“All good things.”

Captain Helena Dread stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in her quarters, a glass of cider in her hands.  She was recording her log and trying to find her thoughts.  She had come from a meeting with Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana on Montana Station.  She was getting a new crew and a new assignment in the far reaches of rimward and spinward space.

“It’s not easy to take a new crew.  I’d just gotten to know this ship’s original crew.  I was used to them and they were used to me.”  She took a sip and grimaced at the reality ahead of her.  A new XO and a new senior staff.  All to ‘find the right group’ to tackle the mission ahead.  “I’ll have a few days to review their dossiers and speak with their former commanding officers. But I don’t want to, to be honest.”  Another pull from her cup, and she continued, “I suppose I have to trust Fontana knows what the hell he’s doing.”  She liked the man and had enough respect for him that she hadn’t shouted him down the instant he’d revealed the reason for their meeting.  She had learned that lesson early in her career, before she’d come under his command.  You had to have a base amount of respect for someone.

“The incoming senior staff is a ragtag group – so far, there’s no connection between them.  I suppose that’s a benefit for us all – we’re all going to be strangers to each other.  We’ll have to work to get to know and trust each other as we go.”  Dread drained her cup, setting it down.  She stood at the windows, staring out at the station and the stars.  “Fontana was clear – he wanted me to stay as Gagarin’s commanding officer—so many times before I’ve been shuffled along with my crew from ship to ship.  He says he believes in me as a captain.”  Helena shifted to the couch, leaning back as she reflected on her journey to the center chair.  She’d hated it and fought against it.   And yet, she’d never tried to get out of it.  The internal threats in her mind about transferring to some comfortable medical research position closer to Earth had never materialized outside of her inner monologue.

She was still here.  Helena sat in that thought, wondering if that was why she had stayed despite her reservations about being in the center chair, that her subconscious had refused to give up or walk away.  That she had wanted to stay and prove herself worthy of the four pips.  “An old friend talked about life as a passing of seasons – starts, stops, and delays.  I always told him I hated that philosophic crap, but he never stopped telling me about it.”  Helena scrunched up her nose, annoyed.  “He’d be smiling wide as the sector if he heard me saying this, but I think he wasn’t all wrong.  Annoyingly right far more times than he had a right to be, but he never wavered.  Even in his last days.”  She let out a long sigh, frustrated but feeling better about what was coming.  “I learned a lot from him.  I wish I’d listened a little more to him prattling on and poked less fun at him.”  She felt a smile tug at her lips, memories of her friend fading in and out as she thought of him.  “He did laugh with me when I poked at him.  Never gave up trying to get me to see life through his eyes.”

A beep sounded at her console, and she walked over to read. The crew would begin to arrive in the next few days, and the mission would begin as soon as possible. There was not a lot of time for small talk—it would be straight to business.

“He always talked about moving forward. ‘Onward to the next horizon’ was his motto.  I suppose he was right.  Onward.  Ever onward.”  She stood in quiet reflection of her memories and the future that lay wide open ahead of her.  The universe was in motion.

“Save and end log.  Time to get to business.”