Cradles Among the Torpedoes
Posted on Thu Aug 21st, 2025 @ 2:24am by Lieutenant Ralen Trellis & Lieutenant Commander Talia Johnson
1,438 words; about a 7 minute read
Mission:
Preserving The Past
Location: Chief Counselor's Office
Timeline: BACKPOST
The Chief Counselor's office aboard the starship was arranged with the typical warmth of a therapeutic space—soft lighting, comfortable seating, and carefully chosen artwork meant to put visitors at ease. Lieutenant Ralen Trellis stood just outside the door, his jaw set in a line that betrayed none of the internal conflict churning within him. The Trellis symbiont carried memories of countless briefings, debriefings, and military formalities, but this particular meeting felt different. More complicated.
He pressed the door chime and waited.
Inside her office Talia was sitting in her favourite chair, feet up with a small pile of personnel files on a table within reach. Some of them had already been updated, and had been put in a separate pile. Looking up from the file she was holding she called the newest member of the Counselling staff to enter.
Ralen waited to be summoned before he stepped through the doorway and immediately straightened to attention, his Starfleet training overriding his personal reservations. "Lieutenant Ralen Trellis, reporting as ordered, ma'am."
“Welcome Lieutenant” Talia smiled warmly. “Please, relax and take a seat. I would stand up, but in this condition it takes me ages to get comfortable again.” She gave a wry smile. “Please feel free to call me Talia.”
"Thank you, Commander—Talia," he corrected himself, still maintaining his formal bearing despite her invitation to informality. He chose the chair that afforded him the clearest view of both the door and her current position—a habit inherited from Jaret's military experience, though he told himself it was merely professional courtesy.
“I hope you have settled in alright? I see from the reports that you’ve already started seeing patients, I’m impressed.” Talia offered a warm smile. “Now I’m dropping back on my hours you’ll find more of a workload coming your way, I’m aiming to keep working until as late a point in my pregnancy as I can, which won’t be for much longer now.”
Ralen nodded respectfully, his hands clasped behind his back despite being seated. "I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, Talia. The transition has been... manageable, though I must say the crew's psychological profiles present some exceptional challenges."
His expression grew more serious as he continued. "The extended period stranded on that starship graveyard—watching colleagues die, losing so many who will never make it home—has left deep psychological scarring across multiple departments. I'm seeing manifestations of survivor's guilt, chronic hypervigilance, and what can only be described as a collective trauma response."
He paused, his dark eyes reflecting the weight of what he'd observed in his sessions. "And now, with intelligence reports suggesting we're positioned at the edge of a potential Iconian invasion, the crew is operating under an almost unbearable tension. They've barely begun processing one traumatic experience before being thrust into what could be an even more catastrophic situation."
The Trellis symbiont stirred with memories that weren't entirely his own—Jaret's experiences during the Cardassian Border Wars, treating shell-shocked Marines who jumped at every shadow; Tara's work with civilian populations that had survived the first Borg encounters decades ago;
Each host had witnessed how the specter of annihilation could fracture even the strongest minds, how the knowledge of an implacable enemy created a unique form of psychological pressure that traditional therapeutic approaches struggled to address.
"If I may ask," he continued, his tone carefully measured, drawing unconsciously on centuries of accumulated wisdom about trauma and loss, "how do you envision managing the practical aspects of raising a child aboard an active starship under these circumstances? The crew is already struggling with their own mortality and the constant threat of loss. Adding the vulnerability of a newborn to that psychological landscape..."
He leaned forward slightly, genuine concern evident in his voice. "I imagine you've considered how this will affect not only your role as Chief Counselor during such critical times, but how the crew might respond to having someone so precious and defenseless among us when death has become such a familiar presence."
“To be honest I have wondered how I’m going to cope with the change, between my duties and being a mother. Plus it’s not just one baby being born, I’m not the only one who’s expecting onboard ship.” Talia paused. “It can be looked at two ways, There's the view of the fact that having children, especially newborn’s onboard, could be seen as a weakness. There’s also the other point of view which would see it as a strength for the crew, protecting the innocent. Not that I’d expect anyone else to protect my child, that’s my responsibility. With Thomas’ death, before his resurrection and return, I had to keep myself strong and I will do everything I can to keep this crew just as strong.”
Ralen sat in contemplative silence for a moment after Talia spoke, the subtle thrum of the ship's systems filling the quiet. He shifted in his seat, fingers briefly brushing the edge of his uniform jacket, a subconscious gesture more than anything. The words weighed heavily before he spoke them—Jaret's memories, vivid and raw, pressing against the edge of his consciousness like a tide that never quite receded.
“I hope you know,” he began slowly, carefully, “that I don’t mean to undermine your strength or your dedication to this crew. Or your right to build the life you want.”
He glanced down for a beat, collecting himself. When he looked back up, there was something softer in his eyes—concern, certainly, but also restraint.
“It’s just… this is difficult for me to say. Not because I doubt you. But because some part of me still sees what Jaret saw—what he felt—during the border conflicts and the Dominion War. The aftermath, mostly. Marines and 'Fleeters who hadn’t even hit their second pip yet, shattered in ways that medicine could never quite reach. And later, civilians caught in things they never should’ve been near.”
He hesitated, searching for the right balance of honesty and compassion.
“I suppose what I’m trying to say is… I struggle with the idea of raising a child—any child—on a starship like this. Especially now, when conflict seems to lurk around every corner of subspace. I know Starfleet families have done it for generations, and I respect that. But this ship… this time... it feels different. Heavier.”
His voice softened again.
“I understand the argument—about hope, about protecting something innocent, giving people something to fight for. And maybe that’s what we all need. But I can’t help remembering how even the idea of fragility could shake a crew already carrying so much. Adding a newborn into that… it’s not weakness, but it is another kind of vulnerability.”
He offered a faint, unsure smile—more an apology than anything else.
“I don’t mean to judge. And I’m not telling you what’s right or wrong. I just—well, I guess I’ve seen too much to not feel uneasy. And I didn’t want to stay silent just because the truth is hard to say.”
Talia nodded. “I appreciate your honesty, I always encourage honesty when people come to see me. I know how you feel, it’s hard not to be uneasy with the dangers we face.”
Ralen gave a slow nod, her words settling into the quiet space between them. The tension in his posture eased, if only slightly.
“I appreciate you hearing me out, Talia. I know the weight you're carrying isn’t just your own. And I respect the strength it takes to do what you're doing—what you're planning to do.”
He rose with quiet precision, as he rose he reached up and ran his thumb along the seam of his left sleeve—a subtle, unconscious habit. Jaret used to check for creases before every inspection, a holdover from parade drills and field briefings. Now, Ralen did it without thinking—something to center himself before stepping back into the unknown.
“I’ll keep doing my part to help this crew hold it together. Whatever comes next, I won’t let personal doubt cloud my duty.”
He paused at the door, glancing back.
“For what it’s worth… I hope the child never has to understand why I was worried.”
A final, respectful nod.
“Take care, Counselor.”
“I will, thank you” Talia smiled warmly.
Then he stepped out, leaving the quiet hum of the office behind.
Lieutenant Commander Talia Johnson
Chief Counsellor
Lieutenant Ralen Trellis
Assistant Counselor
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