Standing shoulder to shoulder, Keesa and Meniz marvelled at what they had pulled off in a little under three hours. Decorating the mess facility of a starship was often commonplace, regardless of the occasion, and today was no different. It wasn’t a birthday, a bar mitzvah, a wedding or the Gratitude Festival, but it was another significant step forward in Venture‘s long history. It probably seemed overkill to have such a festivity for a simple change of command ceremony, but the crew needed something after being stuck without direction for so long. They needed something and someone, to get behind An official figurehead. The sudden removal of Captain Scott and Commander Dahl had been tough, if not welcome for some, and it had left them with Commander Henry to oversee the crew during the tense layover. It wasn’t his fault, of course, that the crew were feeling lost. It was common knowledge that he was the only survivor of the Enforcer, and he’d been thrust into an acting captain role for a new crew that he didn’t know.

“He’s probably relieved,” Keesa smiled, looking around until she noticed the look her fellow Bajoran was giving her. “Henry,” she elaborated, “probably relieved to be handing over command to someone new.”

“Oh please,” Meniz scoffed, moving over to a nearby table and stealing something called a ‘cocktail sausage’. “This is a Sovereign-class starship. He probably wanted command for himself.”

Lieutenant Commander Dalton, standing only a short distance from Keesa and Meniz smiled as he overheard their conversation. He made his way to the young lieutenants and said, “Thought you should know that your voices are carrying, you might as well go up there and ask Commander Henry yourselves.” He chuckled a bit at the look on their faces before he made his way over to where Henry was, near the stage for the ceremony. 

“Nervous?” Dalton asked as he came up next to the commander.

“No, not at all. Though I don’t look forward to giving up that center chair.” He smirked, raising his eyebrow slightly at Michael. 

“Well, looks like Meniz was right, you wanted this command all to yourself after all.” He laughed a bit at Mason’s surprise, and just as he was able to ask about it, Michael moved off to talk with some of the other officers. Mason shook his head and thought ‘Need to remember to keep an eye on Meniz.’ He smiled to himself as he continued to wait for Captain T’Prynn to arrive. 

A wall of sound hit Endoll as he entered the room, it was the sound you expected at awkward social events.  He loved and loathed such events in equal measure; he hated – but understood – why lots of eyes would lock onto him, after all he was one of the few of his race in Starfleet; he loved the ability to watch the inter-personal dynamics at play just below the surface of each person as they awkwardly ‘networked’ around the room.  Endoll tugged at the collar of his dress uniform slightly, at least Starfleet designers had finally realised not all species had the same swan-like necks of Humans and had finally made a version that didn’t compress his neck plates, but it also meant the the scars they held were also on display.  Endoll let his eyes wander around the room, letting his gaze wash over everyone in a wave, on seeing two younger Bajoran women he made a mental note of introducing himself later, but he had found someone far more interesting standing alone in a corner of the mess-hall, the blue tint to her chuva like a beacon to him.   He made his way through the small groups of people smiling polite greetings as he did so until reaching her, “Good evening.”

Nisha had spotted the newcomer upon his arrival, her attention firmly focused on the doors in search of their guest of honour, but his presence had piqued her curiosity and he had her attention long before he crossed the room. Despite all of the refugee programs that had taken place after the war, another Cardassian serving on the same Starfleet ship was almost unheard of, even decades later. An older gentleman, a hint or two of grey whispers in his hair and the silver pips of a Commander. So many questions floated through her pretty little head. Instead of blurting them out, she simply greeted her fellow Cardassian. “Good evening, Commander. Welcome to Venture,” she smiled, nodding respectfully at the senior officer.

Endoll tilted his head slightly, “Thank you Ensign, it’s been a long time since I have been in the same room as someone with the same cranial ridges” he smiled and gestured around the room, “But it is the first time they have also worn the Starfleet uniform.”

“I can appreciate that,” the Ensign nodded, stopping a passing waiter and grabbing a flute of blue liquid. “I’ve served on multiple commands now, and this is the first time I have seen another Cardassian so far from home,” she added with a smile, looking him over and making silent observations.

“I don’t consider myself Cardassian,” said Endoll as he blinked slowly, “I am Hebitian, my family left the homeworld as the Cardassians were rising and became the dominant power on the world, although they did so discreetly – using their company as a cover.” he this statement down to an art having used it several hundred times when meeting his fellow species, “I am interested as to what brought you to the Federation and Starfleet?”

