Ohmygod.

That was Mason?

Iggy closed his eyes for a moment, kicking himself as he grabbed the CO’s pack. He’d read the senior crew files but two problems with Captain Mason’s… Firstly, the profile image had to have been an old one. The man in that image was younger and pretty much clean-shaven, whereas the Mason in front of him was, well, not that much older, but craggier, and with a thick, full face beard.

And he was huge. Like built on bigger lines bigger. A fact that intellectually was there in the file with the height and last listed weight, but reading it and seeing it in action were two entirely different things.

“My apologies, sir,” he said, hefting the captain’s pack up over his shoulder. God, what was the guy carrying? More rocks to go with the mountain over his shoulder? He juggled with it, sliding the strap alongside his own. The tray of coffee’s in one hand, he trotted after the captain. “I didn’t recognise you for a minute there.”

Mason slid him a sideways glance and for a moment Iggy thought he was about to die, right there in the corridor. “Don’t worry about it,” he rumbled in a deep voice. “It’s an easy mistake to make, especially in civvies.”

Yeah, but he’d called the captain of the ship security, or engineering. Shitshitshit. This was not a good way to start a new assignment. Especially one that was so far from his previous assignments. Especially with a CO who literally gave nothing back in body language or expression, leaving him guessing what was going on behind Mason’s eyes. He’d thought his previous captain, Barrington, was hard to read, but compared to Mason, he’d been an open book, written in large font. With pictures. 

“So…” He cast about for something to say. “This is our Chief Engineer?”

Mason nodded. “Commander Dayne Bennett.”

Iggy looked down at the tray in his hand, then leaned forward to give the mugs an experimental sniff. Bennett had looked three sheets to the wind, but… he frowned. “This is just coffee.”

“Uh-huh.” Mason nodded again as they turned the corner, the dock transporter room at the end of the corridor in front of them. Their footsteps echoed around them as they headed toward it. Actually, his footsteps echoed but even with Bennett over his shoulder, Mason’s were utterly silent. That wasn’t scary at all. 

“But he’s…”

Bennett snored softly, cutting through Iggy’s confusion. “Was he trying to sober up?”

But if he was, then why the look of alarm on Mason’s face and the quick way he’d relieved Bennett of the coffee?

“Species-thing,” Mason explained, nodding to the transporter chief on duty as he passed. The woman didn’t flicker an eyelid at the sight of the big captain with the just-as-big engineer over his shoulder. Iggy just about managed to keep his expression neutral. Just how many times did this happen?

“For llanarians, coffee is like alcohol and a bit of a sedative. Bennett is also an insomniac, so if he’s not slept for days, he doses up. Only does it in dock, never when we’re operational.”

Iggy’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. So this had happened before.

“Send us on over, if you would, chief,” Mason said to the transporter officer once they were all on the pads and a second later the station dock transporter room disappeared, to be replaced by the significantly smaller version on the USS Kirk.

“Welcome to the Kirk, captain,” the transporter tech on duty said with a smile. 

“Norman, good to see you again,” Mason rumbled as he stepped off the pad. “You settled in okay?”

”Yessir. All my collection present and correct. Thanks for clearing the extra shelving with the QM for me.” 

“No worries at all. Gotta love those little ships. You’ll have to bring me up to speed with your new additions.”

“Yessir!” The tech, a lieutenant in a goldenrod uniform, practically beamed. “I’ll be in the Pit— err, whatever the lounge is called here, later.”

“Sounds good. Catch you later.” Mason nodded as they left the room, ducking automatically at the door. 

“Norman Smith, operations,” he answered Iggy’s unspoken question. “Absolute chaos-magnet. If it can happen to Norman, it will do. Once had to disarm a nasty little hand-grenade he’d thrown himself on in sickbay.”

Iggy’s eyes went as wide as saucers as he followed the captain through the frankly tiny corridors. All the information on the Shran class said it was more luxurious and modern than a Defiant but like with the captain, it was one thing seeing measurements on screen and another experiencing them in reality. 

“In sickbay?”

Mason nodded. “Pirates boarded, tried to take key locations on the ship. Norman chose that moment to be a hero.”

Iggy cast a glance back along the corridor toward the transporter room. “And he’s okay now? Wait… it didn’t go off? Or did it? How is he—”

Mason shook his head. “The pressure systems were faulty. I disarmed it while he was lying on it. Took more than a little contortionist ability, let me tell you.”

“I can imagine, sir.” Iggy’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Pirates… does that … often, sir?”

“More than you’d think.” Mason grinned, a flash of teeth in the thick beard. “Welcome to the Kirk, commander. We’re the point ship for the Reverent Squadron, so if there’s shit to kick, we’re in there doing the kicking. If you were looking for a nice, easy assignment, then we are so not your bunny. Are your range ratings up to date and code?”

Iggy was starting to get whiplash from the conversation. “Err, yes sir, of course.” He might consider himself more of a lover than a fighter, but he was more than capable when it came to combat. A fact he was proud of. 

Mason grunted as they turned a corner. “Good. Schedule yourself more range time, you’re going to need to double your scores.”

“Sir?”

They’d reached a corridor of personal quarters and Mason stopped at one. The door slid open in front of them, to reveal cramped but more than adequate officer’s quarters. Three battered looking trunks were stacked on each other in the middle of the room, the bottom two with heavy duty biometric locks on them. 

“Excellent, Bertha’s already here. That’ll make him happy,” Mason said as he dropped the engineer on the wide bed. 

Which, now Iggy looked at it, looked to be different from the standard issue bed. Most standard issue bunks were not made from what looked like ship structural steel. 

Mason spotted his look. “We’re much heavier than most humanoids,” he said. “Denser bone structure. Means we break furniture a lot.”

Iggy blinked at that. He’d assumed the captain was human. Just bigger than most. 

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

“Don’t worry, commander. You’ll get used to us.” Mason chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder as he walked past him to the door. The contact almost sent Iggy staggering into the wall. Up to then he hadn’t considered himself a weakling.  

Mentally, he added extra gym time alongside the extra range time he was going to need. 

This assignment was definitely not what he’d expected. And he’d only been here an hour.