I have always thrived in solitude. I was the child that preferred my own company as opposed to that of other people, content to sit in my room, and rarely sparing a glance outside the window.

When I received my new assignment on Deep Space 4, no one was truly surprised. Friends, family and colleagues alike made their concerns known in the guise of good-natured jokes. “Trying to get as far away from other people as possible”, they said. “That must be a dream come true.”

Some wondered if I wouldn’t get lonely.  I never did.

I never felt as isolated as people seemed to fear – after all, just like it had always been, the rest of the galaxy was always there, waiting, and solitude was always a choice. 

Then the Blackout came. 

We’ve all felt it. The sense of being not solitary, but alone. Caged by invisible borders. No communication. No information. No help. 

— from Aldris Ceix’ personal log

“How many more?”, Captain Ceix asked tiredly. He shifted in his seat muscles sore from sitting too long and doing too little. It was the chair, he thought. Or the fact that he hadn’t slept well for the past couple of weeks, and not at all last night.

“Four-three-seven.”, answered Lieutenant Sh’shiqil sharply, and with a scowl of disdain that not only spoke of misplaced frustration, but seemed so utterly wrong on her Andorian face. “And with section delta of the habitat ring still barely functional, we are long past capacity – we had to redirect to little Risa, and nobody is happy about it.”

Ceix gave a short nod, acknowledging not only the information, but his crew’s feelings about having to give up one of the few remaining areas of respite they had.

“How many of them need medical attention?” Doctor Trova asked, barely looking up from the PADD that kept her up to date on critical patients, staffing, and available bio-beds. “I already need about thirty more doctors to handle sickbay’s current workload, and triage centre two is nearing collapse.”

“I do not have that information.”, Sh’shiqil admitted. “The vessel is not damaged, but…”

“But we all know that doesn’t mean anything.”, Trova cut her off.

She wasn’t wrong. Within their little pocket of space – their prison –  the Vaadwuar attacks had been swift, merciless and aimed to sow chaos. The injured, the frightened, the displaced had fled. Illnesses spread in overcrowded freighters, and infection turned minor injuries into medical emergencies.

“We can’t send them away.”, Ceix said decisively.

“But sir…” Sh’shiqil started, then caught his expression – tired, resolute, unyielding – and fell silent.

“Ever since its reactivation” he explained “We’ve tried to make Deep Space Four a place people can turn to. Somewhere that stands for help, for diplomacy, for compromise. The fact that they’re coming here now… it means we’ve done something right.”

“The question is how long we can keep that promise.” Keller, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. “We are not considered important enough to be a priority target, but if the Vaadwuar come, we have little means of defending ourselves. And taking additional refugees will only be a further strain on our resources.”

“I think I speak for everyone here when I say we would rather they were going somewhere else.” Lieutenant Pereira sighed. “But they’re here now. And we won’t send them away.”

Ceix nodded.  “Welcome them to the station. Utilize whatever workforce they have – let them help us help them.” He looked at Sh’shiqil. “Can you spare additional officers to assist sickbay?”

The Andorian dipped her antennae. “We cannot. We have our hands full as it is.”

“What are your main challenges?”, Keller asked.

Sh’shiqil thought for a moment. “The Valari and Surnek have been disputing over a trade route for a decade now, and communication between the two species has broken down more than a year ago. Forcing them to interact with each other has proven… difficult. And the Esirans are overstimulated by the bright lights and loud sounds. It is like they are all just trying to stir unnecessary conflict.” She let that sink in before adding. “We are running out of options. At some point we might need to threaten consequences… even if that is the last thing I want.”

And with consequences, she meant removing them from the station.

“They’re just people, Eshrevi.” frowned Keller, deliberately using Sh’shiqil’s first name. “And they’re scared.”

“We’re working on bringing section delta online for additional residential quarters, but we are stretched thin with assisting in ship repairs as it is.”, Vargas, their Chief Engineer, sighed. “I’m sorry. We won’t get it done any faster.”

“You’re doing what you can.” Keller acknowledged. “But if we are unable to take any more people off security or engineering…”, he trailed off, then turned  to Pereira. “If you could spare some of your scientists…”

“We’re recalibrating the neutrino probes to extend the sensor range – trying to get an early warning if anything’s heading our way”, Pereira considered. “But… I can spare a few people, yes.”

“Good.” Ceix looked at Trova. “Not as good as Doctors, I will admit, but that’s all I have right now.”

“It will suffice. It has to.” Doctor Trova took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair. “But if more come… “

“Then we will adjust.” Ceix said. “We have to. We always do.”

It wasn’t the answer he had hoped to give. But as Captain, it was the job to carry the doubt so his crew didn’t have to.