Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nytha’rae of Vael’Lume (Chief Science Officer) in Science Labs: Captain, We Have a Dog (Ens. Shepherd)

Posted by Ensign Skye Shepherd (Scientist) in Science Labs: Captain, We Have a Dog (Ens. Shepherd)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Nytha’rae of Vael’Lume (Chief Science Officer) in Science Labs: The Long Way Forward (Ens. Shepherd)
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Nytha’rae did not speak while Skye told the story.

She stood quietly near the terrarium, her posture still and grounded, bare feet resting lightly against the deck plating as if feeling the structure of the ship beneath her. Her tail had slowed to almost no movement now, the tuft resting against the floor in a gentle curve.

The bioluminescent lines along her throat and cheekbones glowed softly in the dim laboratory light.

She listened.

Every word.

Every pause.

Every place where Skye’s voice tightened or nearly broke.

Nytha’kae watched from his branch inside the terrarium, head tilted slightly as the room filled with the weight of memories that clearly had not been easy to carry.

When the story ended, silence settled in the laboratory for several moments.

Nytha’rae’s gaze remained steady on the young ensign.

Not analyzing.

Not judging.

Simply seeing her.

Finally she stepped forward.

Her movements were slow and deliberate, the quiet balance of someone who had spent a lifetime walking forest paths rather than metal corridors.

“You believe these things have broken you,” she said softly.

It was not a question.

Her dark eyes briefly moved to the scars beneath Skye’s sleeve before returning to her face.

“But what I hear is something different.”

She paused a moment.

“You saved a life beneath falling stone.”

“You survived the chaos of a ship losing its mind.”

“And still you came back when the stars called again.”

The faint glow along her markings warmed slightly.

“That is not weakness.”

“That is a spirit that bends without breaking.”

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the terrarium where Nytha’kae rested among the glowing branches.

Then she looked back at Skye.

“You spoke of your companion.”

“Zephram.”

The name carried carefully from her lips.

“In my people’s language, we have a word for those who walk beside our lives.”

She rested her hand lightly against her chest again.

“Vaerith.”

“It means one whose spirit travels with yours.”

Her tail shifted slightly behind her.

“You should bring your vaerith here.”

The statement was gentle, but firm.

“No living path should be walked alone when it does not have to be.”

Then, without ceremony, Nytha’rae turned toward the wall where her weapons rack stood.

She lifted her bow down carefully, revealing the small preparation table behind it where several dried plants and mineral tools rested.

From a small shelf she selected a smooth river stone, worn flat from years of use.

Several leaves from the living terrarium plants were gently plucked—bioluminescent moss, a thin violet leaf, and a pale medicinal vine.

She placed them into the stone bowl and began grinding them together slowly.

The sound of stone against stone was soft and rhythmic.

A thick green paste formed under her careful work.

When it was ready, she scooped the mixture into a small container and walked back toward Skye.

She extended it toward her.

“For your scars.”

“They will never vanish completely.”

Her voice remained calm.

“But sometimes the body heals better when it remembers it is allowed to.”

She tilted her head slightly.

“And sometimes the heart does as well.”

Behind her, the tiny forest in the terrarium glowed softly.

And Nytha’kae watched the two officers with quiet approval from his branch.

LT.JG Nytha’rae

---

As the Lieutenant placed those plants on the table, she was allowed to breathe even if just for a moment. It felt as though rocks the ensign had been carrying for so long against her back had begun falling. The beating of her heart slowly beginning to steady at a slower rhythm instead of hammering directly against her ribcage. That rhythmic sound of stone grinding against a worn down bowl was a reminder from traditional medicine which Guardians often treated wounds, especially those who refused modern treatment.

But when her dog had been brought up, she shook her head ’I can’t break protocol once again, this is the last shot.’ Blue eyes met that pair of bioluminescent voids, looking up at the dragon whose head had been tilting since her arrival into the lab.

