. I'd be glad for you to join us if you're willing."

Tork hummed thoughtfully, "Yeah, lost the pilot that was supposed to take me to my new ship. A good hew-mon, even if he was a little too brave for the circumstances. Kept going on and on about how jealous he was that I'd been going to a Sovereign-class ship. Don't know what he was jealous of, not like he was on helm rotation on the old ship. But hey, who am I to judge what's important to hew-mons. Well, if you need help in the engine room while I'm here, let me know. I'd rather do something useful with my hands if I can help it. What class of ship is this, anyway?"

"She's a Rhode Island," Emni answered warmly. "And unfortunately our chief engineer was lost when the Kazon boarded us. We'd be grateful for any help you can give."

Salad dressing? All around them, people were being treated for terrible wounds. And from the sounds of it, some had even died. And the Ferengi was cracking jokes? A blossoming detonation of irritation and flabbergastedness flooded the Trabe’s emotional landscape. Ikade wanted badly to go on a tirade about the sensitivity of Tork’s joking but the weight of it all was just too much. He just didn’t have the energy. And besides, this woman was apparently second in command of the ship. If anyone was going to correct a Starfleet officer’s behavior, it should probably be someone from Starfleet.

Instead, the Trabe held out a hand in greeting as he’d seen others do.“Ikade Uvari,” the Trabe introduced himself, wholly unaware of t’Nai’s ability to sense his emotions. But as he regarded the woman, he could see that she, too, had been through the ringer. Dirty uniform, a little disheveledness perhaps—the crew on the ship had been put through it too. “I am…well, was I guess,” he took a steadying breath, “an engineer. Subrek’s had me captive for a few years keeping his ship running and upgrading it with stolen tech.”

“If I do say so myself,” a bit of a smug air infused Ikade’s voice, a half smile forming on his lips, “I’m kind of an expert and at making mismatching technology work together. I don’t know what your captain plans to do with me but,” he gulped, summoning bravery in the offer, “I’d be happy to offer my skills to you while I’m onboard.”

Emni could, indeed sense the exhaustion and heaviness that rolled off the Trabe. It was like a well worn groove in his emotional signature -- a channel created by years, not hours, of fear and abuse. "I'm glad our folks brought you with them Mr. Uvari," Emni said accepting his hand and gripping it firmly before releasing him. "I'm sure your help would be welcome too, but know you are also our guest. We don't plan to do anything with you." She emphasized the word do with a subtle attempt at reassurance. "But will be happy to help get you moving in the direction you want to go next."

------ A reunion between:

Captain Bjorn Kodak
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai
Executive Officer

Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross
Ops Chief

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Helmswoman

Lieutenant Cassian Maritz
Security Chief

Lieutenant Bailey Good
Assistant Security Chief

Lieutenant Tork
Rescued Engineer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Counselor

Lieutenant JG Kestrel
Tactical Officer

Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons
Acting Engineering Chief

Lieutenant JG Asmar Veshun
Assistant Chief Helmsman

Ensign Noah Balsam
Systems Specialist

Ensign Tamblem Dravor
Security Officer

Ensign Mei Ratthi
Antrhopologist/Archaeologist

Ensign Eekit Drol
Security Officer

Andrew Munro
Biologist

Kaldri
Newly Minted Maje

Petty Officer 1st Class Gatien Savoir
Nurse

Ensigns Sohlare and Bryad
Helmsmen

Crewman Ariadne Tolbert

and the LMH