The Admiral keeps a civilian wife aboard much of the time. As vices among the Admiralty go, this one is fairly trivial.

"Merry, just tell them it's like Star Trek."

"I don't think anyone's heard of that but you."

"I saw a blog comparing you to Captain Picard recently!"

"Did they compare you to Spock?"

Renko grins. "I'm plenty emotional, Merry."

Oh, her bait failed...

"I've spent so long laying the groundwork for this, you know."

"I know. But why aren't you starting with someplace easier?"

"There's easier places, and there's places that need us more, probably."

Merry pauses for a bit, frowning.

"It affronts me how She runs it like a prison camp."

"Huh. You didn't explain this part to me, yet."

Renko leans forward, eyes shining. Decades of marriage, and it never gets old.

Merry is mysterious, closed-off, and hard to get a read on. Her mind is never quite in the room with you, not entirely.

Her political image is carefully fabricated, originally by Renko herself, in the days when it didn't take a dedicated staff, just long hours and a refrigerator full of extravagantly expensive non-synth beer. Reticence is spun into gravitas, mystery into intellectualism.

But Renko loves the real Merry. Every precious, irreplaceable glimpse into her mind.

"I'm not mad at Her for it being self-contained. It's a world, that's what they are. I'm mad at her for being obsessed with stuffing everyone in her little boxes. Not just the main ones. You know, she keeps planets as little preserves, like she wants one planet at every possible technology level or something. That's more Star Trek than me, really, it's like the Prime Directive if it said there was to be no interference with a planet's ordained dispensation from God."

Merry sighs.

"I know, I'm a hypocrite, right?"

"I don't think that's anything like what Gensokyo was, Merry. It was just an enclave. And Gensokyo wasn't you you, anyway."

Renko smiles.

"You are certainly this universe's biggest Prime Directive violator, though. Captain Picard would be so disappointed."

The distinction feels academic to Merry much of the time, but Renko has always been adamant about who she is and isn't married to.

It helps a lot.

"Can I at least be Sisko?"

"We don't have a son, so no. That's an important part of his character, Merry."

Merry raises her eyebrows.

"Fine, fine, I'll grant you Kirk. But I'm not going into pon farr for you."

"I don't know what that is."

"Maybe I'll explain when you're older. Like, after you address the crew."

"Sixty thousand crew, Merry. All these years and I've never really felt that number properly before today."

"I know what you're worried about, and six or sixty thousand doesn't change that."

"You're right."

The Admiral hails the helm.

"Bring us to a full stop," she orders.

"Should I go with you?"

Renko is a civilian, but she's long commanded the respect of the crew, and knows each of the senior officers well. Better than the Admiral, probably.

"I'd like that."

The Admiral heads to the bridge, her wife following in silent yet cheerful support.

The supercarrier, home to sixty thousand souls, is in remote deep space, far from anything. Random data was fed into the jump computer.

And as the Admiral enters, space opens before it.

The Admiral prepares to address the crew.

Merry is going to need all of her nonexistent charisma.

"I'm sorry for keeping you all in the dark so far," she begins.

"This isn't a dangerous mission. But I've let you worry that it might be."

"Please direct your attention to the gap in space to the fore."

It's not reassuring. Countless vast eyes stare out from the deep.