The soft hum of the Odyssey’s bridge was punctuated by the occasional chirps of consoles and quiet conversations between officers. Lieutenant junior grade Samwell Bollwyn, the ship’s new Chief Communications Officer, was perched at his station, his fingers hovering over the console as he carefully monitored the ship’s subspace communications. The young Ventaxian was focused and determined to prove his recent promotion was well-deserved. 

Having served as a science officer on the USS Columbia since graduation, Bollwyn had transferred to the Odyssey at Deep Space 19 only weeks before, but already he was working hard to ensure he knew every system on the ship inside and out. Though he would have never considered a role in communications, his recent performance review had encouraged him to push himself further out of his comfort zone. He had taken several languages at Starfleet Academy, but it didn’t make him a linguistic expert. However, he knew that was not a big part of the job. Bollwyn’s recent leadership experience on the Columbia and helping Captain Corbin prevent delegates from the Delta Quadrant from going to war with one another factor that had supported him in applying for the job. Though he had never thought he would get it, especially as he had not run a department, Bollwyn was surprised when he received the news that he had got the job. His department was the smallest one on the Odyssey. Bollwyn wasn’t expecting to get the job; however, with Captain Corbin being an old friend of Captain Duncan’s, Bollwyn appreciated the glowing reference letter his former commanding officer had sent to his new one. 

Despite the late hour, Bollwyn hadn’t left the bridge since alpha shift had ended several hours ago. He had been taking extra shifts to familiarise himself with the Odyssey’s systems and protocols. His new role was demanding, and he intended to be ready for anything. 

As he reviewed long-range scans and communications logs, Bollwyn couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out of place. His blueish-green eyes scanned the data, double-checking every line of information. Suddenly, the sound of the turbolift doors opening broke his concentration. He looked up to see Lieutenant Commander Elddie Paynkor, the Odyssey’s Mazerite chief flight control officer, striding onto the bridge with a broad smile.

Paynkor walked across the room with his usual air of confidence. His short, sandy brown hair was neatly styled, framing a strong jawline that added to his already commanding presence. Piercing blue eyes scanned the room, capturing every detail with a calm yet intense focus. At over six feet tall, Paynkor was similar to Bollwyn’s height, but his broader shoulders and muscular build set him apart. He knew he was attractive—gorgeous, even—and his easy smile hinted at the flirtatious charm he wielded effortlessly. It wasn’t uncommon for him to flash that smile at anyone who caught his eye, a habit that had already earned him a reputation across the ship. But beneath the playful exterior, there was a seriousness to Paynkor’s demeanour when duty called. 

Bollwyn could see why others on the crew liked him. He was attractive, but Bollwyn wasn’t interested in seeing anyone at this point in his life. He had left that all behind on the Columbia. Now, Bollwyn wanted to focus on his career. A fresh start without any distractions. 

Paynkor carried a PADD under his arm. It likely contained the latest helm report to be submitted to Starfleet in the next datastream. Bollwyn had started working on the datastream, which he had mentioned in this morning’s staff briefing. 

“Hey, Lieutenant,” Paynkor greeted cheerfully as he approached Bollwyn’s station. “You’ve been here for a while. Thought you’d be off-duty by now.”

Bollwyn looked up and gave a weak smile. “Oh, Commander Paynkor. I was just reviewing some communications data, ensuring everything’s in order.”

Paynkor raised an eyebrow, amused. “Going above and beyond, huh? You know, it’s okay to take a break every now and then.”

Bollwyn smiled nervously, feeling a little self-conscious. “I just want to be prepared, sir. There’s much to learn, and I don’t want to miss anything. The Odyssey is a lot different to the Columbia.”

“Well, that’s admirable,” Paynkor said, nodding. “But don’t burn yourself out. How about you join me for a drink in the Auditorium? It’ll do you good to relax a bit.”

