The jagged crown of Resistance Mountain glimmered under the late afternoon sun. Its steep slopes swept in layers of soft powder that caught the light like frost-laced silk. The biting air was dry, yet thin enough to make every breath feel earned. Below the summit, Renewal Mountain Resort sprawled along the mountainside. Its timbered architecture blended old Terran alpine charm with the precision of Federation engineering. Wide wooden balconies curved around the lodge. Temporary semi-translucent banners embroidered with a stylized snowflake emblem hang from the rafters. The great glass front reflected jagged peaks in a mosaic of windows. Steam curled up from stone chimneys, as natural fires heated spaces within.

Inside, visitors could find a full-service spa where mineral-rich geothermal water fed steaming pools beneath tall, skylit ceilings. Aromatic oils and Andorian ice-crystal massages were available alongside traditional human treatments. Several restaurants offered everything from Vulcan plant-based cuisine to Tellarite smoked meats. Aromas of the latter drifted into the resort’s carpeted halls. One domed dining room revolved slowly to give guests panoramic views of the mountains as they ate.

Towards the rear, the building pressed into the mountain. A grand ballroom spread across polished marble floors towards the aft doorway. Chandeliers cast prismatic light over guests here. Beyond this space, an auditorium was carved against the rock-face to form a natural amphitheater. The space has hosted everything from symphonic performances to subspace lectures. Even the resort’s quieter lounges held the hum of conversation and the faint crackle of fireplaces.

Two hundred rooms made up the estate.

From higher up the slope, the lodge looked like a warm ember that glowed against the frosty landscape.

Lt. JG Itata th’Zeles cut down one of the advanced trails in a blur of cerulean and white. She leaned into her skis with natural ease. Her form led her through narrow, sharp movements as she carved through a bend. Her form-fitting white snowsuit was worn without a jacket. The temperature was well above the freezing point, feeling warm enough for the shen to dress for movement over warmth. The insulated suit hugged her compact frame like a second skin. The stark fabric caught faint glimmers of icy blue in the sunlight. Snow swirled around her ankles in the wake of her turns. Each of her movements appeared crisp and confident.

Just behind her, Lt. JG Sarah Overson was less about precision and more about style. Her copper-red snowsuit shimmered faintly in the light. The tailored lines accentuated every curve of her figure. A short black jacket with iridescent piping stopped just above her hips. Her body bounced slightly as she maneuvered down the choppy slope. Her skis bit deep into the powder with every change of their edges’ surface. This guided each turn and angle. The copper-haired lady’s movements left bold, sweeping arcs in the snow.

Both officers’ helmet visors glowed faintly with LCARS readouts. They highlighted altitude, wind speed, slope angle, and a pulsating trail that marked the route down. The heads-up display tracked their relative positions in a neat schematic at the lower right corner of their vision. A small channel indicator blinked as their commbadges fed conversation directly to their ears.

Overson’s relaxed voice carried lightly over the channel. “I could get used to this,” she said. Her words were caked in rich tones of satisfaction.

Itata dipped into a low crouch before replying. She sped up as her crimson eyes scanned the next curve. “You and me both. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the bridge lately.”

“That’s a choice,” Sarah replied as she pushed off into a deeper carve. She continued to increase her efforts in order to catch up.

“A good one. I’ve been using the Cardinal’s sensor pod to monitor Breen activity.” The Andorian’s tone was conversational, though the data she referred to sat firmly under the shadow of classified work.

There was a pause before Sarah added, “And given how close we are to their border…”

Itata cut in quickly as she guided her body through a clean, aggressive slalom run. “Let’s not finish that sentence over an open channel.”

Sarah let out a soft laugh, audible even through the comm filter. “Fine then. I’ll just let you ski. You look like somebody who’s been waiting all year for this.”

“I have been. This is my weather, Madam Overson. I don’t just like winter. I live for it.”

The slope steepened. Both women adjusted without breaking pace. Snow hissed under their skis. Their edges bit into the harder-packed surface beneath the powder. The LCARS HUDs plotted their path between a scatter of low pines. After they shot through the gap, the trail widened. A long, fast straight path down lie ahead.

The resort’s hoverlift system crisscrossed the mountainside like silver veins. Floating gondolas glided between pylons toward the lodge’s upper decks. From the trail, the central balcony behind the resort looked like a small amphitheater carved into the mountain itself. The scent of roasting meats and rich spices from the lodge kitchens almost seemed to drift up with the wind. The pair was running late for lunch after early coffee and a late breakfast.

