Parked in a safe orbit and with little to do, it was little wonder that the bridge was down by a few officers from normal operations. Or that no one was seated in any of the command chairs, either. Willow Beckman was only holding the conn in case traffic control called and wanted Republic to move to another orbit. Jenu Trid was muttering to herself at Operations, complaining about something she kept deflecting as ‘nothing major’. And the man responsible for the mighty ship at the moment was, instead of at the centre of the bridge, at his normal science station, undertaking a series of discreet scans on the only thing in the entire star system that seemed worthy of attention.

Matt Lake was busy trying to pry as many secrets from the Hysperian’s starcastle as he could using passive sensors only. It was proving to be a mostly futile endeavour as they, like Republic, didn’t need to bring certain systems online when parked in orbit, limiting emissions and the secrets they could give away. But he’d pry what he could before giving up and consulting Starfleet’s vast repository on knowledge on what other ships had learned about this eccentric starship.

“Commander, incoming hail,” Lieutenant Jenu said after a series of beeps, breaking the silence that had hung over the bridge since shortly after they’d relieved Levne and her shift. “It’s the Hysperians.”

“Looks like you finally got their attention,” Willow commented from the helm, going from looking bored to at least like she was pretending to work. Helpful if they were about to be talking with someone after all.

“I’d hope not,” Matt said, rising from his station and crossing to the centre of the bridge between the other two, not bothering with the centre seat. A quick pat of his tunic, a tug on one sleeve, and he nodded to Jenu. “Put them on.”

The riot of colour that spilled out of the viewscreen was enough to send him into a fit of blinking at first. Dazzling colours, bright lights, gold or polished brass fixtures everywhere. Portraits lined the back wall of the Hysperian’s bridge, banners hung uniformly around the bridge, equally with the crest of the Hysperian Kingdom and whatever noble house the ship likely belonged to.

“Starfleet vessel, this is Knight-Captain Filippo Calvacanti of the Hohenzollern. I bear a message from my liege for your captain. Where might he, or she, be?” The Knight-Captain stood in the middle of the expansive bridge, polished breastplate catching a no-doubt well positioned light, a sword at his side and a dark red cape just catching a breeze from another well-positioned air vent so it fluttered just so. Sunkissed skin, well-kept black hair and a magnificent moustache rounded out the impression of the Mediterranean knight.

It was all a bit much honestly. There was committing to the bit, and then there was forgetting the bit and living the fantasy, which Hysperia had embraced with abandon.

“Lieutenant Commander Matt Lake, USS Republic,” he offered with a smile. “Captain MacIntyre is somewhat indisposed with matters planetside at the moment. I can however relay any message you have to him upon his return, or make contact with him for you if the matter is important.”

“All matters from my liege are important,” Calvacanti said. “You wear that rather drab blue. Are you per chance an alchemist or an apothecary?”

Matt had to stop and think, trying to translate the clearly recognisable words into sense. “You mean scientist or doctor, yes?” He didn’t wait for Calvacanti to protest. “Chief Science Officer and Second Officer for Republic.”

“Republic, what a tiresome word.” Calvacanti’s use of the ship’s name sounded like a curse. “My liege, the great Viscount Otto Birmingham Elroy Biscotti Crashanburn, third of his name, has tasked me to enquire if we might be able to consult with a number of your engineers regarding some difficulties the Hohenzollern is experiencing since we arrived in this truly forsaken colonial fief.”

Matt half expected the man to ask for blacksmiths and stonemasons, not engineers. “You require engineering assistance.” It was a simple statement of fact, which Calvacanti nodded to. “I take it none of the local engineering or ship repair agents have been of assistance?” Thames Station was home to a vast array of civilian ship repair slips that had to have someone on staff who could have helped the Hysperians out.

“All of them inform us we are in the queue, as if the Viscount does not deserve their immediate and undevoted attention.” And that attitude, Matt decided, was likely why the Hysperians were ‘in the queue’ and likely near the back. “But Starfleet’s prowess with resolving arcane mysteries is well known and my liege has respect for such…technical competency.”

“Well, that’s certainly appreciated,” Matt replied. “I can have an engineering team beam over shortly to help out in whatever way they can.”

“Such sorcery is not permissible aboard the Hohenzollern.” Calvacanti actually looked offended at the idea of people beaming over. “We shall make the boat slip ready for one of your pinnaces to ferry your squires across.”

Boat slip. Pinnace. Squires. He was getting quicker on the wacky-to-sensible translation. Shuttlebay, shuttle, and junior officers. “Very well then. I’ll have a team underway shortly.”

“Very good, Knight Lake.” Calvacanti’s visage disappeared from the viewscreen almost instantly, plunging the bridge back into purely the 25^th century.

“What was that?” Trid asked after a moment.

“That was…something,” Matt answered. “Is anyone else still blinking pink spots from their vision?”

“Mind if I volunteer for shuttle duty?” Willow asked, the enthusiasm to do just about anything besides watching readouts at her station evident. “Even lend the engineers a hand.”

“Even if I ask Evan to lead the away team?” Evan Malcolm’s acerbic manner was now well known and established amongst the crew. Willow’s momentary hesitation gave way to an affirmative head shake. “Very well then. Just make sure someone else is at the conn before you leave the ship.”

Willow was out of her seat and gone before her relief arrived, but not like Matt or Trid couldn’t handle minor course changes if required.

“Seriously, that guy had a sword on his belt. I thought the Commander was the only one crazy enough to use swords in his day and age,” Trid said, filling the silent void. “If you want, oh Knight Lake, I could get a sword to wear about the bridge.”

“I’m not brave enough to touch the Commander’s sword if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said, returning to his station. “But by all means, Squire Jenu, go ahead and try it yourself.”

“I’ll pass. But, uh, did that guy say his boss’s name was Crashanburn? As in crash and burn?”