Emmalin watched the stars fly by the viewscreen. She didn’t have to still be in the centre seat, she could easily have passed control to her X.O. who was also doggedly occupying his chair at tactical. But, despite never really gunning for her own Starship (at least not yet), she found she didn’t want to leave the chair. It made her happy to reside comfortably in the beige leather, taking in the 2370s vibes of the bridge as the Walter Scott proceeded at a leisurely warp six toward Starbase 72. The screens displayed newer software than they would have originally and the crew wore newer uniforms, but almost everything else about had a nostalgic charm to it she found very endearing. Newer bridges were more dramatically lit. This one was brighter. It was nice. Her reverie was broken by Commander Williams, his deep baritone resonating over the isolated beeps and the hum of life support.

“There’s a low-priority communication from your Childcare Hologram, Captain,” he said. Emmalin frowned slightly in confusion.

“Put it through to my chair please,” she requested.

“Yes ma’am.”

Pressing the prompt as soon as it appeared an audio call started, presenting those in the proximity of the Captain’s chair with a distinctive and nasal New York accent.

“Captain, I’m havin’ a slight problem wid ya dawtah he-ya. She dowanna go to sleep. I think it’s that telepathy stuff. Now I got talent wid the young ones shoar, I’m good, but I ain’t that good.”

Leaning her elbow on the arm of the chair Emmalin placed a hand over her mouth involuntarily with concern.

“Isn’t Torann about?” She asked the panel.

“No, no, he’s off doin’ some kinda induction, new staff, lounge something.” It occurred to Emmalin that if she didn’t have to be in the chair perhaps she should be spending time with her daughter, before her workload as Captain really got going.

“Alright, I’m on my way.” Emmalin closed the channel with a thumb and stood, pulling the jacket of her uniform down as it had ridden up as she’d been situated in the comfy seat. “Commander Williams, you have the bridge.”

Emmalin smiled, passing Williams as he headed for the Captain’s chair. Out of all the different personality options for the Personalised Childcare Hologram, Yolana had chosen this one, and what a personality it was. Based on a television show from Earth’s late twentieth century, this one was brassy, loud (in volume and attire) and quite unconventional, but Yolana seemed to love her. She certainly had flair.

A hiss admitted Emmalin to the increasingly familiar space of the Captain’s quarters, barely a minute away from the Bridge. As her eyes adjusted from the bright corridor to the more comforting sleepy lighting of the lounge space she scanned her surroundings, spotting Yolana sat on an ottoman, watching the stars fly by the window. It was something the five-year-old hadn’t seen that much. The basic entertainment for her eyes was a stabilising technique for mindfulness. She was trying. But Emmalin’s arrival moved her attention from the window. Emmalin read her uncertainty, feelings of slight distress and unfamiliarity, of discomfort. Mother parked herself on the couch adjacent, watching the starlight dance on her daughter’s pale face.

“I tried, Mommy,” Yolana said, somewhat forlorn.

“I know, darling,” Emmalin replied. She could read the sincerity in her, Yolana was doing her utmost. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not tired…” Emmalin could read this too, and while it wasn’t accurate, it also wasn’t a lie. Her daughter lacked the ability to articulate what the problem was, but Emmalin could read the racing of her young mind, all of the new stimuli, new surroundings, being in space rather than on a planet, worry over her parents’ new jobs, worry about her ability (or lack of) to drown out all of the new voices that buzzed around the ship, brilliant and unrelenting in excited activity. Everything was new and in flux and quite simply, it was throwing Yolana off centre from whatever balance her limited command of her early-onset telepathy could achieve. In that moment Emmalin had a small taste of what was to come. She hoped above most other hopes that Yolana would acclimatise, after all this was all very new and over-burdening even for a human child, let alone a Betazoid. On Lorran five she had only to block the feelings of the Lorrans, pinpricks of emotion that fluttered aloft, devoid of the noise of spoken language. The Walter Scott was something very different. Each humanoid presence carried with it an inner monologue that was free to be heard by anyone with the ability to hear. Sadly for Yolana she was one of the few whose ability came on very young and she could hear everything, as could her mother and her father. They were seasoned at blocking it all out. In short, Yolana was not. Emmalin tried to radiate calmness and dull some of the chatter that permeated the room, broadcast from crew all around the ship.

