Group

Posted on Sat Dec 6th, 2025 @ 3:02pm by Lieutenant Axod Qo & Captain Björn Kodak & Lieutenant Commander Emni t'Nai & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross & Lieutenant Irynya & Lieutenant Ezhr Delja & Ensign Tamblem Dravor & Andrew Munro

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Recreation Hall, Deck 4
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1300

[Recreation Hall]
[Deck 4]
[MD 1: 1300 hours]

The Recreation Hall on Deck 4 had always felt a little too large for the size of the Sojourner, a wide multipurpose chamber designed to be anything the crew needed it to be; sparring ring, dance floor, lecture hall. Tonight, Axod wanted it to be something gentler. The overhead lights had been dialed down a shade, not dim but softer, easy on the eyes. Chairs curved in a loose semi-circle, facing inward toward a low table where I’d placed a carafe of tea and a small tray of replicated Doosdarian sweetbread. The idea wasn’t ceremony. It was comfort.

Yeoman Callen was moving briskly between the chairs, nudging them into place with an efficiency that Axod both admired and found slightly amusing. “You’ll have more than a dozen, sir. I made room for fifteen,” she said without looking up, voice brisk but kind. Lieutenant Qo nodded, appreciating the way her presence grounded the moment. For all the counseling texts he’d studied, sometimes it was the smallest practical gestures. Chairs, cups, space. All of which laid the foundation for healing to begin.

Axod tugged at the cuff of his wrapped tunic, a dark blue fabric, chosen deliberately instead of the Starfleet uniform. Less authority, more presence. The notice he’d sent earlier in the day had been simple: For anyone who wishes to gather, share, or simply listen. No ranks, no expectations. Just us. More than ten names had confirmed. More, I suspected, would slip in quietly once they saw it was safe to do so.

As Axod stood in the center of the semi-circle, he breathed in slowly, letting the silence of the room settle into him. This wasn’t going to be easy. For them, it would never be easy. But Axod thought he, as well as Commander t’Nai, could be a steady voice, a fixed point in the swirl of what they had endured under Subrek and the Kordra-Lisrit. One step at a time, one word at a time.

Andrew lingered outside the recreation hall, uncertain whether to go in. He had no idea what would be expected of him—or how sitting in a room talking was supposed to help—but he’d promised Björn he would try. That promise was the only thing that had carried him this far. For the fifth time since leaving his quarters he tugged at his shirt, searching for some imaginary crease, then drew a long breath and let it out slowly before edging forward. The door slid open at his approach.

The first thing he saw was the crescent of empty chairs. His stomach tightened. Of course he’d arrived first. Exactly what he hadn’t wanted—being on display, the centre of attention. He swallowed a quiet curse and stepped inside anyway. “Um… hi,” he managed, voice low and awkward, directed at the man standing in the centre of the semi-circle.

“Welcome, welcome,” Axod said warmly as he stepped forward to greet the new arrival, his usually wide grin softened out of respect for the gravity of the occasion. His voice carried the same calm, grounding energy he so often relied on to put others at ease.

He closed the distance at an unhurried pace, posture relaxed, shoulders loose, projecting none of the stiffness that often marked first meetings. When he reached Andrew, he offered an open, steady hand. “I’m Axod,” he said, his tone both inviting and assured. “Andrew, right?”

Though they hadn’t spoken before, Axod’s familiarity was genuine rather than presumptive. He had spent many quiet hours reviewing rosters, names, and faces, making a point of knowing the people he would serve alongside. This wasn’t just a formality for him, he believed introductions should feel like connections, not transactions.

"Yes," the civilian biologist nodded. For a moment, Andrew was surprised the counselor knew his name. But then he remembered that Axod had, no doubt, prepared for this gathering by studying the files of everyone directly involved. And he most certainly had been. Subconsciously, he rubbed at where the shackles had chained his wrists to the cold metal rack from which he'd been hung.

Not long after Andrew entered, in walked Victoria, dressed in a white mid-length dress, her combadge pinned to her shoulder. With the Kazon conflict behind them, it seemed as if a weight was lifted off the woman's shoulders somewhat, and she walked across the room to surprise Andrew with a squeeze on the arm. "Hey, mate," She beamed with a smile, "Glad the docs have you out and about."

