Rebecca sighed, her eyes fixed on the slowly rotating ball of Vulcan. The familiar sight of the planet did little to ease the tension coiled within her. She sipped her coffee, staring into the void of space, trying to reconcile the safety of her current post with the raging war that others faced on the front lines. The quiet of this orbit felt like a betrayal—how could she sit here in safety while other ships and crews put their lives on the line? Guilt gnawed at her.

The sudden chirp of the comm startled her, her hand jerking as she nearly spilled her coffee. She let out a slow, controlled breath and turned in her seat, pressing the comm accept button. “Captain Talon here.”

“Captain, you have a visitor waiting for you at the airlock.”

Rebecca set her coffee on the desk, the cup’s warmth a manifestation of her ever-present vice. “On my way,” she replied. She sat for a long moment and let out a heavy sigh. The life of a ship’s captain left little room for herself. The ship was a demanding thing, more so than a pet or a child, always requiring her attention, always needing something. There was no escape from its grasp, just as there was no escaping the weight of command.

Sighing, Rebecca pushed away from her desk and exited the ready room. Only the helm and operations stations were crewed by junior officers, who looked in her direction, sleep heavy on their bored faces. There was nothing to do while docked at the station, but those positions had to be staffed at all times. Giving them a curt nod, she crossed the bridge without a word exchanged, and the ensigns shrugged and returned to their panels as the turbolift doors closed behind the captain.

She stepped out of the turbolift onto Deck Eight just in time to see her twins shooting down the corridor at full tilt, their excited shrieks echoing like angry squirrels as they ran. “Girls!” Rebecca shouted after them, but neither heard her. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. Let them have fun. How much trouble could they get into on a station in orbit of Vulcan?

As she rounded the curve of the saucer, the airlock came into view. At the entrance, guarded by a pair of officers in mustard-trimmed uniforms, stood a man wearing the same uniform as her security officers. The girls were in each arm, their tiny limbs wrapped around his neck. His silver hair and walrus mustache were unmistakable, and her heart skipped a beat, scarcely daring to believe what her eyes told her. “Milo!” escaped her lips, and she pressed her hand to her mouth as if uttering his name would make him disappear.

Her eyes fell beyond Milo, and Ethan and Trinity stood behind him. Their hands locked, their expressions both overwhelmed by the reunion.  Seeing Ethan and Trinity shed weight from her shoulders, which she had ignored since Starbase 75 fell to the Dominion and the teens were stranded. 

But how? How did they come to be with Milo? How is Milo here? Gus had been the last to see him as he jumped off the shuttle back to the Denver in the evacuation of Betazed.  He was stranded on the planet deep behind enemy lines. That would be for later, and she ran the last few meters, fighting back tears that pooled in the corner of her eyes. She fell into him at a dead run, and he groaned as her weight knocked the air from his lungs. He stumbled backward, fighting for balance, trying not to drop his daughters.

“Easy there, Red,” He sputtered, forcing air into his lungs.

Rebecca held his face in both hands and kissed him, hoping to make up for all the lost nights while he was stranded on Betazed. At last, they separated, both breathless. “How? And where did Ethan and Trinity come from?”

Milo set the girls down, “It’s a long story, Becca.”

Rebecca stared at him, her heart heavy as she studied her husband’s face. The wrinkles carved into his skin told stories of sleepless nights and battles fought, scars etched deep from the horrors of war. She remembered the smoothness of his cheeks and the light in his eyes before Betazed, when laughter came easily and worries were distant. Now, the bags under his eyes were dark pools of fatigue, a physical representation of many sleepless nights.

As she stepped closer, she felt a rush of warmth mixed with sorrow. How many nights had they spent dreaming of peace? Yet here he stood, altered by the horrors he had faced. She reached out tentatively, her fingers brushing against the roughness of his cheek. “What have you endured?” she whispered, her voice barely breaking the silence.

“And where did you find Ethan and Trinity?  Nick will be happy to know his daughter is well.”

Milo sighed, “My resistance cell was captured during a botched raid on the communications raid, and we were brought to the station for interrogation, where they were prisoners as well.”

Rebecca eyed the teens, “Well, let’s get you all settled in. When you are ready, you can tell me your story. Until then, I am going to try to talk you into covering Chief of Security until I can get a permanent replacement for Collins.”

Milo adjusted Aimee on his hip as Livvy leaned in and kissed her father on the cheek, “Welcome home, Daddy.”

Milo grinned, “Thanks Pumpkin.”