Bollwyn hesitated, torn between the desire to impress his superiors and the genuine need for a break.  “I appreciate the offer, sir, but I planned on hitting the gym before calling it a night.”

Paynkor’s face lit up. “The gym, huh? That’s great! I’m a bit of a regular there myself.” He flexed his biceps playfully. “Could always use a new gym buddy. What do you say?”

Before Bollwyn could respond, his console emitted a high-pitched beep, catching both officers’ attention. Bollwyn’s fingers flew over the controls, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the new data coming in.

“Commander, I’m picking up a distress call,” Bollwyn said, his voice suddenly tense. “It’s faint, but it’s definitely there.”

Paynkor’s jovial demeanour instantly shifted to one of concern. “Can you identify the source?”

Bollwyn’s hands moved quickly over the controls, pulling up the signal’s origin and verifying its frequency. His heart sank as the data became apparent. “It’s coming from the shuttle belonging to Commanders Flemen and Tomaz. It’s a standard Starfleet distress message via their distress beacon.”

Paynkor leaned in, his expression serious. “They were only returning from the Constitution. What happened?”

“There’s not much in the message. It looks like their shuttle took damage while at warp and has crash-landed on a planet,” Bollwyn said, his voice tight with worry. “The signal is weak, which means something could be preventing it from reaching us fully.”

Paynkor’s mind raced as he processed the information. “We need to act fast. Can you pinpoint their location?”

“Working on it,” Bollwyn replied, his fingers dancing across the controls. He brought up the star charts and triangulated the signal. “Got it. The signal comes from a planet in an unexplored system, not far from our current position. About four light years away.”

Paynkor tapped his combadge. “Paynkor to Captain Duncan. We’ve received a distress call from Commanders Tomaz and Flemen. They’ve crash-landed on a planet in a nearby system.”

Captain Duncan’s voice came through the comm with an authoritative calmness. “Understood. I’m on my way to the bridge. Prepare to set a course and keep monitoring that signal. I want constant updates.”

“Aye, sir,” Paynkor replied formally.

As the channel closed, Paynkor turned to Bollwyn. “Looks like your instincts were right to stay on the bridge. We’ll get them back, Lieutenant.”

Bollwyn nodded the weight of the situation settling over him. “Yes, sir. I’ll do everything I can to help.” Bollwyn now wondered just if he could be of any help, and for the first time in ages, he wished he was back on the Columbia in the safe confines of his bunk doing ‘lower deck’ stuff or sitting in a mud bath with particular blue collared ensign.  

The holodeck shimmered around them, casting the perfect illusion of a warm Parisian evening atop the Eiffel Tower. Captain Duncan and Commander Court sat at a small, elegantly set table, bathed in the soft golden glow coming from the city’s lights. The Paris skyline stretched out before them, a breathtaking tapestry of twinkling lights and iconic landmarks. It was the perfect backdrop for a quiet, romantic evening—a simple date night that Court had arranged for them with no special occasion in mind, just a chance to be together and unwind.

Duncan enjoyed their chances to have ‘date night’ and get dressed up for a romantic moment. Court had told him earlier that he looked dashing in his navy blue suit, the tailored fabric hugging his broad shoulders and tapering down to a crisp white shirt underneath. A sleek tie in a subtle shade of silver completed the look, giving him an air of understated elegance. Sitting across from him, Court (in Duncan’s mind) was equally handsome in his deep burgundy suit, the rich colour contrasting perfectly with his fair complexion. His suit was paired with a black shirt, open at the collar.

As they both admired the view, holding each other’s hand, their holographic waiter appeared silently by their side, a bottle of champagne in hand. With practised ease, the waiter topped off their flutes, the bubbles rising to the surface in a delicate stream. Duncan smiled his thanks before turning his attention back to his husband, who had a warm, contented look on his face.

“This is perfect, Tobie,” Duncan said as he released his grip to sip his champagne. “I’m glad you thought of this.”

