Post Number: 169 *Off-duty musings*

Posted on Sat Dec 7th, 2024 @ 11:24pm by Ensign Erin Couldis & Lieutenant JG Fara Galaway

1,336 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Secrets

On:

The soft hum of the promenade’s artificial gravity generators was barely perceptible over the ambient sounds of the Starbase’s bustling, albeit new, promenade. The Starbase Obsidian was no longer the gleaming station it had once been. In the years following the fall of countless Federation worlds, the station now was a beacon of their determination, after a staggering amount of loss. Yet, in this dim-lit bar tucked away in a quiet corner of the promenade, Erin Couldis found a semblance of peace.

She sat at the far end of the bar, nursing a glass of synthale, its bitterness familiar. The liquid swirled gently in her hand as she stared into it, trying to lose herself in the simplicity of the moment. Her Betazoid senses, always active, were muted for the moment—she was trying to keep them under control. After all, it had been a particularly draining day. The emotional weight of the station and its crew was never easy to bear, and today, it had felt heavier than usual. The crew was on edge, the diplomatic efforts strained, and the unrelenting pressure of the war seemed to inch closer with every passing hour.

She leaned her elbows on the bar, allowing the low murmur of the crowd to wash over her. For a brief moment, she imagined that she could pretend things were normal, that the galaxy wasn’t in flames, that she wasn’t surrounded by people who were constantly bracing for another attack, another loss.

“Mind if I join you?”

Erin glanced up, her features softening when she saw Fara Galaway standing at her side. The younger woman was a familiar face now, though not a long-established one. Fara had taken over Erin’s old post as Assistant Chief Science Officer after Erin had been reassigned to the counseling department—a move that had surprised no one, considering the pressure she had been under in both positions. But despite the reassignment, Fara hadn’t wasted any time in reaching out, making sure Erin felt like she still belonged among the crew. In the midst of the chaos, some things—like camaraderie—had become more important than ever.

“Of course, Fara,” Erin said, giving a slight nod and gesturing to the empty seat beside her.

Fara settled onto the barstool, the subtle weariness in her posture betraying the fact that she, too, was no stranger to long, exhausting days. She ordered a drink from the bartender, something light and fruity to offset the bitterness of the space around them.

“So,” Fara said after a pause, her voice a bit uncertain, as if she were feeling her way into the conversation, “I never thought I’d see you here, of all places. I always assumed you’d be too busy saving everyone’s emotional well-being to ever get off-duty.”

Erin gave a small chuckle, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She took a sip from her glass before setting it down. "It's been a long day. Some days, even counselors need to... recalibrate, I guess. You’ve probably noticed how much emotional turbulence is in the air lately."

Fara's eyes flickered with understanding. "It’s more than just turbulence. The whole station feels like it's on edge. You can’t even step into the science lab without feeling the pressure. People are afraid. Of failure, of loss... of what happens next. It’s not exactly easy to... focus, you know?"

Erin nodded. She had known the moment Fara had joined the crew that she was sharp, capable, and intuitive—but also, as young as she was, it was clear that the weight of their current reality was taking its toll on her, too. Fara had stepped into Erin’s former role not by choice, but by necessity. The position was no easy task in the best of times; now, in the middle of a brutal war, it had become a crucible.

“I’m not sure it gets easier, Fara,” Erin said softly. “But you’re doing well. You’ve been holding up. I’ve seen you work.”

Fara’s expression softened, though there was an underlying tension in her features. “I try,” she admitted, glancing down at her drink. "But some days, I feel like I’m just going through the motions, you know? Like, I’m not really helping anyone. It’s... it’s hard to stay motivated when you’re just keeping everything from falling apart instead of actually solving anything."

Erin gave a quiet, empathetic sigh. "I know exactly how you feel. But, I promise you, you’re making a difference. Sometimes, it’s not about fixing everything—it’s about doing what you can in the moment. Keeping people from giving up, even when we’re not sure where we’re headed. That’s what the crew needs from us right now."

Fara let out a deep breath, her fingers tapping absentmindedly against the rim of her glass. "I get that. But still, it’s hard to shake this feeling. Every time I look at the news feed, every time I see another fleet in flames or another colony wiped out... I just wonder if what we’re doing here really matters in the grand scheme of things."

Erin studied her quietly, reading the emotional conflict brewing within the younger woman. The pressure to perform, the exhaustion from the constant grind of survival—it was all too familiar. But she also knew there was something else lurking in Fara’s mind: the fear that, in this new reality, nothing they did could undo the damage that had already been done.

“I’ve had those same thoughts,” Erin admitted softly. "It’s easy to think that way when everything feels like it's slipping through our fingers. But let me tell you something—survival is an act of defiance. Every time we push back, every time we keep fighting... that’s a victory. Maybe not the kind of victory we’d hoped for, but a victory nonetheless."

Fara met her gaze, eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctant hope. "I guess you’re right. Maybe we just have to redefine what success looks like, in times like these."

“That’s the thing, Fara,” Erin said, her voice steady now. “In a galaxy that seems to be falling apart, it’s up to us to decide what comes next. We get to choose the future we want to build—even if it’s one small step at a time.”

Fara fell silent, clearly thinking over Erin’s words. For a long moment, they simply sat there, the quiet hum of the bar filling the space between them. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, nor was it a solemn one. It was simply an acknowledgment of the struggle they both faced, of the complexity of living in a time when hope felt as fragile as the station they called home.

Finally, Fara spoke again, her tone lighter but still laden with that undercurrent of shared exhaustion. "You know, for all that we’re supposed to be counselors and scientists and strategists... I think sometimes we all just need someone to remind us to keep going. To remember that we’re not alone in this."

Erin offered a small smile, lifting her glass in a subtle toast. "I think that’s what we do for each other, Fara. One step, one day at a time."

Fara clinked her glass gently against Erin’s. "One step at a time," she echoed, the weight of their shared burden momentarily lightened.

As they sat there, in the quiet haven of the bar, the storm outside the walls of Starbase Obsidian raged on. But in that fleeting moment, Erin Couldis and Fara Galaway found a brief respite—not in victory, but in the shared promise to keep fighting, together.

Off:

Ensign Erin Couldis
Assistant Chief Counselor
Starbase Obsidian

and

Ensign Fara Galaway
Assistant Chief Science Officer
Starbase Obsidian

 

RSS Feed