Snip

Lieutenant Cross listened without interruption, giving Gibbs the space to finish. There was no flicker of judgment in his expression—only quiet attentiveness. When the ensign finished, Cross remained silent for another moment, letting the words settle before responding.

A small smile crossed his face. “You know, Ensign, in my line of work I rarely worry about the people who recognize their own limitations. I worry about the ones who don’t.”

He leaned forward slightly in his chair, resting his forearms on his knees.

“You’ve already done something that takes a fair amount of courage. On your first day aboard a new ship, you’ve been honest about your concerns instead of trying to convince me—or yourself—that you’re completely confident.” Cross nodded thoughtfully before continuing.

“You mentioned Kirk, Pike, and Decker. History remembers captains because they’re exceptional, but Starfleet doesn’t function because of exceptional people. It functions because thousands of officers quietly show up every day, do their jobs well, support their shipmates, and make the right decisions when they’re needed.”

His eyes met Gibbs’. “Most of them never become legends. They become reliable. And I’ll let you in on a little secret—that’s exactly what commanding officers look for.”

Cross smiled again, the warmth in his expression genuine.

“Your performance at Starbase 47 tells me more than your Academy class ranking ever could. Someone saw enough professionalism, growth, and potential to recommend you for a frontline assignment aboard a Galaxy-class starship. Those recommendations aren’t handed out simply because someone fills a uniform.”

He paused before addressing the unspoken comment from earlier.

“And as for the ‘real reason’ you think you might find yourself sitting in this office one day…”

He didn’t reach for a padd or Gibbs’ personnel file.

“…I’ll read what’s in your record because it’s part of my job. But I’d rather hear it from you when you’re ready. Whatever it is, this office is built on trust, not obligation. We talk about it on your timeline, not mine.”

Cross gestured subtly around the room. “My door is open whether you’re having the best week of your career or the worst. You don’t have to wait until something is falling apart to come see me.”

Gibbs took in Cross’ praise with the emotions of a man who doesn’t hear it much. He asked cautiously, “Just to be clear, you are saying that I am here, aboard this ship, because I should be here?”

Cross answered immediately with full confidence. “Absolutely!”

“I had assumed that I had been given this assignment due to my mother’s influence. Master Chief Muriel Genard is the senior NCO overseeing the staff of Admiral Cristal. It has been said that nothing is completed until the paperwork is done, and Mom is a master of paperwork.”

He seemed to taking Cross’ words to heart. Maybe he could do this after all. The Counselor must know of a way he can improve. Straightening himself in is seat heasked “Do you have any tips for helping me to be more confident in my work?”

Ens. Gibbs.

Cross smiled warmly, recognizing the sincerity behind the question.

“Confidence is one of the most misunderstood qualities we talk about,” he said. “Most people think confidence comes first—that you feel confident, and then you act. In reality, it’s usually the other way around. You do the work, you gain experience, and confidence follows.”

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees.

“Your mother’s accomplishments are hers, Walter. They may have opened a door somewhere along the way, but they didn’t earn your Academy grades, complete your training, or convince Starfleet to assign you to the Ark Angel. You did that.”

Cross let that settle for a moment.

“My advice is simple. Don’t measure yourself against the officer you hope to be five years from now. Measure yourself against the officer you were yesterday. Learn something every shift. Ask questions when you don’t know the answer. Accept that mistakes are part of becoming competent, provided you learn from them.” A small smile returned.

“And stop trying to prove that you belong here. You already do. Your job now is simply to grow into the officer Starfleet already believes you can become.”

He stood, signaling that the session was drawing to a close.

“My door is always open, Ensign. You don’t have to wait until something is wrong to stop by. Sometimes the best counseling sessions are simply conversations that keep good officers from doubting themselves.”

Lieutenant Alex Cross
Chief Counselor
U.S.S. Ark Angel