Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon a Time or the various movies and television series I borrow concepts from.

Personnel vehicle 'Aristomo'
Crew: 25
Course: docking with U.S.S. 'Storybrooke'

"You really should tighten your harness. All it takes is one crack in the hull to unleash a vacuum suction of 145 billion pounds per square inch, and you'll be waving goodbye from the exosphere."

"Well, when you put it that way maybe I should start holding my breath for one kickass ride of my life."

"I'm just worried for your safety. If you don't want to take advantage of the chest belt that is your prerogative. Just don't blame me when you're floating through interplanetary space."

Emma turned to her companion and asked with a raised brow, "Anxious much?"

"If I am it has nothing to do with this 200-year old freight shuttle and this sorry excuse for a harness." Mary Margaret closed her eyes and exhaled. "It's that gods damned doctor!"

"You mean that gods damned doctor that in…" she lifted her wrist chrono, "34 minutes and 56 seconds will become your superior officer?"

"It is absurd that I was passed up for a promotion!" She stopped Emma's retort with a raised hand. "I know, I know. My experience on starships is limited and I am only two months out of residency. But my record is spotless, my recommendations are glowing, and my dissertation on the need for space vaccinations is saving lives as I speak." She squirmed in her confining seat, trying to get comfortable with her orders. "I just don't see why they overlooked me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we were assigned to the same ship, but my skills will not be put to good use under that farce Whale. I am more qualified, more sober, and –"

"You're a woman," Emma interrupted flatly. "Sorry, but you know it's true. It may be 2258, but women still only make up 25% of the fleet. You can have a record made of gold and commendations that stretch as high as the New Empire State Building, but that won't stop the Council – which might I remind you is made up of a bunch of geriatric women haters – from discriminating against their top graduate."

"So how do you explain your instatement as first officer? I know you're an intelligent student and have a knack for beating all the flight sim records, but you barely scraped past officer training, and your last commanding officer fought tooth and nail to veto your promotion."

"Beats me," Emma shrugged. She scratched her head over the orders she had received more times than there were stars in the sky. "I must have pissed off enough people that they just want me as far away from Earth as possible. I'd doubt it had anything to do with me being a woman. Just me being an asshole, probably."

"Really, Emma. I wouldn't go that far. What about the captain? She's not only the youngest commander in the fleet, but the only woman of that rank."

Emma sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well I'm sure she whacked a few rivals to get to where she is now."

There was a scandalous gasp from Mary Margaret. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"Mary Margaret, just because she's a woman doesn't mean we have to side with her."

"We? Don't pull me into this. She's your commanding officer now."

"Technically she's your boss's boss. So yeah, you work for her too." Emma was never one to follow the rules, and yet people still seemed to work damned hard at reminding her of her place. She grumbled the mantra drilled into every student in the academy: "Everyone works for the captain."

"Maybe that's why the Council assigned you to her ship. Maybe she's the only one in the fleet who can keep a leash on you?"

Emma chuckled and patted her friend's hand affectionately. "I thought that was your job."

"Yeah, well I didn't ask for it. And my patience is already growing thin. I still can't wrap my head around getting this assignment. It's a demotion, really."

Emma turned to gaze out her viewport, Mary Margaret's concerns slowly turning into white noise.

Out there was the blackness of space. Cold and inhospitable, it was the last place the human race had ever dared to venture. Emma Swan was glad that they did for this was her purpose – to discover unknown worlds and new life forms, and to be a hero to the weak and an enforcer to those that prey on the weak. It was her destiny to trek through the outer regions of space. As their appointed vessel came into view she felt content with the hand that fate dealt her.

Emma leaned forward to get a better glimpse. The plastic models and holovids hardly did the starship justice. Its sheer size was jaw dropping, its graceful curves easy on the eyes. Like many vessels of the same class, the Storybrooke was silver white in color, the contrast casting a brilliant portrait on the black canvas of space. Some of the most renowned engineers in humanoid space were responsible for its architecture. The Storybrooke was fitted with the lightest and strongest metals known to their solar system and powered by a state-of-the-art sublight drive. It flew like a thing of beauty – or so Emma had heard.

