(PC) == Post-Conduct Unbecoming
For those of you who enjoyed Leo's first appearance in "Conduct Unbecoming," and are avidly reading Leo's earlier adventures, "Trial of Transfer," "Borderline Justice," and "At Her Majesty's Discretion" in WIP format here on TBBS, I offer this fifth and final follow-up story to the thread involving Esumi Benten in "Borderline." This, along with (so far) four other stories, cover the months after Leo's decision. Feedback and suggestions are welcome as this is a learning opportunity to improve my writing.
NOTE: In accordance with TBBS policy, I may have had to censor any adult language in dialogue. If you'd prefer to read the uncensored version, I encourage you to click here, which will take you to Ad Astra.
Other PC Stories:
- PC #1: Reserved for Those Willing
- PC #2: Your Service Honors Us
- PC #3: The Razor's Edge
- PC #4: Strength from the Shadows
Story Summary: Stardate 4049.88: Master Chief Esumi Benten embarks on a path toward redemption as she prepares to join Captain Leo Verde aboard the newly commissioned PCU Musashi. After years of reflection and growth following her abrupt departure from the USS Detmer, Benten must confront the weight of past mistakes and prove—both to herself and to those who believed in her—that she’s ready to lead as the ship’s Senior Enlisted Advisor. With Captain Verde counting on her and a new chapter unfolding, Benten faces the ultimate challenge: embracing who she’s become and rising to meet the demands of command.
Star Trek: First Duty - "A Work in Progress"
by Lord McCovey Cove
NCC-3347 (PCU Musashi)
Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, Construction Yard 11
December 2, 2322 (Stardate 4049.88)
Captain's Ready Room
With only three weeks until commissioning, the activity aboard PCU Musashi hummed at near-operational levels. All commissioned officers reported in, and with just five percent of the non-commissioned and enlisted crew still en route, the ship almost fully staffed. The flurry of preparation—alongside the yard engineers working tirelessly to meet pre-flight goals—meant that Leo could no longer wander the ship’s corridors alone.
Every turn demanded he press himself flat against bulkheads to make way for personnel rushing through their tasks, each of them operating on little sleep but high urgency. The clock was ticking toward the first of January—the hard deadline set by Utopia Planitia—leaving no margin for delay. The atmosphere was electric, a palpable mix of excitement and pressure that buzzed through the hull.
Leo’s commute from his spacious stateroom on Deck Four to the bridge had grown more complicated. Waiting for a turbolift became a futile exercise—three packed cars had passed by without room for another passenger, each crammed with people and equipment moving to meet the yard’s demands. He could have pulled rank to make space, but that wasn’t his style. He knew better than to assert privilege over those whose work carried the weight of real priorities.
Opting for the service ladders instead, Leo ascended two decks, grateful the panels were already open to accommodate the flow of personnel. When he reached the bridge, he turned instinctively, extending a hand to the crew member climbing up behind him. The ladder access deposited them just outside the ready room—a small convenience, given that was precisely where Leo was headed.
"Nothing like learning every inch of the ship the hard way, right?" Leo quipped as the engineer accepted his hand and pulled herself onto the deck.
She returned his smile, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Thank you, Captain." Without waiting for a formal dismissal, she crossed the bridge with practiced ease, her attention already locked on running a diagnostic at the science station—likely following instructions from Commander Skansh, the ever-meticulous Supervisor of Shipbuilding (SupShip).
Leo lingered for a beat, observing her purposeful stride, appreciating the quiet competence that had become the hallmark of Musashi's crew. It was the kind of energy that assured him things were moving in the right direction.
With that thought, he made his way toward the ready room, the doors parting with a soft hiss as they sensed his approach. Inside, seated before Leo’s desk and scrolling through his PADD with the same no-nonsense demeanor as always, was Commander Skansh.
"Morning, SupShip," Leo greeted the Tellarite, his voice easy but respectful.
With his eyes fixed on the display of his PADD, Skansh grumbled without preamble, "You're late."
"Getting here wasn’t exactly easy," Leo replied, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. "Had to take the ladders."
Skansh snorted, still not bothering to glance up. "You're the captain. Tell them to clear a car for you."
Leo gave a crooked smile, shaking his head slightly. "I’ll keep that in mind for next time." He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the edge of the desk. "So, what do you have for me today?"
