“And what is this?” Mac asked Fightmaster as the young man sat a cup in front of him before taking a seat at the conference table himself.

“Dark chocolate mocha, two sugar,” the yeoman said as he sat his own cup down as well as the padd in his other hand on the table.

“And why,” Mac followed up, “would I want this?” He wasn’t objecting to the drink, in fact, he was lifting it up to sniff at it, to confirm that sweet scent of chocolate, the stronger notes of which would hint at dark chocolate, to be delighted with the results.

“Your replicator records show you tend to replicate one most afternoons so I thought to anticipate your request before our meeting starts,” Stirling Fightmaster responded flatly.

Mac couldn’t help but chuckle lightly to himself, then took a sip of the drink, giving a happy little hum before setting it down. It was exactly as sweet as he remembered and decadent with that dark chocolate base, but it wasn’t his preferred drink. Not that he’d turn it down mind you. “While I appreciate the thought Lieutenant, it’s not my drink. I tend to replicate it most afternoons for someone else.”

Stirling’s face never scrunched up in confusion or thought, never hinted at any sort of concern. The man was an impressive wall of impassivity as he considered the statement just presented, then picked up his padd, ready to type a query into the device but stopped himself as the door to the conference room opened once more to allow entry to Lieutenant Ch’tkk’va, the one who had called this meeting after all.

And exactly on time as well.

Something that Mac had become very comfortable in expecting was that if Ch’tkk’va set a meeting time, then that was exactly when they would arrive and the meeting would start. As if work time was a precious commodity and was not to be wasted. Which did lend the Lieutenant’s meetings a certain air of focus and speed some others might flirt with but never quite commit to the same degree.

“Commander, Lieutenant,” Ch’tkk’va said, stopping at the large screen and with only six quick taps, identifying themselves to the computer in the process, brought up a presentation that had been in the works for a bit. “I would like to formally present my changes and adaptations for the Hazard Team and seek your approval Commander to proceed with them as soon as possible.”

“Anything discussed will be considered, but the captain does have final say Lieutenant,” Mac said.

“Beg your pardon, sir,” Fightmaster spoke up, “but the captain did say this was your project and your call.” And to add a bit more weight to what he just said, Stirling brought up minutes he’d clearly been taking from some previous meeting on his padd and turned it for Mac to see.

Mac knew he could have strangled the yeoman right then and there, but then who’d do all the mundane paperwork, like filling in the yeoman strangling form that just had to exist? And he’d have to explain to Tikva upon her return anyway what happened to her yeoman just as she was getting used to. It would prove too much hassle, so he settled for a mere grumbling before conceding the point, which seemed to bring some emotional outburst of unprecedented levels from Fightmaster.

He politely and rather subtly smiled.

Where did junior officers get off pulling stunts like this? He had been the epitome of respect in his youth and twice in one day he’d been pulled up short by his juniors. And curses be that both of them had valid and correct points too. Ones he’d been hoping they wouldn’t have spotted.

“With Lieutenant Fightmaster’s correction, I shall naturally be making a final judgement then it would appear,” Mac finally said as he looked away from the padd and the yeoman to the Xindi-Insectoid offer who was waiting to start their presentation. “When you’re ready Lieutenant.”

With a sharp nod of their head, Ch’tkk’va tapped the screen once more, moving it from the screensaver that was the rotating seal of the Atlantis and moving straight onto the first slide of the presentation. “I am proposing a total team size of fifteen members, myself included forming Atlantis’ hazard team. I currently have several personnel I would like to request join the team but am still short of the full fifteen I would prefer and will be consulting with other department heads for their recommendations”

The slide was a breakdown of the fifteen-strong team into three lots of five. Two of them were mostly security personnel, or more likely in Mac’s expectation meant for those willing with decent marksman scores, with a single medic per team. The last team was a single security officer with two medics and a single science and engineering officer to round it out. Each was blandly labelled Point 1, Point 2 and Support.

“I intend to operate in a two-pronged combat model with a support team to provide medical, engineering or scientific support as and where required. The support team will however typically be operating in reserve and I hope only need to be called up occasionally. I will want them to train as regularly as possible to prevent any skill loss from lack of deployment though.”

“I would hope,” Mac found himself speaking up, “that training to prevent skill loss becomes standard practice Lieutenant. We’re forming this team purely as a preventative measure and I know I speak for the captain when I say we sorely hope that our typical and standard practice security measures will more than suffice.”

“That is my hope as well Commander,” Ch’tkk’va said before tapping the screen once more and launching into intended organisational structure, training regimes, intent for exercises against their regular security forces and so on.

It was nearly a full fifteen minutes later when Ch’tkk’va brought up another slide, this time with no further structure charts or timelines, but an illustration of the light combat armour typically worn by hazard teams. “I also have some modifications to the equipment we procured at Deep Space 47 that I would like to discuss.” And with that, the screen brought up a few blue boxes around various pieces of the armour to draw attention to them.

