By The Names On The Page - Part 2
Posted on Mon May 25th, 2026 @ 6:15pm by Commander Vren'desh Son of Rukas & Captain Saelira Venn
1,663 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
Prologue: Taking On Crew
Location: Captain’s Ready Room - USS Resolute
Timeline: MD001 - 0822 hours
The Klingon would be happy rewarding loyalty and friendship above all. That was the Klingon way. However, with everything that the Captain had just said, it proved that Vren'Desh had a long list of things to learn before he would be ready to command a starship. Learning was the reason he was here.
"I do not see a reason not to give Piper the job. It would do well for morale on the ship to see some more familiar faces in charge. Additionally, she deserves the chance. Someone like Commander th’Zharan will have their chance. We should look after our own." Vren'Desh spoke with the soul that Klingons had when they spoke of their family and house. In fact that was how he came to think of this ship, and its crew. This was his house now, and he would see that it became one of the great ones. "There you said this would be hard. I think Operations would be next."
Saelira watched him for a moment after that, the corner of her mouth softening at his certainty. There was something very Klingon in the way Vren’desh said our own, not as possession, but as duty. He was not wrong. A ship needed people who felt claimed by it, protected by it, pushed by it. Too much churn in the senior staff could make even a capable crew feel as though the deck beneath them had started to shift.
“I did say it would be hard,” she said, taking up the next file. “You have simply chosen to mistake clarity for ease. A very dangerous habit, Commander.”
There was warmth in it, but she did not linger there. Operations was not a department she was willing to treat lightly. On a ship like the Resolute, Ops was the quiet hinge in half the doors: power allocation, communications, sensors, transporters, resource management, repair priorities, the constant balancing act between what every department wanted and what the ship could actually provide.
She opened the first file, and a young Betazoid woman’s service record appeared across the display.
“Lieutenant Junior Grade Daniella Fox,” Saelira said, though she suspected Vren’desh had already pulled the same name. “Assistant Chief Operations Officer. Civilian foundation in applied starship systems and subspace communications, then the accelerated Operations programme at the Academy. Faraday, Gallowglas, then here.” Her eyes moved over the record, but there was a faint personal warmth there too. “She is younger than I would usually prefer for the senior chair, but age is not the same thing as readiness. I have met officers twice her age who still needed instructions printed on both sides of a door.”
Saelira let the file sit open between them. “What interests me is that her experience is practical. She grew up on a merchant ship, learned systems by listening to them before she ever learned the Starfleet vocabulary for what she was hearing. That matters in Operations. Some officers know a ship as a diagram. Fox seems to know a ship as a living thing, or close enough to one.” She glanced up at Vren’desh then. “Her record also shows a habit of spotting the gaps between departments. That incident on the Faraday, the cross-training proposal on the Gallowglas; those are not glamorous entries, but they tell me she understands how small oversights become large failures.”
She leaned back slightly, considering the name on the display rather than rushing to claim the answer. “My concern is not her ability. It is whether she is ready to be the person everyone comes to when the ship begins asking for more than she can give. Operations chiefs do not simply fix things. They disappoint people in the correct order. They tell Science no, Engineering not yet, Tactical only if we reroute from somewhere else, and they do it without turning every corridor into a battlefield.”
Saelira looked back to Vren’desh, calm and open, letting him have the room to disagree if he wished. “I am inclined to consider her seriously. Promoting Piper and Fox both from within would send a clear message, perhaps a good one, that the Resolute grows her own officers. But two internal promotions at once can also be read as comfort choosing comfort. So before I let sentiment dress itself up as wisdom, tell me what you see when you look at Lieutenant Fox.”
"I confess that Betazoids often mystify. I think it has something to do with their abilities. Fox is a competent officer, one who will keep this ship running for as long as needed. She is well liked by the crew. More to your point of comfort. Promoting two people from within would show that you plan on keeping the House, the family together. I have observed the way she interacts with others. It is quite similar to myself, and in the interest of total candor. People like me need a home." It was rare that Vren'Desh would talk in such a way to anyone. However, when it came to the Captain, he felt like he could be his most true self.
Saelira did not answer straight away. Vren’desh had said something more honest than a view on a personnel file, and she was careful not to step on it too quickly.
“Yes,” she said quietly. “They do.”
Her eyes moved to Fox’s file for a moment, then back to him. “A ship becomes home because people decide to make it one. Not all at once, and not because Starfleet assigns them quarters, but because someone stays, someone notices, someone makes room.”
She let that settle between them without dressing it up further.
“Fox understands the ship,” Saelira continued. “I think that matters. She has the ability, or we would not be having this conversation. But more than that, she seems to care about the people caught between the systems. That is what Operations needs.”
Her fingers rested lightly against the edge of the PADD, though she did not close the file yet.
“I’ll speak with her before I make it official. I want to hear it from her, not just from her record or from us sitting here deciding her future over coffee.” A small warmth entered her expression. “But yes. I’m leaning towards her.”
Then she looked back at Vren’desh, the softness still there, but with just enough dry humour to keep the moment from becoming too exposed.
“And for what it’s worth, Commander, I know this ship has become your House. You’re not quite as subtle about it as you think.”
The Klingon's jaw tightened, it was a reaction most Klingons had when they were caught in a situation such as this. He exhaled through his nose and released his jaw. All at once he smiled again. "There is a reason that the Klingon Defense Fleet has no Intelligence Division. My people are a lot of things but subtle is not one of them. Which reminds me Captain. May I use your replicator?" He stood up and refilled their cups with more rachtijino. Blood wine would normally be used for what he had in mind, but at this hour the Klingon coffee would suffice.
“Yes, of course,” Saelira said, watching him with quiet interest. “Help yourself.”
Vren'Desh keyed in a few commands into the replicator. It was a creation file that he programmed himself. After he spoke with his father Rukas, and after he made the decision. A metallic sash which bore the emblems of the Klingon people and the emblems of House Rukas materialized. He picked it up and turned to the Captain. "Captain since you are so perceptive as to how I look at this ship and its crew, I feel this is warranted. I Vren'Desh son of Rukas would be honored to welcome you into the House of Rukas as blood of my blood, as a sister in glory. My father who leads the House as backed this request and welcomes you to his house as a daughter." He held the sash out and awaited to see if she would take it.
Saelira went still, the kind of stillness that had nothing to do with command and everything to do with being caught somewhere beneath the armour.
Her eyes moved from Vren’desh to the sash in his hands. The metal. The emblems. House Rukas. She knew enough Klingons, had known enough Houses rise, fracture, burn and endure, to understand exactly what he was offering her. This was not a gesture. It was not friendship dressed up for the moment. It was family.
For a second, she found she did not have a ready answer.
Then she stepped forward and took the sash with both hands.
“Vren’desh,” she said quietly, her voice warmer than polished. “You honour me more than I think you know.”
She looked down at the sash, then back to him. When she spoke again, it was in Klingon, steady and careful, not perfect theatre, but spoken with respect.
“qeylISvaD, tuq RukasvaD je, vIquvmoH.” (For Kahless, and for the House of Rukas, I will honour it.)
Her fingers tightened slightly around the sash.
“Tell your father I accept. Proudly.” A small, honest smile touched her mouth. “And tell him his new daughter will try not to embarrass the House before breakfast.”
The humour was gentle, but the feeling underneath it was not. She held his gaze, letting him see that she understood the gift for what it was.
“Thank you, brother.”
A Joint Post By
Captain Saelira Venn
Commanding Officer
USS Resolute
Commander Vren'Desh
Executive Officer
USS Resolute
RSS Feed