It was all Andrew could do not to flinch at the touch. Victoria had, after all, been the one to champion getting him down from Subrek's torture rack. Or at least, that's what he'd been told. The scientist had been in and out of consciousness for much of the experience, blows barraging his face and barrel-chested torso. But when he'd come to, it was Victoria's face he saw first. The sight and feel of her should have been of comfort to him. But right now, every unexpected touch was just something else happening to him outside of his control. Andrew steadied himself with a simple nod to Victoria, his mouth a grim line, and said, "Thank you."

Victoria approached Axod then, offering her hand to him. "Axod, it's a real credit to the ship that you'd do this." She looked around the room, and took up the carafe of warm tea and poured her a glass.

"Put us through the ringer. Thought they'd break our back." She muttered, replacing the carafe on the table.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Axod said, his voice carrying that easy warmth he seemed to summon without effort. With an open-handed gesture, he indicated the cluster of arranged seats set out for the gathering.

They weren’t exactly the plush, enveloping comfort cocoons of Doosodarian tradition, where one could sink in and feel weightless in layers of soft fabric and warm suspension fields, but they were the best Starfleet could provide in the space allotted. Still, Axod treated them as though they were every bit as inviting, his tone making up for the austerity of their lines.

Clothed in warm browns Emni swished quietly into the room, entering half a minute after Victoria. She met the room's occupants with gentle smile, inclining her head in warm greeting to Andrew and Victoria before turning to Axod. She stopped beside him and spoke in low warm tones. "This is your domain Counselor," she said all calm and quiet confidence. "I'll follow your lead."

Axod was quietly thankful to have Emni at his side. Her longstanding connection to the crew was an asset no amount of formal training could hope to match, and her presence lent him a certain confidence.“Thank you,” he said softly, the sincerity in his tone carrying more weight than the simple words themselves. He shifted his gaze across the room, taking in the assembled faces with a careful, measured patience.

“I think we’ll wait for a few more stragglers before we begin,” he announced, his voice directed not only to Emni but also to the small cluster of crew who had already arrived. There was an easy steadiness in his delivery, a kind of practiced calm that invited others to settle. Almost unconsciously, his eyes flicked toward the door just for a moment as if expecting the next arrival to step through at any second.

When the door opened again, it was Delja who entered. There had been little question in the Xanosian's mind as to whether or not he would come. Aside from taking part in the...interview...of the prisoner (and reassuring Crewman Ryland), he had done his best to stay out of the way during and immediately after their recent encounter with the Kazon. In fact, he'd spent most of the time since going over his notes and checking-in with a few of the others, pulling together the different threads he needed to assemble a formal report. This little gathering felt like a chance for him to do something a little more...to help Axod and to be there for his fellow shipmates. Perhaps a part of him also realized that, deep down, he needed it, too.

His eyes swept across the room, taking in those who had arrived before him. Some of the faces were familiar. Some, less so. He paused when his gaze fell on Axod and their eyes made contact. Nodding once in acknowledgement, he then proceeded to make his way over to the table where the refreshments had been laid out. He passed on the sweetbread and busied himself with pouring out a cup of tea.

Axod’s expression softened the moment he caught sight of Ezhr. A warm smile tugged at his lips, unbidden but genuine. There was something about Ezhr’s presence that felt like a deep exhale after holding one’s breath for too long. The deep underlying tension that had settled across Axod’s shoulders seemed to ease, if only slightly.

Still, beneath that warmth came a familiar pang of guilt. He hadn’t seen Ezhr nearly as often as he would have liked. Life aboard the Sojourner had been a whirlwind of crises and responsibilities, leaving little space for anything resembling stillness or connection. And yet, as he watched the Xanosian enter, Axod was reminded of how much those small moments mattered.

He raised a hand in greeting, the smile deepening into something more personal. ‘I’ll make the time’, he promised himself silently, a vow not to let the rhythm of duty swallow the things that gave it meaning.

The doors opened yet again, this time quietly depositing a rough-and-ready man in blue jeans, a black SOJO-emblazoned t-shirt, and a pair of casual brown loafers. SOJO-adornment aside, it was a look Björn Kodak had adopted aboard Starbase Sierra 6 and it'd served him well as civilian dress ever since. Of course, being a Chameloid meant shifting from a uniform to a more relaxed outfit was easy as a thought some shuffling of skin and tissue, but the change in attire signaled one thing very clearly...