“Alright,” Emmalin told her placidly. “Try not to think about sleeping. When I can’t sleep, just the fact that I can’t makes me less able to, because I’m aware I can’t and it annoys me. Does that make sense?”

Yolana nodded. Shadows moving across her cheek as she did so.

“Okay. Try to separate yourself from your thoughts. I think some TV to focus on will help. Would you like to watch something?”

Another nod.

“Fran, why don’t you put on a story in her bedroom and we’ll all go watch.”

“Shoar, no problem!” The P.C.H. nodded with a beaming smile and wiggled over to the smaller of the two bedrooms to find something suitable.

“May I have some ice cream?” Yolana asked, trying her luck.

“Ice cream will just make your mind go faster darling,” was the reply. “But you could have some cheese? Or crackers? Or one of those little Earth meat pies you like?”

“Pie?”

Emmalin smiled warmly. “Okay, coming up.”

Crossing to the replicator Emmalin keyed in the familiar sequence, but as the small dish shimmered into being, her badge chirped.

“Williams to Commander Mennari.”

Emmalin pressed the badge as she crossed the room, following her daughter into the bedroom, but pausing just outside.

“Go ahead?”

“We received a data-burst from Starbase Bravo, Captain. Thought it was odd, but I checked it and the command codes check out, it’s legit.”

“Transfer it here, Commander.”

“Aye aye.”

Changing tack, Emmalin moved to the large desk, peering at the computer terminal before she had even sat, the dish quickly discarded on the shiny black surface. As her presence was recognised and her biometrics authenticated The Starfleet logo blinked away, replaced with a surprisingly small amount of text. Emmalin’s face changed, from placid and loving to confused and frowning as she took it in. She read the data-burst again, and then again to be sure that somehow she wasn’t dreaming. Her neck snapped to the window. The Walter Scott‘s oversized, stacked nacelles continued to power the ship forward at warp speed. Emmalin supposed that was something to do with their position. Apparently they were some of the few.

“What is it, Mommy?” Yolana’s gaze from the bedroom door was searching, her lips parted with concentration, trying to work out the new and strong feelings that Emmalin wasn’t entirely blocking from her.

“Trouble,” Emmalin replied, her eyes staying on the stars as they whipped past the large windows beyond the couch. She pressed her badge, mesmerised by the streaks of light, her mind already racing into protocol and mission parameters.

“Mennari to Commander Williams, change course for the Setlik system, warp eight.”

Williams voice came back through the speakers.

“I figured somethin’ like that was comin’. Setlik, warp eight. It’ll be done.”

“I’ll brief you in two. Mennari out.”

“Mommy?” Yolana asked quietly from Emmalin’s side having crossed the room unnoticed, breaking the mesmer of duty that held her mother. The Captain looked down and with a smile ran her fingers through her daughter’s blonde hair with absolute affection.

“Darling… you remember we talked about Mommy being a Captain now? That sometimes, you’ll have to be a big girl and help me by being as brave as you can be?” Emmalin asked her, trying to stay the intensity that filled her insides. Yolana nodded.

“Now is one of those times. Someone has attacked the Federation, and we’re going to try to stop them. Your father will be back soon. In the meantime listen to Fran. Promise me.” Emmalin looked deep into her daughter’s black eyes. Picking up anxiety from her mother Yolana nodded quickly.

“Yes, mommy. I promise.” Yolana took the dish her mother offered, but her attention was not on the food.

“Good girl. I love you.” Emmalin stood and walked past the P.C.H. as she approached again to give Yolana some moral support. The doors hissed open, but Emmalin didn’t walk through immediately. She stole a glance back into the space. This moment had come far sooner than she would have liked. But this was what wearing red and sitting in the big chair was all about. Using all the willpower she had the Commander tore herself away from the scene and headed bridge-wards, letting the door close behind her.