Without missing a beat, Skansh launched into a rapid-fire summary of progress reports—efficiency percentages, system diagnostics, and personnel readiness. As Leo listened, it became clear that the yard engineers were ahead of schedule, and barring any unforeseen disasters, the ship would be ready with time to spare.
"The yard captain has announced that commissioning has been set for New Year’s Eve, now," Skansh concluded, tapping the final detail into the PADD before setting it aside with a grunt.
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Any chance that’ll cause an issue with the brass?"
Skansh harrumphed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "If it does, that’s not my problem."
Leo tilted his head, giving Skansh an appraising look. "I don’t know, SupShip. Think you can pull it off? Moving the deadline up a whole day—that’s a tall order for your team." His tone was light, but the skepticism was deliberate—designed to poke at the Tellarite’s ever-prickly pride.
Skansh’s head snapped up from his PADD, his small eyes narrowing in irritation. "A day?" He scoffed, the sound sharp with mock offense. "Leo, I could have this ship commissioned right now if I felt like it. But since you humans are so attached to your speeches and ceremonies, I’ve decided to indulge your need for pointless pageantry."
Leo smirked, enjoying the exchange. "Right now? Bold words from someone who was just groaning about impulse relays not being fully tested."
"Groaning?" Skansh barked, his nostrils flaring with exaggerated indignation. "That wasn’t groaning—that was fact-based pessimism. It’s a refined skill, Captain. You should try it sometime—it might keep you alive."
Leo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Sounds more like a clever way to manage expectations."
The Tellarite’s grin widened, his small eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction. "Manage expectations? I manage miracles, Captain Verde. If your kind had the sense to recognize them, my work might finally be appreciated."
Leo chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were just buying time to throw the yardbirds under the shuttle."
Skansh exhaled a theatrical sigh, his shoulders rising dramatically. "If the yard engineers botched something, I’d broadcast it across subspace—and we’d still finish ahead of schedule." He jabbed a stubby finger in Leo’s direction, his expression daring him to disagree. "And you know it."
Leo laughed, shaking his head in genuine amusement. "Fair point, SupShip. You do have a way of getting things done. Somehow."
"Somehow?" Skansh placed a hand over his chest in mock outrage, as if wounded by the mere suggestion. "That’s the thanks I get? I swear, taking a compliment from a human is like being kissed by a Klingon—entirely too much effort for far too little reward."
Leo couldn’t hold back a sharp laugh, the image too perfect. "Alright, alright. I’ll do better next time. Promise."
Skansh gave a satisfied sniff, folding his arms with a self-satisfied grin. "See that you do. And try not to be late tomorrow. Ladder excuses or not, you are the captain of this fine vessel I’ve built—just for you, no less."
Leo stood, still grinning. "I’ll endeavor to meet your lofty standards."
Skansh waved a hand dismissively, though the warmth in his expression betrayed the camaraderie beneath the gruff exterior. "Good. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes while I handle the real work—while you lounge around, dreaming up clever quips." He scooped up his PADDs in one fluid motion, tucking them under his arm. "If you need me, Captain, I'll be below decks, working miracles—as usual."
Leo snapped a playful salute. "Carry on, SupShip. And watch your back. Those yardbirds can be vicious."
With a parting grunt and a lazy wave, Skansh headed for the door. Just as it hissed open, he glanced back over his shoulder, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh, and Leo? You’re welcome—for the miracles."
Leo’s grin softened into something more genuine, and he lowered his voice, speaking with quiet sincerity. "I never doubted you for a second, my friend."
Skansh gave a satisfied harrumph, striding through the door with his usual swagger, leaving Leo alone in the ready room, still chuckling quietly to himself.
With a contented sigh, Leo turned to the terminal atop his desk, pulling up his schedule to review his appointments. Just as he was settling in, the door hissed open again, and in walked his Bolian chief steward, Brodd, balancing a tray with practiced ease.
Atop the tray sat an insulated carafe, steam curling from the spout. The aroma that drifted through the room was unmistakable—Brodd's inventive twist on a hot cocoa recipe, one that had delighted Leo from the very first day the Bolian came aboard.
