You’ve been assigned a command. The USS Canterbury. You’re welcome.

Those ten little words were just guaranteed to ruin his day. Especially when they came from his father. It hadn’t even been a comm call, just a message routed to his personal inbox.

Zach set his jaw, and smiled at the ensign walking past him in the corridor as he headed up to the bridge. The Canterbury, his new command, was a definite step up from the USS Hild, the Reliant class his father had somehow managed to get him assigned to as CO back in the heart of federation territory.

Not that he had anything against the Reliant class. The Hild had been a solid ship. But it had been all shuttling low level ambassadors and checking relays, which wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind when he’d dreamt of his career in the big chair.

Of course, he’d done his duty with the professionalism expected of a Starfleet officer and a smile on his face. A Reliant class was still a starship, with a crew who had looked to him for leadership and guidance and even if he’d thought his duties were boring, he was just a small cog in the machine of the fleet.

The Canterbury though, was definitely not a Reliant class. She was a Lamarr and she was, in a word, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was also a Long-range explorer, and that was what called to him. Getting out there… the call of the stars and deep space. Which meant, despite his father’s message, Admiral James Edward Murphy most definitely had not had anything to do with his command assignment. If he had, then Zach would probably have been assigned to garbage runs or something.

The doors to the turbolift swept open and the sight of the bridge drove everything else from his mind. They were still in dock, waiting the last of their crew to board, which meant that there were only a few crew on the bridge. He nodded to them as he crossed the space, heading toward his ready room. One thing they did not tell you about command was the paperwork. There was a tonne of it he had to get through before they headed out, not least of which was checking on his division ship and deciding on an XO.

One thing he didn’t expect was his ready room to already be occupied. A tall lieutenant commander stood in front of the windows, her hands clasped loosely behind her back as she looked out.

“Anything interesting out there?” He quipped as he dropped the padds he was carrying onto his desk, to join those already on there. He ignored the fact that there were significantly more on there than this morning. Perhaps his father had decided on death by paperwork instead of keeping him safely within the federation’s borders.

She turned, and damned if that neat twist of her feet wasn’t straight off some parade square somewhere. Blonde with a piercing gaze, she was memorable, that was for sure.

“Depends if you’re a ship spotter, I guess,” she said, with something that might have been a smile, if she hadn’t been assessing him just as much as he was assessing her. She wore yellow, which meant she could be anything from operations to security. His bet was security, given how tall she was, and the way her uniform fit.

It was only as he got closer, offering his hand to shake that he realised just how tall she was. She easily topped him by a couple of inches and he wasn’t a small guy.

“I’m Murphy,” he said. He didn’t add he was the captain. He didn’t see the point. She was in his ready room, waiting for him, so he assumed she already knew who he was. In the back of his mind, he ran through the personnel files for security and ops, trying to place who she might be. 

“Bennett,” she replied as she shook his hand. Her grip was firm, and he felt the latent strength in it, like she could have crushed his hand without thinking about it. Every instinct he had said she wasn’t human, just looked like it. “Chief Engineer, reporting for duty, sir.”

His eyebrow winged up a little. “Seriously? Well damn, my bet was on security. Pleased to meet you, Commander.”

Her lips quirked a little, the corners of her eyes creasing in a way that made him assess her age upward of his initial estimate.

“Likewise, sir. and yes, most people think that. It’s the resting bitch face,” she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of her face, her expression dead-pan.

“Errr… I’m sure not. You have a…” He paused for a second, then picked up seamlessly. “…perfectly pleasant expression.”

She cracked a small grin. “It’s the height. You can say it, sir, I’m used to it.”

“Guilty as charged,” He chuckled. “I apologise for the assumption.”

“No harm done.” Her gaze slid past him to his desk. “I see your desk is about the same state as mine, so I’ll leave you to it.”

He looked back at his desk and shook his head. “They never tell you about the paperwork, do they?”

After his new Chief Engineer had left Zach dropped into the chair behind his desk and looked at the chaos there with a sigh.

“Computer, analyse contents of the padds on my desk and colour code them according to murphy’s law seven.” He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed at his face.

Lordy, he was going to need a bucket of coffee for today. The computer cheeped to signal it had completed its task and he leaned forward to start sorting the padds into piles dependant on the colour they were now displaying on the top right. He needed a yeoman for all this. But, like an XO, there hadn’t yet been one assigned. Zach wasn’t sure if that was an oversight on his father’s part, but he didn’t care.

He finished the padds and pulled a small group toward him. Admiral James Edward Murphy might have made a second career of meddling with his kid’s lives, but one thing his father forgot was that Zach had been on the other side of that particular battlefield all his life. He knew how to play this game.

