Teamwork

Posted on Sun Dec 14th, 2025 @ 6:40pm by Lieutenant Axod Qo & Lieutenant JG Theodor Wishmore

Mission: Port of Call
Location: Counselor's Office
Timeline: Mission Day 14 at 1700

The corridor outside the counselor’s office was still enough to hear the air recyclers breathe. It wasn’t the hush of neglect, but the kind that settled over rooms where truth was meant to surface — slowly, and without judgment.

Theodor had not wasted much time between reporting in to Dr. Xex and seeking out Lieutenant Qo. The suggestion to speak with the ship’s counselor had lingered with quiet insistence — not an order, but a nudge toward something he already knew needed doing. Sojourner was healing, but not whole; and the wounds that mattered most were the ones no scan could name.

He paused outside the office, hands loosely folded behind his back, eyes on the nameplate beside the door. The ship’s hum filled the silence between his thoughts. Beyond the bulkhead, someone was moving — a quiet rhythm of footsteps in the hall, or perhaps just the vessel shifting in its own way.

He drew a breath, steady but deliberate, and lifted his hand toward the door chime.

Then paused.

For a moment he simply stood there, letting the stillness settle — the practiced calm of a man weighing not what to say, but how to begin.

After a moments pause, Axod arrived at the door. Behind him, a holographic city rose out of the conjured water like a dream someone refused to wake from.

Mist curled low over the canals, softening every edge, turning the world into something half-remembered. The towers—if they could be called towers—did not pierce the sky so much as grow into it. Their shapes were organic, flaring outward like the trumpets of colossal lilies, their skins a glassy turquoise that caught the faint morning light and made the whole skyline glow. Each structure was threaded with greenery: terraces wrapped in hanging gardens, circular balconies overrun with soft moss, trees rooted in places no tree should have thrived.

At their bases, warm light spilled from arching windows, golden against the cool blues and greens. People walked along the raised wooden walkways that laced the city like veins, their footsteps quiet against the polished planks. The water beneath was perfectly still, broken only by drifting lily pads and the occasional ripple of koi or some other gentle aquatic shape passing below.

The simulated air smelled like rain and leaf-sap.

“Hello!” The Doosodarian said brightly. “What can I help with?”

For a moment, Theo simply stood in the doorway, caught between the scent of rain and the hush of something almost sacred. The holographic city before him felt less like a simulation than a dream remembered — water and light woven into serenity.

He took a few steps closer, eyes following the curve of the lily-like towers and the reflection of their turquoise glow across the still canals.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly, almost to himself. “You’ve managed to make calm feel… tangible. That’s a rare skill aboard a starship.”

He turned to the Doosodarian with a faint, genuine smile.

“I’m Dr. Theodor Wishmore — newly assigned assistant CMO. Dr. Xex suggested I reach out to you.”

There was no hesitation in his voice, only the careful measure of someone who knew the weight of intent.

“I don’t mean to intrude on your work, but after what the crew’s been through, I’d like to offer what help I can. I know I’m a physician, not a counselor — still, sometimes people speak more freely when they think they’re just talking to a doctor about anything but themselves.”

He let a small pause rest between them, the simulated air still scented with rain and leaf-sap.

“If that could be of use to you — to us — I’d be glad to lend a hand.”

Theo’s gaze drifted briefly back to the glowing skyline — to the light spilling across the water and the quiet suggestion of life beneath it. When he looked back, his expression held both resolve and empathy.

“You’ve created a good space here,” he said quietly. “It feels like a place where people might start to breathe again.”

Axod’s smile blossomed, gentle and sincere. There was a particular kind of joy, quiet, almost reverent, that came from seeing someone respond so deeply to the place he called home. Even if it was only a holographic recreation, it still felt like sharing a piece of his soul. He stepped aside and extended an inviting hand. “Welcome aboard, Doctor,” he said, his voice carrying its usual melodic lilt, soft, calming, unmistakably Doosodarian.

“I should apologize for not reaching out to you myself,” he added, a hint of sheepishness threading through the warmth. “Things have been… full, lately.” Not chaotic, not overwhelming, just full. And he suspected Wishmore could read between the lines well enough.

Axod’s gaze drifted downward, letting himself get momentarily lost in the sight of the water flowing beneath the slatted boardwalk. Gentle currents glimmered with pearlescent light, the faint mist rising around them perfumed with the wild-sweet scent of the coastal vines. Even the sound, the soft lap of the tide, the distant hum of bioluminescent wildlife, felt soothing.

