Ryder James Reese-Riggs—RJ to his friends, of which he had many… usually of the female variety, although that number would go down considerably if they found out about each other—hated livestock. Absolutely hated them. Especially Devisorian bovines. Which were basically cows with way more legs than any cow had a right to. 

They shit. A lot. 

“Tell me again why I’m doing this?” he demanded, wrinkling his nose as he sprayed shit off the wall of one of the holding pens with the pressure hose. How the hell had it gotten that high? Did these things like projectile shit or something? He was glad they were finally off the ship. Maybe in a year or two they might actually get rid of the smell. 

“You’re doing this,” his sister replied from the other side of the holding pen where she was operating a similar pressure washer to his. “Because you managed to get yourself kicked out of Starfleet.”

“I did not,” he retorted. “I’m on administrative leave.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aya snorted. “Administrative leave pending an investigation for conduct unbecoming.”

She shut her hose off and grabbed a floor squeegee to start pushing the dirty water toward the drain in the center of the floor. It would be stored in tanks before being filtered and purified for use on the ship. He shuddered, trying not to think about the fact he’d be showering in that purified water for the next month. He was just glad the drinking water tanks were separate. 

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that…” He said finishing off his side and grabbing another squeegee. “My conduct was extremely becoming.”

Aya shot him a sideways look. “So becoming you got caught with an Admiral’s daughter in your bed. And her wife!”

“Hey! We were all consenting adults!” he argued, but he couldn’t help the smile that quirked the corners of his lips. “And they were very persuasive.”

“So was grandpa. He talked like a damn Ferengi who’d spotted the deal of a lifetime to get you off the hook. I think Admiral Campbell was all for spacing you.”

“Admiral’s aren’t allowed to do that.” He pushed the last of the water down the drain and sighed in relief. Now all he needed to do was go irrigate his nostrils with bleach and maybe he’d stop smelling shit. 

“No, I believe the word ‘accident’ and ‘unavoidable’ was mentioned several times in the same sentence as your name. As well as a tourettes-worthy level of swearing. I don’t think the Admiral is a fan. And it’s why both you and I are hearing shoveling shit on a run even you can’t fuck up while the rest of the family is off on a pleasure cruise around the Xalvorian Rift.”

She shot him a baleful look as they walked out of the holding pen, the lights snapping off behind them. “And I’m stuck here with you for some unknown reason. I’m going to get a shower. You can take first watch on the bridge.”

He sighed as she hopped up onto the conveyor loop that ran the length of the ship and back again continuously, grabbing a handhold above her with the ease of long practise. The loop whisked her away toward the crew quarters as he turned the other way. Dropping down onto the lower walkway, he hopped on the loop going the other way. Technically they weren’t supposed to use the loop to get around, but their parents had given up trying to lecture them before they’d hit their teens. 

He hummed a little ditty to himself as he sped along past yet more holding pens. Today’s drop off had been the last on their schedule so they were all empty at the moment. Tomorrow they started loading for their journey back. He leaned his forehead against his wrist as he held onto the strap above his head on the loop mechanism and bit back a groan. 

They were picking up Celestiaran chickens, which meant that they’d have to spend all morning putting in two internal floors in each of the holding pens to increase their carrying capacity. Because Cel-Chickens were fucking dumb and couldn’t be all put in the same pen because if one of the little bastards got panicked it would start a stampede across the pen. Then they ended up with the whole load against one wall of the pen and tens of thousands of crushed chickens. 

It made for good barbeque, but wasn’t as good for the company’s bottom line. 

He rolled his shoulders as he sped past the holding pens and then he was going past the cargo bays. The Morningstar was so huge that even on the loop it took him a good twenty minutes to get up to the bridge. If it could even be called that. It was a pokey little affair that wasn’t even as big as a broom cupboard on a Sovvie. At least… he assumed. He’d never actually seen a broom cupboard on any Starfleet ship. 

He frowned as he pushed the bridge door open. When would his parents get with the twenty-fifth century and install sliders? The soft chirp of the comms array got his attention and he dropped into the captain’s chair with a sigh. 

“Computer, open comms channel. Yo! This is the Morningstar, what can I do you for?” 

“The civilian transport Morningstar?” A deep voice enquired and RJ sat up straighter as the most handsome guy he’d ever seen appeared on screen. “Currently in the Karnelious system?”

“Yeah, that’s us. And you are, commander…?” he asked, gaze flicking down to the two and a half pips on the guy’s uniform. 

“Burton. XO of the USS Resolute,” came back the reply, the tone so authoritative it sent a little shiver down RJ’s spine. “Who am I talking to?”

“Reese-Riggs,” RJ replied automatically. 

“Commander Reese-Riggs,” he correctly quickly. 

“You’re Starfleet?” Surprise washed over Burton’s features and his gaze flicked down to the coveralls RJ wore. He risked a glance down. Aww fuck, he was covered in shitty water splatter. 

“I am. On leave at the moment,” he offered his best, charming smile. “Helping out with the family business, you know how it is. They rely on me.”

Burton nodded, and RJ could swear relief showed stark in the back of the guy’s eyes. “Have you been watching FNN?”

RJ shook his head, then shrugged. “We’ve been on a tough run, not had time. Why? Did I miss anything?”

Burton sighed, and an odd expression crossed his face. “Just a little. Okay, Commander, I’m afraid I’m going to have to requisition your ship. I need you to get to the co-ordinates I’m sending you now to rendezvous with us.” 

RJ blinked. “Hell of a way to ask for a date, Commander Burton. I’m not that sort of guy.” 

Burton’s gaze flicked to the side of the screen for a moment, then back at him. “No commander, you’re the sort of guy who just literally screwed his career in one single night. You’ll meet us at those co-ordinates because I’m about to give you millions of reasons to get it back.”