Deck One

Posted on Sat Aug 1st, 2026 @ 1:21pm by Captain Marc Steyn & Lieutenant Commander Maximo (Max) Vero

1,792 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Season 1, Episode 1: Ashes of Wolf 359
Location: Main Bridge

ON

Marc had barely stepped out of Miss Beaumont's office before setting off at a brisk pace towards the nearest turbolift. He caught himself just short of breaking into a run, though only because he knew what it might look like to anyone passing by. In truth, he felt like a cadet on his first assignment.

By his reckoning, the timing was almost perfect.

By the time he reached Deck One, Genesis' bridge module would have been lowered into place and secured to the primary hull. Life support would already be online, environmental systems stabilised, and the first engineering teams would be pouring through the Jeffries tubes like worker ants, connecting ODN trunks, energising EPS relays, calibrating consoles and coaxing the bridge from an empty shell into the nerve centre of a Federation starship.

It was one of those rare moments in a ship's construction that could never truly be repeated.

The bridge wasn't simply another compartment.

It was where the ship came alive.

Turning the corner towards the turbolift, he spotted a familiar figure approaching from the opposite direction.

Commander Vero.

The First Officer was walking with purpose, but Marc couldn't help noticing the unmistakable look on his face. There was an eagerness there that mirrored his own—a barely concealed anticipation that years of Starfleet discipline couldn't quite suppress.

Marc slowed to a more dignified pace before Vero noticed him, smoothing the enthusiasm from his own expression into something more befitting a captain.

"Commander," he called with an easy smile. "Heading to the bridge?"

“But of course Captain, she is here,” Max said. “We go get a proper look Si? You try out the important chair?” He said.

Marc and Max fell naturally into step beside one another, the captain standing a couple of inches taller than his First Officer. It was a familiar rhythm now, one forged through shared experiences that neither of them would ever forget.

Their friendship had been born under the worst of circumstances.

In the aftermath of Wolf 359, aboard the Majestic, what had begun as professional respect had, over the last month, quietly grown into genuine friendship. Looking at Max now, Marc couldn't help but feel a measure of admiration. Given everything the commander had endured, he seemed to be adapting to his new reality with a resilience Marc had never expected—certainly far more quickly than Marc believed he himself would have managed.

They continued through the still-silent corridors, stepping aside for the occasional engineer carrying equipment or technician disappearing into open access panels.

"How is the installation of Sickbay coming along?" Marc asked, nodding towards a pair of engineers wrestling an EPS manifold onto an anti-grav trolley. "And how's soon will the warp core be online?"

Before Max could answer, Marc glanced sideways with a faint, almost mischievous smile.

"Oh... and am I right in thinking I saw something rather unusual in Sickbay?"

He lowered his voice ever so slightly, as though sharing a secret.

"I could have sworn someone mentioned the module we had been assigned was being used as a prototype testbed for a holographic doctor."

His eyebrows rose with quiet curiosity.

"I'll admit, the idea of a physician made entirely of photons is either remarkably inspired... or a spectacular way of terrifying the more traditional members of Starfleet Medical."

A grin spread across his face.

"I'm just not entirely sure which."

“Well the warp core, I went down and met our new chief. Everything is on track for the launch. Permission to speak frankly sir?”

"Always, Commander," Marc replied without hesitation, meeting Max's eyes. "I can't make use of a First Officer who doesn't speak his mind."

His expression softened into a faint smile. "That's not just for today, either. Consider it a standing arrangement between us. Your job isn't to tell me what I want to hear—it's to make sure I hear what I need to."

‘How do I say this diplomatically,” Max mused. “She seems to be a bit of a stickler for the rule book. She tends her beliefs to it has all the answers. I would say she needs a little salt and the pepper …. The seasoning. Her record is exceptionally but ermm … she needs to perhaps take a leap of faith on occasion. That is my gut feeling.”

"I have a meeting with her shortly," Marc said with an easy smile. "I'm sure we can coax her out of her shell. She was the most experienced officer available for the position, and Starfleet couldn't speak highly enough of her abilities. Their only observation was that she needs a year or so to settle into herself—to grow into the officer everyone believes she's capable of becoming."

The pair reached the turbolift just as its mechanisms answered the call with a soft, familiar hum. Moments later, the burnt-orange doors slid silently apart, inviting them aboard. They stepped inside together, the doors gliding shut behind them as the lift carried them towards Deck One and the heart of Genesis.

