Meeting The Current Part 2

Posted on Sun Jan 11th, 2026 @ 12:50pm by Commander Cornelius 'Kit' Hanlon

2,094 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Prologue: To Boldly Go
Location: First Officer's Office, Deck 2, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 14

Previously, in part 1:

A thing Kit's mother complained and worried about a lot. But Kit had always been a Starfleet man, lending his entire being to it. Sure, there had been romances along the way, but no real relationships. Nothing that had swept him off his feet and he hadn't swept anyone either. No, he was at home on a Starship. He slept well in his bed with the hum of the warp core and the little noises around him. And he made friends that felt like family.

And now the conclusion:

Adis listened in stillness, not merely hearing the words, but attending to the spaces between them—the hesitant edges, the quiet truths too often left unspoken. He did not rush to fill the silence when Kit finished. Some words, he understood, needed room to settle, to find their own place without being smoothed over too quickly.

"You speak with clarity, Commander," he said at last, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of true regard. "And with intention. Both are rarer, in my experience, than one might hope." His gaze remained steady, free of judgment or pity, offering only presence. "It is no small thing to seek to do good. Nor to find one's home not in a place, but among those who share one's purpose."

He lifted the mug slightly, a quiet gesture of acknowledgment rather than necessity, before setting it carefully back upon the desk. The rising steam curled between them, softening the space further without breaking the moment’s gravity. "Service—true service—does not diminish the one who offers it. It shapes them, as surely as the sea shapes stone. You have not chosen an easy current to follow, Commander. But you have chosen a worthy one."

He made no move to pull the conversation further, no questions layered beneath his words. Adis simply offered the quiet gift of being seen—and accepted Kit’s honesty with the same reverence he would offer to the slow, inevitable pull of the tides.

Kit gave him a small smile, nodding as he looked at him. "Thank you. It's not for everyone, but I've...found a purpose here I don't think I would have found on Earth," he admitted as the smile grew. Because he had enjoyed his career. His years as an Engineer had been good, interesting and full of lessons learned. His years now as a First Officer had shaped him too, made him more interested in people and how best bring out their talents. It might seem strange, but he liked those things. "What of you? How do you feel about being here?"

Adis took a moment to consider the question, his gaze settling briefly on the surface of his tea before returning to Kit. The corner of his mouth curved—subtle, reflective. “I was not meant to be here,” he said, without regret or complaint. “Not in the traditional sense. I was in transit—returning home for a time—when the call came. A vessel in need. A crew without its counselor.” He paused, letting the silence settle. “I said yes before I could think of a reason not to.”

He let the warmth of the tea move through his hands, anchoring him. “It is too soon to say how I feel,” he admitted, choosing the word with care. “But I know this—when I stepped aboard the Fenrir, I felt... alignment. As if something in the cadence of this ship—its people, its purpose—had been waiting for me. Not in some fated or grand design,” he added gently, aware of how it might sound. “Only that sometimes, we arrive in the place we did not expect, at precisely the moment we are most needed.”

There was no flourish to the sentiment, no ego behind it—just quiet conviction. He met Kit’s eyes, offering something steady in his own. “So I am here. Willing. Listening. And... curious.” That last word emerged with a softness that bordered on personal. “There is much I do not yet know about the Fenrir. But I would like to.”

Aristede would have liked him, the thought came unbidden to Kit, but with honesty. But his family friend had to leave, so now Adis was here. It was the way of starships. "It's a Norway class," Kit said, a small smile coming to him. Adis was a civilian and Kit didn't want to assume the other man knew everything. "And has the facilities for a family. I like to see it as a floating village with a mission. We have teachers, classrooms...children. And a whole new crew. It will...take some time to get everyone settled. You don't often have a brand new crew on a ship, and Fenrir is a retrofit, not a brand new vessel."

“A village,” Adis repeated, the word unfamiliar and comforting all at once. “Yes. That feels correct.” His gaze drifted briefly to the far wall, as though the ship itself were listening—an old vessel retrofitted with new breath, its purpose not yet fully spoken. “A place of shared rhythms and roles. Where presence carries weight, and absence leaves a mark.” He turned back to Kit, deliberate and steady, and offered a subtle nod. “You do not speak of this place as an assignment, Commander. You speak of it as a responsibility. That distinction is not lost on me.”

The mention of children and classrooms—of families—brought the faintest shift behind Adis’s eyes, not so much a reaction as a quiet recognition. He folded his hands loosely in front of him, his posture composed and open. “I understand now why your presence aboard feels... rooted,” he continued. “Ships may be assigned. But communities are chosen. They are grown with intention, patience, and the subtle work of presence. I have arrived only at the cusp of this forming, but I will offer what steadiness I can, for however long I am needed.” There was no mention of permanence. Only service.