Kodak wasn't here as the ship's captain today. Well, not wholly at least. Of course that role was still his and of course, he would speak as such when needed. But today, he was here as just Björn--a member of the crew like anyone else who'd suffered through Subrek's cruelty. And while his own emotional trauma was nothing compared to the likes of others--especially Andrew, whom his feet had set course for across the room--trauma was still trauma. And he hoped today's gathering would allow everyone to begin the healing process in earnest.

"Hello everyone," he rasped in greeting, raising a half wave with his right hand. Sliding down into a seat next to Andrew, he warmed slightly and offered a quiet, "Hey." Björn moved to place an affectionate left hand on the biologist's right and, when he sensed the touch was expected and welcome, gave his paramour's arm a very gentle squeeze to prove that yes, he was here and yes, they would go through this thing together. It was, after all, his fault that Andrew was even in danger in the first place. Letting him leave Risa for love and come out to the perilous Delta Quadrant where who-knew-what could happen. This...this had been his fear and it'd come to pass. But he was glad they had each other in it even so.

Irynya was amongst the last to arrive. Perhaps she should have tried harder to make herself presentable, but she couldn't quite muster the effort. Instead, her hair was up, a bundle of messy bun at the back of her head. She wore sweatpants--the same pair she'd slept in--and a black tshirt with SOJO emblazoned across the chest. She eyed the half ring of seats, noting not only those who were present, but also those who were absent and her heart clenched. He wasn't here.

She'd thought...

Pressing her lips into a line Irynya moved deeper into the room. He's just not here yet she told herself. She took the open seat to one side of Andrew and turned to look at him, gripped afresh with the sad grief at what had happened as she offered him a weak smile. "Hey," she said quietly, squeezing his forearm gently.

Another touch. Two more, actually, though Björn's had been telegraphed enough that Andrew could assent to it. The scientist knew these people--his friends and lover--were just trying to help; help him and also themselves to feel connected, safe, grounded. But every assumptive touch raised his anxiety level ever so slightly and Andrew found himself gritting his teeth slightly to get through the spikes. That it was happening with Iry...his closest friend on the ship...was telling about the emotional state he was in apparently.

"Hey Iry," Andrew breathed. He tried to infuse a little warmth into the greeting but knew his execution fell well short of intention.

As Irynya took the seat on the other side of Andrew, Björn offered her his best attempt at a grim half smile. "Come here often?" he asked, just the slightest of a twinkle in his eye. Bar banter at a group therapy session...leave it to Kodak to try to lift spirits with a little humor. But he could tell Iry bore heaviness--as did they all--and the absence of Noah and Parsons with her was, perhaps, telling? That trio seemed to be attached at the hip, though Björn had heard through the grapevine that it might be more of a foursome these days. Or at least, it had been...before all this. Would it be again? He wondered how else his people might be affected by what Subrek wrought.

The pilot tried to muster a smile, but while her lips obeyed her eyes did not. They did, however, meet the Captain's with appreciation for the attempt. She was just having trouble dredging up the easy humor that normally flowed so freely in her nature. "Thankfully, no," she commented back in a poor attempt at a witty return. It fell flat and she knew it the moment it was out of her mouth, but it was too late to take it back. "Sorry," she said, crossing one arm over her torso and wrapping her fingers around her bicep, "I'm kinda all over the place today."

"Nothing to be sorry for," Björn shook his head slowly. This was all so much on all of them. The attempt at humor had been meant to re-establish just a smidgeon of normalcy; something to lessen the storm of sorrow that'd shipwrecked them together like refugees in a life raft. It wasn't a surprise that Iry wasn't ready to meet him where he was at, but Björn was glad the attempt hadn't deepened the struggle. "I'm glad you're here," he offered as a follow up.

The doors--perhaps tired of allowing such late arrivals (or they would be if they were sentient)--opened yet again. The tall engineer walked in, clad in a comfortable-looking red cardigan sweater. He seemed to be holding the fabric at the button down seam, perhaps gripping it for comfort or assuredness like an anchor. The color match to his skin wasn't exactly ideal as it brought out some of the redness in his flushed cheeks. Twill brown trousers flowed down to white tennis-shoes, completing the look of a well-put-together-but-out-of-his-element young man seeking...what? What did he hope to get from this experience? Even he wasn't sure but he was here all the same. And looking to Tamblem at his right, he was glad he wasn't alone.