The shift from the organisational and logistical matters of the hazard team, which MacIntyre had noted that Fightmaster had more than a passing interest in, had stirred his interest. He trusted Ch’tkk’va to handle the matter and ensure the team was up to the task, but he had enough org charts and manpower requirements in his job. This however was not related to his day-to-day and therefore vastly more interesting.

“Might as well start at the top then Lieutenant,” he commented and Ch’tkk’va nodded their head once before highlighting a set of goggles on the mannequin-esqe stand-in for an officer in the diagram.

“Low-light goggles adjusted ever so slightly for the adjusted shoulder lights,” the Xindi-insectoid said moving rapidly to the shoulder lights on the armoured clamshell chest piece. “Modified lamps to primarily shine only in the infrared spectrum so as not to give ourselves away visually when possible. And when possible the goggles will filter out sudden flashes, and the shoulder lamps can be configured for a short-term strobing effect, to disorientate or incapacitate non-lethally if possible.”

“That’s a nasty little combination,” Fightmaster spoke up, “but not all species are limited to such narrow bands of the EM-spectrum for visibility. Some can see quite well in the infrared, your own for example.”

“With forewarning, the lamps and goggles can be adjusted before deployment with a simple secure tricorder connection. A task we can perform in the transporter bay.” Ch’tkk’va watched Fightmaster for a moment and when the young man nodded, they continued to the next piece, which was on the back of the combat gloves. “Chemical ablative padding that is detectable by the goggles, but which is nearly invisible in a wide spectrum. For use on tagging walls or the floor if need be at intersections to assist in guiding follow-up teams or in the event of a hasty retreat.”

“Breadcrumbs,” Mac said with a smile.

“I was inspired actually by the tale of Theseus, Commander.” Ch’tkk’va brought up an illustration, which didn’t seem very sophisticated, going so far as to even label characters in it, but which showed the hero Theseus in distinctly medieval-style clothing with the string the myth attributed to him in the labyrinth. “Save this one can’t be so easily cut. The chemical tag will fade within a few days, though I suspect it will more than suffice for most operations.”

“So, lights that only help our people and a modern string for helping find your way home,” Mac summarised, earning a nod in response. “Sensible enough precautions. Anything else?”

“I would like permission to replicate several TR-116 rifles and train the hazard team on their use.”

“Is that really necessary?” Fightmaster asked before Mac would, offering a nod in apology for speaking first, but Mac let the question stand as it was what he was going to ask after all.

“I hope it won’t be,” Ch’tkk’va replied. “But we don’t know what threats may lie beyond Ultima Thule and should we run into a situation where even the regenerative power cells on modern phasers have issues, I would prefer to have a backup ready that our people are trained with.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, then looked to Fightmaster to try and read the yeoman’s expression. Which was as bland as ever, so no help there. “Ten, but they stay under lock and key,” he conceded. “And make that a double-key lock as well while you’re at it.”

“Yes sir,” Ch’tkk’va replied, then tapped the screen once more, this time bringing up a patch. A circle device, it featured ‘Atlantis NCC-90562’ in an outer track along the bottom third. The top half of the same track read ‘Hazard Team Myrmidon’ and to go along with that, the core of the patch was a stylised rendition of a handful of Ancient Greek warriors all marching to the left, all identical to each other. The whole thing featured a terracotta background with black figures, writing and banding for the outer track, giving it a vaguely Ancient Greek art style.

“Leaning a touch heavy on the Greek myth there aren’t you, Lieutenant?” Mac asked with a slight smile, appreciating the unspoken joke of naming the team Myrmidon. Those high-school classics lessons might be in the distant past, but he retained enough to get it. “No need to explain,” he said with a raised hand to stop the incoming explanation. “The team patch is wholeheartedly approved. Heck, make up a larger version and you can hang it in whatever Security space you’re setting aside for the hazard team.”

“Thank you, sir,” Ch’tkk’va said. “I have nothing further to present at this time. I will have a list of candidates I would like to approach for the Hazard Team to you and their respective department heads within the hour.”

Mac stood, nodding his head in understanding, then smiled as a thought came to mind. It was a nasty little thought, but then again senior officers were meant to have them from time to time, yes? “I would like you to add a single name to the list Lieutenant. Someone I would think would, with some training, make an excellent member of your team.”

“Who, sir?”

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Stirling Fightmaster,” he said, then turned to the yeoman who was in the process of getting to his own feet and stopped for a mere moment, before completing the action. “And in the absence of the captain at this time, approval from myself is granted. I suspect the Lieutenant’s organisational skills will be quite useful in your early stages.”

And with that, he gave Ch’tkk’va a nod, then turned for the door that would lead him back to the bridge. “As for everything else Lieutenant, consider it approved. Let us continue to hope we never need your new team.”