As the shuttlecraft Lesbos touched down in the main shuttlebay, Nate Kennedy was already present. He had already started to learn just how difficult a man Maxwell Simmons really was to work with. He had voiced complaints when assigned the task of leading the survey team down to the surface of Leytan VId, complained once more before heading into a sensor and communications deadzone and complained when reporting the teams were returning nearly ten minutes ago.

And so, Nate had resolved, if he was to be the big bad captain, ruining Lieutenant Simmons’ day, he might as well cap it all off by asking questions immediately before letting him even get out of his EV suit. “Oh, he’s just going to love you,” Rrr had advised when he’d taken the keys to the ship as Nate left the bridge in the hands of the ship’s operations chief.

As Lesbos settled into its spot, the starboard hatch opening and a number of crew spilling out, all without their helmets anymore but more than a few in some state of disrobement from their EV suits, two more runabouts entered the shuttlebay in close formation. They had cradled between them on actual nets and suspension wires a solid block of black rock a couple of metres on each side.

No tractor beams, but old fashion cabling had lifted this sample from the surface of the moon and brought it up to Atlantis. The warnings had been explicit and everyone had been banned from the end of the shuttlebay as a pair of extra atmospheric fields had been erected. As the rock had passed through each one, it had disrupted it, restoring just as quickly; the rock’s very nature disruptive to the field integrity.

“Lieutenant Simmons,” Nate finally said, spotting the away team leader and, though unhappy to admit, the senior science officer aboard ship. “Mind telling me what you’ve brought aboard my ship?”

The shorter man’s sigh was trampled over by the din of the shuttlebay. Three runabouts returning, nearly thirty disembarking crew, smaller collections being unloaded while teams went to secure the large cube of rock sitting on the deck. The ever so slight eye roll however was not disguised by other activities. As he neared Nate, Simmons put on a polite little smile. “I’ll have a report for you in a few hours, Captain,” he said, putting on airs that his British accent just lent itself to.

“Yes, you will,” Nate replied, leaning into his teacher voice and triggering something that caused Simmons to stop and glare at him. And with that, Nate now knew how to get Simmons’ attention. “But how about you give me the cliff-notes version right now, yes?”

Simmons’ shoulders slumped slightly, then rallied. “Captain, I’m not exactly an expert in geology. I want to consult with those better acquainted with that field of study aboard ship before I present anything to you. Perhaps, if you had let me assign someone else to lead the away team, they’d have something for you right now.”

Nate’s silence seemed to be all the permission Simmons needed to proceed, walking past his captain without another word. He got about two steps before Nate spoke. “Do you like your job, Maxwell?”

“Sir?”

“Do you like your job?” Nate asked a second time, turning to face Simmons, who had done the same.

“I’m the best scientist you have on this ship,” Simmons answered.

“Commander Camargo notwithstanding,” Nate corrected.

“She isn’t on this ship right now,” Simmons added. The lifting of his chin slightly, the arrogant smile, the telltale signs of a man who thought he had scored a point in an argument only he was having. “And even when she is, I’m still the best.”

“In your field,” Nate said calmly. “You’re definitely the best astrophysicists aboard Atlantis right now. But you have admitted you want to consult with geology specialist about your new paperweight.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder at the rock taking up a commanding position within the bay, a deck chief already working up a head of steam about how to move something the tractor beams in the bay couldn’t grab. “I’d wager the same about say, biology? Anthropology? Chemistry?”

“Your point, sir?” Simmons said, strain at the edge of each word he said.

“You want to be a senior science officer one day, yes? Run the department aboard a prestigious command?”

“I should be running the science department already,” Simmons answered. “And I’d like to nominate myself for the position when it vacates.”

“So let me ask again, do you like your job?”

“I’m the best you have.”

“That’s not answering the question,” Nate said, shaking his head. “You don’t have the curiosity of a good senior science officer. Camargo would at least have a few things to say by now. Something to keep me satisfied for a few hours at least. You’re out here to make a name for yourself, while she and many others are out here for the thrill of it.”

“Thrill doesn’t factor into good science,” Simmons said dismissively.

“Well, that’s objectively wrong,” Nate replied. “Thrill of discovery, thrill of finding something new, thrill of being the first to see something unique. Thrill to do all of that and eventually just be able to call it a Tuesday.” He waited a moment, Simmons just glaring at him, the he waved a hand. “Dismissed, Lieutenant. And I want a preliminary report in two hours.”

“I’ll need-”

Nate cut Simmons’ protest off. “Two hours.”

As the science officer huffed, then turned on his heel and walked out of the shuttlebay, another one of the away team approached. Lieutenant Dimitry Malenkov looked like he’d run a marathon. Sweat kept beading on his brow, his hair was plastered to his skull, even twenty minutes after leaving the moon below he still looked flushed from exertion. “Captain, if I may?”

“Malenkov, yes?” Nate asked, the younger man nodding. “Please.”

“That’s the smallest sample we could bring up from the surface.” Malenkov smiled broadly when Nate’s face betrayed his disbelief. “We looked everywhere, but couldn’t find so much as a chip. There was a stack of blocks like our sample here, but nothing else.”

“The site looks like a quarry from orbit, Lieutenant. Quarries are, in my experience, strewn with rocks and rock chips.”

“Someone cleaned up down there then,” Malenkov answered. “And our cutting gear couldn’t do a thing either. I’d wager we could probably cut a slice with one of the ship’s phasers if we wanted to.”

“Bit overkill, yes?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” Malenkov wiped at his brow. “But I think the most interesting thing you might like to know is that the grooves we saw from orbit, when we got down there and could do proper measurements, would match the monolith on Leytan III to a tee.”

“Are you saying the monolith could be a single piece of this rock?”

Malenkov nodded a few times, sweat still running down the sides of his face. “Not just that, but that there’s eight trenches down there. Eight monoliths in total.”

“Seven more out and about in the Expanse,” Nate half-whispered. “Thanks, Dimitry. Go, get out of the suit and have a shower.”

Others passed by, Nate offering acknowledgements to a handful, letting the crew he didn’t normally interact with know he at least knew their names. But his real attention was on the mysterious black cube sitting in the middle of the shuttlebay. And as the flow of returnees died off, the busy work now just the deck crew brainstorming ideas, he tapped at his communicator. “Kennedy to Rrr’mmm’bal’rrr. Take us back to Leytan III and let’s declare the main shuttlebay out of operation for the time being. I don’t want Chief Rudd spitting any more tacks than she already is.”

“Understood, Captain,” Rrr replied. “We should make orbit around midday at the campsite.”

“Sounds good, Rrr. Call me if you need me.” And with that, he started towards the deckhands, hands clasped behind his back and a smile on his face, intent to try and placate Chief Rudd and her people before they went looking for someone to blame for scratching up their deck plates.