“Oh… thank you, Brodd," Leo breathed, inhaling the rich, familiar scent. He offered a warm smile to the Bolian master chief, his appreciation genuine. "Your timing is impeccable, as always."
Brodd gave a single dip of his smooth, blue head, his expression serene. "This is just to tide you over, sir. Cook’s still putting the finishing touches on breakfast—should be ready in ten minutes, if you don’t mind the wait."
Leo’s grin was immediate. "For her? I’d wait as long as it takes." He watched as Brodd tipped the carafe, the rich, aromatic liquid swirling smoothly into a clear mug. The interplay of light and steam danced along the surface, the cocoa’s warmth radiating from the glass.
Anticipation stirred within him as he reached for the mug, cradling it gently. The moment the first sip touched his lips, Leo felt a quiet satisfaction bloom—a simple pleasure, but one that grounded him amid the chaos of bringing a new starship into commission.
After Brodd left, retreating quietly to the galley, the sharp trill of the intercom cut through the ready room, pulling Leo’s attention back to duty.
"Verde here," he answered, tapping the console to open the circuit.
"Captain, this is Yard Communications," came a youthful voice, the tenor bright and eager. "We’ve got an incoming signal for you from the starship Yamato." Since Musashi was still hard-wired into the shipyard’s systems, all external communications and operational needs were routed through the yard until the ship’s official commissioning.
Leo’s lips curved in a knowing smile. He had a pretty good idea who was on the other end of that call. "Forward the signal to this terminal, please. Much appreciated."
"Right away, sir." The desktop terminal flickered to life, the Starfleet insignia spinning into view. Metadata scrolled across the bottom of the screen, detailing the source, caller, and the current stardate.
With a smooth flick of his hand, Leo opened the channel and swiveled in his chair to face the visual pickups. The screen resolved into the familiar, smiling face of Captain Robert Toland.
"Robert," Leo greeted warmly. "Congratulations on your new command, old friend."
Toland grinned, his easy demeanor filling the screen. "Leo! Same to you. It's wild, isn’t it? Sister ships on this tour—I’m just disappointed they didn’t post us both at Utopia. But hey, I’m sure our paths will cross soon enough."
Leo shrugged with a wry smile, shaking his head slightly. "Honestly, I’m just glad they’ve got your expertise where it counts. After four years helming Matsumotos, you’re exactly the kind of captain we need keeping us new folks in line now and then."
Toland waved a hand, brushing off the compliment with an embarrassed grin. "As much as I’d love to sit here and let you butter me up, Leo, I do have a reason for this call."
Leo’s posture straightened, the smile fading from his face as he adopted a more serious expression. "Of course. What can I do for you?"
Toland’s grin softened into something more earnest. "Actually, it’s me doing something for you. Remember four years ago, when you asked me to give Master Chief Benten a shot on Yukikaze? Well, now that I’ve taken command of Yamato, she needs a new home. And... I think she’s ready to wear the Gold Ring again."
Leo blinked, absorbing the unexpected offer. "Esumi Benten," he echoed, the name hanging in the air for a moment. "I have to admit, I hadn’t thought to consider her for CMCPO. I’ve been sitting on the Detailer’s list, but I haven’t made a final decision yet." He leaned closer to the screen, studying Toland’s expression. "If you’re saying she’s ready, then I’d be more than happy to bring her aboard."
"She is, trust me," Toland assured, his voice steady with confidence. "She’s done excellent work in my administration department, and I was lucky to have her as my yeoman." He leaned forward slightly, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Not that I need to give you the hard sell—"
"Not at all," Leo interjected, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I’m beyond thrilled you were able to help her."
Toland nodded, his expression softening with pride. "You were right about her. She just needed time to grieve properly. Once Master Chief Greer took her under her wing as a mentor, everything changed. She’s made massive strides."
He paused for emphasis before adding with a sly smile, "So, do me a favor—since you owe me one anyway. Let her wear the Gold Ring for you this tour. See what she’s learned. I promise, you won’t regret it."
"Enough said," Leo replied, emotions surging beneath his words. Hearing about Benten’s turnaround filled him with a deep sense of relief, joy, and pride—her crash on Detmer had been a low point, but now, her success felt like redemption.
"Tell her to grab a shuttle and head out here," Leo added, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I’ll cut the orders today."