“You believe these things have broken you.” those words seemed to hit close to home, at this point just trying to keep a professional behavior. So many people had placed that faith on the wrong shelf. At this point the ensign wasn’t sure on how to react, both growing up as girl’s whose instincts were born to survive a forest. But a Federation starship? only some kids dared to dream on space travel.

“But what I hear is something different.”

The ensign had lifted her five fingered palm to interrupt Nytha’rae from her following statement, as she had placed so much hope. So much faith in a young ensign she had just met a couple of hours back. Both mandibles grinded teeth against each other.

“You saved a life beneath falling stone.”

That glance at her slightly rolled up sleeve seemed to crack her hard cover. “I was doing what we were trained to do when one of our own’s life was at risk.” were the words that abandoned those pale colored lips as both scientific gazes crossed their paths. “He was my instructor. I couldn’t just abandon a Senior Officer.” though a knot had already formed on her throat as she managed to get those last, few words out.

“You survived the chaos of a ship losing its mind.”

So many compliments had overwhelmed the 23 year old whose life had been spent in a starship. Yet leaving what was known to explore the unknown for a third time, being looked down at for so long had become Skye’s new normal. But those events going down onboard her second assignment happened to be that breaking point, threatened away from a career she had dreamt of as a child. The few times a year her father would visit their home world arriving from another successful mission. Disagreements from her parents were a common occurrence, yet they would be able to reach a consensus together.

That Sagan Class vessel had marked so much more than her Starfleet record, but trauma had been deeply ingrained into a 23 year old individual’s mind. Somehow, they managed to find her across the universe as someone who had already given up. Yet there she stood, dressed in science blues to start a new assignment. All it took was a joined Trill and the constant ringing of an Academy PADD for Shepherd to be standing right there.

“And still you came back when the stars called again.”

Speaking about Zephram was always something that helped. Vaerith, Nytha’rae had called them. Something similar to a guiding spirit. He had been the one to encourage her to give this ship a try. There wasn’t much left to lose if it all went down the wrong way. But determination would redefine the meaning of Starfleet in her eyes. But there was gratitude for someone to just stand there and listen instead of judging. Turning back to the screen, she had asked for one final request. Zephram to be brought onboard Chimera. Whether that would put her in trouble or not was another task to be solved.

Once the holographic display disappeared, the ensign rolled up the sleeve to her shoulder and let her do the rest with the paste her chief had offered. For the first time since entering that room letting a softer smile illuminate her face, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

[[Ensign]] [[Skye Shepherd]]
[[Science Officer]] [[U.S.S. Chimera NCC-98730]]

Nytha’rae did not immediately answer when Skye thanked her.

She simply stood there for a moment, watching the young officer with the same steady stillness she had shown throughout their conversation. Her bare feet remained planted lightly against the deck plating, toes adjusting subtly with her balance the way someone accustomed to uneven forest ground always did. The tail behind her shifted once, slowly, the dark tuft brushing the floor before settling again.

The faint blue-green glow along her cheekbones pulsed once as she breathed.

Skye’s refusal about the protocol had not surprised her.

Young officers who had been wounded by command decisions often clung hardest to rules afterward.

Not out of loyalty.

Out of fear of failing again.

Nytha’rae let the silence stretch long enough for Skye’s breathing to settle.

Then she stepped forward.

Her movements remained quiet and unhurried. When she reached the ensign, she gently took the container back and dipped two fingers into the green paste.

The scent of crushed leaves and damp forest filled the air faintly.

“May I?” she asked softly.

If Skye allowed it, Nytha’rae applied the paste carefully across the scars along the younger officer’s wrist. Her touch was steady and practiced, the motions slow so the cool herbal mixture could settle into the skin rather than simply smear across it.

The bioluminescent lines along her throat brightened faintly while she worked.

“My people believe scars are not things to hide,” she said quietly.

“They are the marks the world leaves on us when we survive it.”

She finished spreading the paste and stepped back slightly, giving the ensign her space again.

“But surviving is not the same thing as being broken.”

Her gaze lifted back to Skye’s face.

