First Impressions
Posted on Wed Dec 10th, 2025 @ 8:06am by Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trellis & Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble & Staff Warrant Officer Rommie
Edited on on Thu Dec 11th, 2025 @ 7:52am
2,103 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Episode 17 - Going Home
Location: Office of The Executive Officer - Deck 2 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD003 1800 hrs.
Lieutenant jg Galen Trellis stood outside the Executive Officer's office, PADD in hand, trying to ignore the small knot of anticipation in his chest. After what felt like an eternity waiting on Empok Nor—dealing with Cardassian architecture, intelligence missions he wasn't cleared to understand, and endless delays—he was finally here. Actually aboard the USS Pioneer.
The Intrepid-class ship hummed quietly around him, alive with the familiar sounds of a vessel at station-keeping. It was smaller than some of the ships he'd served on, but there was something elegant about the design. Efficient. Purpose-built for long-range exploration and scientific missions. This was what he'd been trained for. This was where he was supposed to be.
He pressed the door chime and waited.
Neil had stumped his way to his office on crutches. He was officially mobile and on light duty.
And he was more than tired of the inside of sickbay and his quarters. It had been a few short days since the encounters on Wren IX and he had been mostly going through debriefings and sorting through the footage from the drones, suits and sensor logs.
Rommie was being a god send there as the AI's efficiency and speed was handy, if a little scary.
His office presets were still in place however and Rommie had announced the Pioneer's newest JG before he'd gotten to the annunciator by switching the interior walls to one-way and Neil pushed aside a 3D render of the Wren IX final battle field. After a few beats he cancelled the renders and nodded to Rommie, who had stepped out of her data stream to assume a position by the hatch.
Snorting, Neil said "Let him in, Warrant." He was currently standing on his leg, using the back of his office chair for support.
The hatch shifted and the walls went back to normal as Rommie looked out from her post and said, "JG Trellis. The Colonel will see you now."
Galen nodded and stepped through the hatch into the Executive Officer's office. His eyes immediately took in the scene: Lieutenant Colonel Tremble standing behind his desk, using the chair for support, for some particular reason...
But it was the rank that hit him first.
The Colonel
The moment the word registered in his mind, something shifted. His spine straightened with parade-ground precision. His shoulders squared in a way that was subtly different from standard Starfleet bearing. His stride became more measured, more exact—the kind of movement that belonged on a training ground, not a starship.
Galen came to attention three paces from the desk—crisp, precise. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trellis reporting for duty, sir!" His voice carried the clipped efficiency of addressing a Marine superior officer, the words delivered with unconscious formality.
He remained at attention, waiting for acknowledgment, his entire bearing reflecting decades of Marine Corps discipline that he'd never actually experienced himself. It was Dorian—every inch of it—rising to the surface in the presence of a field-grade Marine officer.
Then, after a beat, awareness crashed over him.
What are you doing?
Galen blinked, and something in his posture shifted slightly—still professional, still respectful, but the rigid Marine formality eased just a fraction. He caught himself, recognizing Dorian's instincts bleeding through so strongly that he'd completely forgotten he was Starfleet, not Corps.
His expression flickered with brief embarrassment, though he kept his bearing professional. "My apologies, Colonel Tremble," he said, his tone shifting to something more typical of a Starfleet officer while still maintaining appropriate respect for rank. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trellis, reporting aboard as your new Chief Flight Control Officer. Transfer orders from Starfleet Personnel Command."
He extended his PADD with his orders, his movements still precise but no longer quite so parade-ground perfect. "I arrived at Empok Nor several days ago while the Pioneer was away on mission. I've been assisting with the 2738th Marine Fighter Squadron and completing some additional assignments in the interim. I'm ready to assume duties at the helm whenever you need me, sir."
Neil regarded the new JG with calm. Apparently this young man had a lot going on. Rommie streamed the Trill's service jacket through his HUD as Neil said, "At ease, Lieutenant. Grab a pew." He gestured toward a chair that had unfolded and cycled up out of the deck, even as his work desk reset to seated working height. Neil idly collected the data from the PADD remotely, transferring the information to the ship's computer and set Rommie to making sure the information all meshed.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Trellis. Looks like past and present is twitching a little with your symbiont, are you alright?" Neil asked as he looked the dark haired man over. Rommie automatically ran a bio scan and brought the man's medical file to scroll on Neil's HUD, highlighting current records.
Galen relaxed visibly at the "at ease," his posture shifting from parade-ground rigid to something more naturally professional. He moved to the offered chair, settling into it with the kind of ease that belonged to Galen rather than Dorian's military bearing.
"Thank you, sir," he said, his tone noticeably more casual now—though still respectful. "And yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that. The symbiont has a way of... surfacing at inconvenient moments, especially around certain triggers."
He offered a slight, self-deprecating smile. "My previous host—Dorian Trellis—was a Starfleet Marine. Served during the Dominion War, left the Corps afterward."
Galen was much more relaxed now that he'd pulled himself out of Dorian's headspace. "The Symbiosis Commission calls it 'memory bleed-through,'" he continued, his tone lighter. "Happens under certain circumstances—specific sensory triggers. For me, it's usually anything that reminds the symbiont of the war or Marine operations. Cardassian architecture, military ranks, combat scenarios..." He gestured vaguely. "The usual fun stuff."
