Chapter Text
I want to thank Robert Bruce Scott for proofreading this chapter.
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Stardate 38680.77 (Sep 6, 2361)
Starbase One- The Galleria
The dimly lit ambiance of The Whiskey Row enveloped Ensign Claire McCallister like a warming blanket as she stepped inside, the noise of the bustling crowd dulling to a soothing hum. A bouquet of aromas kissed her senses—freshly baked canapés against the subtle hint of Andorian ale mingling in the air. She took a deep breath, allowing the space's intimacy to ground her.
“Just find a booth and breathe,” she whispered to herself, her heart racing with excitement and apprehension.
Navigating through the crowd, Claire's gaze darted to and fro until she spotted a cozy booth by the window. Relief washed over her as she nestled into the cushioned seat, her eyes drifting to the starship docking bay just outside. A Lurian merchant slumped face down on the bar, a comical warning about the potency of Andorian brews, and Claire couldn’t help but chuckle.
As she settled in, a waiter approached—azure-skinned, with eyes that sparkled like the ocean. “What can I get for you, Ensign?” he asked, a friendly glint in his gaze.
“A Miller Ultra Plus, please,” Claire replied, her pulse quickening as she struggled to mask her nerves.
“Anything else?” the waiter inquired, pen poised over his notepad.
“No, that’s all, thank you,” she managed, gratefulness slipping into her voice as he accepted the order with a nod and a broad smile.
The moment he departed, Claire let her shoulders relax, her gaze still tracing the lit expanse of the docking bay. She inhaled deeply, searching for her sense of calm before the new chapter of her life aboard the USS Edison began.
Suddenly, a gentle squeeze on her shoulder sent a flutter of nerves racing through her. Claire turned, meeting the steely yet warm gaze of Rear Admiral Alynna Nechayev—her godmother. For a heartbeat, anticipation clashed with trepidation; she tried to summon her composure as the Admiral settled into the booth opposite her.
“I see even new graduates find their way to The Whiskey Row,” Admiral Nechayev remarked, her voice a blend of authority and comfort.
“Um, yes… Aunt Ally—Admiral Nechayev,” Claire stuttered, instinctively correcting herself but feeling the tension in her chest ease under the Admiral's steady gaze.
Just then, Zola returned with Claire’s drink and acknowledged the Admiral with a respectful bow. “Admiral Nechayev, always a pleasure. What can I get for you?”
“Just a cup of tea and a plate of Bularian canapés and watercress sandwiches, please—enough for my goddaughter as well,” she replied, her authoritative tone now edged with a softer command.
With an affirming nod, Zola disappeared back into the throng of patrons. Claire stole a glance at her godmother, studying the way Alynna leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with genuine inquiry.
“So, Claire,” the Admiral began, her voice less formal now, “how are you feeling about your assignment? I know your mother is the commanding officer.” The concern in her tone made Claire’s heart flutter.
“It’s a bit daunting,” Claire exhaled, her fingers nervously picking at the edge of the tablecloth. “I don’t want to be seen as… Captain Grace McCallister’s daughter. I want this to be about my own merits.”
She hesitated, the words tumbling from her with unexpected urgency. “I want people to see me as—Claire the officer, not just someone riding on the coattails of my family’s legacy.” Her voice trembled slightly, an undercurrent of emotion threading her words.
The Admiral’s brow furrowed in understanding as she reached across the table, her hand covering Claire’s. “That must be incredibly tough for you,” she said softly. “You’ve earned your place. It’s okay to feel uncertain, especially in the shadow of such accomplished family.”
Claire finally met her godmother’s steady gaze, seeking strength in her words. “Thank you, Aunt Ally. It means a lot.”
A warm smile blossomed on Alynna’s lips; she leaned back with a hint of relief glimmering in her eyes. “And remember, if you ever feel overwhelmed, you can always reach out—just as your godmother, not as an admiral.”
A small smile tugged at Claire’s lips, gratitude infusing the air between them. “I will. It’s nice to know I have someone who understands.”
“Good,” Alynna affirmed, a new air of buoyancy in her tone. “Now let’s eat and chat about something lighter.”
As their food arrived, Zola effortlessly placing the colorful plates before them, Claire took a sip of her beer, curiosity igniting her next question. “Aunt Ally, how did you know I’d be here?”
With a soft chuckle, Alynna took a bite of her canapé, a glimmer of mischief in her eye. “I have my methods for keeping tabs on those I care about. Plus, I couldn’t let the only child of Grace McCallister begin this adventure alone without checking in.”
There was a pause as Claire scanned her godmother’s expression, sensing the weight of unspoken concerns. “Furthermore,” the Admiral continued, her voice low, “I have some official Starfleet business to discuss with your mother regarding that mysterious object passing through Federation space—the one that Zara Zh’tialnor and the Galaxian News Network can’t seem to stop sensationalizing, much to the Federation Council’s dismay.”
Claire felt a thrill of intrigue at the mention, her worries temporarily forgotten as the conversations of the bar washed over them.
The conversation was abruptly halted when the Starbase Public Address system crackled to life. “Attention all Starfleet Personnel waiting for the arrival of the USS Edison. Please report to the Embarking/Debarking area. USS Edison has just passed Pluto and will be arriving at Earth in the next hour.”
The Admiral’s eyes twinkled with anticipation as she stood up. “Well, that means us, Claire.”
Claire couldn’t contain her excitement; her nerves danced in her stomach like butterflies as she stood.
Just then, Zola approached their table, a pleasant smile on his face. Admiral Nechayev reached for her pocket, retrieving a shiny Federation credit chip. After sliding it across the table, she offered Zola a grateful nod. “Thank you for your service,” she said warmly as he lifted the payment, his demeanor brightening further at the gesture.
END