“You say you were only doing what you were trained to do.”

“That may be true.”

Her head tilted slightly.

“But many people are trained to act with courage.”

“Far fewer actually do.”

The room was quiet except for the soft drip of condensation inside the terrarium behind them.

Nytha’rae folded her hands loosely in front of her.

“As for protocol…”

The faintest trace of amusement touched her voice.

“Starfleet protocols were not written by people who grew up listening to forests.”

Her tail moved once again behind her.

“You are right to respect the rules of this ship.”

“But requesting permission to bring a companion aboard is not breaking them.”

She glanced briefly toward the small dragon resting among the glowing branches.

“Nytha’kae is not permitted because he is unusual.”

“He is permitted because he is part of me.”

Her eyes returned to Skye.

“If Zephram is your vaerith, then you should not assume the answer will be no before you even ask the question.”

She paused a moment, studying the younger officer again.

“You have spent a long time believing that every mistake must be punished.”

Her voice softened.

“The Chimera may not be the place where that story continues.”

Then she inclined her head slightly.

“And Ensign Shepherd…”

The glow along her cheekbones warmed again.

“I am glad you came back when the stars called you.”

Behind them, Nytha’kae gave a quiet chirp from his perch, as if agreeing with her.

LT.JG Nytha’rae

---

Skye had looked down at where the duffel bag had dropped, her train of thought interrupted by a simple question from her superior. “May I?” the soft words reached her ears, head tilting up and down with an approving nod before her sleeve was rolled up right up to where the shoulder was situated. Blue eyes settled on the paste as they allowed for it to dry within a recycled air atmosphere. Black boots firmly planted against the ground once the pair had shifted their stance.

Bending down to retrieve her PADD, a familiar chime had come from the device. A serial number lighting up the screen, followed by the ship’s designation and her father’s name. It was almost as though sharing her life story had summoned that call. She looked up, then back at the lettering about to just let it reach voicemail. Yet, the hybrid’s attention was entirely focused upon their in person conversation. That topic had come back to that slobbery beast she had come to call a service animal. Trained under the caring hands of an experienced medical officer onboard the New Jersey, that Denobulan to her was almost like an encyclopedia. But his hands had been the ones to guide her own. “Starfleet protocols were not written by people who grew up listening to forests.” Those words brought a slight laugh before jokingly nodding in agreement. “They were written by a council made up from Vulcan Elders and Humans who had only begun to understand space travel.” Skye admitted, that slight smile drawing back upon her lips.

“You are right to respect the rules of this ship.” Nytha’rae had continued immediately after the PADD had stopped ringing, a conversation for another time…perhaps. Light met her spots to make them stand out under artificial lighting, almost making it look like magic. Another door opening towards a new way to understand how this science team operated. And for once? The ensign was glad to become something much greater than herself. Part of a team.

Being about to reply, her response was interrupted by her companion, “But requesting permission to bring a companion aboard is not breaking them.” This time, the individual she had been referring to had been Zephram. Named after the warp core’s inventor, Zefram Cochrane. She had seen many sunrises and sundowns throughout different planets scattered across the galaxy. A young individual about to face the galaxy on her own, character growth would occur.

Eventually, the hybrid took a turn towards the terrarium in which that small dragon had been staring at them with bright, curious eyes. Skye offered a head tilt in response. When working with animals words were rarely considered necessary. “If Zephram is your vaerith, then you should not assume the answer will be no before you even ask the question.” The sound that followed seemed to reciprocate on her demeanor as well. “You’re right.” her tone had grown slightly louder, “He should be coming home. Which is what this ship means now.”

There was another chime to her PADD just moments later, but this time, the ensign finally answered. There stood both of them, Nytha’rae and Skye in science blues. The second chime was more insistent.

Skye exhaled through her nose, already half-smiling as she tapped the PADD to accept the call.

The screen flickered to life—and immediately dissolved into motion.

“—no, Zephram, down—!”