The shuttle crept closer still. Blinking lights on the ship's hull could be seen, beckoning the shuttle to its docking station, beckoning Emma to her new home.

An automated voice came over the speakers and notified that they would be making berth shortly. The passengers chatted away, nervous but excited for this grand opportunity.

Emma sat, her eyes glazed over at the sight of this splendorous creation of man. All she could think was how in the seven hells had she gotten this lucky.

As the recruits filed out Emma hung back so her friend and seatmate, Mary Margaret, could triple check her belongings. She was a nervous flyer and always came prepared for the worst, but had been disappointed at the boarding gate when they wouldn't let her take her carry on. "No bags, no liquids, no weapons." Emma always thought the "no weapons" rule went without saying, though she wasn't about to declare the vibroknife hidden in her boot. One can't be too trusting these days, she thought.

"Oh my…" Mary Margaret gasped. Her hands flew over her seat. "My space passport! It's not here! What am I going to…"

The passport in question casually swung before Mary Margaret's face.

"It was in the cup holder," Emma explained plainly as she handed it over.

The brunette placed the passport over her heart and closed her eyes in prayer.

Emma snickered and put her arms through the sleeves of her red military issue jacket. "Now can we go? I think we missed homeroom."

It was the ship to rival all ships. Commissioned in 2230 the U.S.S. Storybrooke was a legend in its own right – she was as fast as she was beautiful, powered by the most advanced technology to date, and the first spacecraft in regulated space to be armed with photon torpedoes. As a result of its many treks through the universe it had gone through numerous repairs and upgrades, but it only seemed to get grander in style. For as expensive as it was to run maintenance on a ship of this magnitude, Cosmofleet always got a good yield. The U.S.S. Storybrooke and its crew could always be counted on to return to port upon completion of its mission. Because of its reliability and superior capabilities, it was assigned the most top secret missions which stretched far along the outskirts of known space.

Though mission details were strictly confidential, HQ allowed miniscule details to be leaked to the public in order to boost support and continue government funds. The U.S.S. Storybrooke, therefore, was familiar to all academy students, entrepreneurs, waitresses, durasteel workers, and pretty much every being on Earth with a telescreen. And everyone knew that its success was all due to its legendary captain, who Emma was hesitant to meet.

She had heard of the captain and all her accomplishments: graduating at the top of her class, the woman had made first officer by the age of 25 (beating Emma by three years), and broke all barriers when she became the first female to commandeer her own ship at 30 years of age. Emma had first heard about her when she entered her first year at the academy. To some she was a role model, a hero to all the little girls who dreamed of piloting their own craft, becoming chief engineer, or the captain of their very own starship. To others the young leader was a rival, a vain, power hungry "bitch," as some called her, whose only prerogative was to beat everyone – male or female – under her into submission. Many had tried and failed to break her records and only a few had the honor of shaking her hand for she was always consumed by her job. Emma lay somewhere in the middle, between the fanatics who worshiped her and the competitors who wished her downfall.

Shoving her jittery hands in her pockets to calm her nerves, Emma followed Mary Margaret out of the shuttle. A senior officer led their group through the umbilical until they reached the docking station. An ordinary man in a gray uniform awaited them.

The senior officer saluted. "Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted," replied the gray suit, with a salute of his own.

The new recruits assembled in the shuttle bay where they were instructed to form two lines facing each other. They stood at attention. Emma and Mary Margaret being the higher ranked of the team stood at the very beginning of one of the lines.

Emma looked from one green recruit to the next, rolling her eyes at every single one of their ramrod straight posture. Their arms were clasped tightly behind their backs in a sign of respect which was also a great way to hide their sweaty palms. Emma unconsciously wiped her own hands on the thighs of her fitted beige cargo pants.

"This is such a joke," she mumbled, sticking her foot out of line in gracelessness. "I don't belong here."

"Shh! These are your orders. I don't like mine but now that we're here you don't see me whining about it." Mary Margaret shot a glare, snapping, "And straighten up! The captain doesn't like a slouch."

Just as Emma was about to give the heaviest sigh of her life there was a rush of air as the hatchway opened. Despite her discomfort caused by the move, Emma immediately thrust her shoulders back and clicked her heels together. All eyes were on the brunette who just stepped into the shuttle bay. Everyone held their breath as their captain spoke.

