Michael's eyes opened as she gasped for air. She turned on to her side feeling the rounded pad to the transporter padd. She looked over to see Labberson instructing a nurse in what was a strange uniform with forehead crest and curly hair who had the first officers short arm on her shoulder. She didn't feel so well. Labberson's eyes bolted up toward the woman. Michael felt ill. Very ill. The last she remembered was standing alongside the first officer. Her eyes closed falling into a unconscious fog. She felt fatigue. Her entire body aching from a trip that had yanked her unexpectedly out off her feet. Her brown eyes opened again to see the small sick bay glaring back at her that had limited room. A dark, older man with brown eyes looked upon her. He came over toward the biobed.

"Good morning, Miss Burnham," the dark doctor said. Her familiar bonds were mute and soundless. "any bonds you have are currently in limbo right now, don't worry about them, you are perfectly fine," he smiled back standing up from the chair coming right over to the woman's side. "it is typical to feel sick when you've been beamed up during warp."

"Transwarp?" Michael said.

"Uh huh," the dark doctor said, with a nod. "Don't move around too much. You will puke if you excite yourself."

"Your advice is quite helpful, doctor," Michael said.

"You are welcome," the dark doctor said. "It's nice to meet the woman of the hour." A familiar Earthly phrase.

Michael slid off the biobed.

"I like to speak with the captain," Michael said.

"He is waiting for you in the ready room," the dark doctor said. He politely smiled back. "Have a good life, Commander Burnham."

Michael made her way out of the sick bay feeling tipsy, and a little unsteady. Her legs felt wobbly as though they were made of jelly. The feeling slowly went away as she made her way down the corridor. She made her way into the turbo lift an requested bridge. The doors closed on her. Then the turbo lift made a abrupt departure from where it was going to be in a fast, high paced sound. The sounds of the old turbo lift speeding was apparent. It shook from side to side until came to a stop. All the adrenaline, fear inducing, and shaky aesthetic were gone. The turbo lift doors opened revealing the captain's ready room. The captain sat in his chair stroking what seemed to be a cat. It was rounded and purring loudly with no sign of two ears sticking out. The doors closed behind her. She nearly fell to her feet once coming onto steady ground and used the counter as support.

"Captain. . ." Michael started.

The captain turned in her direction.

"Commander," the captain said.

"You are S'chn T'gai Spock of the Planet Vulcan directly violating the temporal directive," Michael said.

"Maybe I am and I am not," the captain turned toward her. He had scars alongside his face that were barely covered by a make shift mask. "with what you did today, you saved a part of Star Fleet. And I want to know, for sure, what is your choice on your future?"

"You mean my past," Michael said.

"One does not know whether they are in the future or the past, commander," the captain said. "time is fluid."

"Do not be vague with me," Michael said.

"we came from a Star Fleet losing a war. The longest war we have ever seen," he briefly closed his eyes, disturbed. "I will ask again, what is your choice?" he gently stroke the pet.

"It is irrelevent," Michael said. "my decision does not matter."

The captain sent a long, angry glare.

"Computer," the captain said. "bring up the file to former lieutenant commander Saru of the USS Shenzhou, star date 2256." On the screen appeared a file.

"Deceased, stardate 2257." a cold chill went down the woman's skin. "Captain of the USS Discovery," there was an edge to his voice that was suddenly there that had not been before. "All one hundred thirty-four souls were lost. Star Fleet War Council was immediately established, millions of people drafted, and scientists became people of war." The computer stopped speaking once he pressed a button.

"Explorers, that we are not, we are trying to find ways to end it." He stood up placing the tribble onto the counter. "My bondmate did not risk his life just for you to go and commit temporal suicide. Your choice must be anything but that."

It clicked in her head.

"Saru wasn't ready," Michael said. "You are implying one more year of training would have left him prepared? Training that Admiral Georgiou had given me?" the Vulcan nodded in return. "He did not give them the Vulcan Hello."

"He should have," The captain said. "your choice is relevant to Star Fleet and those that you most hold dear."

"I wish to return." Michael said.

The captain appeared to be pleased.