The Trill's presence was a steadying one. As a security officer, Sheldon knew Tamblem had been in the thick of it on the SOJO, fighting back Kazon boarders and trying to secure the ship after Subrek's surprise attack. But seeing each other on that shuttle bay deck had ignited feelings of safety--feelings of companionship, too, and more...much more. And while he and the Trill had taken the first step in moving their "will they/won't they," unnamed yo-yo thing forward, their relationship--developing as it was--wasn't what brought them here today. But for Sheldon, at least, Tamblem's presence was what was keeping him here. Keeping him from running out the door.

Dravor had arrived with Sheldon, close enough that their shoulders nearly brushed as they crossed the threshold together. While the engineer clutched at his cardigan, the Trill's hands were shoved casually into the pockets of his off-duty slacks, paired with a fitted black shirt that somehow managed to look both relaxed and deliberately chosen. His usual swagger was still there in the easy way he moved, but it was tempered - softer at the edges, like he'd consciously dialed it back for the occasion.

He'd caught the uncertainty in Sheldon's posture as they'd walked down the corridor, the way the taller man's steps had slowed near the door. Dravor hadn't said anything, just matched his pace and stayed close. Sometimes presence said more than words. His eyes swept the semi-circle of chairs, quickly cataloging who was present - and notably, who wasn't. He spotted Irynya seated next to Andrew and the Captain, and something in her posture made his jaw tighten slightly. The absence of Noah was conspicuous, and he could read the tension in the way she held herself.

With a subtle gesture, Dravor guided Sheldon toward the open seats near Irynya, settling into the chair on her other side while Sheldon took the one next to him. The movement was natural, instinctive - their little crew gravitating together even in crisis. As he sat, Dravor caught Irynya's eye and offered her a small nod, one that tried to convey understanding without words.

Victoria took a seat and the confident, self-assured air she had on her arrival had wavered, with her eyes trailing across the others in the group. So much of her wanted to put the Kodra-Lissett behind her, but it had it's hooks in deep. She took a swig of her glass of tea and took in a deep breath, before releasing it. In with the good, out with the bad. These are my friends, I'm safe.

Axod watched as the final participants entered the room and quietly found seats among the others. The Doosodarian took a steadying breath, clasping his hands together as he stepped forward into the center of the semi-circle. His expression softened; part professional calm, part genuine compassion.

"Alright," he began, his voice carrying a reassuring warmth. "Let's get started."

He glanced around the room, meeting a few uncertain gazes before continuing. "For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Axod Qo , the ship’s counselor." He gave a small, almost self-conscious smile. “I always feel a little awkward saying that in front of my own crewmates, but I know there are a few faces here I haven’t had the chance to meet yet. So...consider this our proper introduction.”

He turned slightly toward Commander t’Nai, acknowledging her with a subtle nod and an expression of quiet gratitude. “Myself and Commander t’Nai wanted to put this group together to give us all a space, a safe space, to talk through what we’ve experienced. To share, to listen, and to start working toward something that resembles healing.” He shifted his weight back on his heels, letting the silence breathe for a moment before continuing. “There’s no right or wrong way to be here,” he said gently. “You can speak, or you can just listen. Whatever feels right for you.”

After another brief pause, he offered an encouraging smile to the group. “Why don’t we start with introductions? We’ll go around, one at a time. Just tell us your name, and maybe a little about what brought you here today.” He nodded once, an open invitation hanging in the air. “Who’d like to start?”

"I can..." The sound of the voice caused eyes to turn, with heads and faces following. Even though their reaction was to be anticipated, with the shift in attention, Delja suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. He did his best to push through the feeling and continued. "My name is Ezhr," he said, "I'm here because what we've been through is not what most of us were expecting...and...it helps, I think...to not be alone in that."

From her seat next to Andrew, Iry peered at the Xanosian man. She had met their first contact specialist, of course. It was part of being a department head now. But she didn't know him well. She wasn't even sure she could claim to know him at all beyond recognizing who he was and maybe a friendly head nod as they passed in the corridors. At that moment, though, she could have hugged the man. It was unlike her to not offer to break the silence and go first, but she couldn't muster the words to do so. The relief she felt at Ezhr's voice was palpable.

"I'm Irynya," she piped up next, her voice wavering. "I was on the Kodra-Lisrit. And... umm... I guess I'm here because everything feels off. Doing something feels... better.. than doing nothing right now." Her eyes did a quick, almost furtive, sweep of the gathered folks and then dropped to her lap as she went quiet.