A small grin quirked his lips as he opened the file and started to read on his division ship. He’d never been sure what to think of the Rhode Island class. It wasn’t a defiant, but it was almost punching in the same class… with a better paint job and carpets. But it wasn’t the kind of ship he’d have expected to see out in 17’s area. Unless, of course, linked with a larger ship, which the Canterbury was.

The captain, Mason, seemed solid though. Zach flicked through the man’s personnell file, his eyebrow winging up at certain points as his grin widened. Several of these mission reports definitely detailed actions that deviated from Starfleet protocol—letting his own engineer blow up parts of the ship to get them away from the Devore Imperium and using a civilian transporter to help with evacuations—but damned if they hadn’t worked. Mason was a wildcard, and there was always room for one of those in a pack.

He read through the notes on the division and sat up straighter. “Computer, open a channel to Captain Mason on the USS Resolute.”

He just had time to lament the lack of coffee on his desk when the computer cheeped and the logo on the console screen in front of him cleared to show a bearded man in a captain’s uniform. His shoulders were wide, almost filling the screen and blue-grey eyes locked onto Zach.

“Captain Murphy,” he nodded by way of greeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Captain Mason. I know you’re already underway,” Zach said leaning back in his chair. “But I have reassignment orders for you. Effective immediately, the Resolute has been assigned to the Canterbury Division.”

Mason’s left eyebrow quirked up slightly. “Canterbury division? I thought we were with the Interceptor division?” he asked as something cheeped off screen and he looked slightly to the left. No doubt opening the reassignment package Zach had just sent over.

“You were, but the Interceptor was reassigned to a developing political situation.” He didn’t say anything more on it, mostly because he didn’t have any more information, but he didn’t miss the slight shudder of Mason’s shoulders.

“Political situations not your thing?” he guessed, offering a small smile. He needed to work with Mason, which meant that he needed to get to know the guy. Not easy when he was reacting like the cliff of granite he appeared to be carved out of.

“You’d be surprised,” Mason said mildly. “I much prefer combat where you can tell who your enemy is because they’re shooting at you.”

“Sir, captain, sir! We’ve been taken off your sister and reassigned to some admiral’s brat’s division.”

Zach blinked at the garbled announcement. Mason’s expression flicked sideways and became so forbidding that Zach seriously worried for whoever was on the receiving end of that look.

“Rennox, I’m on a comm call with Captain Murphy.” He didn’t need to add ‘that admiral’s brat’, that came over loud and clear.

“Oh, right… shit… sorry sir.”

Mason nodded. “Go and see if Commander Zale needs any assistance with the departmental safety reports.”

“Yessir, right away sir. Oh! I did that filing you wanted.”

This time Zach didn’t miss the wince from the big captain.

“I do apologise for that,” Mason said as he looked at him again. “My yeoman is… enthusiastic at times.”

“No worries,” Zach waved off the apology. “You’re lucky to have a yeoman. I need to find a good one to get all this organised,” he said, waving his hand at his crowded desk.

Mason snorted, the sound deep and soft. “Yeah… let’s just say Rennox’s talents lie elsewhere. Definitely not in administration.”

Zach blinked in surprise but didn’t get chance to comment as Mason spoke again, “So, it looks like not much has changed. We’re still heading out to check subspace relays in sector delta-zero-four-nine and checking in on the trade outpost out that way.”

Zach nodded. “And we’ll be stopping by the Helanis system as well. A ship out that way reported some odd readings coming from out that way that command want the Canterbury to take a look at.”

Mason nodded and frowned, his gaze flicking to the side again. “Okay, well we’re already on route to the relays, so we’ll complete those checks and wait for you to rendezvous with us.”

“Sounds good. We’ll be with you in a couple of days,” Zach nodded. “Thank you, Captain. Murphy out.”

Cutting the comm, he leaned back in his chair and studied the screen for a while. The logo had reappeared, spinning slowly. Mason was… interesting. He wasn’t sure what to make of him.

“Oh well, no doubt it’ll come out in the wash,” he murmured and levered himself out of his chair. He was going to need coffee before he tackled the rest of what was on his desk.

Picking an XO was as much a fine art as it was a science. At least in Zach’s estimation. Which meant that he’d given much consideration to the officers currently up for reassignment that met the criteria. There were some really solid officers looking for a spot and he had the advantage that a posting aboard a Lamarr was definitely highly sought after. He’d automatically ignored the three files his father had flagged up for him to look at. All three of them would be in his father’s pocket, which meant that he couldn’t trust them.

