You Make Your Own Way
Posted on Tue Oct 28th, 2025 @ 1:41pm by Treon Brevor
758 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
Second Light
Location: Starbase 369
=/\= Starbase 369 =/\=
The USS Destiny glided into position at the upper docking pylon. Standing by an observation window, Treon watched the Prometheus-class ship ease into its berth, its distinctive triangular shape still sleek even after two decades.
She remembered the ship when it was new — bright hull plating, unscarred, full of promise. Now, time and service had left their marks across its surface.
An announcement came over the intercom: “Attention all personnel. USS Destiny, NCC-72806-A, arriving at Dock Zero Seven. Repeat, Destiny arriving at Dock Zero Seven.”
If things had gone differently, maybe she would still be there. But they hadn’t. The Starfleet–Romulan War, the Dominion War, the Federation’s withdrawal of aid after the Romulan supernova — each had changed her life forever.
Once, she stood on that bridge and commanded it. Once — a long time ago.
She gave the Destiny one last look. She had thought she would feel something — nostalgia, regret, pride, maybe even anger — after all those years aboard, after everything that ship had meant to her. But she didn’t.
She had gone over the ship’s roster earlier and hadn’t recognized a single name. She wondered what had happened to the crew she had known — Josua Frost, of course, the captain who had led them through more crises than she could count. The crew that had been there from the beginning: Piper, Vurok, Everham, Bradly. They had spent so much time together on that little Defiant-class ship that they’d come to know each other in a way few crews ever did — an unspoken understanding that carried forward into the new Prometheus-class.
Or at least, she used to think so.
That was before — before Starfleet turned its back on everything it claimed to stand for.
She couldn’t accept that.
The others… they stayed, believing it would all make sense again someday.
Or maybe they never saw the problem to begin with.
=/\= Promenade =/\=
Treon was halfway to the lifts when she heard her name.
“Aunt Treon!”
She turned and saw him immediately — Corin. Could he be taller than she remembered? The cadet red on his collar was gone, replaced with the full uniform of an ensign, the gold of Operations and Engineering bright under the promenade lights.
“Corin.” Treon waited until he caught up with her. “I didn’t realize you were on leave.”
“I’m not,” he said, stepping aside to let a couple pass before falling into step beside her again. “I’ve been assigned to the Arawyn as Assistant Engineer. She’s docking here in two days. Figured I’d surprise you before we ship out.”
Treon gave a small nod. “You succeeded.”
He laughed at that. “Well, actually, I didn’t realize you were aboard the station. Guess I got lucky.”
They walked in silence for a few moments, the noise of the promenade around them — civilians and Starfleet personnel hurrying to their next destinations.
Treon finally broke the quiet. “Your mom knows you’re here?”
Corin’s expression turned serious. “Yeah. Can’t say she’s happy.” He looked at her. “I don’t suppose you are either.”
“I wish you success in whatever you do.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Treon walked on silently for a few more seconds. “I made a career in Starfleet, despite my parents not being happy about it. You make your own way — don’t let other people tell you what to do.”
He nodded slowly, accepting that as the closest thing to approval he’d get.
“So,” she said after a moment, “what are you doing for the next two days?”
“Nothing much.”
“Good. Because I’m looking for an engineer to help replace my plasma manifolds.”
Corin grinned, surprised. “Wow! Seriously?”
Treon shook her head, a smile appearing. “I’m glad somebody’s excited that my ship is stuck at port.”
Flustered, Corin tried to backtrack. “I didn’t mean it like that…”
Treon let him squirm for a heartbeat longer than necessary, a faint trace of amusement in her eyes. She’d forgotten how easy it was to rattle a new ensign. “If you’ve got time now, you can take a look.”
Corin tried to keep his enthusiasm in check this time. “Sure.”
Treon stopped by the lifts. “Up this way.”
As they both entered the lift, he glanced at her nervously. “You really want my help? I don’t really have any experience and I—”
“I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.”
The lift doors slid shut, leaving a very happy Corin beside her.
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