He let the silence settle before adding, softer still, “The Federation entrusted me with this role not because I fit its structure—but because I do not. Someone, somewhere, believed this ship might benefit from contrast. The right tension can be instructive.” His head inclined, thoughtful. “And perhaps, with care, the right tension can also soften what would otherwise become rigid.” The words were not offered as revelation, only as reflection—shaped by currents deeper than orders or rank.

"Yes...you sit outside the command structure," Kit acknowledged with a small smile. "You will be at meetings, lend your voice to them. Your opinion and advice. But I don't think you have to worry too much about being told to take command of the ship..." he gave a s small smile of that, almost playful. "Although I expect we will send you on away teams. Nothing is ever learned from being rigid...and a civilian perspective on things can be very useful." He saw it as that anyway. Useful and helpful.

Adis’s lips curved—not quite a smile, but something near to it, a flicker of dry amusement tempered by quiet relief. “That’s reassuring,” he said, his voice low and even, the cadence practiced but not impersonal. “I’ve no desire to test the limits of Starfleet’s emergency command protocol. My talents are best employed beneath the surface, not above the helm.”

He glanced toward one of the large wall panels that displayed the soft shimmer of stars in motion—only simulated, he knew, but still enough to evoke something reflective. “Still, I understand the necessity of presence. Counsel offered from afar is often misunderstood, or worse, mistrusted. Insight must be earned, and earned among the living. So yes,” he looked back to Kit, expression calm but resolute, “if away missions are where truths make themselves known, I will go where I am needed.”

His posture remained relaxed, but there was a deliberate weight behind his words now. “You should know,” he continued, “that I do not come aboard with pretense. I have reviewed nothing of this crew. I asked for no files, no histories. I wished to meet the Fenrir’s people as they are, not as they’ve been summarized. If I am to serve them well, I must first allow them to show me who they are—before anyone attempts to tell me.”

A quiet settled again between them, and Adis didn’t seek to fill it. Instead, he let the moment hold, as if even silence had something to say. Then, softly, “Thank you, Commander Hanlon. For the clarity. For the welcome. I suspect we will need both in the days ahead—and perhaps more than either of us yet realize.”

Hanlon nodded as he looked at him, understanding where he came from. But he also understood his own duty. "A few files may come across your desk that you need to read before you meet them. Personnel who need counselling, who already have it in their files to have it," he said and gave him an apologetic smile. "You can still get to know them, but it will be expected that you at least read the notes about why they are being sent to you." He let out a breath, knowing that time was...somewhat short. And he felt bad for rushing this. "My door is always open, if you need to talk about something. Or have questions about the ship, or suggestions what we can do to improve things here."

Adis inclined his head in quiet acknowledgment, the gesture carrying more gravity than simple agreement. “I understand. I will review what is necessary. My approach, however, remains grounded in presence rather than preconception. A file is a glimpse—a shadow of a person. I prefer to meet the light directly, even if I must pass through the shadow first.”

His expression softened—just slightly—a glimmer of warmth behind the composed stillness. “I thank you, Commander. For your candor. For your door. And for the understanding that connection—like trust—is not built in a single exchange. It is something shaped over time.”

There was a pause, deliberate but not uncomfortable. “Are there individuals you believe I should begin with? Either for their benefit—or for the ship’s?”

Hanlon let out a soft breath before he smiled gently. He suspected Mateo would have been a natural choice but...no. For some reason, he didn't say his name. "I think Riaothren ch'Shaorhs could use someone to talk to. And there's Vansen as well, he has a note in his file to see a counsellor. And Inaros. On top of my head, I suggest you start with them, or give them to other counsellors." He didn't mention Stark, even if he too had a note against his file to see a counsellor. No. That young man seemed to hide from counsellors and he wanted to see if anyone of them would notice. Not at a test, more as a natural way to get introduced to the man. After all, he wouldn't want to sour a more natural interaction by having their Chief Counselor suddenly tell that the First Officer had pointed him out. Whereas ch'Shaorhs would be expecting it with his bereavement and the conversation they had. Vansen had been in counselling all his career, so for him it would be natural. And Inaros, well...if he didn't know he would be summoned, he underestimated the former Marine.

The rest of the meeting passed with mostly small talk.

Hanlon watched him go, the whisper of robes fading into the corridor until only the hum of the ship remained. For a moment he stayed still, palms pressed lightly against the desk, green tea cooling beside him. First meetings rarely revealed more than surface impressions, but there had been a steadiness about Voks that lingered in the room. Not passive, not aloof, but a quiet weight that seemed to draw the edges of chaos into line.

It was too early to know how the crew would take to him, yet Kit found himself oddly reassured. They were on the cusp of launch, carrying a brand new complement into the uncertain dark, and already the Fenrir had one more anchor than it had yesterday. That was no small thing.

OFF:

Commander Kit Hanlon
First Officer
USS Guinevere

And

Adis Voks
Chief Counsellor
USS Guinevere
[pnpc Mateo Gardel]

 

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