As the shuttle landed, Shil did the final shut down sequence of the flight control console. She looked around, it seemed the crew was alright and she smiled. They had just landed on the USS Citadel– a Galaxy class. “Alright Folx we have landed, we have temp quarters, I however will be in Ten Forward if you want to join.”

Ralen rose from his seat as the shuttle’s engines wound down, the faint hum of the power core fading into the ambient noise of the docking bay. Grasping his duffle bag, he slung it over his left shoulder with precise efficiency before stepping down the ramp. His gaze swept the gleaming expanse of the U.S.S. Citadel’s shuttle bay—ordered, active, and unmistakably Starfleet. The Vulcan’s expression remained composed, though a flicker of quiet curiosity registered in his eyes as he joined the disembarking crew. “Acknowledged,” he said evenly to Shil. “I will secure my quarters and then join you in Ten Forward.”

“I look forward to it Mr. Vulcan.” Shil smiled extending her hand, “You can call me Shil!” she did a once over on the Vulcan, he was tall lean, slightly muscular, nothing to write home about, but something to write in her diary about, if you knew what she meant. She was curious, usually Vulcans had a tendency to stay away from Orions. Just one of those, do not mix well, like oil and water. Hey a friends a friend right?

“Deck 10 – Forward.” she ordered the turbolift. She could feel the eyes of the officers from the Citadel on her. She just shrugged it off. She had faced it a lot in the Academy.

Ralen regarded Shil’s outstretched hand for a brief moment before accepting it with characteristic Vulcan composure. His grip was firm but measured, his expression unchanged. “Acknowledged… Shil,” he said evenly, inclining his head just slightly in what passed for Vulcan cordiality. As she turned toward the turbolift, Ralen fell into step beside her, his duffle still resting on his shoulder.

He noticed the glances from the Citadel’s officers but, as ever, chose not to react. Observation was his default state; judgment, an inefficient use of logic. Still, he recognized the tension that lingered between certain species—Vulcan and Orion among them. To him, it was simply another variable to navigate. “Human idiom suggests that shared experience fosters understanding,” he remarked quietly as the lift doors closed. “Perhaps service aboard this vessel will validate that hypothesis.”

“You are in service here? I am bound for Starbase Bravo. I am apart of the new counselling department.”

“I  have been assigned to Starbase Bravo, as the new tactical officer. The Federation’s renewed focus on psychological well-being is a necessary counterbalance to the increasing unpredictability along the frontier, it is logical.”

“Thanks Mr. Vulcan. That’s your name now on for me.” she smirked. He was growing on her. He was sweet in his own way. “After the incident with the Vaadwaur I feel the fourth fleet got the brunt of it, and they are putting in for a lot of counselling and psychiatric staff. I know a lot of my classmates are being sought out. So is there a Mrs. Vulcan?” she asked swirling his sex-on-the-beach.

Ralen regarded her over the rim of his glass, one brow arching in quiet amusement—or as close to it as a Vulcan came. “Negative,” he replied evenly. “There is no ‘Mrs. Vulcan.’” He set his drink down with precise care, the faint clink of glass against the table punctuating his words.

After a pause, he added, “Relationships among my people are… deliberate. Emotion is not absent, merely disciplined.” His gaze met hers, steady and unreadable. “Though I have observed that curiosity regarding such matters appears to be a universal constant—species notwithstanding.”

Trying to contain her excitement, and professionalism, she couldn’t. “I see. Have you been on a Starbase before?”

“Briefly,” he said. “Starbase 72—during a tactical systems refit aboard the U.S.S. Virginia. It was… efficient. Structured. Though somewhat lacking in the unpredictability that planets—and people—tend to introduce.”

He glanced back at Shil, head tilting slightly. “I anticipate Starbase Bravo will provide a more… variable environment. Is this your first Starbase assignment?”

“No, this is my second bout on a Starbase. It was fun, and it was the past…” she paused, “Starbase Bravo is beautiful according to her system profile.” Shil replied.

“Its design is both strategic and aesthetically refined—an efficient balance of function and form. Typical of Starfleet’s later construction philosophy.

Shil smiled. “So, what made you go into tactical?”

Ralen considered her question for a moment before answering, his tone calm but reflective. “It was a matter of logic,” he said at last. “During my studies at the Academy, I found tactical analysis to be the discipline that best combined precision, strategy, and control under pressure. It requires understanding both conflict and the means to prevent it—a balance of reason and restraint.” He looked toward the stars beyond the viewport, the faint starlight reflecting in his eyes. “Vulcans do not seek combat, but logic dictates preparation. To ensure peace, one must first be capable of defending it.”

The Vulcan mind was something Shil was always curious about. “I would love to learn more about you sometime… perhaps on base?”

Ensign Blair approached the table. “Sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant Ralen. A message from the base commander—he wants you to come aboard earlier than expected. A shuttle leaves in thirty minutes.”

Ralen looked up as Ensign Blair approached, setting his glass down with precise care. “Understood, Ensign,” he said evenly, rising from his seat. He gave Shil a brief, respectful nod. “It appears my reassignment schedule has been… advanced.” Adjusting the strap of his duffle bag, he continued, “I will take my leave to prepare for departure.”

A faint pause followed before he added, his tone measured but not without warmth, “It was agreeable sharing this conversation, Shil. I trust we will meet again—on Starbase Bravo.” With that, he straightened his uniform and followed Blair toward the turbolift, the quiet efficiency of his movements reflecting both discipline and something more subtle—anticipation.