Where the Frontier Begins Again
Posted on Wed Jul 16, 2025 @ 3:43pm by Commander Tayanita 'Tay' Lio'ven
656 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
Time After Time
Location: Transport Vessel Mohana → Promenade Deck 47, The Square Mile, Deep Space 5
Timeline: MD016 - 1145 hrs
The stars outside the viewport shimmered like memories—distant, unchanging, and too far to touch. Tayanita sat in the quiet hush of the Mohana’s observation lounge, cradling a cup of earthy tea between her palms. Her breath fogged faintly on the rim. Around her, the final lull before arrival held the passengers in a kind of suspended pause—some pacing, others watching the viewscreen as though it might blink and show them something more than stars.
She preferred the quiet.
Earth already felt far behind her—though it hadn’t been long. Her time there had been full: lectures, ethics panels, family dinners where wisdom and sarcasm mixed freely. She had walked barefoot across forest moss and felt the peace of rooted things. There had been comfort. Belonging. And yet… the stars had whispered again.
And this time, she listened.
The chime announcing final approach sounded. She stood gracefully, her satchel slung over one shoulder, long black braid trailing over her wrap. As she passed her reflection in the polished corridor glass, she paused only briefly—bronze skin, dark eyes, a face unlined by time but carved by memory. She adjusted the onyx bead near her collarbone and stepped forward as the airlock cycled open.
She crossed onto Deep Space 5 without fanfare.
Promenade Deck 47 unfolded around her—not a grand vista of the whole station, but a single layer of civilisation coiled into motion. Here was the thrum of the frontier: laughter layered over quarrelling voices, engines echoing below metal plating, the faint perfume of incense mingling with fried spice and ozone. This wasn’t Earth. This was a living edge.
Tayanita walked slowly at first, letting the tide of movement wash past her. A Bolian family chattered at a food vendor. A Romulan dissident hawked old memoirs from behind a display of stylised masks. Nearby, a Caitian musician strummed a low, melodic line on a three-string instrument that vibrated in the floor tiles. This was the Square Mile—not all of it, but enough to feel its pulse.
She passed beneath hanging lights strung in a swirling spiral above a stairwell, paused to admire a Terran-style sculpture made of reclaimed station metal—three figures caught in mid-flight. A flicker of joy passed through her chest. Art always found its way to the edge.
She purchased nothing, said little. She didn’t need to.
Instead, she watched. She listened.
There was so much life here. Messy, uncertain, vibrant. The sort of life that asked more of her than policy or textbooks ever could. The kind of life that bled in real time and laughed too loudly and mourned in doorways. It was the sort of place where people got lost—or found—depending on what they were running from.
Eventually, she came to a quieter ledge that overlooked a narrow shuttle platform two decks below. The hum of operations blurred into a steady drone. She rested a hand on the cool railing, her fingers brushing faintly along the metal. Her thoughts, unbidden, turned toward what waited beyond this moment.
Sickbay.
She hadn’t seen it yet. That was deliberate. Let the space reveal itself in time. She imagined the diagnostic stations. The medics she’d meet. The stubborn engineers with plasma burns. The nervous ensigns hiding fractures. The stories each one carried.
She could feel the thread of it—already pulling taut.
This place was vast. Disparate. Loud, and layered, and full of things she would not understand right away. But she had stepped into chaos before and shaped calm from it. She had done so with hands steady and heart open. And she would do so again.
Tayanita lingered a moment longer, then turned, vanishing quietly back into the crowd. She wasn’t in uniform yet. She wasn’t needed just yet.
But soon.
And when that moment came, she would be ready.
Commander Tayanita Lio'ven
Chief Medical Officer
Deep Space 5
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