He was trying to decide between an up and coming hotshot who reminded him of himself, and an experienced former CO with solid combat experience who’d come back into the fleet after the events of Frontier day, much like his CMO, but then his console cheeped again and he looked up with a frown. There was a new file on the list, an officer who had only just put in for reassignment.

Even though he’d made his mind up on the hotshot—he liked an officer with drive and her record could have been his own, even down to the overbearing parent—but he couldn’t resist opening the new file.

He’d changed his mind before he’d read the first paragraph. Not only did the new candidate have a solid service record, he was actually already here… or rather, he was aboard DS17 already, working his way back to the main sectors for reassignment.

And, Zach’s grin broadened as he looked at the image in the personnel file… when Zach offered him the position of executive officer on the Canterbury, it was guaranteed to piss his father off.

Zach was still grinning as he routed a message to the candidate, asking for a meeting. Then he pushed off from his desk. He still had things to deal with before he could head on over and meet with his potential XO.

______

Day walked into one of the station’s lounges and looked around for the man he was supposed to be meeting; Captain Murphy. He’d only been aboard DS17 for three hours, fifty three minutes and four seconds when the message had come through, and he’d been a little surprised at being contacted so quickly about a new assignment. Usually it took a couple of days before offers began to come in, and he’d been looking forward to a few days to himself.

But then he’d checked on the Canterbury and accepted the offer of a meeting. Which was why he was here now, wondering why Captain Murphy hadn’t just had requested his presence in his ready room, rather than meeting here.

“Ah, Commander Vann, you beat me to it,” a deep voice sounded behind him and Day turned to find that Captain Murphy had followed him through the door.

“By a small margin,” he offered, offering a polite curve of his lips that most people took as a smile.

“Excellent, I can’t stand to hang about, can you? Shall we?” Captain said, with a broad smile as he indicated two stools at the edge of the bar, already moving that way.

Day followed him, as seemed to be expected, watching the smiling captain out of the corner of his eye as they sat. Murphy seemed to be totally at ease, not even a flinch when he’d been confronted with the visible implants on Day’s face and hand.

“Drinks… What’ll it be?” Murphy asked, ready to order, his eyebrow raised.

“Coffee, or a water,” Day replied, not sure what to make of Murphy. So far he seemed amiable and exuberant. Like a happy puppy pleased to see everyone. That couldn’t be the whole story though. No one got to be the captain of a ship like the Canterbury with just ‘niceness’.

“Two coffees it is then,” Murphy grinned at the bartender. “The hard stuff will have to wait for later, after shift.”

He half turned on his stool, forearm resting on the bar as he looked at Day. And there it was, the mask slipped for a fraction of a second and he caught the calculating look from the man beneath the amiable act.

“So… I’m sure you’re aware I’m looking for a executive officer,” he said, and Day nodded. “And I’d like you to consider taking the position.”

He blinked in surprise. “I’m sorry, did you just offer me the assignment?”

Murphy nodded. “Sure did. What do you say?”

Day just looked at him, a small laugh startled out of him. “I thought this conversation would take a little longer, if I’m honest.”

The other man tilted his head slightly, his expression curious. “Why did you think that?”

Day lifted one shoulder slightly. “Normally there are a lot more questions. Especially for someone like me.”

“How so?” Murphy asked, looking up and mouthing thanks to the bartender as she delivered their coffees. He lifted his mug, blowing the steam off the surface as he looked over the rim at Day.

Day reached out for his own mug. Just a touch of the ceramic told him that it was too hot to drink for the moment and he pulled back. Then he waved at his face.

“Mostly I get questions about this and the collective.”

“Uh-huh,” Murphy took a sip of his coffee, winced slightly and put it down quickly. “Too hot for a moment. Okay,” he said, looking directly at Day. “Is there anything you want to tell me about that or you think I should know?”

Relief rolled through him and he shook his head. “Nothing that would impact my ability to do my duty as your executive officer, no.”

Murphy inclined his head. “Then that’s all I need to know. This… meeting was a formality. I’d made up my mind to offer you the position before I arrived. But, given the opportunity I do like to meet the person I’m trusting to have my back out there.”

“And?”

Murphy’s smile grew wider. “And I’m looking at him. You in? Careful, I’m not going to ask a third time.”

Day reached for his mug, and nodded toward Murphy’s. “It’s a suitable temperature to drink. And yes, I’m in.” 

The matter of his XO now settled, Zach didn’t waste time getting back to the Canterbury. As he exited the transporter room though, he spotted a familiar figure up ahead.

