“They’re the ones that show up 27 years late and now we’re in a rush.”

Szarka’s attempt to lighten the mood was only successful with Lieutenant Ixabi, who quickly stifled her giggle and turned it into a cough and a clearing of her throat instead.

“Okay, let me see if I have this right,” said Ixabi, sitting up a little straighter, “This ‘border skirmish’ and Breen incursion is actually the result of the reappearance of the Lost Fleet, 27 years later and in the Deneb Sector of all places. I know Starfleet is in the business of dealing with the improbable but as scientists it’s our job to question the improbable, so I– um. I am. Questioning this.”

Her voice quieted and her posture deflated as she stumbled over the end of her statement. Anand assumed she was bracing for a reprimand, so he smiled in the hope of reassuring her.

“I don’t blame you,” he said as he swiped his hand and sent more data to the projection at the center of the conference table. “I can tell you that the Fourth Fleet managed to perform a quantum analysis on at least a few of the Jem’Hadar fighters that confirm the 2374 origin, so that gives us one answer along with a dozen more questions.”

“Well here’s another question,” said Szarka, “Why are we going to the Deneb Sector?”

“That’s a great question,” said Anand. He balled his fists on the conference table in order to restrain himself from throwing his arms up in a ‘hell if I know’ gesture. “That’s my favorite question so far. Hopefully, we’ll find out at the next rendezvous point. Most likely they need this ship to perform its usual routine of scanning things from very far away.”

“Good,” grumbled Zamora. Her hands were clasped over her stomach and her eyes seemed to be staring through the data projection, but Anand couldn’t quite tell if she was disinterested or concerned.

“Well,” he said, “Whatever chores they have for us out there, we need to make sure that we can see the enemy coming, hide if necessary, and get away. Level three diagnostics on everything. Zamora, you and your team cover the warp and impulse engines. Ixabi, you take shielding. Qsshrr: sensors. Szarka, program a kill switch you can hit to shut down any non-critical equipment in the outrigger if we need to run silent. Dr. Ang, I really hope we won’t need you but we’ll proceed under the assumption that we will. And Bohkat, find out if anyone on board other than you has any post-academy tactical experience.”

Anand leaned back in his chair and let his shoulders droop a bit. “And listen, I’m sorry you have to face a situation like this with two brand-new senior officers. Speaking of, I’m not clear on exactly what happened to your previous executive officer.”

“He died,” said Zamora flatly.

“He died!?” The question was a bit more incredulous and far louder than Anand had intended, but the news of Dominion aggressors from 2374 had pushed him past his limit of ‘things he could react normally to’. Even Bohkat looked a little wide-eyed at the revelation.

Szarka held her hands up and shrugged. “The man was 120 years old. It happens.”

“Okay, well, I’m sorry for your loss,” Anand said uncertainly as he glanced at the impassive faces around the table. He was now more than just professionally curious about the ship he’d inherited, but he had to stay focused.

“At any rate, Bohkat and I don’t know this ship or this crew as well as any of you, but maybe we can expedite the process. You’re all on call in four hours, right?”

There were tentative nods all around the table, and Qsshrr chimed in with a “Correct.”

Anand clapped his hands together and grinned. 

“Great! Then meet me in the lounge after the shift turnover. I want to get to know you all better with some one-on-one time. Well, two-on-one.” He gestured to Bohkat. “You can tell me about your routines and your department’s strengths and weaknesses in your own words, and it would be great to hear about yourselves as well. Hell, you can ask Bohkat and I questions at the end too, if you’d like.”

Bohkat slowly turned his head to stare at Anand, but he didn’t offer any vocal objections, so Anand kept talking. “It’ll be like speed dating, professionally, like–”

He waved a hand in the air, trying and failing to conjure a better comparison. “Like the vocational version of speed dating.”

Anand counted at least one raised eyebrow per face, and Qsshrr was making a low rattling noise that her synthesizer wasn’t translating, so he decided to quit before he dug his hole any deeper.

“Alright, dismissed!”

As the crew stood up and wove their way past the chairs in the narrow room, he heard Qsshrr ask with her synthesizer volume on low: “Officer Szarka, what is ‘speed dating’?”