The doors parted with a sigh, and Dev stepped into the heart of her domain.

The Science Deck of the Ogawa was smaller than what she’d grown used to aboard the Constellation, but it was pristine—efficient. Everything here had a kind of soft gleam to it, not just clean but considered. Whoever had overseen the initial layout had thought like a field scientist, not just a systems engineer. She appreciated that.

She moved slowly, deliberately, her eyes scanning as she walked—past the environmental hazard lockers, past the general-purpose lab suites, past a bulkhead still half-open from a systems calibration.

She paused at each of the dedicated labs.

The Biology Lab was humming with ambient incubation light. The benches were pre-stocked with cell analysis arrays and a compact atmospheric analyzer she hadn’t seen since the Dresden. She made a mental note to check the calibration—those models were temperamental but precise, if respected.

The Chemistry Lab smelled faintly of sterilizing agents and inert polymer. Two workstations sat powered down, neat, waiting. A set of spectrography modules lined the port wall, gleaming like instruments in a surgical suite.

The Physics Lab—her least-used, but perhaps most critical—was the most understated. Silent. Mostly analytical terminals and modular sensor racks. She liked that. Clean data. No mess.

Her boots echoed softly as she crossed into the general-use wing. Four modular labs. One still in diagnostic mode. Another half-assembled from the last mission—field samples, maybe. Good. Signs of life.

And then finally: her office.

It was modest. Functional. A single viewport looked out into the nebula beyond—a pale orange smear of dust and distance. The desk was glass-topped, already keyed to her biosign. One chair. One small stack of administrative padds. She brushed her fingertips across the desktop, then slowly lowered herself into the seat.

A breath.

No family photos. No keepsakes. Not anymore. She’d learned.

But she allowed herself the one indulgence—a small, sand-colored ceramic sculpture. A Bajoran piece. Abstract. Quietly defiant. She placed it in the corner of the desk. Then tapped her combadge.

=/\=Lieutenant Dalton, this is Lt. Commander Dev. When you have a moment, I’d like to meet in person. My office is on Deck Eight.=/\=

She released the combadge and looked out again—toward the swirling orange veil, beyond which waited the next question.

Time to get to work.

Lt. Commander Dev ○●●
Chief Science Officer
U.S.S. Ogawa