It was like falling dominos, one person emboldened by the next. And with Iry, especially, having gone, it was the red-sweater-clad engineer who spoke up next. "Sh-Sheldon," he stammered, a habit he'd mostly left behind in recent months but one that reared its head when he felt too awkward, too overwhelmed, too...everything. "My friends call me Shelly, though. I-I like that," the corners of his lips lifted ever so slightly before the muscles pulled taut in a prissy pursing.

"I'm here because..." he trailed off into silence, mind visibly working, "because I'm mad. About Subrek. About what happened to my friends. To our crew," he was careful to include everyone else too, "and to me personally." Sheldon fell silent again, having said what he was brave enough to say. He clutched at the hem of his cardigan now, the color draining from his cheeks down through the sweater and into the blushing of his knuckles given their hard clenching of the fabric.

When it came time for introductions and Sheldon finished speaking, falling into that clutching silence, Dravor's hand came to rest briefly on the engineer's shoulder - a quick, grounding squeeze before he spoke up himself. "Tamblem Dravor," he said, his voice carrying that familiar confidence but stripped of its usual cocky edge. "Security. Most people call me Dravor." His dark eyes swept the room briefly before settling back on the group. "I'm here because my shipmates are here. Because the people I care about went through hell, and..."

He paused, his hand still resting on Sheldon's shoulder, thumb brushing once against the fabric of the cardigan in an unconscious gesture of comfort. "And because some things are easier to face when you're not doing it alone," he finished, his tone quieter but no less certain.

Axod placed his hands on his knees, leaning forward slightly, his posture open but purposeful. His dark blue eyes swept the small gathering, searching faces, reading the air between words, as if trying to assure everyone present that their pain had a place here, that they did.

“I want to start,” he continued after a breath, “by acknowledging those who are no longer with us because of what happened.” His tone deepened, the musicality of his speech giving way to solemn gravity. “Through us, and through their friends and families, their memories will continue to live on. The best way we can honor them is by remembering, by speaking their names, and by allowing ourselves to heal.” After a beat, he spoke again. “Tor, F’rar, Crispin, Garrett.”

Axod bowed his head, closing his eyes. The subtle motion of his gills slowed as he inhaled deeply, grounding himself in the silence that followed. For several long seconds, the room seemed to still, no movement, no voices, just the faint hum of the ship around them and the weight of shared loss.

The quiet had an almost sacred feel to it--a sensation that seemed to flow through the emotional labyrinth in the room. Emni, too, sat with head bowed and eyes closed, but her emotional senses were opened fully and, mentally, she was placing each into their own spot within the room, acknowledging the spike of worry that came along with grief in Irynya and the flow of welling loss in others. The engineers present, Sheldon among them, also held a spiking anxiety and, with that, Emni detected the anger that Sheldon had spoken of. It was a familiar emotion form him, but one she had not noted for a very long time. She placed a mental bookmark there and continued to note the rest of the room, waiting for Axod to signal the end of the moment and move ahead.

“Thank you,” Axod said, his voice carrying that gentle, melodic cadence so distinct among his people. Each note seemed to hum softly in the quiet room, weaving calm through the tension that lingered in the air. He took a slow breath and allowed his gaze to drift across the assembled faces, each one unique, each one marked by the faint traces of what they’d endured. He tried to memorize them in that moment: the small twitches of anxiety, the downcast eyes, the hands folded too tightly in laps. Every expression told a story before a single word had been spoken.

“This is the part that matters most,” he said softly, his tone encouraging but never forceful. “Now’s our chance to share our stories.” His hands came together, fingertips touching lightly as if to center his energy before he continued. “To speak the things we’ve kept to ourselves since it all happened.”He let a moment of silence stretch, enough to make the invitation feel sacred rather than procedural. The hum of the ship filled the space between them, a reminder that life continued, even after so much loss. “Who’d like to go first?” he asked at last. The words were gentle, coaxing rather than commanding. His eyes moved from one person to the next, not with expectation, but with patience, offering the quiet assurance that whenever someone was ready, he would be there to listen.

