"Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another." -George Eliot

Commander Rzepka carelessly tossed one more vial of Drexa in her open bag on the floor of her bedroom. Even though a vial of the immunosuppressant would last for 12 days, she had no idea how long the mission to find the missing captain would take. She briefly considered leaving her pain medications behind, but threw in a vial each of toradol and hydrocortilene, just in case. One day, she thought, I will be free of these crutches... She pushed aside the memory of her spinal cord injury to refocus on packing. Only a few minutes until embarkation. No time for reminiscing right now.

Favorite purple night gown? Check.

New book? Check.

Hair and tooth brushes? Check.

Clean underwear? Check.

She uploaded the good-bye letter to her mother to a transmission chip, labeled it with a yellow "x," and placed it flat on the glass dining room table. Right in the middle. Since the war, away mission officers labeled good bye letters to their families with a yellow "x." The quartermaster officer who came looking for the chip after an officer's demise would know which one it was by the marking. The chip could always be found either on the pillow of the officer's bed or on their dining room table.

Leaving on a mission always left a pang of fright in Kym's chest. Every mission had the potential to be the last. With hostilities from the Borg growing in frequency throughout the Federation, she had good reason to be worried. She never could get used to the possibility of death that seemed to constantly surround her, whether it be from the Dominion War or from the Borg attacks. The threat of death seemed to be a common denominator for all Starfleet Officers.

Having nearly been killed a few months ago, Kym constantly thought about her potential last words to her mother. Her mother had lived alone back on Betazed since Kym's father died in a shuttle accident nearly ten years ago. Kym's mother always worried about her; Kym's risky career in Starfleet didn't make the worry any easier.

Regardless, Kym had a job to do and brushed the feeling aside. She glanced again at the red transmission chip resting silently in the center of her glass dining room table, right where it belonged. She wondered if it would be the last one she ever recorded. The one her mom ended up hearing.

Ten minutes to embarkation.

Kym lifted her bag's tan strap over her shoulder, feeling it dig into the leather harness she wore to conceal a small phase pistol under her tunic. She had only been carrying a concealed weapon for six months, yet curiously felt naked during the times she didn't wear it.

During her walk down the corridor, several officers passed her with a courteous nod. Some even said "Morning, Commander," to which she replied a swift but quiet "Morning." She intentionally ignored the very jovial individuals, thinking she would likely punch one in the face if she were forced to acknowledge it was, in fact, a good morning.

The turbolift doors closed with a woosh, closing her into the lift alone.

"Defiant," she angrily snapped into the quiet air. She took little comfort in knowing the computer would never judge her for being irritable. With a beep of confirmation, the lift moved in the direction of the station's docking ring. During the previous half hour, she appointed a full relief crew and the additional officers, as requested. She disappointed herself in that she checked the duty roster to appoint a back up tactical and science officer. As a Starfleet Intelligence officer, part off her duty to the station was knowing each officer - all 900 of them - at least by a face recognition level. She had been so busy over the past few weeks, she hadn't had time to review rosters and meet the newest officers.

With another woosh, the turbolift doors opened to reveal the docking ramp of the Defiant. She stepped over the threshold and hurried to her quarters to drop off her bag. With only five minutes to launch, she didn't have much time to get to the bridge.

"Captain on the bridge!"

As Kym entered the bridge of the Defiant, she heard Ensign Prynn Tenmei's voice ring out. For a moment, she stood in confusion before quickly realizing that Tenmei was announcing HER presence, not someone else. The dark skinned ensign sat tall in her chair, her short black hair encircling her head like a delicate bubble.

"As you were," Kym replied to the officers on the deck, who took their seats at their stations. "Ensign, do all hands report for duty?"

"Aye, sir. All hands report ready," the ensign replied back. Kym stepped quickly around the commanding officer's station in the center of the bridge and took her seat in the Captain's chair. Purple accents of the ship's bridge surrounded her, a communications panel to her right and a tactical reporting station flanked her left. She adjusted her tunic and sat back, crossing her legs. Gray and black industrial carpet under her feet contrasted sharply with the light gray walls and bulkheads.

"Engineering, report," she said, scanning through the launch checklist in her head. Lieutenant Nog stood at stiff and unnatural attention from his station to the right of the bridge. He was "mustard class," standing proudly in his black and gray uniform with a mustard undershirt and two pips adorning the collar. As a former molecular engineer, Kym remembered what it was like to wear a mustard uniform - long hours, hard work, and little reward. Nog was a talented engineer and she highly respected him as he carefully built his career as a young Starfleet officer.

"Engineering reports all systems are go. Ready for a cruising velocity of warp 9.5 on your mark, sir," he said sharply.