The voice of Orrin Castel came through first, strained but unmistakably amused beneath the exasperation. The visual feed steadied just long enough to show him—slightly disheveled, uniform collar crooked, blonde hair no longer regulation-perfect.

And then—

A massive blur of black, white, and rust-brown fur surged into frame.

“Woah—!” Skye barked out a laugh, instinctively taking half a step back as if the dog could somehow come through the screen.

The Bernese Mountain Dog filled the entire display, nose pressed so close to the camera that it distorted into a wet, sniffing oval. Heavy panting echoed through the audio channel, followed by an enthusiastic whuff.

“ZEPHRAM!” Orrin’s voice snapped—failing spectacularly at authority as it cracked into laughter. “Computer, reduce input gain—no, that’s worse—”

A loud thud sounded.

The view tilted wildly.

For a brief, disorienting moment, Skye got a perfect shot of the ceiling.

Then Orrin again, leaning into frame, one hand clearly braced against something offscreen while the other attempted to push an enormous, affectionate dog away.

“I swear to the Symbiosis Commission…Skye, I had him under control thirty seconds ago.”

“You clearly did,” Skye shot back dryly, though her grin had broken fully through now. Her blue-gray eyes softened the moment Zephram’s face reappeared, this time sideways, tongue lolling as he attempted to climb directly into Orrin’s arms.

Which… he did.

All of him.

Or at least, most of him.

The result was immediate chaos.

“—he is not lap-sized—Zephram, you are not—!” Orrin staggered back a step, barely keeping his footing as the dog planted both massive paws on his chest.

A loud, wet lick across the side of Orrin’s face.

Skye lost it.

A full, unrestrained laugh escaped her, shoulders shaking as she turned slightly away from Nytha’rae for half a second—though it was impossible to fully disengage from the spectacle.

“I leave for one assignment—” she managed between laughs.

“And he mutinies,” Orrin finished, finally managing to wrestle the dog just enough to regain partial control of the frame. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand, sighing as Zephram immediately tried again.

“Don’t encourage him!” he added quickly, pointing—pointing—at Skye through the screen.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“You made eye contact.”

“That’s not a crime.”

“With him? It is.”

Another whuff, louder this time, Zephram clearly recognizing her voice. The dog’s entire demeanor shifted in an instant.

Ears perked.

Head tilted.

And then—

A high-pitched, excited whine that was entirely at odds with his massive size.

Skye froze.

“Oh, hey, buddy…” Her voice softened instinctively, the chaos around her fading for just a moment as she stepped closer to the PADD again. “Yeah, I know… I know.”

Zephram pawed at the screen.

Hard.

The image jolted violently.

“—and there goes the stabilizer—” Orrin muttered, adjusting the device again. “He’s been like this since you left. Won’t sleep in his own spot. Keeps checking the door every time it opens.”

That pulled something quieter into Skye’s expression.

Her smile didn’t disappear, but it shifted.

Nytha’rae’s words echoed faintly in the back of her mind.

You should not assume the answer will be no before you even ask.

Skye glanced briefly toward the terrarium. Toward the small dragon still watching.

Then back to the screen.

Back to Zephram.

“Dad,” she said, a little more firmly now.

Orrin paused, mid-struggle, as Zephram attempted to climb him again.

“…I don’t like that tone,” he replied cautiously.

“I’m putting in a request.”

“…For what?”

A beat.

Skye straightened slightly, her stance grounding again in that quiet, growing confidence that had been building all day.

“For him.”

Right on cue, Zephram barked.

Loud.

Explosive.

Directly into the audio channel.

The sound clipped.

Orrin winced. “—audio spike—”

“He agrees,” Skye added, completely straight-faced.

Orrin stared at her for a long moment.

Then down at the dog.

Then back at her.

“…You planned that.”

“I absolutely did not.”

Another beat.

Zephram licked Orrin’s face again.

Orrin closed his eyes.

“…I will support this request,” he said finally, with the air of a man who had already lost the battle hours ago. “For entirely unbiased, professional reasons.”

