Lieutenant Saffron Helsing stood in the shuttle bay just below the bridge of the USS Denver, shocked.  Debris from shuttles littered the deck, and only two remained in one piece.  The runabouts were gone, stolen by young Starfleet officers under assimilation orders from the Borg.  An indifferent merchant had delivered the bodies of the two three months after the Frontier Day events.  The runabouts remained missing.  Burn marks crisscrossed the surfaces, and the faint smell of burned deck and walls remained ‌in the air.

Helsing had read the reports after being reassigned to the Denver, but she was not prepared for the tour of the main shuttle bay.  The places where the older crew had taken cover were clearly visible, with the battle scars clear.  Most had died, and those that had survived had vowed to never step foot on a Starfleet deck again.

The door to the shuttle bay swished open, and Helsing turned at the sound.  A Bajoran officer stepped through the door, examining and inspecting everything she came across as she walked across the ravaged floor to where the chief flight officer stood.  “Lieutenant Barzo, chief security officer.”  She extended her hand and smiled as Helsing returned the favor.

Saffron had glanced at the roster for the Denver but had done no proper work on the details.  “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lieutenant?”

Barzo had a PADD in hand.  “I’m doing a deck by deck inspection to get an idea of the damage first hand.  Looks like they tore your shuttle bay apart.”

“I haven’t even looked at the secondary bay.  If it’s as bad as this, I’ve got my work cut out for me.  I don’t suppose you’ve had any good news in your travels around the ship?”

Barzo shook her head.  “The only section that survived beyond some cosmetic damage in the officer’s mess.  Everywhere else was a battlefield.  My team is working to survey the security stations throughout the ship.  You had lunch yet, Lieutenant?”

Saffron picked at the replicated noodles, appreciating the authentic flavors.  She asked, “You read up on the history of this ship?”

Barzo held her thick burger in both hands, hunger filling her eyes.  She took a bite and sighed in appreciation as she downed it with a root beer.  “I have.  Captain Ki was an officer here back in the day.  So was the bartender in Hasara’s place.  Lotta history on this ship.  Makes you wonder why the Commodore brought the Denver here.”

The helmsman frowned.  “You think there’s something going on?  I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re joking or being serious.”

Barzo chuckled, wiping the ketchup and mustard from her face. “I love a good conspiracy theory.  99% of them are bunk, but there’s always that slim chance there’s some kind of truth in there somewhere.  People don’t know the Commodore for his underhanded deals or secret ways.  That’s Captain Ki’s territory.  She scares me.”  Taking some fries and mixing in a unique combination of mayo, mustard, and ketchup, she added, “I’m from Bajor.  Between my planet’s history and my own, that’s saying something.”

Saffron glanced around.  There was no one else in the officer’s mess.  “You’re always this talkative about…everything?”  She felt her face redden in embarrassment as Barzo glanced up from her burger, confusion filling her features.  “I didn’t…I’m sorry.  That was rude.”

The Bajoran sat back in her chair, staring at Helsing.  Her eyes were distant for a moment, but her attention returned.  “No, I just…I was partnered with a fellow security officer who was a Vulcan for the last few years.  We got along just fine, but…trying to have a conversation with that man about anything outside of the logical progression of science, investigatory methods, and whatever else…I haven’t really talked with someone outside of him in depth in a long time. I’m sorry, I…have to check myself sometimes.”

Saffron shook her head.  “Don’t apologize, Lieutenant.  I’ve avoided making friends since I came into this squadron, and on my last assignment, I kept to myself and my station.”  She asked, “Don’t stop on my account.  It’s nice to have someone tell me more than just what my orders are and what I need to focus on with my department.”  She stopped, remembering the roster she had glanced at earlier.  “We have a Vulcan tactical chief coming aboard tomorrow.”

Barzo smiled ruefully.  “I can’t escape him, if that’s what you’re asking.  Lieutenant V’luth is his name, and tactical is his game.  He earned his nickname, ‘The Truth’, because that’s all he deals in day in and day out.  Don’t be hoping for fireworks.  We work well enough together.  I make it seem like we’re going to have to be separated like children in a daycare.”  She returned to her fries, savoring the flavors on her tongue.  Human food ‌did something different to her soul.  She made a mental note to extend her workout later to make up for the intake.

Helsing finished her dish, and the silence between them grew until she couldn’t help herself.  “What is your nickname?”

Barzo winced.  “It’s ‘The Barge’.  I have a nasty habit of barging into things – literally and metaphorically.  I’ve gotten better at it over the years, but the name stuck despite my best efforts.”  She shrugged.  “It helps ‌my reputation, so I’ve stopped fighting it.”  She eyed her new friend.  “You got one yet?” Helsing shook her head.  “Well, we’ll have to work on getting you one.  Lieutenant Helsing is a mouthful and Saffron has a lotta syllables.”

Helsing raised her eyebrows, her sarcasm dripping as she replied, “You making fun of my name?  Barzo?  Really?”

“Well, ‘Sassy’ is certainly a leading contender.”

They both cracked up, and their conversation and laughter continued.