Victoria set her glass down, and smiled to Axod, before looking to the group. "Hi, I'm Victoria, I'm the Chief Operations Officer, and I'm going through a lot of emotions about what had happened back on that ship. Chief of them is relief that we're all alive, that we all are going to eventually walk away from what happened, but there's also so much anger that this kind of thing happens every day in the Delta Quadrant and beyond. I know that there's violence, piracy, autocracy, all of these horrible things that Starfleet has tried to move beyond, but people like the Maje- well, it feels like a crab in a bucket. You're given the means to travel the stars and meet new people, new worlds, and you use this power for cruelty and hedonism. I just don't understand it. I don't understand why you would terrorize us, make us think our home was destroyed and we were stranded on the other side of the galaxy from our homes for little more reason than control. It goes against everything I've been taught that is good and just - and still, as I say this, I threatened one of those men on that ship with a weapon so I could get Andrew down from his torture rack. So.. he pulled us down to his level, somewhat. The Maje. Rotten bastard."

Victoria crossed her arms, uncomfortable, and glanced away from her crewmates to the floor.

Though Iry had been debriefed that morning, the Captain had opted for the debriefs by department heads to be separate. It was a kindness after a fashion. She didn't have to answer more questions than necessary and was given space to explain what had happened as best as she could recollect. Andrew, Mei, and Noah, had been off the hook for the time being with herself, Victoria, and Cassian each reporting in. So she hadn't yet heard the details surrounding the other group's experience. Cross's anger was palpable and she felt her own stomach clench in response even as the impulse to speak warred at the back of her throat. Finally, after a protracted silence she gave in.

"I'm Irynya. Flight Chief." Her voice wavered a bit, as she began. " I was on the other ship, too, but we..." she looked instinctively for Noah begore remembering he was not there. Something anxious tightened in her chest. "...the group I was with, I mean, we got lucky and escaped. I mean out of the cell they had us all in." She knew she was not explaining well, but she continued anyway, "I... I don't know. We did our best, but there was just no guarantees. If Shelly..." she glanced at her friend and gave him a small smile, "and Lieutenant Good and..." she trailed off as a memory of feeling trapped and helpless flowed through her. "I'm thankful for everyone who was back here working to find us. And... I never want to feel that helpless again." She, too, dropped her gaze, staring at her hands a moment as the ghost of recent memory overlaid them--Noah's hands gentle and precise, wrapping her burnt palms in strips from his pant leg.

‘Good, ‘Axod thought, the word drifting through his mind like an exhale he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He turned his head just enough to catch Emni’s eye, offering her a small, deliberate signal. One that carried the unspoken message that yes, this was working, that they were guiding things in the right direction.

When his gaze returned to Iry, the entire shape of his expression softened. His posture, his eyes, even the gentle tilt of his head aligned into a single gesture of empathy. He gave her a slow, sympathetic nod, one that wasn’t meant to push, only to acknowledge.

This was a first step. A brave one. And Axod knew, as surely as he knew the cadence of his own heartbeat, that there would be many more steps to follow. Some small, some stumbling, some heavier than any of them expected. Healing was never linear; his own upbringing had taught that, bluntly and beautifully.

But right now? Right now was progress.

And he let that truth settle warmly in his chest as he stayed still, grounded, present. An anchor in the room for those who needed one.

The conversation continued, voices rising in soft fits and starts around the semi-circle as more crewmembers leaned into the silence and dared to speak. Some stories came haltingly, some with unexpected clarity, but all were met with a quiet that felt less like absence and more like reverence. Parsons, shoulders hunched slightly, offered a few words about what it felt like to be left behind on the ship, watching systems fail while lives hung in the balance—his voice steady, if tinged with guilt. Andrew said little more, but he listened intently, his posture easing just enough to suggest that being here, among them, was helping in ways he didn’t yet have words for. Björn remained grounded beside him, a steadying presence who spoke when needed but mostly held space, his hand occasionally brushing Andrew’s in small, almost imperceptible gestures of reassurance.

No one had all the answers. No one was magically fixed. But they were here, together, in the same room, breathing the same air. And for the moment, that was enough.


A Joint Post by;

Captain Björn Kodak
Commanding Officer

Lieutenant Commander Emni t’Nai
First Officer

Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross
Second Officer and Chief Operations Officer

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant Irynya
Chief Flight Control Officer

Lieutenant Ezhr Della
First Contact Specialist

Lieutenant JG Sheldon Parsons
Assistant Chief Engineer

Ensign Tamblem Dravor
Security Officer

Andrew Munro
Biologist