He paused, then added with a wry grin, "On the bright side, at least I haven't had a flashback to the mountain of paperwork Dorian had to deal with during his time as as Battalion XO. If there's one thing Marines did better than killing Jem'Hadar, it was breaking and losing sensitive equipment." He said gruffly, recalling the memory.
Six years of carrying Dorian's memories had taught Galen that if he couldn't laugh at his former host's particular habits, he'd drive himself crazy.
Neil nodded, listening intently. "Your record thus far looks good. I think you'll fit into the crew, though you might have to bare with us since our last bit of mischief caught up with everyone. Unfortunately, that all has been compartmentalized and is need-to-know. I hate to even tell you that because it makes the curiosity burn brighter, but trust me. Just do what sharks do and keep swimming ahead, don't look behind or get too curious."
The XO chewed on the inside of his mouth for a moment then said, "And that goes with the Dorian host. I'm not expert on Trill by any means, but this ship is going to be full of triggers for you. The Cure is intermixed morso aboard the Pioneer than other detachments. If it helps, Dorian can keep in mind that too much distractions on it's part and I'll have your guts for garters. The Helm is not a place for wool gathering or day dreaming." He let that sink in for a few heartbeats and said, "I'm not saying you will but I've found it's best to get my views out in the open right off."
Galen felt something hot and immediate flare in his chest—Dorian's instinctive response to having his competence questioned by a superior officer. For just a heartbeat, his posture shifted, shoulders squaring, jaw tightening, that same parade-ground bearing from moments ago threatening to resurface with considerably more edge to it.
Dorian Trellis led Marines through some of the bloodiest battles on Chin'toka and brought them home alive while you were still in a Squad Bay on Parris Island
The words were right there, sharp and defensive, ready to deploy. But Galen caught himself, recognizing the surge of emotion for what it was: Dorian's pride, Dorian's need to defend his record, Dorian's reflexive response to being treated like a potential liability.
He took a breath—deliberate, controlled—and let it out slowly. When he spoke, his tone was respectful and professional, the edge carefully smoothed away.
"I understand your concerns, Colonel, and I appreciate you being direct about expectations," Galen said evenly. "You're right that this ship will have triggers—Marines, Cardassians, combat situations. But I've been managing the memory bleed-through for six years now. It happens, yes, but it doesn't compromise my performance at the Helm."
He met the Marine's eyes steadily, his expression open and honest. "Dorian had his flaws..."
Galen thought as an aside.
"...but he also survived both the Federation-Klingon War and some of the worst ground combat of the Dominion War. He wouldn't have made it through all that by being unfocused or distracted when it mattered." Trellis replied.
Trellis' voice remained calm, measured. "When I'm at Helm, I'm focused on flying this ship. That's all me—Dorian was a grunt, not a pilot."
"I believe you," Neil said. "But I'm also hearing a lot of referencing to Dorian. Marines do their duty, but his past isn't yours. Everyone has their flaws and if we're lucky we learn from them. You're lucky to learn from his successes and failures. On the Pioneer, Lieutenant, both of those will be your own. Not his." By the man's eyes, Neil could tell that the past six year reference was true. But it hadn't been easy so there had to be some conflict there.
Shifting through virtual documents, Neil signed off on new rosters and forwarded them to the PADD and handed them back. "Copies for your study. Pioneer's SOP's, duty assignments and watch rotations. It also has your quarter assignments and I've added a follow me program that the wall displays that trace the corridors will get you where you need to go."
Clearing his desk of that task, Neil smiled. "As I said, welcome aboard Lieutenant. Do you have any questions?"
his past isn't yours...
It was moments like these that Galen envied Humans and their singular lifetimes. They knew that when they closed their eyes for the final time their mistakes, both intentional or otherwise, would cease to matter. Their failures would not become a heavy burden to carry around in the ruck sack of a another individual.
Dorian didn't leave behind a war hero's legacy that Cadets swapped over drinks at the Academy. Instead, he spent his final years in solitude and chronic isolation. For better or worse, the past that Galen now carried inside of him was all that Dorian left. While he certainly understood the Human Executive Officer's opinion, he knew that it would be best to just bury the subject.
"No, Colonel, nothing further." Lieutenant Trellis said as he accepted the Padd. "I'll find my quarters so I can stow away my gea----I mean personal effects and prepare for my first watch rotation." He said as nodded and made his way to the doors to exit.
Neil watched the hatch cycle behind the Pioneer's new chief helmsman and mused. "Having all that riding around has to be confusing till you tell the entity to shut the thrag up."
"I'm not sure that's possible," Colonel Rommie remarked. "Everything I have in front of me indicates it's more of a negotiation than not."
Neil grunted at that and said, "Make sure all of his privileges and accesses are current and info dump him the department head files. Maybe work will help distract things and further establish that he's in control." And with that, Neil stood and moved back to lean on his chair's high seat back, working on his balance as his desk sank into the deck and the wall displays came back up.
A joint post by:
Lieutenant Colonel Cornelius Tremble
Executive Officer, USS Pioneer
Battalion Commander, The Cure
Lieutenant Junior Grade Galen Trelis
Chief Flight Control Officer, USS Pioneer
Staff Warrant Officer Rommie
Artificial Intelligence, The Cure
USS Pioneer
RSS Feed