"One day you will look back at this," The captain said. "and this won't be one of your regrets," he pressed a button on the screen. "Ovmario, return the ship to 2256, exactly where we left the Discovery near the planet Gorik, we have to drop off a passenger," he leaned back after ending the communication. "Please collect your belongings."


The doors to the make shift brig opened to reveal Michael with her singular duffle bag while standing in civilian attire. Saru was baffled, alarmed, staring back at the woman. Philippa raised an eyebrow then looked over toward Saru then back in the direction of the commander. It was entirely surreal that Michael was there instead of Sybuc. Her civilian attire was a white blouse and long pants that ended at her ankles. She had the design of the IDIC faintly on her long pants. Her hair was up on the top of her head thanks in part to a scrunchy.

"Where is Mr Sybuc?" Philippa asked.

"He is where he belongs," Michael said. "and as am I."

"This is impossible," Saru said. "We would have been alerted of a starship appearing close by. She is either lying or either has disposed of him."

Michael looked back at the corpse that the dark doctor had shown her. His lifeless body laid on the biobed within a dark bag. It was illogical to risk his life for her own when the Gorikan president could have easily taken his and died the same day. She hadn't hear a word regarding his status while awaiting to see if the first officer was going to wake up any day. The memory of the first officer smiling back at her alongside the captain made her feel hopeful that he was okay and alive. She had done her best to preserve his life at the cost of blocking off access briefly for medical professionals. She looked off toward Saru.

"If I had disposed of him, don't you think I would have left him here and turned myself in?" Michael asked. "It is not logical to get rid of a body aboard a starship for prosecution."

"You are right," Saru said, reluctantly.

"My number ones agreeing," Philippa said, observing the two officers. "twice, in one year, thought that would never happen on my watch," she looked down toward the woman's feet to see the duffle bag. "Should I ask how. . ."

"You would not want to know, admiral," Michael said.

"Would you like to, First Officer?" Philippa asked.

"No," Saru said. "Yes, no."

"Did the Gorikans see your departure?" Philippa asked, turning her attention toward the woman.

"They left before I was beamed away," Michael said. "Permission to join the crew, admiral?"

"Permission granted," Philippa said, as a warm smile grew onto her face. "Welcome aboard, Michael."

Philippa held one hand out for the woman and this time, Michael reached out taking the older woman's hand.


The promotion to captaincy was swift and quick. The uniform replicator had the uniform laid on the center. The golden shoulder additions, the shoulder rings, the golden badge, and the golden deltas on the side. Philippa had chosen to give the woman quarters that she had personally acquired and made sure were stocked with furniture to make it feel as home. It didn't have the two bunk beds side by side. A familiar scenery seen as a ensign. Michael slipped out of her civilian attire then took the uniform with her going straight into the bathroom where the sonic shower rested. Michael came out minutes afterwards into the center of her cabin. She turned on the mirror program once putting on the captain's uniform. She felt her golden delta. The golden pips. The star like center that didn't have a flat surface compared to the rest of the center. Michael believed that she would have never come to the rank of captaincy. She was a scientist first, a star fleet officer second, and a Vulcan by nature. She hadn't been the one to look forward to promotions but only to serve and discover. And look where it brought her. To captaincy.

She came over toward the computer on her desk.

She inputted a command to pick up a radio signal coming down from the planet: "President Tymph resigned over six hours ago and has been found dead. . ."

The words were a shockwave to the captain.

Michael gripped on to the desk contemplating.

The grey area was doing the most difficult things when it came to the crew of the SS Valor.

Since it does operate in Star Fleet shouldn't it be USS Valor?

Michael straightened her new uniform. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten in hours since the first officer landed in the hospital. Sure, she had a couple drinks but not the kinds of drinks to help her keep going. She smelled fresh and her uncurled hair reeked of federation steam. She made her way out of the quarters then made sure to note the room number. She walked down the hallway making her way toward the mess hall. The Mess hall was silent with glares headed her way. A young red head with a cadet badge waved the captain over to where she sat. Michael sat down along with the young woman.

"Hello, I am Tilly," Tilly said. "Sylvia Tilly. I am a big fan of yours. I mean, saving your crew and your previous captain by giving them a . . ."

"Vulcan Hello," Michael said.

