It had only been a handful of minutes, but to Scott it felt like he had been wandering the halls for hours. In theory every Columbia-class vessel should be the same, but he learned over the years that every one of them had minute differences that made each one unique. He kept looking at his tablet to confirm the location of the armoury, which indicated it was in section fifteen, though he swore up and down it kept changing.

After reaching what seemed like the last door of about a hundred that he had checked along the way, he looked at the identification tag, “Zero-six-dash-one-five-alpha. Armoury. Finally!” he muttered with a slight bit of excitement.

He was about to open the door and head inside, but before he could reach the panel the door slid open and a young blonde woman stepped out almost waking into him, not expecting anyone to be on the other side of the door. She excused herself politely and continued on her way, not even realizing the person she nearly ran over had been a superior officer.

Scott didn’t let it phase him. He continued inside to the now vacant room that was to be his primary place of work when not on the bridge and surveyed his surroundings. To the left, a bank of storage lockers containing phase pistols and replacement power cells. In the center, the torpedo control centre with the upgraded photonic torpedo system. On the right, a large display screen showing tactical sensor data. A desk sat in the corner of that right-hand wall and where Scott proceeded to seat himself.

He activated the terminal on the desk and pulled up the personnel roster corelating it with the duty shift schedule. It was clear that his predecessor chose to go with a four shift rotation. No doubt to cycle personnel and reduce fatigue, which would be beneficial in their current situation. He also noted there was a daily tactical training session with the MACOs. Prudent. Wilcox certainly was on top of her game, he thought.

Continuing to scan the personnel records, he made sure to pay special attention to the specific staff members he’d be closely working with. His assistant was listed as one Lieutenant Alicia Jones. Just as he was pulling up her Starfleet record, the armoury door opened and an ear piercing female voice shouted “Who the hell are you?! What are you doing in here and what are you doing in my seat?”

Scott spun around to face the visibly agitated woman. Her appearance matched that of the woman on his screen. She was clearly his assistant. He wasn’t sure where to begin in order to diffuse the situation, so he started where any logical person would, extended his hand and began with an introduction, “Lieutenant Commander Scott Mitchell. I’m the new chief, just transferred over from the Poseidon.”

The woman stopped dead in her tracks, clearly realizing her behaviour toward a superior officer, but still visibly upset “New chief?” she began, “I was under the impression I was next in line for the position.”

“Will that be a problem Lieutenant?”

“I don’t…I mean no. It shouldn’t be a problem, sir.”

“Good, because I’d like for us to be able to work well together. Starfleet saw it fit to put me here due to my greater experience, but you know this crew better than I do.”

While Alicia understood what Scott was telling her, she was still visibly upset. She knew she would eventually get over it, but there was still some resentment that she had not been considered for the role. Attempting to put the matter behind her for the time being, she instead attempted to offer some assistance to her new boss. “Was there something specific I could help you with Commander?”

“Campbell wants me to have a status report ready for him by eighteen hundred. I was trying to familiarize myself with the department staff and see if there was any place lacking in personnel. Beyond that, what can you tell me about our defensive systems status?” Mitchell asked.

“We’re ship shape and ready on yours or the captain’s orders. We’ve got a full compliment of torpedoes, phase cannons are fully operational and while hull plating is operating at about ninety-five percent efficiency, I put in a request in with engineering yesterday and we expect to have that at one-hundred percent within the hour.”

“That’s good news. I’m sure the captain will appreciate the work you and the team have pulled off until my arrival. Speaking of which, the captain is preparing an informal gathering to introduce the new crew additions. You’ll be attending won’t you? I’d like for you to meet a fiend of mine. She’s the new Chief Engineer. We went through Starfleet training together and both were lucky to be assigned to the Endeavour together.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there.”

“Please, there’s no need to be so formal. Call me Scott, or if you’d like, my friends call me Sparky.”

Alicia felt it was too soon to be calling her boss by his nickname and opted to use his first name instead. Confirming that Scott no longer required her services, she excused herself to continue with her remaining duties.

Once Alicia had left the Armoury, Scott returned his attention to his computer terminal and began drafting his report for the captain based on the information she had given him.