"I hope you all had a pleasant flight. These shuttles are not the most advanced modes of transportation. It is said Cosmofleet shuttles are the hand-me-downs of prototype yachts. But if you ask me they look like they hail from the scraps of the finest waste pile," she quipped with a grin. A few laughs echoed throughout the hanger, successfully easing the tension. "However, I have been assured that the safety standards are tried and true."

A quiet huff escaped Mary Margaret and Emma had to bit her tongue before a chuckle slipped. Her eyes followed the captain as she made her way slowly between the rows. Emma studied the face with her red painted lips, light makeup, and exposed neck which met a conservative cut shirt above a pair of very nice breasts. Her attention slipped down to the knees concealed just under the skirt line, the shapely calves, and to the very high heels of her slim black boots (military regulation but visually appealing to any fashion designer).

"Now that you have arrived you can leave those dated, semi-reliable vehicles behind. The Storybrooke is first in its class both in function and design. Treat it with respect and you will receive the same. No matter your rank or duty it is a privilege and an honor to serve aboard this vessel."

The captain came to the end of the row and turned, her hair flipping perfectly with her. She examined the posture of the recruits nearest, narrowed her eyes, inhaled through her nostrils, and let it out slowly. She lifted her chin and began her walk to the other end.

"Now, if you don't know me by my reputation: I am Captain Regina Mills, your new commanding officer. I expect each and every one of you to go above and beyond what you think you are capable of. I want to see people on time. I want to see uniforms pressed, boots polished, and minds functioning at a sober level. Above all I want you to do your jobs. You are all here for a reason. It is important to remember that this ship will expect more from you than I will. It will require your hard work, your integrity, and the skills for which you have perfected at the academy."

The captain halted just outside Emma's periphery and Emma had to fight not to glance her way. It took a great deal of willpower to stare straight ahead and hold her sight with one of the obscure pieces of piping against the bulkhead. She could feel the intense gaze aimed her way, a gaze that caused a shiver to run down her back (in what context she couldn't determine). Her chest burned as she held her breath. The muscles in her arms strained from their pinned position behind her back, but she willed them to keep still. What felt like hours later the brunette figure moved on, passing by without so much as a glance in Emma's direction.

"Above all it is paramount that you do not disobey a direct order from me or your senior officers. I do not allow dissent aboard my ship. If I so much as hear a whisper of conflict I will have you thrown in the detention center. Conflict leads to casualties and I will not have my crew risk lives by acting like buffoons."

Emma blew out a long held in breath as her legs fidgeted in place. She felt Mary Margaret elbow her discreetly, a silent reprimand for acting like her impatient self. Emma just stared up at the hanger ceiling, praying to the gods that this charade would wrap up before the next century.

"Now that I have given you a proper introduction I will hand you off to your senior officers. Further instructions will be given by them and I encourage you all to listen and learn quickly. They will answer any questions and see you to your quarters. Then you will be put to work."

The captain turned at the end of the line, stretched out her arms, and smiled widely. "Welcome to Storybrooke, and may we have a safe and fruitful voyage!"

When the hatch hissed closed dozens of shoulders relaxed and the hanger erupted into excited chatter.

"Somehow I get the feeling this woman's going to be a royal pain in the ass."

Mary Margaret almost cackled. She reminded more than asked, "What happened to reserving judgment?"

"I think that ship left dock the moment her Gucci boots struck the floor. Did you see her smile? That thing was about as fake as the 2030 Mars landing."

"I wasn't really looking at what she was wearing or how wide her smile was. Were you even listening to her introduction?"

"Yeah," scoffed Emma, "of course I did." She slouched back against a storage crate, chuckling at the occasional lost recruit buzzing by. "Kind of a lousy speech if you ask me."

"I don't see you leading 430 souls aboard a Regal-class starship." She gave her a look that made Emma feel like a child who had stolen her seventh speeder bike in two months (which wasn't a novel feeling in the slightest). Mary Margaret sighed and joined her on the crate. "She must have a lot of pressure on her. I can't imagine the standards she has to live up to as a captain. All these people," Mary Margaret gestured to the recruits grouping up with their officers, "are her responsibility. I mean, when it comes down to it, she would give her life for these people, these strangers. After all, it is customary for a captain to go down with their ship. It's a barbaric notion, I know, but I have no doubt she is one to believe in that kind of old fashioned honor."

