Moments of Peace

Posted on Sat Sep 20th, 2025 @ 12:27pm by Commander Isabella dei`Silvisi

423 words; about a 2 minute read

Commander Isabella dei`Silvisi moved through the sliding doors of the ready room, the hum of the bridge enveloping her like the resumption of a song paused mid-note. She squared her shoulders conscious of the eyes that flicked toward her, however briefly. Officers at their stations masked their curiosity beneath the practiced neutrality of duty but Isabella had served long enough to sense the undercurrent of anticipation. Everyone knew change was coming and the crew was bracing for it.

Her boots carried her across the deck with measured calm. The displays glowed with sensor telemetry, the tactical console whispered status reports, and at the conn the junior lieutenant’s fingers danced across the controls. It all seemed normal, on the surface, but beneath it, she felt the tension. It was like the smell of rain before a storm.

She paused near the science station, soon to be her station once more. For weeks she had passed it by, leaving the console to junior officers while she occupied the chair to the captain’s right. Today, she let her hand rest lightly on its edge. The surface was cool beneath her palm, but somehow familiar. The simple contact stirred something like relief.

“Commander?” the Andorian ensign currently at the station glanced up, antennae twitching with curiosity.

“Carry on, Ensign,” Isabella said, her tone even, composed. She withdrew her hand and continued toward the turbolift, though her eyes lingered on the console for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Soon enough, it would be hers again. Not borrowed authority, not an interim responsibility, but the work she had chosen.

Crossing the center of the bridge, Isabella’s gaze brushed briefly over the captain’s chair. Valérian sat there with quiet certainty, her presence already filling the space in a way that commanded confidence. Their conversation still echoed in Isabella’s mind, the unspoken promise that this ship would endure, remade though it might be.

She entered the turbolift, the doors closing around her with a soft hiss. Alone, she allowed herself to exhale fully, the weight pressing on her chest easing at last. She was no longer holding the ship together from a chair that had never been meant for her. Soon, she would be where she belonged among equations and anomalies, searching the stars for answers.

The lift descended, and Isabella stood straighter once more, her composure returned. Whatever awaited the Endeavour in the Badlands, she would meet it as a scientist. And that thought, for the first time in months, brought her peace.

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