Court grinned, his blue eyes twinkling. “Well, it’s not every day we get to enjoy Paris from this height. I thought it might be nice to escape for a bit, even if it’s just on the holodeck.”

Duncan nodded appreciatively, glancing out at the City of Lights before returning his gaze to his husband. “You always know how to make a regular night feel extraordinary, Tobie.” He lifted his glass. “To us.”

They clinked their glasses, the soft chime blending with the distant sounds of the city. After taking a sip, Court leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of amusement. “By the way, I meant to tell you—Jordan’s babysitting tonight.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow, setting his flute down. “Babysitting? For whom?”

“Tomaz’s son, S’Tem. While he and Craigen are helping the commodore with that diplomatic mission with the Zahl, remember he asked if Jordan could watch him when Doctor Slyvexs was on duty or busy. And before you ask, he’s not alone. Alfie is with him.”

Duncan couldn’t help but smirk as he set his glass down. “Alfie, huh? Those two seem to be spending a lot of time together. I’m telling you, Tobie, they’re dating. I can see it in the way they look at each other.”

Court laughed, shaking his head. “You’re reading too much into it, Max. They’re just good friends. Besides, I’ve heard a rumour that Alfie is seeing one of the newer cadets—Scott Florrick. They’re dorm buddies and have been seen spending a lot of time studying together. In fact, they were pretty pally with one another in this morning’s training session.”

Duncan chuckled, leaning in slightly. “As Alfie’s godfather, you know you should be the one to pass this ‘intelligence’ on to the commodore. I’m sure James and Karyn would love to hear about their son’s love life.”

Court raised his hands in mock surrender, a playful glint in his eyes. “I may be Alfie’s godfather, but I’m not touching that conversation with a ten-foot pole. Especially not while the commodore’s away on the Constitution.”

Duncan grinned playfully. “Chicken.”

“Proudly,” Court quipped back before his expression softened. “But I’m not getting involved. Besides, I still can’t believe Jordan and Alfie are already second-year cadets. Where did the time go?”

Duncan nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. “I know. It feels like just yesterday, they were getting ready to start their training. Now look at them—young officers in the making. And speaking of officers, did William mention anything to you about wanting to join Starfleet?”

Court sighed heavily, his smile fading slightly as he considered the question. “I thought he was more interested in becoming a doctor. He’s been spending a lot of time volunteering in sickbay under Slyvex’s mentorship. I figured he’d go into medicine.”

Duncan leaned back in his chair, swirling the champagne in his glass. “I think that’s still the plan. From what he was hinting at this morning over breakfast, he wants to do it in Starfleet. Maybe he’s inspired by Jordan—or maybe by us or Slyvexs. Who knows?”

Court looked at Duncan with a mixture of pride and concern. “It’s not that I don’t want him to follow his dreams, but… as the training officer, I’d be responsible for training my own son. That’s a lot of pressure. At least Jordan had someone else start it off.”

“Are you referring to the changeling infiltrator or Karyn, who we thought had died saving the ship?” Duncan asked sarcastically. He reached across the table, taking Court’s hand in his. “We’ll figure it out, Tobie. We always do. But for now, let’s change the subject. Our dinner is here.”

The waiter returned with their meals—beautifully presented plates of Coq au Vin and Ratatouille; the aromas were rich and inviting. As they began to eat, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, including the Odyssey’s current mission.

“Do you think this binary pulsar study is just a way to keep us busy while Commodore McCallister deals with the Zahl and Captain Cambil’s off with the Krenim?” Court asked between bites.

Duncan shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Not at all. With the Bellerophon and Destiny helping the Caatai refugees and the Triton and Orion exploring nearby unchartered space, we need to stay close. Besides, this mission might give us the perfect spot to set up a hyper-subspace communication relay. The pulsars could help bounce our signals back to Starfleet faster.”

Court raised an eyebrow, clearly sceptical but willing to go along with it. “If you say so, Captain.”

