I miss the sunset. That moment when the gentle breeze picks up, and the sun seems to infuse the water with liquid fire, and paints the sky in crimson and magenta. That moment when the stars first glimpse through the velvety sky, and everything around me pauses. 

I’ve made sitting here my private ritual. My refuge for whenever sickbay could spare me, a sanctuary that allowed me time to think, and to feel. 

But the sun is no longer setting – Engineering has seen to that. Because now that night has fallen, the world around us is dark enough.

— From Dr. Nichelle Trova’s personal log

The holographic dome and weather control matrix that usually simulated the natural rhythm of day and night over the little Risa – the large park just below the habitat ring of Deep Space 4 – had maintained perfect parameters for several days now. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so. Up above, the sun was a silent guardian whose golden kissed the skin of those beneath it in the gentlest way possible, and watched over the masses that had come to flee the encroaching darkness.

Nichelle allowed her gaze to sweep over the masses of refugees that had been forced to make the former recreational area their temporary home. Romulans that had been cut off on their way home, Valari who had fled their home world once the Vaadwuar had emerged from the Underspace apertures, Surnek from a nearby mining colony without the means to protect itself, and countless others that had either come here for protection, or been forced to stay once the Blackout hit.

It was overcrowded. A volatile mix of faiths, cultures, politics and raw emotion. Nichelle watched them in silence before speaking.

“It was always so far away.” she said quietly, ashamed at foolishly believing that, with all their advancement and accomplishments, the galaxy could be a safe place.

“What was?” Keller, who stood next to her, asked gently as he turned toward her. Their conflict had never quite been resolved. There had been no grand gestures, no heartfelt apologies. It had simply stopped to matter.

“The occupation of Bajor.”, Nichelle sighed, and pressed her lips together. “Of course my parents told me all about it. And they do teach about it – not just on Bajor. Academy too. But… it was always something from the history books. Something that didn’t apply to me.”

Keller grimaced. “I don’t think either of us expected something like this to happen. Another altercation with the Borg, perhaps. Or further conflict with the Klingons. But this…” he shook his head tiredly. “No one could have prepared us for this.”

“I’m not so sure.”, Nichelle said after a moment of hesitant silence. “I mean…  I’m trying to figure out how the opening of the Underspace tunnels wasn’t an indication that something was going on. Starfleet… we… are supposed to be the best and the brightest. And somehow we just… didn’t see it coming.”

Keller paused, letting the seconds stretch into minutes before he replied. “ You feel that we should have been prepared. You’re looking for someone to blame.”

Nichelle drew back ever so slightly, her mind racing to find ways to prove that this wasn’t what she was saying. To explain herself. But Keller raised his hand to keep her thoughts from spiraling, and offered a knowing smile.

“I’m a specialist on blaming people. You know that.” he said softly.

Nichelle gave a quiet nod. Keller had blamed her for Ricarda’s death – because she had been the doctor on duty when Ricarda was brought to sickbay, but was unable to save her. All she had been able to do was put her into stasis until Keller could say goodbye.

“Why do we do it, you think?” Nichelle asked. “Looking for someone to blame.”

“Because… “ Keller pondered. “Because that makes it less random. If we have someone to blame, then we are saying that if this someone would have acted differently the catastrophe could have been avoided. That, if we replace this someone, it can’t happen again.”

“If everyone did what they could and it happened regardless… it makes it worse, don’t you think?” Nichelle murmured,

“Yes.” Keller agreed. “Because it means that it can happen again. At any time. Despite our best efforts. It’s difficult to feel safe that way.”

Slowly, in careful and deliberate movements, he reached out, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A little gesture of reassurance in a sea of uncertainty. For a long time, Nichelle simply stared at his hand. But she didn’t pull back. And eventually, she returned the squeeze.

“You’re really good at this.”, she said eventually, attempting a smile.

“The talking? I’ve had so much counseling, I was bound to pick something up.”, Keller smirked.

Nichelle shook her head. She looked back at the refugees beneath them – the families, the strangers, the enemies. “Good at…” she made a sweeping motion. “All of this.”

“Thank you.” Keller said earnestly. “Sometimes I feel like I’m doing barely enough. But I… understand.”

He sighed and let go of her hand. And to her surprise, Nichelle wished he didn’t.

“Losing Ricarda… losing faith in Starfleet and having to rebuild it – it changed me. I can understand how these people feel – loved ones dead or missing, homes destroyed… it shakes you to the core.” he continued quietly.

“We take it for granted, don’t we? Despite all we know.” Nichelle sighed. “At least I did. The opportunity to return home to my family, or talk to them when I please. And to imagine that all of this could be gone. That we might not even make it out of here…”

“It makes me feel small.” Keller admitted.

“Yeah.” Nichelle nodded slowly, and turned her gaze back to the survivors, and the artificial sun above them. “Small.”