Toland smiled broadly, his teeth flashing in a grin that only old friends could share. "I suspected that might be the case. So, I hope you don't mind the presumption, but… she’s already en route. Should arrive by tomorrow."
Leo shook his head, a warm chuckle escaping him. "Not at all. Thank you so much, Robert. And please, pass along my thanks to Greer as well."
Toland’s expression softened. "You’ll need to thank her yourself—Greer put in her retirement papers last week. She’s finally heading to HQ to enjoy some well-earned peace."
Leo gave a slow, silent nod, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "I will," he said softly, his voice touched with gratitude.
Toland gave a knowing smile, leaning back slightly. "Well, I don't want to keep you any longer. With commissioning so close, you’ve got plenty on your plate. We probably won’t get a chance to catch up again before the big day, so… I’ll take this moment to wish you good hunting, Captain."
Leo’s expression softened, the weight of Toland’s words settling comfortably. "Thank you, Captain. Let’s make sure we carve out some time to meet up out there, yeah?"
Toland grinned. "I was thinking the same thing. Yamato-One, out."
The screen flickered, and the Starfleet insignia reappeared, marking the end of the call. Leo sat back in his chair, the moment lingering in the quiet hum of his ready room, a sense of anticipation and hope stretching out before him like the vast expanse of stars beyond the superstructure of the construction yard outside his viewport.
Master Chief Yeoman Esumi Benten retrieved her PADD as its soft chime broke the quiet hum of the shuttle’s engines. Seated in the last row of the long-range shuttle Doubleday, en route to the Sol System, she angled the screen upward with a flick of her wrist. The familiar Starfleet insignia spun briefly before revealing a new text message from the Bureau of Personnel.
Her brow furrowed slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. Starfleet’s communications rarely came without consequence, especially mid-transit.
Benten exhaled slowly, reading the orders a second time to steady herself. Captain Toland had assured her that Captain Verde would welcome her aboard without hesitation, but a part of her had remained unconvinced. Despite the growth she’d achieved during her time with Captain Toland and CMCPO Greer—and the guidance she received from shipboard counselors—doubt lingered. It had taken years of hard work to free herself from the grief that had once trapped her in isolation and destructive habits.
The memory of her failure aboard the Detmer, and the role her short-sightedness might have played in a shipmate's death, had been a brutal wake-up call. Captain Verde’s intervention, calling in a favor to get her a post on the Yukikaze four years earlier, had been her lifeline. And learning under Greer’s mentorship—how to lead with care, integrity, and balance—had transformed her in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
She read the fifth block of the orders again, where Captain Verde’s acceptance was noted in clear, simple terms. The weight of his faith in her hit her all at once. The chill of the shuttle’s circulated air brushed against her cheeks, where tears had silently fallen. Startled by the unbidden emotion, she raised her hands, brushing at her damp eyes and wiping the tracks from her face.
The shuttle’s flight path would take it to Mars orbit first, docking at the Starfleet terminal on the civilian orbital facility. After a brief layover, it would continue on to Utopia Planitia. A quick check of the flight progress on her PADD confirmed she would arrive within the next twelve hours.
With a measured breath, Benten slipped the PADD back into her carry-on duffel. From the same bag, she retrieved a small case and opened it to reveal the gold-ringed version of her rank insignia. She removed her uniform jacket, unfastened the silver insignia from the collar, and replaced it with the gold. Her fingers traced over the details of the new device, a quiet ritual of reflection. The feel of it stirred memories—both painful and humbling—of the last time she had worn the rank before her ill-fated transfer to Detmer.
Greer had been right. This was her second chance—a rare opportunity to earn back the trust and responsibility that came with wearing the Gold Ring as a ship’s Senior Enlisted Advisor. But she also carried the older woman's parting wisdom: everyone is a work in progress, herself included. So long as she embraced that truth, there would always be room to grow—always another challenge to meet, another lesson to learn, in both her career and personal life.
Accepting the journey ahead gave her hope. If she could honor the trust placed in her by Captain Toland and Master Chief Greer, she could do the same for Captain Verde. With him waiting on the other side of this flight, she felt ready—ready to bear the weight of leadership once more and prove, to herself most of all, that she belonged.
