The stars streamed past the viewport of the ready room like long silver threads against the darkness. The Atlas’ engines whispered in sync with the rest of the hum of the Andromeda-class’ systems. Hundreds of systems ran in concert, fully alive since their launch from Avalon Fleet Yards.

Inside, Corbin stood before the broad expanse of glass, a small framed photograph in his hand. The image was an old one. It was a still capture on paper, the edges worn soft with time. It showed him and his son, sixteen then, both muddy and laughing under the dim violet skies of Lake El’Nar. A campfire flickered in the background, and Corbin could almost smell the woodsmoke, hear his son’s teasing voice about “Dad’s hopeless fishing skills.”

He smiled, just barely, before setting the frame carefully on the shelf behind his desk beside a stylised sculpture from Betazed’s eastern region and a small carved token from his Academy graduation. Each item, arranged with quiet precision, formed a constellation of memory amid the sleek newness of the room.

He took a breath, stepped back, and tilted his head slightly.

Almost perfectly aligned.

Almost.

The door chime sounded.

“Come,” Corbin said, without turning.

The doors parted with their characteristic whisper, and Nelson entered. She had a coffee mug in one hand and a PADD in the other. She paused just inside, her eyes sweeping the immaculate room before landing on him with amused exasperation.

“I see you’re finally settling in,” she remarked. After weeks of privately nagging him to finish furnishing his ready room, Nelson was glad to see him doing it. “Though I’m not sure whether to call this decorating or staging for a museum exhibit.”

Corbin could sense Nelson’s amused thoughts about his decorating efforts from where he stood. He gave her a sidelong look. “Order inspires clarity.”

“That’s your excuse for everything,” she said, moving closer, the subtle grin tugging at her lips. “You’re aware most captains just put things down, right?”

“I prefer structure,” he countered evenly, though the faintest ghost of a smile flickered across his features. “A ship reflects her captain’s state of mind.”

“Then the Atlas must be deeply neurotic,” Nelson said under her breath, sipping her coffee. “Because this place looks like it’s afraid to breathe.”

Corbin chuckled. It was a low, knowing sound that broke the silence between them like a familiar rhythm. “It’s good to see you’ve retained your gift for subtlety, Liz.”

“Someone has to keep you grounded, Rome” she replied, leaning a hip against the edge of his desk. “Besides, the crew needs to see you’re real. If they catch you polishing the replicator again, morale will plummet.”

He gave her a pointed look. “That happened once.”

“Twice,” she corrected. “Once on the Columbia, once last week in Ten Forward.”

He opened his mouth, closed it, then inclined his head in surrender. Corbin knew she was right, so as it was just the two of them he surrendered to her on that point. “Fine. Twice.”

She grinned, victorious, before holding out the PADD towards him. “Framheim Station’s latest report. Fleet deployments, border updates, and a fresh helping of political headaches.”

Corbin took it, scrolling through the information as he moved around to his desk. “Any surprises?”

“Starfleet Intelligence thinks certain Klingon Houses, the pro-Toral factions in particular, are mobilising in our general direction,” she said. “Apparently, the Shackleton Expanse has become the latest prize in their macho attempts at spreading their muscles.”

Corbin made a quiet, unimpressed sound. “Of course. A region barely explored, and already half the quadrant wants to plant their banner. Why am I not surprised?”

“Typical, isn’t it?” Nelson said as she perched casually on the edge of his desk. “We spend years wanting to explore this region, and they’ll just show up with disruptors and ego.”

He smirked faintly. “Remind me to put that exact phrasing in the mission briefing.”

“Gladly,” she replied, taking another sip of her coffee. “Though I’d rather not turn our maiden voyage into a Klingon shouting match. Rowal’s running a full tactical readiness check, just in case.”

He looked up from the PADD. “Good initiative. Thank you.”

“Of course,” she said. “Last thing we need is a repeat of what happened at Avalon earlier this year.”

His expression darkened, if only for a second. They didn’t talk much about the helplessness of being docked while the Vaadwaur tore through other sectors. Orders to remain to defend one of the largest fleet yards in Starfleet kept arriving. Orders to remain on standby, even though they couldn’t get the Atlas out of drydock. They’d both felt that frustration keenly, the echo of Columbia’s loss under a new crew only compounding it.

Corbin set the PADD down gently. “We’ll make sure Atlas doesn’t share the fate of our last ship.”

Nelson’s voice softened. “She won’t. Besides, I’d say we’ve earned something fresh. A new ship, and a chance to explore a new region. This is going to be good.”

He studied her face. She was calm, confident and had the same steady presence she had since their Academy days. “You make that sound almost easy.”

She shrugged lightly. “Someone’s got to.”

Then the intercom chirped, followed by Alkos’ voice.

“Bridge to Captain Corbin.”

Corbin turned towards his desk after tapping his combadge. “Go ahead, Commander.”

The Bajoran officer’s voice came through clear, calm, but edged with purpose. “Sir, we’ve just picked up a distress signal. It’s faint, and we believe it’s Ivalan in origin.”

Corbin exchanged a glance with Nelson, that old unspoken communication between them sharpening instantly into command focus. Nelson straightened slightly, her smirk fading.

Corbin didn’t leave Alkos hanging for too long. “Location?”

“We’re still narrowing it down, sir,” Alkos replied. “The signal is being distorted by local subspace interference, but it appears to be within two light-years off from our current heading. Velesa is already routing power to long-range sensors to boost the trace.”

“Understood, Commander,” Corbin said. “Take us to yellow alert and have Starok alter our course to intercept, maximum warp. Inform Doctor Carrilion to prepare sickbay. We’ll be there shortly. Corbin out.”

The channel closed with a faint tone after Corbin tapped his badge.

Nelson exhaled slowly, setting her mug down beside the untouched PADD. “So much for a quiet maiden voyage.”

Corbin allowed himself a small, wry smile. “You were expecting quiet?”

“I was hoping,” she said, pushing off the desk and adjusting her uniform jacket. “Seems hope never stands a chance around us.”

“On the contrary,” he said, already moving toward the door. “Hope just needs the right ship and crew.”

Nelson gave a soft laugh, following him out of the ready room and onto the bridge, where, beyond the polished and well-organised calm of Corbin’s ready room, the first test of Atlas’s new voyage waited for them.