“So Sickbay, I did not go in person,” he looked briefly frustrated. “Captain every time I go near that place a doctor, it no matter which century they hail from, they tell me I am too ….. “ his hands waggled round his stomach area animatedly. Very Italian. “Large. How can that be?’

Evidently it was a rhetorical question as he continued on, “But I am getting very regular reports via the screens” …. He meant monitors …. . “Everything seems to be going fine.They are awaiting the installation of some of the surgical equipment. It should hopefully be by the end of today when it arrives.

The hologram is fascinating. They demonstrate it. This technology has come on since … since I was on the Oberth. A brilliant idea. Extra hands in an emergency. Programmed to be able to do lots of procedures. And it has numerous configurations, it can be human, Vulcan, Bolian, even Klingon if you can imagine a Klingon medic …. It can be male, female, any sex. Programmed any height you like, an arrange of voices. Even some models different ages but the default setting is of the man who developed it. A balding doctor. I am certainly curious which variant they will choose.”

The soft hum of the arriving turbolift interrupted their speculation about Starfleet's latest medical experiment. The burnt-orange doors slid silently apart to reveal a young ensign in red stepping out, offering the pair a polite nod before disappearing down the corridor.

Marc and Max stepped inside.

"Bridge," Marc instructed.

The doors closed behind them and, a heartbeat later, the familiar hum of the lift deepened as it accelerated smoothly upwards through the turboshaft towards Deck One.

Picking up the conversation as though it had never been interrupted, Marc folded his arms with an amused smile.

"Either way," he said, "I think I'll stick with a real doctor."

He glanced sideways at his First Officer.

"I've got nothing against holograms, but when someone's telling me I need surgery, I'd rather know they actually went to medical school than were downloaded from a computer core."

“Well Si, “ Max said, “but if the doctors are incapacitated or over run with patients and I need surgery quickly, I’d take the risk”

‘Are you ready Captain?’ He indicated the door as the turbo lift arrived at the bridge.”

The turbolift doors parted with a soft hiss, and Marc stepped forward into the quiet of the bridge.

For a moment, he simply stopped.

He had seen the schematics. He had walked through the unfinished structure while engineers worked around him. He had reviewed every report, every readiness assessment, every image sent back from the construction teams. But none of that prepared him for this.

This was no longer a collection of systems waiting to be connected.

This was the bridge of Genesis.

The space opened out before him in a way that felt both familiar and entirely new. The soft ambient lighting reflected from the curved surfaces and muted panels, creating an atmosphere that was calm rather than clinical. The bridge carried the unmistakable design language of a Federation starship—functional, elegant, built around cooperation rather than intimidation.

From where he stood near the rear turbolift, the command area drew his attention immediately.

The raised central platform gave the captain and command chairs a subtle prominence without making them feel isolated. Three chairs sat waiting beneath the gentle glow of the overhead lighting, positioned perfectly to face the main viewscreen that dominated the forward section of the bridge. It was a small detail, but one Marc appreciated. Command was not meant to be separated from the people who supported it.

Around the perimeter, the various duty stations curved naturally into the walls. Consoles sat ready, their displays alive with quiet streams of information as the final systems continued to come online. Operations, tactical, science, and engineering stations surrounded the room like the nervous system of the ship, each waiting for an officer to take their place.

He let his eyes travel across the bridge slowly.

The carpeting, the warm tones, the carefully considered layout—it all felt less like a place of war and more like a place of discovery. A place designed for people who would spend years looking outward rather than preparing to fight.

Exactly what he had argued for.

Exactly what Genesis was supposed to be.

Marc stepped further onto the bridge, his footsteps almost too quiet against the pristine deck.

Ahead of him sat his chair.

The thought still felt strange.

After everything—the battles, the losses, the compromises, the arguments with admirals and commodores—he was finally standing on the bridge of the ship he had fought to command in his own way.

He allowed himself a small smile.

"Hello, Genesis," he said quietly.

For the first time, the ship felt less like an assignment.

It felt like home.

Max said nothing other than muttering under his breath, “Amore,’

He smiled. “I’ll give you two a moment alone sir,” and with that he headed to his office. Hopefully the one thing he had asked before placed in there had made the journey.

Marc smiled at the First Officer’s comment, realising he had begun to do exactly what he had promised himself he wouldn’t: fall in love with the ship, just as every Captain before him inevitably had.

He remained still for a moment, allowing the thought to settle, until the familiar hiss of the turbolift doors broke the silence once more as Commander Vero departed. Only then did Marc move, walking slowly towards the command chair. He ran a hand over the headrest, almost as if greeting an old friend, before lowering himself into the seat and taking his place.

END

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