For those of you who enjoyed Leo's first appearance in "Conduct Unbecoming," and are avidly reading Leo's earlier adventures, "Trial of Transfer," "Borderline Justice," and "At Her Majesty's Discretion" in WIP format here on TBBS, I offer this fifth and final follow-up story to the thread involving Esumi Benten in "Borderline." This, along with (so far) four other stories, cover the months after Leo's decision. Feedback and suggestions are welcome as this is a learning opportunity to improve my writing.
NOTE: In accordance with TBBS policy, I may have had to censor any adult language in dialogue. If you'd prefer to read the uncensored version, I encourage you to click here, which will take you to Ad Astra.
Other PC Stories:
- PC #1: Reserved for Those Willing
- PC #2: Your Service Honors Us
- PC #3: The Razor's Edge
- PC #4: Strength from the Shadows
Story Summary: Stardate 4049.88: Master Chief Esumi Benten embarks on a path toward redemption as she prepares to join Captain Leo Verde aboard the newly commissioned PCU Musashi. After years of reflection and growth following her abrupt departure from the USS Detmer, Benten must confront the weight of past mistakes and prove—both to herself and to those who believed in her—that she’s ready to lead as the ship’s Senior Enlisted Advisor. With Captain Verde counting on her and a new chapter unfolding, Benten faces the ultimate challenge: embracing who she’s become and rising to meet the demands of command.
Star Trek: First Duty - "A Work in Progress"
by Lord McCovey Cove
NCC-3347 (PCU Musashi)
Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards, Construction Yard 11
December 2, 2322 (Stardate 4049.88)
Captain's Ready Room
With only three weeks until commissioning, the activity aboard PCU Musashi hummed at near-operational levels. All commissioned officers reported in, and with just five percent of the non-commissioned and enlisted crew still en route, the ship almost fully staffed. The flurry of preparation—alongside the yard engineers working tirelessly to meet pre-flight goals—meant that Leo could no longer wander the ship’s corridors alone.
Every turn demanded he press himself flat against bulkheads to make way for personnel rushing through their tasks, each of them operating on little sleep but high urgency. The clock was ticking toward the first of January—the hard deadline set by Utopia Planitia—leaving no margin for delay. The atmosphere was electric, a palpable mix of excitement and pressure that buzzed through the hull.
Leo’s commute from his spacious stateroom on Deck Four to the bridge had grown more complicated. Waiting for a turbolift became a futile exercise—three packed cars had passed by without room for another passenger, each crammed with people and equipment moving to meet the yard’s demands. He could have pulled rank to make space, but that wasn’t his style. He knew better than to assert privilege over those whose work carried the weight of real priorities.
Opting for the service ladders instead, Leo ascended two decks, grateful the panels were already open to accommodate the flow of personnel. When he reached the bridge, he turned instinctively, extending a hand to the crew member climbing up behind him. The ladder access deposited them just outside the ready room—a small convenience, given that was precisely where Leo was headed.
"Nothing like learning every inch of the ship the hard way, right?" Leo quipped as the engineer accepted his hand and pulled herself onto the deck.
She returned his smile, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "Thank you, Captain." Without waiting for a formal dismissal, she crossed the bridge with practiced ease, her attention already locked on running a diagnostic at the science station—likely following instructions from Commander Skansh, the ever-meticulous Supervisor of Shipbuilding (SupShip).
Leo lingered for a beat, observing her purposeful stride, appreciating the quiet competence that had become the hallmark of Musashi's crew. It was the kind of energy that assured him things were moving in the right direction.
With that thought, he made his way toward the ready room, the doors parting with a soft hiss as they sensed his approach. Inside, seated before Leo’s desk and scrolling through his PADD with the same no-nonsense demeanor as always, was Commander Skansh.
"Morning, SupShip," Leo greeted the Tellarite, his voice easy but respectful.
With his eyes fixed on the display of his PADD, Skansh grumbled without preamble, "You're late."
"Getting here wasn’t exactly easy," Leo replied, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. "Had to take the ladders."
Skansh snorted, still not bothering to glance up. "You're the captain. Tell them to clear a car for you."
Leo gave a crooked smile, shaking his head slightly. "I’ll keep that in mind for next time." He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the edge of the desk. "So, what do you have for me today?"