Emma's jaw had dropped inch by inch until her mouth formed an 'o' at the close of the valiant speech. "Vaporize me," she groaned, her face contorting in disgust. "Please do not tell me you are one of those nut job fanatics who has a glass encased action figure of the great and almighty Captain Mills. Please."

"I didn't think the glass edition was available until next year," Mary Margaret pondered seriously. She shouldered her wide eyed friend to assure her it was indeed a joke. "Emma, you have to give her a chance. Who knows, maybe you two will get along."

"You haven't even met her, Mary Margaret, and you're already going on about setting us up."

"Well, you haven't met her either. So stick to the plan and reserve judgment. That's an order!"

"Ha! Nice try, but you can't pull rank on the first officer." Emma poked her friend teasingly and added, "If only you had been this authoritative during your recruitment interview."

"Don't remind me."

Emma laughed as Mary Margaret sulked off in the direction of Medlab.

The iron gray interior was just as immaculate as the exterior. Floors were cultured to a glossy shine, bulkheads were smooth, and not a stray wire was in sight. Even the crew held a spotless shine with their crisp uniforms and spit polished boots. All crew squared their shoulders, held their chins high, and walked like they had a Korobi stick up their ass. It was more than a little disconcerting to Emma as she slinked on by, forehead crinkled warily.

After rounding a few corners and having a pleasant ride on the turbolift Emma pulled up at her destination:

Captain's Quarters

"This should be interesting," she murmured.

Knowing she couldn't postpone the moment any longer the wrinkles were patted down and her pants were smoothed of any filth. With a deep breath she raised her fist and knocked. The door swished open and revealed intense brown eyes which then panned down to Emma's badge.

"You're my first officer?"

"Hi," Emma replied. She cringed inwardly.

Dispensing with the common courtesy of welcoming her visitor in, Regina proceeded to look Emma over. It was blatant and incredibly unflattering. After 20 seconds, though, Emma was starting to feel like a medium rare steak on a platter.

"I didn't expect you to be so…"

"Young?"

Regina grinned politely.

Now it was Emma's turn to ogle.

Up close in person Captain Mills was much shorter and less powerful in stance, but about 100 times more attractive (a general observation of Emma's). Shoulder length hair the color of expensive dark chocolate flicked out at the sides and framed her face effortlessly. She had light bronze skin, unblemished and sun kissed by the gentlest rays of a main sequence star. The very skin of Emma's body prickled at this magnificence. It was almost bewildering how immaculately beautiful the captain was. Emma's eyes finally lingered on the stretch of flesh above a suprasternal notch (that delicate dip below the neck which never failed to draw an eye). Her mouth grew dry as the Tume desert.

The new first officer wasn't even aware she was nibbling a lip at her captain and the captain was too preoccupied with the anxious recruits bustling through the corridor.

Then Regina turned to Emma and leaned forward, a cocky grin plastered on her face. "How would you like a tour of the grandest vessel you've ever seen?"

"You captain another badass ship that I'm not aware of?"

Regina took that as a sarcastic "yes."

They made their way through the various levels starting at B deck and proceeding down. Regina led at a brisk pace, speaking in precisely clipped sentences and making bare minimum introductions. Emma lagged behind, utterly fascinated by the craftsmanship and taking everything in like a wide-eyed child. She felt compelled to touch every surface and shake every crew member's hand. She had to know it was real – that she, a girl from a backwater town in Tallahassee, was on the ship of all ships. The captain, however, wouldn't stand such curiosity.

"Miss Swan, I encourage you to keep up. It would be entirely possible for someone as new as yourself to get lost in a vessel of this size."

Ripping her gaze from a data processor, Emma dashed ahead. She cleared her throat and fell in line with her captain.

They entered the turbolift and spent an awkward 19.03 seconds in silence. Emma stole a sideways glance. The captain stared straight ahead, chin up, and oblivious to her counterpart. Emma rolled her eyes and turned back ahead, watching the light flashing from behind the double doors.