Sarah shifted into a tuck to narrow the gap between them. “Race you to the bottom.”

“You’ll lose,” Itata said without turning her head. Her grin was audible through her voice.

The next hundred meters blurred into a contest of clean speed. Itata’s posture was razor-perfect. Each pole plant thrust her deliberately ahead. The Andorian’s every motion was finely tuned to squeeze more momentum from the slope. Sarah countered with wide, fearless sweeps that kept her velocity high. The redhead relied on her legs’ strength to hold the line.

The HUD flashed a caution icon as the trail narrowed ahead. Itata darted through first. Her lithe body tilted just enough to slice past the inner pylon. Sarah followed a hair slower but used the outer arc to slingshot towards her opponent.

Their comm channel filled with breath and the low rush of wind.

“Almost there,” Sarah stated.

Itata cut her off with a burst of speed on the final drop. The lodge loomed ahead. Its wood-and-stone facade stretched wide. Carved beams and balconies were lit with soft amber light. Wide windows gave passing glimpses of crackling fireplaces and patrons wrapped in thick blankets. Guests seated outside carried drinks as steam rose from their hands.

Both officers coasted into the slowing lane at the base. Snow sprayed around their skis in glittering arcs.

Sarah popped her helmet free, red-gold hair tumbling out in a fiery spill. She shook her head with a wry smile. “Alright, you win.”

Itata’s pixie-cut white hair appeared wind-swept. Her curved bangs formed their wave-like shape as they settled back into place curving towards her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed dark purple against her pale blue skin. “Told you. Now.. One more run?” She cradled her helmet in her hand as she looked around to study her surroundings.

Sarah looked up at the peak. The gondolas were already crawling toward the upper lift station like a line of busy ants. “One more. Then I’m getting something from that bakery where nothing is replicated.”

Itata smirked. “That’s the first thing you’ve said all day that I can’t argue with.”

They clicked their skis towards the lift. The wind carried the faint sound of music and laughter from the lodge nearby. The slope above was already swallowing their tracks under drifting snow.

They were almost at the lift when a buoyant voice cut through the windy howl of the wintry landscape.

“You two look like you handle a slope the way most people handle a holosuite.”

Itata slowed and glanced over her shoulder. Two men stood a few meters away at the edge of the queue. One was Andorian, tall and broad shouldered in a way that suggested heavy lifting rather than ceremonial calistenics. Wide, Thalassan antennae rose and fell with curious flicks. There was refinement in his posture and dignified movements. A blond Trill alongside him filled his jacket with a stocky frame.

Itata’s expression softened in a way she rarely allowed, especially towards men. “Where on Andoria?” she asked. Her tone carried the same quiet interest she used when cataloguing people. She sounded professional, but not too cold.

The Andorian’s antennae tilted forward. “The name’s Thalev. I’m from the northern ranges of the Thalassan continent. A little place called Tov. And what about you?”

“I’m from the Irinari province,” Itata said. Memories of home drifted into the chief intelligence officer’s mind. The thoughts weren’t warm, but were quite precise. “We had blue glaciers, groves of ancient old-growth trees and ninety degree slopes that make you respect gravity. My grandmother had a cabin on the edge of a valley.” Her posture relaxed a hair. “Most of the settlements there are still underground though.”

The Trill grinned as he glanced to Sarah. “I’m Leren. I work in propulsion, mostly. Thalev handles structural and field systems.”

Leren gave a short nod. A slow smile spread across the Trill’s speckled facial features. His hand flexed at his side the way a man keeps his fingers ready to fix something.

“What brings you two to the mountain?” Sarah asked before Itata could.

“We’re on a refit detail,” Thalev said. “It’s routine work on a construction barge parked on a nearby pad. We ski a couple runs, then get back to the dock. We wanted to get a decent day on the slopes while we could. There’s great powder today.” Thalev’s antennae twitched.

“You two are obviously Stafleet with the way you move and talk. What do you do?”

Itata gave him a practiced line. “We’re command branch.” It was a deliberately vague shield she used to keep her work in intelligence private.

Thalev, not easily deflected, pressed on. “Command branch. So you take the ship to the dance and tell the rest where to go, huh? Do you work in operations? Are you deck officers? Or wait, no. Logistics?”

She hesitated and inhaled half a breath. Itata’s eyes drifted to the steady line of gondolas. Skiers queued. A short man laughed as he pulled his gloves into place. The cold had a way of making people more direct.

“Um, you see. We-“, Itata stalled.