“Hey flyboy,” he called out. “Seems like they’re letting all the riff-raff aboard this tub.”

Darion Thayer turned around with a grin.

“You should know, since you approved my transfer, and I believe I have you to thank for this?” he said, indicating the rank on his collar. One hollow and two shiny pips.

An answering grin washed over Zach’s face as he grabbed Darion’s hand to shake, but then pulled him into a one-shouldered hug.

“Well, you didn’t have to accept, now did you?” he chuckled, slapping Darion’s back before letting him go. “How you doing?”

Darion shrugged, that lopsided grin firmly in place on his face. “You know, same old same old. Thanks for the reassignment pickup. Things on the Charnwood were getting a little… testy, shall we say?”

Zach bit back his sigh as they turned to carry on walking down the corridor. Testy meant that Darion hadn’t been able to keep his mouth shut and had pissed someone off. Again.

“Who was it this time? And what did you say?”

It had been like this since their first day at the academy way back when. The admiral’s brat and the kid from the wrong side of the tracks should have taken one look and hated each other on sight. Which, to be fair, they had. Until Zach had figured out their story was the same, just the flipside of the same coin.

Darion slid him a sideways look. “Told the CO he couldn’t find his ass with both hands and a map.”

Zach couldn’t help the snort of amusement that escaped him. “I wondered what had gotten you demoted this time. He took it bad, I take it.”

Darion shrugged. “What do you think? That…” he paused rather than cuss as they paused for a moment at an intersection, allowing two officers in yellow uniforms past.

“His ‘leadership’ and I use that term in the loosest possible sense of the word, meant we lost a lot of kids during frontier day,” Darion scowled. “And then he spent the time since bigging up his role. Way he told it for the new crew was that he was the hero of the day.”

“Ahh…” Now Zach saw the root of the problem. Darion was a rebel, for sure, but he was a stickler for facts. For rules, and regulations. Even if he liked to break them himself, he knew them inside out.

Then he clocked the way Darion tracked the female officer who had passed them like a hawk, interest written all over his face. Well, for most people it would have looked like indolent boredom, but Zach could read Darion like a book. An open one, written in a large font.

“Careful,” he leaned in to murmur as they carried on. Darion’s head was on a swivel, watching the woman until a curve of the corridor took her out of sight. “That’s our chief engineer, Bennett. Older and way, and I mean way, tougher than she looks.”

Darion arched an eyebrow as he slid a sideways glance at Zach. “Who said I was lookin’?”

Zach snorted. “Remember who you’re talking to. Okay, I need to get to the bridge. Head on up when you decide to remember where it is. We ship out at 20 hundred hours. Got a division ship to catch up with.”

He paused in the corridor, watching as Darion nodded and sauntered off. He let his friend get a couple of steps down the corridor before clearing his throat. “Senior officer’s quarters are that way, Thayer.”

“Are they really?” Darion turned, his expression innocent, and wandered the other way, shrugging as he past Zach. “These big classes, it’s easy to get lost.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Zach threw after him. The day Darion got lost anywhere was the day they put him in the ground. “Just make sure you don’t end up getting lost down in engineering. Okay? I’d rather my chief helm officer didn’t end up folded into a pretzel before we ship out.”

Darion grinned over his shoulder. “You realise that doesn’t put me off, right?”

“A Lamarr,” Matt breathed in awe, his gaze fixed on the ship in dock in front of them. “Do you know how freaking rare these things are?”

“Spoken like a true flyboy,” Kara nudged his shoulder with her own. “Snap out of it, or we’re gonna be late.”

“Nah, let him get it out of his system,” Zoe snickered, both her’s and Kara’s packs slung over her shoulder. “If he drools I want a pic of it.”

Elena, at the back of the group, shook her head. She was well used to their antics. The four of them had been together from the first day of the academy, and had graduated together less than a week ago. Most of that week had been taken up getting here, to DS17, where they were about to report aboard for their first assignment.

Aboard, as Matt had pointed out, one of the rarest classes in the fleet. A Lamarr class. It was a dream for most officers, one of those assignments that was highly sought after, fought over, with a wait list as long as anyone’s arm. And the four of them had managed to get assigned together. For any officer it was a dream, and something she’d never thought she’d even be considered for. Not given her circumstances and background. So she wasn’t sure whether to be happy, or quite frankly, terrified.

“Come on, you three,” she murmured, eyeing the door to the transporter room. There had been a steady stream of officers heading that way when they’d arrived and Matt had started to drool over their new ride, but now those numbers had dwindled down. “Best not to start our first posting by getting left behind.”

“Yes mom!” They chorused, and she rolled her eyes as the three of them trailed after her like baby chicks.

