Tallera was exhausted. 

She slowly trod into her room and threw herself onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh of relief over not having to be around people anymore. She’d certainly seen enough of that in the past days.

48 hours ago, the full primary crew of the USS Shepard, all 130 of them, had assembled at Starbase Bravo and boarded their new home. Zelenko had placed her and the other former Achana crew in charge of handing out info to many of these new people, which Tallera had initially been honored by but had since grown to resent. Even with how horrible she was at corralling a gaggle of exuberant junior enlisted crew to wherever they needed to go, the thing she really hated was how quickly her Romulan-ness had turned her into a walking zoo attraction. She’d been absolutely bombarded with questions from curious crewmen, and before long had started trying to pass as a Vulcan by talking in a monotonous voice and wearing one of those Shepard ball caps to hide her forehead ridges. 

Thankfully, all of that seemed to be done for now. The crew was on board, Commander Zelenko had given the standard “welcome to the ship” speech to everyone in hangar bay 1, and all departments were chugging along preparing for the Shepard’s maiden voyage around Regulus and back, which should take around six days assuming nothing went wrong. 

And Tallera had four hours before she was needed on the bridge for departure; that left more than enough time for a well-deserved nap.

Tallera rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she walked down the corridor to the turbolift. She was very wrong, four hours was far too much time for a nap. Her body seemed to think that it was turning in for the night, which had made getting out of bed an absolutely herculean task. She’d munched on more than a few caffeinated snacks back in her room, and then replicated a bladder regulator pill so said snacks wouldn’t make her constantly have to piss during her shift.

Great start to your first bridge duty, Tallie… she shought with a sigh as she trod down the hall.

To her surprise, Tallera saw a woman she didn’t recognize waiting outside the turbolift to the bridge. She was rather thin, slightly taller than Tallera, and wearing the yellow uniform of the operations division. When she heard Tallera approach, she turned to look at her, revealing the telltale slanted eyebrows and pointed ears of a Vulcan.

“Oh, hey there,” Tallera said with a smile, immediately feeling more comfortable than she would have had this person been a member of any other species. Humans, Andorians, Caitians, they could all have anything going on in their heads. But based on her experience with Dreval, you always knew where you stood with a Vulcan. “I’m Tallera, bridge tactical officer.”

“Greetings…” the woman said flatly, narrowing her gaze in a way that gave Tallera pause. “Are you the Romulan that I have heard is part of our crew?”

“Er, yes. Romulan Republic Exchange Officer, at your service.”

The Vulcan looked at her for a moment as the turbolift doors swung open behind her. She slowly backed into the lift, and Tallera tentatively followed.

“Bridge,” the Vulcan ordered, and Tallera felt the lift begin to move under her feet. The Vulcan then turned her attention back to her. “I am Ensign T’vrin, communications officer. I will tolerate your presence as is necessary for the completion of any mission we may find ourselves on, but know this: I will not trust you nor interact with you in any manner beyond what is required for the operation of this vessel. Your kind have shown their true colors more than enough for any logical being to consider your very presence a threat to Starfleet security, and I am continually disappointed with the trust the Federation puts in your so-called-Republic.”

The doors to the bridge swung open behind Tallera, who was in a near state of shock by the deluge of prejudice that was thrown at her.

“Good day, Romulan,” T’vrin said flatly, then walked past her and towards the communications station.

Tallera inhaled deeply, then turned and strode across the bridge to the tactical console. She’d known she would be met with something like this for a while now, but her time with Dreval had left her more than a little shell-shocked that it had come from a Vulcan. In any case, her previous thoughts about the species weren’t wrong: you always knew where you stood with a Vulcan.

Zelenko gave Tallera a smile and nod as she took her place at the front of the bridge while Vic gave her an enthusiastic wave from the science console. She gave them both a respectful nod as she sat next to Mack. S’Geras was seated next to Zelenko, and a Saurian non-com named Krakii was manning the security station behind them. Tallera had met Krakii earlier, and had been surprised that Starfleet gave noncommissioned officers so much responsibility.

“Hey, Tallera,” the helm officer said to Tallera.

“Hi, Mack,” she replied somewhat tentatively. She still didn’t really know how to interact with the guy, and desperately hoped not to relive their staggeringly awkward first impressions of each other.

“Shepard bridge crew,” Zelenko said, sitting up to a commanding pose in her Captain’s Chair. “Run through final mission checks.”

“Ops reporting all crew as ready and prepared,” S’Geras said next to her.

“Security departments coming in green across the board,” Krakii chirped, her Saurian vocalizations far more scratchy-sounding than your average species. 

“Science and medical are ready to rock!” Vic beamed as he gave Zelenko a thumbs-up.

“All communications and sensor suites are operating at peak efficiency,” T’vrin spoke next. 

“Weapons are hot and power systems cycling, ready to be fired on-demand,” Tallera said with a nod back to Zelenko.

“Docking clamps released, impulse and RCS thrusters powered up, and warp engines purring like a charm,” Mack smiled, rounding out the bridge crew. “Looks like we’re ready to go, Commander.”

Zelenko tapped at the console built into the arm of her chair.

“Starbase Bravo, this is USS Shepard, requesting permission to leave drydock.”

“Permission granted, Shepard,” a voice said over comms. “Godspeed.”

Zelenko smiled, reclining and tenting her fingers. 

“In that case…” she turned her gaze to the starfield that covered the bridge’s viewscreen. “Mister Mackenzie, take us out, 1/10th impulse power.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

The Shepard slowly cruised out of its dry dock gantry, its warp coils beginning to glow bright blue.

Here we go, Tallera thought. First voyage on my first ship.

“Drydock clear,” Mack stated as the ship passed the few defense vessels holding position around SBB. “And we are green for FTL, Sir.”

“Hit it, ensign,” Zelenko smirked. “Warp factor 8.”

With a tap of an icon on Mack’s console, the Shepard’s warp drive let out a sharp whine before it launched itself deep into the void.