Sarah stepped forward as if sliding into a role in her former acting troupe. Her voice smoothed into a bright, airy tone. “We manage resources. Logistics, inventory. We keep the lights on.” The answer landed with practiced grace. “Somebody has to keep the soup replicators from going on strike.”

Leren chuckled into a low rumble of honest laughter. “Resource managers. So you tell the engineers what they need and then stand back and watch the sparks?”

“Something like that,” Itata added. She let the half-joke hang long enough to let the pair imagine the scene. Her eyes flicked to Itata and lingered playfully. “Mostly we just argue with replicator matrices at two in the morning.”

Thalev’s mouth twitched. “No time for romance, I bet. That’s practical.”

“Practicality is underrated,” Itata said. She couldn’t think of a way to tell Thalev she wasn’t exactly looking for men right now. He still seemed like nice enough company. Something about him reminded the shen of home. After all, she would never see him after a few days.

They all shared a laugh.

“So you’re engineers, propulsion and structural,” Sarah said. “Those are useful skills. You two are the kind of people one wants on their side when the ship decides to sneeze.”

Leren’s grin widened. “Speaking of which, we were thinking of doing an east ridge run first thing tomorrow. You can see the best sunrise in the sector here. Would you both care to join us?”

Itata’s eyes flicked to the sky where the west face of Resistance Mountain caught late light. She checked the line of gondolas and the steady flow of people. She was more used to planning out events further in advance. An invitation and an immediate yes posed the risk of having Thalev think Itata was interested in him. Her posture shifted. The slopes were a place to cut loose. “We planned one more run,” she said. “There’s time for that too. I think we should be able to make tomorrow work.”

Sarah’s grin told Thalev and Leren more than any negotiation tactic could reveal. “We’ll take you up on that. If you can handle a proper Earth breakfast at the lodge, we can handle your sunrise run.”

Thalev’s antennae flexed in amusement. “Human breakfast it is. I’ll bring something to spice up the dish. Leren likes sweet heat.”

The blond Trill gave a half bow. “I’ll make sure we don’t have to wade through any maintenance conduits on the trip up. You never know, with some of these old gondolas.”

They slid into the queue together. Their conversation flowed loosely through mixed bits of flirtation and friendliness. Waiting passed quickly as the crowd dissipated.

They reached the gondola doors and stepped into a softly lit carriage. The interior was warm. A heat element hummed faintly like a purring engine beneath their booted feet. Snow clung in brief spidery crystals to the glass viewports. Other skiers boarded. A family laughed. A pair of older scientists with badges at their collars entered next. A solo climber in the corner checked his crampons.

The gondola lifted. In a breathless moment the lodge fell away beneath them. Its surroundings were replaced by the thin blue mountain ice. Outside, white ribbons marked the wake of each passing skier’s spray. The azure sky above was pockmarked by a handful of wispy clouds.

Thalev leaned his forehead against the glass and pointed. “You can almost see to the east ridge from here. Its the best view of the sun crossing the ridgeline.”

Leren looked at Sarah. “You said resource management. Do you ever miss being in the action? I do as an engineer. It feels odd to almost never be the one in away team boots. I feel like sometimes I’m just a cog meant to service a machine.”

Sarah’s smile tightened in a way that suggested she had answers she could not deliver in full. “Sometimes. But somebody has to be there to help the machine run smoothly. We can all say we do that.” Her work was actually tailored towards away missions in disguise.

Itata’s glove brushed the railing. She glanced at Sarah with a half-arch of amusement.

The gondola drifted higher. The hum of the lift matched the slow increase of their shared stories. The slopes ahead swelled like a powdered gemstone.

As the carriage climbed, the resort lights shrank and the sky brightened. Their breath fogged the glass. The reflection of the group folded into the snowscape outside. For a brief second they shared a private capsule of warmth.

When the gondola chimed to signal arrival at the upper station, no one seemed in a hurry to step out. The skiers all slid on their helmets and gear at the summit. Leren rose and offered his hand to help. Sarah took it as she stepped lightly into the new snowfall.

“Tomorrow,” Thalev said over his shoulder as they moved toward the boarding ramp. “East ridge. Sunrise. I think I heard something about maple oatmeal at the big restaurant.”

Sarah looked at him, eyes bright. “We’ll bring spoons.”

The snow caught the edges of Itata’s short hair. “You two better be ready. We don’t skimp on meals.”

They moved off together onto the windy mountainside. The gondola doors closed behind them with a gentle hiss.