“Have you ever been?” Axod asked, turning his attention back to the doctor. “To Doosodaria, I mean.” The question held both curiosity and hope, an invitation not only into the hologram, but into a deeper understanding of him, and the world that shaped him.

Theo accepted the invitation with a quiet nod and stepped inside, the subtle shift in the air like walking into a memory that didn’t belong to him. The mist curled around his boots, cool and fragrant, and the sounds of distant life — water, breath, the slow pulse of the city — felt almost like a heartbeat.

“I haven’t,” he admitted softly. “But if this is even a reflection of it, I can understand why you’d miss it.”

He paused near the edge of the boardwalk, watching the shimmer of bioluminescent light ripple beneath the surface. “There’s a… peace here. Not silence exactly, but something that listens back.” He smiled faintly, glancing toward Qo. “It reminds me of the observation lounge when the stars drift past slow enough to forget they’re moving. I think people need that — places that don’t ask anything of them.”

Theo’s gaze returned to the water, hands loosely clasped behind his back. “You’ve given them that,” he said, genuine admiration threading through the quiet of his voice. “And if I can help you hold that space — even a little — I’d like to.”

“I appreciate that,” Axod said, his voice carrying its usual soft musicality. “I like to have a good working relationship with the medical staff, it makes all the difference when our work overlaps.” He took a slow, grounding breath, letting the holographic boardwalk beneath them shimmer faintly as the program adjusted to his movement. “I’m very fortunate to have been given access to this technology,” he added, glancing around at the recreated waterfront with something almost reverent. “It’s been… transformative for my therapy work. People open up differently when they feel held by a place that speaks to them.”

With an easy, fluid motion, he lowered himself onto the textured holographic planks, settling cross-legged as though he’d done so a thousand times in a dozen different ports. The projection of warm coastal light brushed his red hair, painting faint copper threads through it.

He looked up at the doctor; open, curious, present.

“How are you settling in?” he asked, tilting his head just slightly. His tone was gentle but purposeful, the way only a trained counselor could make a simple question feel like a safe invitation. “New postings can be overwhelming… even more so when they arrive right on the heels of chaos.”

A small smile curved his lips. Not forced. Not professional. Just… warm. “I hope the ship, and the crew, have been kind to you so far.”

Theo eased down onto the holographic planks beside him, the simulated wood warm beneath his palms. For a moment he let the coastal light settle over them both, the mist brushing cool against his sleeves.

“Kind,” he echoed softly. “The crew has been… very kind. More than I expected, considering everything they’ve endured.”

His gaze followed the soft shimmer of bioluminescence beneath the slats.

“I’m settling in as well as one can,” he said. “New postings always take a moment to find their shape. Arriving in the wake of… everything, you feel the aftershocks before you know anyone’s name.”

A small breath left him — thoughtful, not weary.

“But kindness survives impact better than most things. People have made room for me. Let me find my footing.”

He glanced around the recreated waterfront, a faint smile touching his expression.

“And this—this space you’ve made—it helps. It tells me something about the ship I’ve joined.”

His hands folded loosely in his lap, posture open but unintrusive.

“How about you, Lieutenant? How are you holding up with everything the crew has carried? You’ve been in the center of it longer than I have.”

The question held no pressure — just an invitation.

Axod closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again as though sorting through memories he hadn’t visited in some time. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of experience rather than nostalgia.

“The Sojourner is unlike any ship I’ve ever served on. And its crew…” He paused, as if the right word required care. “They’re more resilient. More supportive. More present than most I’ve known.”

He lifted his gaze, meeting the other man’s eyes steadily.

“If you let it, Sojo starts to feel like home. Not all at once. It happens quietly, between shifts, over bad coffee, in the moments where someone notices you’re carrying more than you say.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Before you realize it, you’re no longer just assigned here. You belong here.”

His tone softened further. “And you find yourself part of a family. Out here, with the stars this close and everything else impossibly far away… that’s not something to take lightly.”

He exhaled slowly, the thought settling between them.

Theo listened with the kind of attention that didn’t need nods or words to be felt. When Axod finished, he let a quiet moment settle — a space of respect for what the counselor had shared.

“I haven’t been here long enough to understand that fully,” he said gently, “but I can see the shape of what you mean.”

His gaze drifted across the shimmering cityscape, following the light caught in mist and water.