Duncan chuckled, but before he could respond, a violinist approached their table, playing a soft, romantic melody. The sweet melodies of the music surrounded them, creating a perfect moment—until the intercom chimed, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

“Paynkor to Captain Duncan. We’ve received a distress call from Commanders Tomaz and Flemen. They’ve crash-landed on a planet in a nearby system.”

Duncan’s eyes met Court’s, the unspoken understanding passing between them. The evening was over, and duty called. “Understood. I’m on my way to the bridge. Prepare to set a course and keep monitoring that signal. I want constant updates.”

As the communication ended, Duncan stood, offering Court an apologetic smile. “Looks like our night is cut short.”

Court nodded, already rising from his seat. “Duty calls. We both need to be on the bridge for this.”

Duncan smiled, a mixture of pride and affection in his eyes. “Always a team, aren’t we?”

“Always,” Court replied, returning the smile as he straightened his burgundy suit jacket and called the computer to save the program and show them the way off the holodeck. 

The two of them quickly made their way to the holodeck exit, the Parisian skyline fading behind them as the program ended. The ship’s ambient sounds replaced the violin’s soft strains as they entered the corridor. They exchanged one last glance, silently acknowledging the sudden shift from a romantic evening to the emerging situation that awaited them.

The senior staff of the Odyssey gathered in the aft section of the bridge, their faces etched with concern as they discussed the distress call that had come in from Commanders Flemen and Tomaz. The normally bustling bridge was hushed, the situation’s urgency casting a heavy pall over the crew. Also only a few of them were still in their uniforms, while the rest where in their own civilian clothing. All of them dealing with their eveings being interupted by the emergency before them. Everyone was acutely aware of the stakes—the lives of two of their own hung in the balance.

Duncan stood at the head of the group, his gaze steady as he listened to the updates that his officers had. 

Bollwyn was the first to report to the group. “I’ve localised the distress signal, Captain. It’s coming from a small Class P world, but there’s something unusual about it.” Bollwyn activated a holographic projection of the planet before them all. “I’m still unable to determine what’s causing the delay in the signal reaching us. It feels like something is actively interfering with the transmission.”

Slyvexs leaned forward, her brow furrowed with concern. “Did the message indicate if either of them were injured?”

Bollwyn shook his head. “No, Doctor. The message was a standard distress call. It only provided the shuttle’s status and requested immediate assistance.”

Slyvexs sighed, her concern deepening. “A Class P world is far from ideal. The arctic conditions are severe, and if Tomaz’s breathing apparatus has been compromised, his survival window is extremely limited. Barzans rely on those devices to survive in harsh environments; without it, he won’t last long.”

Duncan nodded, his expression grave. He knew how dangerous this situation was and didn’t want to waste any time delaying their rescue. “We need to reach them as quickly as possible.” He looked over at Paynkor and issued more orders. “Commander, increase speed to maximum warp.” 

Paynkor, hesitated briefly. “Captain, with respect, whatever damaged their shuttle might still be out there. If we push the Odyssey at maximum warp, we could end up in the same situation.”

Duncan knew the chief flight control officer was correct and appreciated his cautious approach to the situation. Before he could say anything, Duncan heard his first officer speaking. 

Hunsen, still in uniform though his jacket was undone around the collar area, had turned to Reddick for more information. “Brianna, can you run a scan of the area? We need to know if any anomalies could pose a risk.”

Reddick quickly moved to one of the empty mission ops station and accessed the ship’s sensors. Her eyes narrowed as she examined the data. “I’m detecting a subspace anomaly near the planet, sir. It’s subtle, but it could affect the signal and pose a danger to the Odyssey. It’s probably what damaged the shuttle.”

Hunsen turned back to Paynkor. “Plot a course that takes us around the anomaly. We need to get to our people in one piece.”

Paynkor nodded and headed back to the helm station to make the alterations and get them as soon as possible. 

