The Shape of a Ship
Posted on Mon Mar 2nd, 2026 @ 8:01am by Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen & Captain Kiyoshi Shingoen
Edited on on Mon Mar 2nd, 2026 @ 4:03pm
2,168 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Episode 2 - The Sins of History
Location: Various, USS Artemis
Timeline: MD018 1910 Hours
Ezra Van Wijnbergen moved slowly down the corridor, a data PADD resting in his hand like an anchor. Deck by deck, he let the Artemis introduce herself. He wasn't really charting anything new--Starfleet ships were always designed with the kind of uniformity that reassured most and dulled the rest--but he noted it all anyway. Notes always grounded him. It was the act of recording that seemed to make the emptiness feel less hollow.
He glanced at his notes: Deck Three. Bridge, Captain's Ready Room, Observation Lounge. Nothing unusual here.
Deck Four: Executive Officer's office, Chief of the Boat, some holodecks, Astrometrics. All typical and unsurprising. He lingered on the word Astrometrics, wondering if it served an alternate purpose here than on other vessels. Studying the stars always seemed both hopelessly vast and very indifferent.
He slipped onto a turbolift for Deck Five, where the crew quarters began. Most of the decks between here and Seven were given over to personal living spaces. It was necessary for a ship of any size, but he highlighted something different on the schematic: Forensic Botany. Strange place for a garden. He smiled a little. A bar and a mess hall filled out the deck, human things. They carried laughter, arguments, aromas... all things that were normal and everyday.
It was Deck Six that slowed his step. JAG offices. Defense counsel. A courtroom complex.
Ezra slipped through the open doors of the courtroom and stood in the gallery a good minute longer than he should have. He was astonished at the view of space--it no doubt made everyone in the room feel dwarfed by its magnitude, but there were some traditional fixtures that remained: empty rows of benches stretching ahead, and desks for the prosecution and defense. He let his hand brush the back of a chair and remembered why he had never taken this route.
Law school had been a means to an end, a way to advocate for those who couldn't stand in rooms like this. He had the degree, the discipline, the patience for argument--but he lacked the stomach to carve people open with words, not in the way prosecutors and defense counsel were required to do. His path meandered elsewhere.
He left before the silence ate him whole.
Outside, embossed on a door in the typical Starfleet red-and-white lettering, a name he had not said aloud in over ten years:
Lt. Cmdr. Corin Layal
Judge Advocate General's Office
For a moment he wondered if her voice had changed, if she leaned forward on her elbows when she argued, if her laugh still arrived unexpectedly, like a sudden draft of warm air. He remembered nights on Starbase 315 when she had trusted him with her heartbreak, and the mornings after when he believed--foolishly--that trust might turn into something lasting.
But ten years had passed, and whatever pain he'd felt from that time had cocooned, molted, and transformed into ambivalence. Still, no one could see any of it on the surface.
He wrote nothing on the PADD this time. Just turned away.
On Deck Eight, he noted ship's systems.
Deck Nine--Sickbay, CMO's Office, labs, morgue, isolation wards. The place where the body was dissected, studied, mended, or laid to rest. He felt a tug of unease. His office couldn't be here--not if survivors were expected to find him. No one should have to walk past a morgue to speak about what broke them. He would need to bring that up.
Deck Ten: Law enforcement. CSI labs, interrogation rooms, lockups. Decks Twelve and Thirteen were more science--rows of forensic labs where highly-intelligent and experienced officers worked to ensure justice was done through science.
On Deck Thirteen, the corridor narrowed, and the air began to feel heavier. A restricted access seal blinked faintly along the walls. This must be the Artemis' prison. Ezra knew he had no business here.
He was turning back toward the turbolift when he heard a voice from behind, calling out of the heavy stillness.
"Excuse me," said a Marine captain as he stepped toward Ezra. "This is a restricted area. What is your business here, Lieutenant?"
Ezra stopped, the sound of the Marine captain's boots ringing sharper in the narrow corridor than his own. He turned slowly, shoulders broad but posture still quite loose, as though showing he was no threat.
"None, Captain," he said. "Just walking the ship."
"Kiyoshi gave a brief nod, a neutral, unreadable expression on his face. "This is a restricted area, didn't you notice the signs?"
Ezra glanced around for a moment. The signs had been obvious enough--red letters stenciled in perfect Federation clarity--but part of him had decided to walk right past them on purpose, driven by curiosity.
"I noticed," he said at last. His hand tightened around the data PADD, not in defiance but grounding himself. "And I kept walking."
"You kept walking?" Kiyoshi asked, his tone moving from neutral to incredulous. "May I ask why?"
"To know a ship," he said quietly, "you have to see where it keeps its shadows. Unfortunately, I was not offered a tour when I arrived--and I need to see our little ecosystem here."
"The difference between a Marine and a Fleeter," the warden replied dryly, "is that Marines ask for permission and Fleeters ask for forgiveness." It wasn't entirely true but Kiyoshi wasn't going to admit that when he was trying to make a point.
"Would you like a tour of the ship? It would keep both of us from headaches and would mean I wouldn't have to deal with a bunch of paperwork-PADD work technically, from having to put you on report."
Ezra's shoulder eased a little bit, but the tension didn't disappear entirely. He gave a thin-lipped smile. "I imagine you'd prefer that," he said, his voice now very conversational. "Paperwork isn't pleasant for anyone, and I'd prefer to avoid adding to your load."
For the first time in their encounter, there was a chink in the warden's armor and the corner of his right lip lifted ever so slightly. "That is very considerate of you. Is there any area you would like to see first?"