Without missing a beat, Skansh launched into a rapid-fire summary of progress reports—efficiency percentages, system diagnostics, and personnel readiness. As Leo listened, it became clear that the yard engineers were ahead of schedule, and barring any unforeseen disasters, the ship would be ready with time to spare.
"The yard captain has announced that commissioning has been set for New Year’s Eve, now," Skansh concluded, tapping the final detail into the PADD before setting it aside with a grunt.
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Any chance that’ll cause an issue with the brass?"
Skansh harrumphed, folding his arms across his broad chest. "If it does, that’s not my problem."
Leo tilted his head, giving Skansh an appraising look. "I don’t know, SupShip. Think you can pull it off? Moving the deadline up a whole day—that’s a tall order for your team." His tone was light, but the skepticism was deliberate—designed to poke at the Tellarite’s ever-prickly pride.
Skansh’s head snapped up from his PADD, his small eyes narrowing in irritation. "A day?" He scoffed, the sound sharp with mock offense. "Leo, I could have this ship commissioned right now if I felt like it. But since you humans are so attached to your speeches and ceremonies, I’ve decided to indulge your need for pointless pageantry."
Leo smirked, enjoying the exchange. "Right now? Bold words from someone who was just groaning about impulse relays not being fully tested."
"Groaning?" Skansh barked, his nostrils flaring with exaggerated indignation. "That wasn’t groaning—that was fact-based pessimism. It’s a refined skill, Captain. You should try it sometime—it might keep you alive."
Leo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Sounds more like a clever way to manage expectations."
The Tellarite’s grin widened, his small eyes gleaming with mischievous satisfaction. "Manage expectations? I manage miracles, Captain Verde. If your kind had the sense to recognize them, my work might finally be appreciated."
Leo chuckled, shaking his head. "And here I thought you were just buying time to throw the yardbirds under the shuttle."
Skansh exhaled a theatrical sigh, his shoulders rising dramatically. "If the yard engineers botched something, I’d broadcast it across subspace—and we’d still finish ahead of schedule." He jabbed a stubby finger in Leo’s direction, his expression daring him to disagree. "And you know it."
Leo laughed, shaking his head in genuine amusement. "Fair point, SupShip. You do have a way of getting things done. Somehow."
"Somehow?" Skansh placed a hand over his chest in mock outrage, as if wounded by the mere suggestion. "That’s the thanks I get? I swear, taking a compliment from a human is like being kissed by a Klingon—entirely too much effort for far too little reward."
Leo couldn’t hold back a sharp laugh, the image too perfect. "Alright, alright. I’ll do better next time. Promise."
Skansh gave a satisfied sniff, folding his arms with a self-satisfied grin. "See that you do. And try not to be late tomorrow. Ladder excuses or not, you are the captain of this fine vessel I’ve built—just for you, no less."
Leo stood, still grinning. "I’ll endeavor to meet your lofty standards."
Skansh waved a hand dismissively, though the warmth in his expression betrayed the camaraderie beneath the gruff exterior. "Good. Someone’s got to keep you on your toes while I handle the real work—while you lounge around, dreaming up clever quips." He scooped up his PADDs in one fluid motion, tucking them under his arm. "If you need me, Captain, I'll be below decks, working miracles—as usual."
Leo snapped a playful salute. "Carry on, SupShip. And watch your back. Those yardbirds can be vicious."
With a parting grunt and a lazy wave, Skansh headed for the door. Just as it hissed open, he glanced back over his shoulder, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh, and Leo? You’re welcome—for the miracles."
Leo’s grin softened into something more genuine, and he lowered his voice, speaking with quiet sincerity. "I never doubted you for a second, my friend."
Skansh gave a satisfied harrumph, striding through the door with his usual swagger, leaving Leo alone in the ready room, still chuckling quietly to himself.
With a contented sigh, Leo turned to the terminal atop his desk, pulling up his schedule to review his appointments. Just as he was settling in, the door hissed open again, and in walked his Bolian chief steward, Brodd, balancing a tray with practiced ease.
Atop the tray sat an insulated carafe, steam curling from the spout. The aroma that drifted through the room was unmistakable—Brodd's inventive twist on a hot cocoa recipe, one that had delighted Leo from the very first day the Bolian came aboard.