Deck K was vastly different in appearance from the other sections. The floors matched the bulkheads in their silver metallic shine and the air was laced with a strong scent of antiseptic.

Emma shivered and hugged her shoulders once she stepped out of the lift. It was also as cold as planet Khione in there.

They stopped by the medlab where Emma hardly got a chance to exchange words with her friend. Mary Margaret had already been put to work, making sure supplies were stocked, equipment was operational, and patient beds were made. The work was supposedly beneath her for the woman was shooting death glares at Dr. Whale whenever his back was turned.

Before leaving Emma was able to offer Mary Margaret an encouraging smile. The flushed doctor merely sighed through her teeth which translated as a promise that she would vent about it later.

While the upper floors were glossy, clean, and white enough to blind, below deck was gray in color and consisted mostly of rubberized durasteel and radiation shielding. Light steam rose from beneath the floor and seeped through the grating in wisps. Emma looked over the railing to determine its origin, but the depths were marked by endless columns of machinery.

The sound of clogging echoed across the catwalk and Regina frowned. Looking down and to the side she was met with the lazy pace of boots, boots that appeared too casual, too worn, and certainly not uniform protocol. Emma looked down as well and caught the disapproving arch of a brow. She simply drew an innocent expression.

The catwalk ended just inside a chamber. Regina approached the balcony, waved a hand out over what lay beyond and stated, "Welcome to the engine room."

"Whoa," breathed Emma.

The chamber was circular and stretched so high one had to crane their neck to witness such immeasurable heights. At the center was a beam of light surrounded by piping and rubber tubing. The violet light crackled with energy and rose to the very ceiling invisible to those at the base.

Descending the stairs, Regina brought Emma to the main floor. At a closer proximity the new recruit could see that the fusion reactor, characterized by the column of light, had a control panel looped around its base. To her right Emma's eyes widened at the enormous oval shaped tunnel carved into the wall. The shaft of the ion generator could fit about two shuttles side by side and stretched as far as the eye could see. Rings of purple electricity crackled and hummed along its walls.

Emma's mouth dropped open and closed a few times. She was at a serious loss for words. She could feel the power of this massive system, the glow of its reactor seeping into her skin, the millions of microscopic parts working in tandem with each other, and the massive tunnel generator thrumming so deep her bones trembled. It gave her chills, in yet her cheeks were flushed with excitement.

"This is incredible."

"It better be. I'm the one who keeps this sister runnin'."

"Miss Swan, meet Leroy our chief engineer."

A stout fellow sporting a full on beard appeared from behind the control panel. With large ears and a great bulbous nose he was the spitting image of the dwarf people in the tales told in passé times. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, Emma remembered from one history class she didn't happen to skip out on.

"I can't believe you get to work here all day. The reactor is so mesmerizing I can't take my eyes off it!"

"Yeah," the mechanic chuckled, "just don't stare too long. I had a buddy of mine develop radiation retinopathy after just five minutes."

"Mr. Leroy," Regina scolded. She folded her arms and gave Emma a half reassuring look. "That is not what happened."

"Sure as shit it did! Clark was my best man!"

"Best man," she scoffed and rolled her eyes, "yet he is now semi-blind and flipping patties in some hovel of a restaurant. So reliable."

"Hey now," Emma interrupted what was sure to be a salty retort from Leroy, "shouldn't we be wearing protection? That thing is the largest fusion reactor I've ever seen." Emma pointed to the purple light.

"Naw, the reactor is protected by a force field that contains the fusion reactions. Without it the colliding particles would scatter and leak radiation. Deprived of a suit then and you'd suffer a painful death within minutes," he finished casually.

"Comforting."

Leroy wagged a finger at Emma and instructed, "Just keep your hands off it, sister. And as I said before, don't stare too long."

After a few more warnings from Leroy and several nervous gulps from Emma they moved on.

The tour ended when the captain and her first officer reached the main bridge. Emma had been looking forward to this ever since she heard whisperings of the open position for Storybrooke first officer. It was said to be grand yet tactful as only a ship of its class could be. Past officers have reported sheer awe once they took their first step onto the bridge. Great things had happened there: life altering negotiations, risky assessments, and courageous acts of leadership. You could smell the greatness, apparently. Emma couldn't wait another minute.

