Not doubt, but....
Posted on Fri Jan 30th, 2026 @ 7:47pm by Crewman Alyra Kassim‑Tareh & Brigadier General Jonathan Frost
Edited on on Fri Jan 30th, 2026 @ 7:48pm
893 words; about a 4 minute read
Mission:
First Light
Location: Enlisted Bunk & Ready Room
Alyra was a unique crewman: a command yeoman, but also assigned to the diplomatic corps, which is why she was in the diplomatic-support variant enlisted bunks. The bunk was simple, with micro-woven fabric panels in muted Starfleet tones and a recessed holo-strip capable of displaying calming starfield imagery, which Alyra sometimes enjoyed but most of the time had shut down. But she really loved the built-in scent neutralizer, which helped maintain a fresh, quiet space.
Alyra didn't do a lot of work in her bunk or at the tiny fold-out desk panel at the foot of the bunk, but as the command yeoman, she typically did have some. So the fold-out desk panel came in handy, as did the dimmable glow-line and the personal storage niche for small items.
As she was getting comfortable and getting ready to wrap up some easy work tasks, things changed when her specialty PaDD with a message from the commanding officer, her boss, and really her only boss, unlike other positions that had multiple. Rolling onto her back, and letting out a sigh, glad she was still in her uniform, and all she had to do was slip her boots back on.
Didn't take long for Alyra to get to the ready room, making sure her uniform was in order before hitting the chime.
“Enter.”
Brigadier General Jonathan Frost looked up from the PaDD in his hand as the doors slid open, his posture straightening by habit rather than necessity. His uniform was immaculate, every line sharp, every detail precise—an old soldier’s armor in a Starfleet age.
“Crewman Alyra,” he said evenly, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority. His eyes flicked over her uniform in a quick, practiced assessment before returning to her face. Satisfied.
“At ease. You’re not in trouble,” he added after a brief beat, setting the PaDD down on the desk. “If I only summoned people when something was wrong, this ship would never sleep.”
He gestured subtly to the chair opposite him but did not sit himself, remaining standing behind the desk.
“I asked you here because of your… unique assignment.” A faint hint of something—respect, perhaps—touched his expression. “Command yeoman and diplomatic support is not a combination I authorize lightly. It means I trust your discretion, your judgment, and your ability to hear more than what’s being said.”
He folded his hands behind his back.
“We’re approaching a phase where diplomacy and command are going to intersect more often than I’d prefer. I need someone who can keep my office running smoothly while also reading the room when admirals, envoys, and so-called ‘observers’ start circling.”
A pause, deliberate.
“Before we proceed further, I want to hear it from you directly, Crewman: are you comfortable operating in that space—where words matter as much as orders, and silence can be just as dangerous?”
His gaze held steady on her, not interrogative, but expectant.
Alyra took a seat, making sure her uniform stayed neat as she listened. There was some frustration when these questions were asked, but she also understood and appreciated them. "Yes, sir, I am ready, and very capable of doing this dual role," Alyra said, her eyes keeping the respectful fire to show she was ready and capable.
Brigadier General Jonathan Frost regarded Alyra for a long moment, his expression carefully neutral, the kind of practiced calm that came from decades of command. He folded his hands behind his back and inclined his head slightly—a subtle gesture of acknowledgment rather than concession.
“Your confidence is noted, Yeoman,” he said evenly. “And make no mistake, these questions are not meant to undermine you, but to ensure the mission is protected from unnecessary risk.”
He took a single step closer, his voice lowering just enough to convey gravity rather than threat. “A dual role is not a ceremonial title. It means divided attention, competing priorities, and moments where diplomacy and command will pull you in opposite directions. I need to know—beyond enthusiasm—that you can make the hard call when one duty must give way to the other.”
Alyra listened, knowing that even if she chose just one of these paths, these questions would still be asked, though not as intently. "As I said before, yes..., I hope you won't take my silence as inability, but more of needing time to consider everything for a decision that I'll be making," Alyra said.
A faint edge of approval crept into his tone. “That said, the fact that you understand the weight of those questions tells me you’re already thinking like someone who belongs in both worlds.”
He straightened, meeting her gaze directly. “You will proceed in this role on a provisional basis. You’ll be watched—not because you are doubted, but because you are being tested. Prove that your resolve matches your capability, and you’ll find I am a strong advocate for those who rise to the challenge.”
After a brief pause, he added, “Do not disappoint me, Yeoman Alyra.”
What is one to say to that, {of course I won't, or I hope I won't,} hell, how does one promise that, so Alyra just nodded.
"Dismissed, and welcome aboard, Alyra," Frost said.
"Thank you, sir," she said before turning and leaving the office.
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