"Well," Ezra began, "it's not the infrastructure I'm interested in. It's the process." He paused, admonishing himself quietly for not providing a proper introduction.
"I'm Ezra Van Wijnbergen," he said, taking a tentative step toward the warden, offering his free hand. "I've recently joined the Artemis as the Victim Advocate Counselor."
"Kiyoshi Shingoen," the other man replied, extending his hand. "Victim Advocate Counselor. That sounds like an important role. At least under normal circumstances, but on board a ship like this, how often will you get a chance to help people?"
He clasped the marine captain's hand--a firm grip, steady shake. "More often than one might think," he said. He wasn't boasting. It was simply certainty.
Ezra studied the younger man. His raven-black hair and dark eyes added a strong layer of severity that otherwise masked his small frame. "Also," he added with a small grin, "I'd barely consider myself a Fleeter. I've found myself on the bridge of a starship only twice in my career."
"How long have you been in Starfleet? It sounds like you might have been the Victim Advocate Counselor as a civilian. Is that right? If so, how long?"
"After university, I came to Starfleet," he said. "Served on a few ships. Then back to Earth for a stretch. More study, mostly." There was a pause, his thumb gently tapping the edge of the PADD. "Now back in space."
Ezra glanced past Kiyoshi, noting the very secure-looking doors that led to some sealed-off area. "So, holding area, I'm guessing?"
The warden nodded. "Precisely," Kiyoshi responded, glancing behind him, before turning back to face the other man. Right now, we only have one prisoner. Well, two if you count the gal who got drunk and threw a punch at her roommate. You would think that someone on a prison ship would know better."
"You want a tour?"
He smiled and nodded at Kiyoshi. "I'd love one," he replied. "Strange how a prisoner can sometimes feel like a dozen."
"Two, technically," the Warden corrected, "but only one that counts. Do you want to start with that one's cell?"
Ezra looked to the cell Kiyoshi had indicated. "Sure--so long as I'm not violating any protocols."
"As long as you're with me and following my lead, you're good. Come along. Just be careful."
He nodded and fell into step just behind Kiyoshi. The warden led Ezra through a pair of double doors which opened as they approached--they didn't seem automatic, though he wondered if maybe there was some sensor that detected the marine Captain.
Once through the doors, Ezra found himself inside a wide and low-ceilinged corridor. It felt tight and very heavy in this space. They continued moving before stopping in front of a cell. There was a small circular window that allowed a glimpse into the living area of the prisoner
"I'm not sure if it's the best idea to try to engage them, but you could try, I suppose."
Ezra stood just off Kiyoshi's shoulder, just to ensure he wasn't crowding the small, round window. The light inside the cell was bright but stylistically indifferent. From what he could see, there was a standard-sized bunk and hints of someone seated just out of sight. He decided not to peer any further.
"So who is this prisoner?"
A small smile pulled at the corner of the Warden's lips. "A Cardassian named Gul Vamcet. A very dangerous man, allegedly, at one time. Now, not so much."
"On my way to Bajor, I read everything I could about Vamcet and the allegations against him during the Occupation."
Ezra didn't feel much like looking at a caged individual. However heinous their crimes, he felt Vamcet deserved due process and not a gallery of rubbernecks. He'd likely face enough of that during the trial.
Turning to back to Kiyoshi, Ezra nodded in understanding. "What sort of accommodations does the Artemis provide for those in detention?"
"We treat our prisoners with respect and dignity, even if they're not always worthy of it," the warden said, "at least some would say they didn't deserve it. Personally, I think all of us need a little grace, so I try to ensure we do the right thing. The prisoners get medical and psychiatric help, and they have access to attorneys."
"I'm somewhat surprised you weren't aware of the conditions before you came aboard."
Ezra had been ready to continue along the corridor, but stopped and turned back to Kiyoshi. Of course, he knew what conditions were for prisoners. It would be the same across all Federation vessels and installations.
"I've visited my share of prisons, brigs, and psychiatric institutions," he said. "The difference is I've never lived aboard a starship like this."
The Japanese man nodded his head. "I see," he said, "well, that makes sense, I guess. If I'm being honest, it's my first time for me too."
"First time," Ezra repeated. "Then I suppose that makes us both tourists."
Kiyoshi grinned. "I have never thought about it like that. But, I suppose that is a plausible assertion. Though I would hardly call this a vacation. But we can continue the tour. Just what, or who, would you like to see after the prisoner?"
"Nothing, really," he replied, his eyes following a small conduit from the floor to the ceiling. "I'm not here to judge the prison itself--nor your running of it. The Artemis is a very unique ship--not just in its design, but also its function. From everything I'd read and heard, this is Starfleet's very first foray into having a vessel dedicated to criminal investigation."
He leaned an arm against the bulkhead and continued.
"When you think of law and justice," he said calmly, "you might think of Starfleet security or a Federation magistrate located at a starbase. There isn't a dedicated police force running around the quadrant arresting criminals and hauling them in front of a judge."
"Then perhaps," the warden suggested, "the Artemis is an experiment into something that could be. Not a fleet of ships, perhaps, but more than just a lone vessel acting on its own. Do you think its possible?"
Ezra smiled genuinely, a slight twinkle in his eyes at Kiyoshi's question.
"I'd like to believe that if we perform to our best," he said thoughtfully, "that we'll make it not only possible--but successful."
"Then, I guess we should do our job as well as we can," Kiyoshi agreed.
A Joint Post By
Captain Kiyoshi Shingoen
Prison Warden, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Victim Advocate Counselor, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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