“My family fled the Union on the outbreak of the Dominion War,” Nisha shrugged, nodding to a passing colleague while they talked, “I’ve known nothing but the Federation my whole life. Joining Starfleet was an obvious choice for me,” she sipped her beverage slowly. “What field do you work in?” she asked.

Nodding along as she spoke Endoll was pleased she had avoided the atrocities of the Dominion War, and the aftermath.  He still remembered the smell of burning flesh when he had walked around his ancestral home world for the first time after the war, the children in dirty rags scrounging amongst the ruins for things they could barter for food, “I am the Venture’s new CMO, but also including the counselling team” he politely smiled at a crewmember who was walking past holding a tray of drinks, he lifted what he knew to be a fruit juice and sipped it, “If you ever want to explore our culture before the Cardassians brought in their fascist ideas” he paused, “I have access to some recordings from the Second Hebitian Era, before the great Cataclysm affected our world: you would be amazed to see how lush, green and wet it was; before the desertification” his eyes met hers for a moment, unsure if this was of any interest to the young woman who had spent her life in the Federation. 

“I’ll be sure to take you up on that offer Doctor,” his younger kin grinned, raising her glass in a form of toast to her superior.

Pulling on her collar, Mara entered the mess in full dress uniform. “Starfleet loves their pomp and circumstance,” she thought, scanning the crowd for anyone she knew. She spotted a few familiar faces and a couple of new ones as well. Her first visit, however, was to the replicator. “Irish whiskey, straight,” ordered the lieutenant, and a glass of amber liquid swirled into reality. After a sip, Mara shook her head. “Bleh,” she uttered, used to the real thing, but the science officer liked a drink in her hand during social occasions. The decorations were nice, and she noticed a few smiles about the room. At least the folderal helped morale.

It seemed everyone was paired off while waiting on the new captain. While Mara wasn’t ordinarily shy, she disliked formal gatherings. Dancing on the table, screaming-like-a-banshee style party, was another matter. This wasn’t that. So, she moved to a corner table and waited for the festivities to be over.

“I hope she’s worth all this,” Lieutenant Linn Mora remarked, standing behind the science chief. “May I?”

“Heh, no one’s worth all this unless they’ve saved the galaxy a few times,” Shepard commented to the Bollian. “But, please sit and join me, Lieutenant Mora.” Raising her glass to her lips again, Mara took another sip of the synthehol. “Bleh,” she said, crinkling her nose. “How’s life been to ye?”

”As good as it can be on a ship sitting in orbit of a planet for months on end,” the Bolian shrugged.

“I know what ye mean. The science department plant races, ye know, to see how fast and tall they can grow a specific plant species.” Mara drummed her fingers on the table. “This week, it was bamboo, which went fast. Cacti was next, but the news came about the new captain.” The science chief looked around as the mess hall doors opened. Still no captain. “As I understand it, we’re getting a Vulcan. It should be … fascinating.” Shepard smirked and gave the Bolian a wink.

Kazjra came through the automatic doors almost faster than they could open, and once she had both feet firmly planted inside the mess hall she took a deep breath and tried her best to appear as if she hadn’t run all the way from her quarters. A quick glance around confirmed she had still managed to arrive before their new captain, so she relaxed a little and made her way directly to the nearest table with food on it. She recognized Meniz from engineering standing nearby and gave her a nod as she picked up a small plate and started filling it with finger foods. “Lieutenant looks like you pulled it off. Nice job!”

“Hey! Thanks, Chief,” Meniz grinned, “I hope the Captain likes it.”

At last, a figure near the port side door lifted a small, golden pipe to his lips and began the ever-familiar tune to signal the arrival of someone considered important. Through the doors emerged the captain, moving gracefully, yet with purpose, and flanked by her fellow Vulcan, Lieutenant T’Mia.

Mason watched as the captain entered the lounge and made her way over to the podium with him. He called all the crew to attention just with a nod and look out into the crowd. Mason picked up the PADD and began to read, “To Commander Mason Henry, Commanding Officer U.S.S. Venture, Stardate 24011.1, you are hereby requested and required to relinquish command of your vessel to Captain T’Prynn, Commanding Officer U.S.S. Intrepid, as of this date. Signed Commodore Uzoma Ekwueme, Starfleet Command.”

