Colonel Quade stood at the edge of the transporter pad, hands clasped behind his back, and said nothing. The transporter room on OED V was well maintained, well lit, the consoles staffed by a crew who moved with the easy rhythm of people who had never had reason to hurry. A place where nothing had gone wrong today.

He had not looked at her directly since the administration building. Dradvia stood one step behind his left shoulder, fresh uniform, hair neat. If you didn’t know, you might not notice anything at all. You might see a young ensign standing at regulation distance, eyes forward, waiting.
If you didn’t know.

She made no sound. What troubled him was not the silence itself but the quality of it. It wasn’t the silence of composure. It was something that had gone in very deep and pulled the door shut behind it. He was embarrassed for the failure, even though it was not his.

“Ensign Dradvia,” he said, and stepped onto the pad.

She followed. One step, then another. Precise. Automatic. The hum rose. The world dissolved.

They materialized aboard the Wolverine and stood waiting, as protocol required. Quade kept his eyes on the door. He did not check on her. She would not want to be checked on. What he could give her, at least, was this.
He could look straight ahead and let her breathe. The door slid open.

Colonel Jackson Quade
Captain U.S.S Wolverine