The trouble was, she was old enough to be their mother. It had made going through the academy… interesting, and she got more than a few looks but she’d learned to ignore them.

She led the way to the transporter room, past security who checked their orders. Ignoring the rolling feeling in her gut at using them, she kept her expression level as she herded her little group onto the pads. The other three had been in the target demographic for Frontier Day, so she could understand their lingering fear of using them. She didn’t need to add her nerves to that.

They rematerialised on the Canterbury, and she thought that Matt was about to pass out.

“Breathe,” she murmured in an undertone as they stepped off the pads and walked out into the corridor. He hadn’t shut up about the Canterbury all the time it had taken them to get here, but now he looked pale and panicky.

“Let’s find our quarters,” she said, walking off down the corridor in the direction of the junior officer accommodations. “We can drop our bags off and then all go and report in. I’ve sent deck plans to all your padds with the locations of your department heads.”

Yeah, yeah… they were all big enough and ugly enough to figure all that out for themselves, but she’d always been a mother hen and, this was a big step for them. Their first assignment. The fact it was her first assignment as well didn’t make a difference. Not to her. She was older, she’d been a mother, so she stepped easily into that role.

“Okay, we’re down here,” Zara said as they reached the right corridor. “Come on Zoe.”

Elena gave the two a little wave as they headed off and checked her quarters location.

“Hey,” Matt stopped outside a door. “Looks like we’re corridor mates. That’s yours, right?” he asked, pointing at the door opposite. She checked and nodded.

“It is, indeed.” The door slid open as it registered her bio-signature. She threw a smile over her shoulder at him. “Good location, near the turbolifts and the replicator, we couldn’t ask for better!”

He dropped his pack on the bed and rejoined her in the corridor. “Not all of us can start our days on just coffee, you know. I need actual food!”

“Well, hopefully the nearest mess hall won’t be far away.” She chuckled as they headed back to the turbolifts. The one thing Matt liked more than a full breakfast in the morning, was sleep. Which meant that more often than not, he did start his day on coffee.

“Okay, this is where we part company. Good luck! Catch you later!” she said, and stepped into a nearly full lift heading for the same deck as the bridge.

The Canterbury had shipped out without a hitch and, after what felt like the longest day ever, Zach left the bridge and headed for the mess hall. Two steps inside the door, he paused, only just remembering at that moment that the Lamarr class main mess hall was located across two decks.

Which explained why he was looking at a spiral staircase in the middle of the room.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Someone said behind him and he turned, only to be pole-axed by the prettiest pair of brown eyes he’d ever seen.

They widened, and the woman in front of him went a little pale as her gaze dropped to the rank on his collar. “My apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Oh no,” he said with a smile. “Lieutenant Winters, right? Science? I saw you earlier on the bridge.”

She nodded, and a small smile returned to her lips. “Yes sir. I was looking for the Chief Science Officer.”

“That’s right,” Zach nodded, in no hurry to end the conversation. Unusually for a junior officer, Winters was older, probably around his own age. He raked his brain for her first name, but the information wouldn’t materialize. He’d probably only skimmed her name on the department manifest. An oversight he would have to correct. “Lieutenant Steele seems to be a hard one to track down.”

“He is, actually.” She chuckled softly. “But that’s because he’s very focused on his work.”

He caught the subtext easily. She wasn’t going to dish the dirt on her boss, especially not to his boss. Department loyalty was always a good thing.

“Science, huh? What speciality?” He smiled again, trying to get her to relax around him, and put out an arm to stop her from getting trampled as a group of ensigns swarmed by like chattering seagulls. It was only when they surrounded Winters that he realized they were talking to her.

“Have you seen this place, Elena!?” One said, linking arms with Winters and trying to drag her off. “The menu is like five pages long. I’m bloody starving, I could eat the lot!”

“They’ve got five types of ice-cream, and apple pie and custard.” The other woman in the group grinned.

“Is your boss Steele?” The young man in red demanded. “I spotted him in the corridor earlier, he’s dr—“

“The captain and I were just talking,” she cut over them easily, warning them with amusement in her eyes as she held his gaze. The three ensigns turned around, suddenly silent and their eyes as wide as saucers.

He smiled again, hiding his amusement at their antics.

“No worries, I can see your friends are eager to get something to eat so I’ll leave you to it,” he said, spotting Thayer on the top deck. “Hopefully I’ll see you on the bridge soon, Lieutenant Winters. Have a good evening.”

“You too, sir,” she nodded and he turned to walk away, a little extra spring in his step.

Elena. It was a pretty name.