“Of course.”

“None of which include the fact that he just tried to eat my boots.”

“He has good taste.”

“They were regulation issue!”

“And now they’re gone,” Skye shot back, grin returning in full force.

Orrin exhaled, shaking his head, but there was pride there now, too. Quiet. Familiar.

“…You’re settling in.”

It wasn’t a question.

Skye glanced briefly to Nytha’rae again. To the lab. To the ship.

Then back.

“…Yeah,” she said softly. “I think I am.”

Behind him, Zephram let out another happy, rumbling huff—tail clearly wagging hard enough to knock something over out of frame.

Crash.

Orrin didn’t even look.

“…I’m transferring him before he destroys Starfleet property,” he muttered.

“Too late,” Skye replied.

The call flickered slightly as the connection began to stabilize again.

“I was afraid of that.”

A sudden scrambling noise erupted—claws against deck plating, followed by what sounded like fabric dragging.

“…what now?” Skye asked, already bracing.

Orrin glanced off-screen, then back, utterly unamused. “He has acquired something.”

“Define ‘something.’”

“…a sock.”

Skye blinked. “A sock?”

“Not mine.”

A pause.

“…I am ending this call shortly.”

Skye burst out laughing. “Dad—”

“Lieutenant,” Orrin added quickly, voice tightening as Zephram clearly began to retreat with his prize, “it has been a pleasure. I apologize in advance for what is about to become your problem.”

He recognized her immediately, even if the circumstances were far less formal than either of them might have preferred. He noted that it had been some time since they had last spoken.

There was a brief pause, the faint sound of movement behind him, controlled, contained.

“You are serving as Chief Science Officer now. I expected nothing less.”

Another pause followed.

“My daughter speaks highly of her assignment. That carries weight, coming from her—but I am not speaking as her father in this moment.”

A quiet breath left him.

“I am speaking to you as a fellow officer.”

His tone remained steady, measured with the weight of experience.

“You understand what it means to take responsibility for those under your command, especially those still finding their footing. Skye is capable. Exceptionally so. But capability and experience are not the same thing.”

There was a subtle shift then firmer, though never crossing into disrespect.

“She will test boundaries. Not out of defiance, but because she is always searching for better ways to understand the world around her. That curiosity is one of her greatest strengths… and, at times, a liability.”

Something bumped faintly in the background. A low huff followed. He ignored it entirely.

“I trust you to guide that. To challenge her when necessary. And to know when not to.”

A beat passed.

“She will not always ask for help when she needs it.”

Another pause, quieter this time.

“But she will listen, to those she respects.”

His voice softened, if only slightly.

“You have that respect.”

A distant bark sounded. Something shifted just out of frame. Still, he remained composed.

“As for the request she is preparing to submit…I will not interfere. That decision is yours, within the bounds of Starfleet protocol.”

“Regardless, your judgment will be sound. It always has been.”

A final pause lingered.

“Take care of your crew, Lieutenant.”

“And, if circumstances allow, keep me informed of her progress.”

[[Ensign]] [[Skye Shepherd]]
[[Science Officer]] [[U.S.S. Chimera NCC-98730]]

---

For the first time since the conversation began—

Nytha’rae laughed.

It was soft, but real.

The sound carried something rare for her—lightness. Not the quiet calm of the forest, but the brief, bright sound of wind through leaves after rain.

As Zephram filled the PADD screen in absolute chaos, and Skye’s composure broke into genuine laughter, something in Nytha’rae visibly eased. The faint glow along her markings brightened slightly, responding not to tension—

but to joy.

Above them, Nytha’kae had already reacted.

The small dragon gave a curious trill, then launched himself from the terrarium with a flicker of jewel-toned wings. In a smooth glide, he crossed the short distance and landed directly against Skye’s shoulder—claws careful, light, his head tilting as he watched the frantic movement on the screen.

His glow flickered rapidly.

Excited.

Curious.

Drawn to the chaos.