"Very well. Tactical, report," Kym continued as Nog took his seat again.

Commander Vaughn stood and reported from the tactical station on Kym's right, in the front of the bridge, much in the same manner that Lieutenant Nog had. His silver hair and beard lent a feeling of maturity to the crew. The century-old commander was Kym's mentor and closest confidant. He traded a black intelligence uniform of nearly sixty years for a red command one over three years ago and was an incredible source of information for Kym as she began her journey into the intelligence community. He set a good example of respect for the rest of the crew with a rookie captain. Kym fought back her smile of amusement as she nodded at Vaughn.

Lieutenant Sam Bowers stood and reported for Operations from the left front, straightening his arms at his sides. His blonde curly hair made him appear to be only in his mid-teens, although Kym knew that he was well into his thirties. Everyone should be so lucky to look so young.

Kym checked the yellow panel to her right, which displayed a signal that DS9 patiently waited for the launch sequence initiation. She touched the panel to contact the communications offer on the station.

"Defiant to Deep Space Nine, requesting permission to launch," Kym said confidently. She had only commanded Defiant one other time in her career, during the war when an away team was unable to return to the ship. She had, subsequently, been thrown into the role without much preparation. She learned a great deal of lessons since then.

"Permission granted, Defiant." Kym heard Captain Kira's voice on the other end of the communications like. "You're clear for launch, good luck."

"Release docking clamps, initiate launch sequence, Ensign." Kym said, saying a little prayer. After a short "Aye sir," Kym heard the loud metallic sound of the clamps releasing the ship, letting it drift backward from the station.

"Take us to the wormhole, Ensign. Full impulse," Kym added. A feeling of excitement grew in the pit of her stomach, like a swarm of butterflies coming to life in her gut. She loved traveling through the wormhole. Soon, the ship found itself lost amid swirling blue and white space, swallowed by the mysterious wormhole. In another instant, they emerged on the other side, in the Gamma Quadrant.

Kym quickly calculated how long it would take to reach Kurrill Prime. Seven hours at warp 9, ten hours at warp 7. She knew she needed to sleep before they got there, so her decision was made without much hesitation.

"Helm, lay in a course for Kurrill Prime, warp 7," she ordered.

"Course laid in, sir."

"Engage. As soon as we cross the Dominion border, engage cloak."

In another instant, Kym felt her head swimming as the ship entered the high warp speed. She breathed deep, forcing oxygen back to her head to relieve the dizziness. Five minutes later, she was feeling normal again and wondered if anyone else ever experienced the Warp Fog quite as severely as she did.

"Commander Vaughn, you have the bridge," Kym announced with a small sigh, standing and turning to the Captain's Ready Room. Fatigue hung heavy over her head and she retreated to the office for a cup of coffee and a quick read over the mission essential assignments before she fell asleep.

The Captain's Ready Room was brightly lit, with a small black desk and a chair nestled in the corner. A plush purple chair sat quietly across from the desk, waiting for a visitor. A replicator waited on the left wall, a large painting of Starfleet Headquarters hung on the right wall. Kym settled into the comfort of the desk chair, breathing deep and still shaking off her Warp Fog.

A chime at the door prevented her from closing her eyes for just a minute, to which she quickly replied "Come in!"

Julian Bashir appeared in her doorway as the doors slid open, allowing him to step through the threshold and into the office before the doors shut again. Kym's patience for... anything... was thin. Irritated at the interruption, she allowed her aggravation run away with her demeanor.

"Can I help you?" she shot at the doctor as he invited himself to sit in the purple chair across the desk space. She sensed a feeling of compassion and understanding from him, but she didn't empathize with it.

"Perhaps you should get some rest before we reach Kurrill," Julian softly suggested, tiptoeing around her delicate feelings. "You get a bit... brash... when you're sleep deprived," he added. Kym could feel his concern flowing out of his consciousness and tried to grasp onto it, but couldn't. She only snapped back like a taught rubber band.

"I don't care. I need to catch up on mission requirements" Kym sneered. "Someone thought I wasn't important enough to be included in my own mission briefing."

"Kym," Julian spoke with a kind voice, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Listen to yourself."

Kym swallowed hard, realizing the doctor's point. She looked into his brown eyes, which were full of pure caring. Kym was touched by his nurturing spirit, a trait that she wished she could pick up.

"You're right, I'm sorry," she admitted, staring at the silver desktop for a moment. She rose from her chair as did Julian.

"I'll see to it that you're not disturbed for at least six hours," he promised. Kym smiled through her exhaustion.

"Thank you," escaped her lips as she left the office and turned toward her quarters.