“Places like this… they reveal what people value. And if this is what you chose to bring with you — something peaceful, something that listens — then I think that speaks well of the home this crew has built together.”

He looked back to Axod, warmth just beginning to soften the formality in his expression.

“I’d like to earn a place in that family, if I can. And part of that is being here — really being here — for the people who live it every day.”

His hands folded loosely in his lap, posture open but careful.

“So if there’s anything I can do to lighten the weight you and the crew are carrying… consider me available. Even if it’s just lending an ear when someone isn’t quite ready to step into this room.”

Then — a small, sincere hint of humor:

“Though, full disclosure — I’m still adjusting to the coffee on Deck 3.”

Axod’s smile widened, the kind that made the corners of his eyes warm. “The best coffee on this ship,” he declared with mock gravity, “comes from Deck Two, Cabin Twelve.” He added a sly wink, as though unveiling the coordinates of a hidden treasure cache.

“The replicator in my quarters, well, mine and the Doctor’s, is fine-tuned to produce the closest thing Starfleet has ever managed to a true Sumatran dark roast.” His voice lowered into something conspiratorial. “Deep, earthy, just the right bitterness. The kind of brew that makes you understand why mornings exist in the first place.” He inhaled as if he could already smell the cup. “Honestly, I shouldn’t talk about it before dinner. I’m liable to wander off and replicate a pot.”

Then, with a teasing lift of his brows: “If you’re well-behaved, I’ll bring you a canister in the morning. Fresh. Still warm from the replicator’s embrace.” He gave a tiny shrug, all faux-magnanimous. “Perks of befriending a counselor, we trade in emotional support and coffee so good it should qualify as contrband.”

The air around him felt lighter, easier, as though he’d just offered a small patch of sunshine in an otherwise standard-issue day.

Theo huffed a quiet laugh — the closest he came to something unguarded.

“Contraband coffee. That’s a dangerous offer to make on my first day aboard.”

He glanced toward the shimmering skyline again, as if the city itself were in on the joke.

“All right. I’ll try to be worthy of Deck Two, Cabin Twelve.”
“Though I make no promises if the morning is long and the need is great.”

When his gaze returned to Axod, the humor softened into gratitude.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. For the welcome. And the kindness.”
“It makes the unknown feel a little less… wide.”

He rose slowly to his feet, giving the holographic planks a final appreciative glance.

“I should check back in with Sickbay — but I’d like us to continue this. Maybe once we’ve both had that legendary coffee in hand.”

A gentle nod, steady and sincere.

“It’s good to have met you, Axod. I’m looking forward to working together.”

The glow of the water lit his features as he took a quiet breath — feeling, for the first time since he’d stepped aboard, that he truly wasn’t alone in the work ahead.

Axod pushed himself up to stand, brushing his hands lightly against his uniform as he did. He extended a hand toward Theodor, the gesture warm and easy. “Likewise,” he said, fingers closing around the other man’s forearm in a firm, friendly clasp. “It’s always good to meet someone with a palate for good coffee.”

A playful glint brightened his eyes as he added, “There aren’t many of us left who still appreciate the art of a proper roast.” He punctuated the line with a wink, a subtle teasing note that softened the words. Releasing Theodor’s hand, Axod stepped back, still wearing that small, welcoming smile. “I’m sure we’ll see each other soon,” he said, the confidence in his voice making it sound less like a farewell and more like an inevitability, one of those small, pleasant rhythms that develop when people orbit the same ship long enough.

Theo returned the forearm clasp with a steady warmth of his own, the kind that spoke more through presence than pressure. The wink drew a quiet spark of amusement from him — fleeting, but genuine.

“I’ll do my best to uphold the honour of the coffee-minded,” he said, tone soft with dry humour.

He stepped back, letting the holographic light wash over the moment one last time — the rippling glow beneath the planks, the impossible lilies rising into the sky, the air that smelled like rain and something gentler still.

“Until then,” he added, inclining his head. “And… thank you, Axod. For the welcome.”

There was something settling in him as he turned toward the corridor — a sense of direction, or perhaps the first outline of belonging sketched in the space between two healers.

He stepped through the threshold, the door whispering closed behind him, leaving the faint scent of leaf-sap and coastal mist clinging to his thoughts as he made his way back toward Sickbay.

A Post By;

Lieutenant Axod Qo
Chief Counselor

Lieutenant JG Theodor Wishmore
Assistant Chief Medical Officer