Nytha’rae exhaled a quiet breath through a faint smile, watching the two of them.

“What do you expect,” she said gently, amusement threading through her voice, “when his other half is here?”

Her gaze flicked briefly to Nytha’kae, then back to the screen where Zephram continued his campaign of joyful destruction.

For a moment, she simply observed.

The bond.

The pull.

The unmistakable recognition between two beings separated by distance but not by connection.

Then Orrin’s tone shifted.

And Nytha’rae’s posture changed with it.

Not rigid.

But attentive.

Present.

She stepped slightly closer to the PADD, her bare feet silent against the deck, her tail settling behind her as her focus turned fully to him.

She listened.

Every word.

Not as a subordinate.

Not as someone being evaluated.

But as one officer to another.

When he finished, there was a brief pause.

Then Nytha’rae inclined her head—not deeply, but with deliberate respect.

“I hear you, Orrin.”

She used his name without hesitation.

Not casually.

But intentionally.

Her voice was calm, steady, and carried the quiet authority of someone who did not need to raise it.

“She is not broken.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to Skye.

Then back to him.

“She is… unfinished.”

A faint pulse of light moved along her markings.

“And that is not a flaw.”

“It is potential.”

She shifted her weight slightly, her bare feet grounding her as she continued.

“You speak of guidance.”

“I do not shape those under my care.”

“I listen to them.”

Her gaze softened just slightly.

“And I make sure they are not walking alone when the path becomes difficult.”

Behind her, Nytha’kae adjusted slightly on Skye’s shoulder, still watching the screen with bright, intent curiosity.

Nytha’rae continued.

“She will test boundaries.”

“Yes.”

A faint hint of amusement touched her voice.

“So will I.”

A brief pause.

“You worry that her curiosity will lead her into danger.”

Her tone remained even.

“I worry more about what happens if it is taken from her.”

Silence settled for just a heartbeat.

Then—

“As for your daughter…”

Her eyes moved once more to Skye.

There was something quieter there now.

Something protective.

“She does not need someone to hold her in place.”

“She needs someone who will stand beside her when she moves.”

Then, almost as an afterthought—but not without intention—

“You still rely too much on your instruments, Orrin.”

The faintest curve touched her lips.

“You should learn to feel the living world around you.”

A pause.

Gentle.

But pointed.

“I believe all your daughter needs… is someone willing to hear her out.”

She glanced to Skye again.

Then added, more lightly—

“If she places herself in danger without need…”

A small tilt of her head.

“Yes.”

“She will receive a lecture.”

The faintest glimmer of humor.

“But otherwise—”

Her voice softened just slightly.

“I believe your people would say…”

A brief pause.

“I have her back.”

Behind her, the terrarium glowed softly.

On Skye’s shoulder, Nytha’kae chirped once in quiet agreement.

And for the first time since the conversation began

The room no longer felt heavy.

It felt… alive.

LT.JG Nytha’rae

There was a moment, just a moment, where nothing moved on the other end of the line.

The chaos was gone.

No barking. No impact of paws. No shifting camera.

Just Orrin.

The lighting had changed slightly, quieter, steadier. Wherever he had stepped to, it was away from the storm that was Zephram.

And for the first time since the call began, he wasn’t dividing his attention.

He was simply there.

Looking at her.

Listening.

When he finally spoke, his voice had lost its earlier strain. What remained was something deeper. Older.

“…You always did speak like that.”

A faint breath escaped him, not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh.

“I remember the first time,” he continued, his gaze steady on Nytha’rae, though it flicked briefly, briefly, to Skye. “It was years ago. Before Skye ever set foot on a starship. Before she decided the universe was something she needed to understand, instead of just admire.”

Another pause.

“She came home talking about someone who didn’t give her answers.” His mouth twitched slightly. “Which, I’ll admit, I found deeply suspicious at the time.”

A softer note crept into his voice.

“She said you listened.”

Silence stretched, but it wasn’t empty.

It carried memory.