As the pilot left the group, Keli, who was wearing a black martial arts outfit, spoke up. “Should we inform S’Tem, about this? He has the right to know what’s happening and that his father might be injured.”

Horin, who was also out of her uniform and wearing a very baggy jumper and pair of sweatpants, shook her head gently, her Betazoid empathy clear in her calm voice. “Not yet. There’s no need to alarm him prematurely. Until we have more information about Tomaz’s condition, it’s best to keep S’Tem occupied and unaware of the situation.”

Slyvexs, who had been overseeing S’Tem’s care while Tomaz was away, nodded in agreement. “Louwanna is right. S’Tem is in good hands with Jordan and Alfie. We should focus on the mission of rescuing our comrades.”

Dalen was wearing her uniform and studying the scans that Reddick had just completed. She looked up, her expression serious. “Captain, there’s still a risk even if we avoid the anomaly. These readings remind me of a situation I encountered back on Deep Space Nineteen when one of our runabouts experienced something similar.”

Duncan turned to her, interested in her insight. “What did you do in that situation?”

“We powered down the warp core until we were clear of the anomaly,” Dalen explained. “If not, we risked creating a subspace tear. The only way to seal it would have been to detonate our warp core—a last resort we definitely want to avoid.”

Standing beside Dalen was Tierra. She was in a similar outfit like Keli. Looking over the data, the Deltan chief engineer nodded in agreement. “She’s right, Captain. We should power down the warp core once we’re in range, to minimize the risk.”

Duncan nodded, making a quick decision. “We’ll proceed with caution. Once we’re within range, power down the warp core. Mister Bollwyn, keep working on breaking through the interference. I want you to tell Tomaz and Craigen that help is coming.”

Bollwyn straightened his uniform and responded with determination in his voice. “Aye, Captain.”

Reddick offered to assist Bollwyn. “If we can work out what that subspace anomaly is then we should be able to get through to them.”

Duncan turned to Hunsen, his tone firm. “Number One, I want away teams prepped and ready to beam down as soon as we’re in orbit. We need to find them and bring them back safely.”

Hunsen nodded. “Understood, sir. We’ll be ready.”

With the orders given, Duncan dismissed the senior staff, who promptly returned to their stations to carry out their tasks. Court approached his husband and slipping an arm around his waist. 

“You okay, Max?” Court asked softly, his voice laced with concern. 

Duncan knew what his husband was hinting at. This could be the first time that he could loose officers under him since he took command of the Odyssey. Duncan nodded, drawing strength from Court’s presence. “I’m fine, thanks. I best call the commodore and tell him what’s happened.”

“Go idea,” Court agreed as his released his hand from Duncan, realising that level of affection was perhaps not the best idea on the bridge during a crisis. “I’ll go check in on Alfie and Jordan and make sure that they’re keeping everything normal for S’Tem.”

Duncan liked that idea. “Just make sure they don’t give him too much ice cream, I don’t think Tomaz would appreciate us returning his son to him all hyped up on sugar.”

Court chuckled as he left the bridge.

Looking down at himself, Duncan realised he still wore his suit from his interrupted dinner date. Telling Bolwyn he would be in his ready room, he ordered his new chief communications officer to get a secure channel with the Constitution established at once. 

Entering his ready room, Duncan went over to his desk and sat down. He ordered himself a mug of tea just as Bollwyn came over the intercom, stating the channel with the Constitution was established. 

“I’ve got the commodore for you, sir,” Bollwyn remarked.

“Thanks, lieutenant,” Duncan replied as he tapped on his desk’s console to activate the link. Immediately, he sat up straight in his chair before his superior saw him. 

The familiar face of Commodore James Preston McCallister appeared on the floating holographic display before Duncan. McCallister was in his dress uniform, which made Duncan think he had disturbed him while he dealing with some diplomatic event with the Zahl. 

“Max, everything okay?” McCallister asked, his tone filled with concern. 

Duncan shook his head as he told the commodore why he was calling him so late at night and what had happened so far.