“Oh… thank you, Brodd," Leo breathed, inhaling the rich, familiar scent. He offered a warm smile to the Bolian master chief, his appreciation genuine. "Your timing is impeccable, as always."
Brodd gave a single dip of his smooth, blue head, his expression serene. "This is just to tide you over, sir. Cook’s still putting the finishing touches on breakfast—should be ready in ten minutes, if you don’t mind the wait."
Leo’s grin was immediate. "For her? I’d wait as long as it takes." He watched as Brodd tipped the carafe, the rich, aromatic liquid swirling smoothly into a clear mug. The interplay of light and steam danced along the surface, the cocoa’s warmth radiating from the glass.
Anticipation stirred within him as he reached for the mug, cradling it gently. The moment the first sip touched his lips, Leo felt a quiet satisfaction bloom—a simple pleasure, but one that grounded him amid the chaos of bringing a new starship into commission.
After Brodd left, retreating quietly to the galley, the sharp trill of the intercom cut through the ready room, pulling Leo’s attention back to duty.
"Verde here," he answered, tapping the console to open the circuit.
"Captain, this is Yard Communications," came a youthful voice, the tenor bright and eager. "We’ve got an incoming signal for you from the starship Yamato." Since Musashi was still hard-wired into the shipyard’s systems, all external communications and operational needs were routed through the yard until the ship’s official commissioning.
Leo’s lips curved in a knowing smile. He had a pretty good idea who was on the other end of that call. "Forward the signal to this terminal, please. Much appreciated."
"Right away, sir." The desktop terminal flickered to life, the Starfleet insignia spinning into view. Metadata scrolled across the bottom of the screen, detailing the source, caller, and the current stardate.
With a smooth flick of his hand, Leo opened the channel and swiveled in his chair to face the visual pickups. The screen resolved into the familiar, smiling face of Captain Robert Toland.
"Robert," Leo greeted warmly. "Congratulations on your new command, old friend."
Toland grinned, his easy demeanor filling the screen. "Leo! Same to you. It's wild, isn’t it? Sister ships on this tour—I’m just disappointed they didn’t post us both at Utopia. But hey, I’m sure our paths will cross soon enough."
Leo shrugged with a wry smile, shaking his head slightly. "Honestly, I’m just glad they’ve got your expertise where it counts. After four years helming Matsumotos, you’re exactly the kind of captain we need keeping us new folks in line now and then."
Toland waved a hand, brushing off the compliment with an embarrassed grin. "As much as I’d love to sit here and let you butter me up, Leo, I do have a reason for this call."
Leo’s posture straightened, the smile fading from his face as he adopted a more serious expression. "Of course. What can I do for you?"
Toland’s grin softened into something more earnest. "Actually, it’s me doing something for you. Remember four years ago, when you asked me to give Master Chief Benten a shot on Yukikaze? Well, now that I’ve taken command of Yamato, she needs a new home. And... I think she’s ready to wear the Gold Ring again."
Leo blinked, absorbing the unexpected offer. "Esumi Benten," he echoed, the name hanging in the air for a moment. "I have to admit, I hadn’t thought to consider her for CMCPO. I’ve been sitting on the Detailer’s list, but I haven’t made a final decision yet." He leaned closer to the screen, studying Toland’s expression. "If you’re saying she’s ready, then I’d be more than happy to bring her aboard."
"She is, trust me," Toland assured, his voice steady with confidence. "She’s done excellent work in my administration department, and I was lucky to have her as my yeoman." He leaned forward slightly, a knowing grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Not that I need to give you the hard sell—"
"Not at all," Leo interjected, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I’m beyond thrilled you were able to help her."
Toland nodded, his expression softening with pride. "You were right about her. She just needed time to grieve properly. Once Master Chief Greer took her under her wing as a mentor, everything changed. She’s made massive strides."
He paused for emphasis before adding with a sly smile, "So, do me a favor—since you owe me one anyway. Let her wear the Gold Ring for you this tour. See what she’s learned. I promise, you won’t regret it."
"Enough said," Leo replied, emotions surging beneath his words. Hearing about Benten’s turnaround filled him with a deep sense of relief, joy, and pride—her crash on Detmer had been a low point, but now, her success felt like redemption.
"Tell her to grab a shuttle and head out here," Leo added, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I’ll cut the orders today."