Weight.

“You’re right,” Orrin said quietly. “She isn’t broken.”

His eyes shifted fully to Skye now.

There was no rank in that look. No distance.

Just a father.

“And unfinished…” he repeated, more to himself than to anyone else.

A slow nod followed.

“…I can live with that.”

He exhaled, shoulders easing just slightly, as if something he had been holding onto had, at last, loosened its grip.

“When Eden and I,” he began, then didn’t stop this time, the thought carrying forward more naturally, “when my wife and I first realized what kind of mind she had…”

A faint, almost fond smile appeared.

“…we thought our job was to guide it. Shape it. Make sure it didn’t drift too far, too fast.”

His gaze dipped for a fraction of a second.

“We were wrong.”

Not regret.

Not quite.

But something close enough to touch it.

“She was never meant to stay within the lines we understood.”

Another breath.

Steadier this time.

“You say you don’t shape those under your care.”

His eyes lifted again to Nytha’rae.

“Good.”

There was no hesitation in that word.

“No one ever managed to shape her anyway.”

A flicker of warmth returned, subtle, but unmistakable.

“And if you had tried, I suspect this conversation would be very different.”

His attention shifted again, briefly, to Skye, taking her in, not as the girl she had been, but as the officer standing before him now.

There was pride there.

Quiet.

Unspoken.

But absolute.

“You’re also right about something else,” he continued, his tone softening further. “Curiosity like hers, you don’t suppress it.”

A beat.

“You survive it.”

The faintest hint of humor touched the edges of his voice.

Then it faded again, leaving something more vulnerable in its wake.

“I have spent years,” Orrin admitted, “standing between that curiosity and the consequences it attracts.”

Not as a complaint.

As a truth.

“And it is not an easy thing,” he added, more quietly now. “To realize that at some point, you are no longer the one standing there.”

His gaze settled back on Nytha’rae.

This time, there was no analysis in it.

No evaluation.

Only trust being considered.

Weighed.

Then accepted.

“If she is going to walk into something dangerous,” he said, voice steady again, “I would rather she not do it alone.”

A small pause.

“You standing beside her,” he inclined his head slightly, not formal, but deliberate, “that matters.”

Another breath.

This one lighter.

“And for the record,” a faint glimmer of dry humor returned, “I do not rely too much on my instruments.”

A beat.

“I simply prefer data that does not bite me.”

Somewhere off screen, faint and distant, a bark.

Orrin closed his eyes briefly.

“…Most of the time.”

When he opened them again, the weight had eased.

Not gone.

But shared.

His gaze moved one last time to Skye.

Softer now.

“Your mother would like this,” he said quietly. “Seeing you here. Like this.”

A pause.

Not heavy.

Just real.

“She says you would find your own way,” he added, a faint warmth returning to his voice. “And she is usually right about these things.”

The faintest smile followed.

“…I think she is, this time too.”

Then, after a beat, gentler still

“Take care of her.”

Not an order.

Not even a request.

Just something placed between them.

Trusted to be understood.

Skye didn’t move when Nytha’kae landed.

The small dragon’s weight was light, barely more than a shift in balance, but she felt it all the same. The careful placement of claws against her uniform, the faint warmth that radiated through the fabric at her shoulder, the soft, rapid flicker of his glow reflecting in the edge of her vision.

Alive.

Curious.

Present.

Her hand hovered for just a moment at her side, as if resisting the instinct to reach up and steady him, before settling again. He didn’t need it. He had already chosen his place.

“Dad…”

Her voice was quieter than before.

Not uncertain.

Just… honest.

“I know what you’re worried about.”

A small pause. She exhaled, slow, controlled, as if choosing each word instead of letting them rush out the way they usually did.

“I’ve spent my whole life knowing it.”

The corner of her mouth lifted faintly, not quite a smile.

“You don’t have to explain it to me.”

[[Ensign]] [[Skye Shepherd]]
[[Science Officer]] [[U.S.S. Chimera NCC-98730]]