Mason put the PADD down on the podium and then turned to face Captain T’Prynn before continuing, “Computer, transfer all command codes to Captain T’Prynn, voice authorization Henry Beta Four.” The computer signalled in acknowledgement and then responded, ‘Transfer completed. U.S.S. Venture now under command of Captain T’Prynn’. Mason took a step back to welcome Captain T’Prynn to the podium, waiting for her to acknowledge the crew and transfer.

Poised and punctual as ever, the Vulcan nodded to the Commander. “I relieve you, sir.“

Mason smiled, extending his hand to shake the new captain’s, “I stand relieved.” He then took another step backwards, allowing the captain to stand alone up on the podium to acknowledge her new command. 

Standing at the podium, T’Prynn looked out at the sea of new faces, a curious eyebrow raised. “The Vulcan people are not known for their verbosity or their wit. Instead, we are known for logic and reason. Today, there will be no long speeches or pleas for togetherness; there will instead be a consensus that hard work and discipline must return to this vessel, starting immediately,” she paused. And then it happened. An ever so slight upturn at the right corner of her mouth. “After the drinks have stopped flowing of course,” she concluded.

Mason smiled and started to lead the room into a clap for the new captain, then he spoke up to everyone in the room, “You heard the Captain’s orders, everyone, enjoy yourselves!” He made his way over to the bar and requested his go to drink, “Andorian ale, my friend, and none of that replicated stuff. Bring a bottle of the genuine thing out of my personal stock.” 

Faster than if she’d teleported, Kazjra was at the bar next to Mason, peering with wide eyes as the bartender dug deep beneath the counter in the secured personal cabinet. “Oooh, will you be sharing that, Commander? If you need someone to toast with, I volunteer my services for the price of one shot!”“What’s this, then?” Mara exclaimed after the new captain’s speech. The redhead spun to Mora. “Ye wanna have a go at the bar, then? She just said we can have a go at the drinks.” A side glance at the bar told her they were serving the real thing, which got her attention. Shepard looked at the glass she was holding and, as quickly as she could, tossed it into the recycle bin. Waving the Bolin on, Mara made her way to the bar.

“A shot of real, genuine Irish whiskey, please. Neat,” the Lieutenant asked the barkeep as she leaned on the bar, her anticipation building. The bartender poured her a shot and slid the amber-colored drink over. Mara took her first sip. “Mmmm. That’s the real stuff, like a thick, down blanket and a pretty girl on a cold night.” Shepard licked her lips and had another taste. “Or a nice, rugged bloke, whichever is yer flavor.”

She slid the shot to Lt. Mora. “Ye wanna ship?” she asked, pointing to the glass. “That’s the taste of home fer me.” Mara smiled at her crewmate, but it was a sad smile that told of missing friends and fond memories.

For a short while, the festivities would continue, with officer’s and civilians alike mingling and getting to know one another a bit better.

Entering the messhall considerably later than everyone else, Ensign Kivoss Ch’rhaatris scanned the room for the new captain or even the first officer. He clearly hadn’t received the memo regarding the dress uniform as he was still dressed in his gold jacket. When he spotted the Vulcan, he waved a data PADD in the captain’s direction and made his way through the crowd without so much as an ‘excuse me’ or an apology.

“Ensign,” the Vulcan nodded curtly.

“Captain,” the Andorian nodded in return, “from the bridge, ma’am.”

Taking ownership of the data PADD, T’Prynn took a moment to review its contents and then gestured for the XO to join her.

Mason put down the Andorian ale that he had grabbed from the bar after the ceremony and made his way over to the captain when he saw her gesture for him. “Yes, Captain?” Mason said to his new commanding officer, hoping to help in any way he could.

T’Prynn handed the data PADD over to the XO and nodded her thanks to the Ensign. Watching as the XO read the data packet, the Vulcan contemplated her next decision. A single thought crossed her mind; was this crew ready, after three months of inactivity, to answer the call to action? She would have to find out over the coming days, the data PADD unable to be ignored.

“This is the Captain,” she barked after tapping her commbadge, “the USS Scarborough has been reported missing. It is our responsibility to investigate. All hands to duty stations. We are now at yellow alert…”