“It never gets any easier.” Captain Samson Bradley stared into open space in the command lounge on the USS Zephyr. The infinite nature of space taunted him as if to remind him of the unending cycle of birth and death. He tossed back another dark soda. They had lost fifteen crew from his command in the battle to destroy the station responsible for the blackout across much of the rimward. Fifteen names he had to write letters for, and fifteen caskets that had been loaded onto various transports with honor guards. Fifteen caskets that would arrive at the doors of broken hearts. Fifteen lives lost.

“You’ve done well.” The other figure at the table replied, and the voice belonged to Captain Peter Crawford. He was drinking a light soda and finishing the reports from department heads on his ship, the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt. “You let me work with Vargas. I didn’t even have to lock you in your quarters to make sure you got your rest.”

Bradley held back a scoff. Crawford had been right. The rest he had been forced to take had helped balance him. When he’d returned to duty, his mind had cleared. He felt his purpose more clearly. The crew had responded to a reinvigorated captain. “I hope you won’t be unbearable in winning that particular argument.”

Crawford cackled, “Sam. If I had held every time I was right over you or anyone’s head, my arms would fall off.” Bradley chuckled in reply and moved on to his reports. Peter returned to his, adding, “Thank you for the care you showed to Carolyn.” His daughter had been in intensive care for several weeks with deep burns on her skin and dire internal injuries. Her first week back on duty had just finished, and her trademark smile, while dimmed at times, was coming back more each day.

Samson felt a quiet lump in his throat. Carolyn Crawford had been a refreshing reminder of his relationship to Peter. He had taken extra care to keep an eye on her. His greatest fears had nearly torn him apart when the depth of her injuries became clear. “She’s a good engineer. I’ve put in a request for an award for her bravery. I know she’ll refuse it, but she earned it.” He watched as Peter’s eyes grew misty for a brief moment.

“I think she’ll accept this time. She’s made a point to meet with each member of her engineering crew since she’s returned to duty. Something in her changed.” He turned his attention back to Bradley, “Our next assignment should help everyone with a chance of putting our minds to work.” He slid a PADD across the table, “They’re throwing us into the deep end.”

Samson scrolled, feeling the mystery deepen the more he read. “This isn’t the deep end…this is a completely different pool, Peter.”

Crawford’s expression lost some of its initial softness. “We’re technically being assigned a relaxing survey mission.” His eyes returned to the windows, “But that’s on paper. The reality is we’re lacking good intelligence out rimward and spinward. With the recent events and Tougun still unaccounted for…Fontana wants to set up sensor and communication buoys.”

Bradford felt a quiet chill in his bones. “This sounds suspiciously like an intel mission.” The sly smile reply from Crawford did little to comfort him.

“That will fall to me and my crew. The Zephyr will remain invested in the science and discovery section of the brief. Don’t worry, Sam.”

Bradford finished his drink. “I always start worrying when you tell me not to worry.” He stood and glanced at his watch. “How soon until departure?”

“Four hours.” Crawford leaned back in the chair, eyeing his friend. “We won’t put the Zephyr back into immediate danger, Sam. You have my word.”

A last glance from his friend as he replied, “That I can put some confidence in, Peter. We’ll be ready in four hours.” Bradley left, leaving Peter Crawford alone to contemplate whether he could keep his word.