Toland smiled broadly, his teeth flashing in a grin that only old friends could share. "I suspected that might be the case. So, I hope you don't mind the presumption, but… she’s already en route. Should arrive by tomorrow."
Leo shook his head, a warm chuckle escaping him. "Not at all. Thank you so much, Robert. And please, pass along my thanks to Greer as well."
Toland’s expression softened. "You’ll need to thank her yourself—Greer put in her retirement papers last week. She’s finally heading to HQ to enjoy some well-earned peace."
Leo gave a slow, silent nod, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "I will," he said softly, his voice touched with gratitude.
Toland gave a knowing smile, leaning back slightly. "Well, I don't want to keep you any longer. With commissioning so close, you’ve got plenty on your plate. We probably won’t get a chance to catch up again before the big day, so… I’ll take this moment to wish you good hunting, Captain."
Leo’s expression softened, the weight of Toland’s words settling comfortably. "Thank you, Captain. Let’s make sure we carve out some time to meet up out there, yeah?"
Toland grinned. "I was thinking the same thing. Yamato-One, out."
The screen flickered, and the Starfleet insignia reappeared, marking the end of the call. Leo sat back in his chair, the moment lingering in the quiet hum of his ready room, a sense of anticipation and hope stretching out before him like the vast expanse of stars beyond the superstructure of the construction yard outside his viewport.
Master Chief Yeoman Esumi Benten retrieved her PADD as its soft chime broke the quiet hum of the shuttle’s engines. Seated in the last row of the long-range shuttle Doubleday, en route to the Sol System, she angled the screen upward with a flick of her wrist. The familiar Starfleet insignia spun briefly before revealing a new text message from the Bureau of Personnel.
Her brow furrowed slightly, though she kept her expression neutral. Starfleet’s communications rarely came without consequence, especially mid-transit.
Benten exhaled slowly, reading the orders a second time to steady herself. Captain Toland had assured her that Captain Verde would welcome her aboard without hesitation, but a part of her had remained unconvinced. Despite the growth she’d achieved during her time with Captain Toland and CMCPO Greer—and the guidance she received from shipboard counselors—doubt lingered. It had taken years of hard work to free herself from the grief that had once trapped her in isolation and destructive habits.
The memory of her failure aboard the Detmer, and the role her short-sightedness might have played in a shipmate's death, had been a brutal wake-up call. Captain Verde’s intervention, calling in a favor to get her a post on the Yukikaze four years earlier, had been her lifeline. And learning under Greer’s mentorship—how to lead with care, integrity, and balance—had transformed her in ways she hadn’t thought possible.
She read the fifth block of the orders again, where Captain Verde’s acceptance was noted in clear, simple terms. The weight of his faith in her hit her all at once. The chill of the shuttle’s circulated air brushed against her cheeks, where tears had silently fallen. Startled by the unbidden emotion, she raised her hands, brushing at her damp eyes and wiping the tracks from her face.
The shuttle’s flight path would take it to Mars orbit first, docking at the Starfleet terminal on the civilian orbital facility. After a brief layover, it would continue on to Utopia Planitia. A quick check of the flight progress on her PADD confirmed she would arrive within the next twelve hours.
With a measured breath, Benten slipped the PADD back into her carry-on duffel. From the same bag, she retrieved a small case and opened it to reveal the gold-ringed version of her rank insignia. She removed her uniform jacket, unfastened the silver insignia from the collar, and replaced it with the gold. Her fingers traced over the details of the new device, a quiet ritual of reflection. The feel of it stirred memories—both painful and humbling—of the last time she had worn the rank before her ill-fated transfer to Detmer.
Greer had been right. This was her second chance—a rare opportunity to earn back the trust and responsibility that came with wearing the Gold Ring as a ship’s Senior Enlisted Advisor. But she also carried the older woman's parting wisdom: everyone is a work in progress, herself included. So long as she embraced that truth, there would always be room to grow—always another challenge to meet, another lesson to learn, in both her career and personal life.
Accepting the journey ahead gave her hope. If she could honor the trust placed in her by Captain Toland and Master Chief Greer, she could do the same for Captain Verde. With him waiting on the other side of this flight, she felt ready—ready to bear the weight of leadership once more and prove, to herself most of all, that she belonged.