"Captain on the bridge!" a female voice called as Regina entered.

Emma followed from behind. Her eyes immediately took in every single chair, computer monitor, and durasteel surface, while only half listening to the captain. At the center of the bridge was a long oval table. A panel ran along its edges, the various levers and switches that decorated it serving as a means to control the three dimensional communications, schematics, and maps that rose from the glass surface.

The command chair was at the head of the table, facing out towards the viewport. Situated a few feet from the chair was a curved console seating the pilot and the navigator.

"Everyone," Regina addressed the crew of four, "I would like you to meet Lieutenant Commander Emma Swan, our new first officer." With hands clasped at her back she asked her, "I understand you have served aboard a Regal-class?"

Emma tore her eyes away from the grandeur and opened her mouth hesitantly. "Um… yeah – I mean, yes. I have been assigned to several vessels in the past, though not one as magnificent as this."

The comment garnered some laughs from the crew.

"We get that from a lot of the newbies," a tall, handsome man spoke up.

"And the magnificence never ceases to amaze," a bubbly woman with red streaked hair chimed in. "Trust me."

Regina cleared her throat, signaling to get back to business. She waved a hand to the tall man. "This is our chief science officer, David Nolan."

The chiseled face broke out into a boyish grin. "Welcome aboard," he greeted with a casual salute.

Regina's voice deepened somewhat. "Mr. Gold controls the helm."

"Yes," he shot back, "I do indeed." The gold and green scaly pilot, a lizard species known for their quick reflexes and affinity for treaties, turned in his chair to send Emma a welcome nod. "Everyone calls me Rumple. I hope you have a nice stay, Emma. And, might I say, what a lovely name?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Regina indicated to the woman sitting at the controls beside him. "Ensign Belle French, our navigator."

A long-haired brunette waved and smiled politely.

"Lieutenant Ruby Lucas, of communications."

The girl sporting the bold hair style stepped forward. "Nice to meet you, Emma!"

Emma eyed the short skirt and shook the proffered hand. Hmm, she mused, red highlights and red nail polish. Neither one were regulation.

"Oh, I love your jacket! Is that real leather?"

The girly gasp paired with the ridiculous insinuation made Emma chuckle. She leaned forward and whispered, "No, but I won't tell if you don't." She winked.

Ruby covered her giggling mouth and gave the shoulder a squeeze – one longer than a first encounter would call for.

"Alright, alright, the welcome tour is over," Regina reprimanded lightly. She glided over to the center chair, the captain's chair. "I suggest we prepare for the voyage ahead. No mistakes, people. I want this by the numbers. You know the drill. To your posts!"

There was a flurry of movement and Emma had to hand it to the captain, she certainly knew how to handle a crew. Just the sound of her voice was commanding enough. These senior officers knew her system and they followed it to a tee. Emma had only been there for a few minutes, but it was obvious the level of comfort and precision with which the crew and their captain worked together.

As Captain Mills communicated instructions to her pilot, Emma slowly made her way over to the head of the bridge. The forward viewport was a window composed of a transparent alloy, allowing those to view the vacuum of space from within the safety of the ship. The super thick glass was scrubbed clean enough that one was tempted to poke the surface in order to verify its existence. Emma saw the ghost-like appearance of her reflection and squinted at what lay beyond.

Some physicists theorize the universe as finite, but to Emma space was limitless. There were incalculable black holes scattered throughout, sucking all light and matter to the past, the future, and the undiscovered country. From the unexplained disappearances in the Bermuda Sector to the carbon dust clouds lying in the shadow of supergiant stars, much of space continued to baffle intelligent life. There were still mysteries to be solved and too many phenomena yet to be investigated.

It was not Emma's first time trekking the cosmos, but she had yet to do so aboard such a capable, awe inspiring vessel. The anticipation of finding answers to impossible questions pumped the blood through her veins, the thrill of adventure stirred her heart, and absolute purpose touched her soul.

The Storybrooke was Emma Swan's new home.

Out there was the black of space…

The last frontier…

Her destiny.