"Took guts," Tilly added, with a nod. Michael raised an eyebrow at the woman. "Big guts."

"It did not take 'big guts' to do what I did," Michael said, then she added jokingly. "my guts may be four feet long but I doubt big enough to send me down the path of a skirmish." Tilly laughed.

"You're funny," Tilly said.

"It was to even the edge in our conversation," Michael said. "you are terrified of speaking to a captain. One who has several types of trauma, layers of guilt, and survivors guilt. And it shows."

"I talk a looot," Tilly said. "that's just who I am. I ramble even when I am nervous. You're a xenoanthropologist who knows everything about the Klingons more than any officer does, you must be super duper confident, beeeyond confident, very sure about what you are doing," the icy glares melted around the woman as she took a chunk out of her breakfast becoming simply background noise to the woman. "I am going to be a captain one day. You're going to be one of my inspirations."

"Captaincy comes whether you want it or not, Tilly," Michael said, putting in some tea into her glass. "you will have the rest of your career to gather knowledge and learn about protecting your crew." Michael spun the little spoon inside of it.

"So it just chose you?" Tilly asked.

"In a way," Michael said. "it did. I did not ask for it."

"That's cool!" Tilly said. "I had a friend aboard the Shran, a security officer, though they had to medical retire because of the injuries the Klingons give and so far they has been having a blast at Risa! They say it has been the best time of their lives. They are also figuring out if they should pay a visit to Starbase 11 or going to one of the bases on Andoria as a . . ." Michael listened to the midshipman's rambling.


The next few days were a breeze. Michael read the crew manifest of the one hundred thirty-four crewed starship and checked every file to familiarize herself to the people who had those names. The ship was complimented diversely with aliens and humans. It had more alien off-worlders than her previous assignment had. Michael and Philippa had nights to themselves, together, alone from the crew. Michael had given a thorough tour by Philippa of all fifteen decks to the Discovery during the mean time. Michael had mapped the starship inside and out from the deck to jefferie tubes. She had memorized the jefferie tubes when she was not on the bridge. The woman laid comfortably in the captain's arms. Out of uniform.

Their uniforms were laid off the bed. The warm blanket covering up to their elbows. Michael traced the older woman's cheeks. The woman was breathing. It was hard to believe that Michael had survived with a part of her world. It was surreal. It felt as if she closed her eyes and opened them again, the admiral would not be there. Her fingers drifted over to the woman's shoulder blades. Scars of a battle well fought with some personal sacrifice decorating her back. Her beautiful yellow skin was soft and tender to the dark woman's fingers. The scars on Philippa's back came from torture in her earlier employment as a star fleet officer. Star Fleet had its fair share of skirmishes in the past. A handful to be precise. Long claw like scars trailing down her back. The alarm clock buzzed drawing the captain's foggy mind over the miracle in her arms. Michael let go of the woman's waist turning over to the side of the bed.

Michael picked up her uniform then placed into the laundry dispensary.

In a ray of blue light the uniform was returned clean and not as wrinkled.

"Michael," Philippa said. "come back to bed."

"Admiral, it is near the designated hour that you are to leave," Michael said, turning toward the woman.

"The admiralty can wait an hour," Philippa leaned forward off the bed with the bed sheet wrapped around her upper torso.

"I am not as sure for Mr Saru," Michael raised her eyebrow. "Remember the last time we were late?"

"Good point," Philippa said, sliding out of the mattress. She placed the uniform onto the dispensary. It came back moments later cool and warm. She joined the woman toward the bathroom. "You know what he cannot enter?"

"My bathroom," Michael said. Philippa nodded.

"Five minutes, you and I," Philippa said. "in the shower."

"When did you get so bold on staying out of the crews eye?" Michael asked, teasingly.

"As soon as I realized what I was going to do," Philippa said, taking the woman's longer and larger hands into her own then placed a light kiss onto Michael's lips. A light weight feeling traveled through both of the women. Michael returned the kiss, yearningly, only for the older woman to pull back once freeing Michael's hair using the hair band letting the short curly hair crash into her fingers. She untangled her fingers from the woman's light, soft hair. Michael's hair was fine to the admiral's fingertips. Michael lead the admiral into the bathroom where the door closed behind them.