Being assigned to shuttlecraft detail wasn’t quite what Tate had expected when he had received his duty details that morning. The sudden news of the crisis in the Deneb Sector had whipped its way through the corridors of Starbase Bravo at warp ten. He had overheard his father in deep conversation with other senior officers; furthermore, his mother had shared that his father had been working a number of late nights since the news had arrived. And now everyone on the station was more tense, more cautious of each other. 

Deck Three-Hundred and Twenty-One was home to one of the large hangar bays for shuttlecraft. He had been ordered to begin loading up supplies onto a Type-14 shuttle that would be placed onto the Exeter. Though most of the supplies could be transported to the Constitution II-class cruiser, his superiors wanted the shuttles for the ship to be prepped and ready. 

Pushing an anti-grav unit out from the hanger, the young cadet noticed someone standing at a distance, starring at a stack of crates. Tate didn’t recognise the man, who wore a blue science uniform, so as his father had taught him, he went over and introduced himself to lend a hand.

“Sir,” Cadet Horin said carefully, “I’m Cadet Tate Horin. May I assist you?” 

Ryke turned at the voice and then offered a small smile. “Oh, hey there. Yes, I’m supposed to be loading this lot—“ he gestured to the pile of different-sized crates in front of him, then turned to the shuttle nearby. “Onto there. I’m just figuring out the best way to play Crate Tetris. I’m Ashfield, by the way,” he introduced himself. “One of the counsellors onboard.”

Surprised to see one of the station’s counsellors here, Horin quickly shook his head and smiled. Realising that it was truly every able hand who can help was needed, Horin offered his assistance. “Well, I’m almost finished with loading my shuttle. Would an extra pair of hands help you?”

Ryke eyed the anti-grav unit the cadet had and nodded. “That would be much appreciated and definitely beats handballing them onto there. I mean, I’m all for a good workout, but I think some of these would be beyond me.”

Horin chuckled at the counsellor’s remarks. Moving all of these supplies would certainly mean he wouldn’t have to worry about visiting the gym tonight. However, he would probably anyway. 

On the far side of the hanger bay, Captain Jaxxon Horin walked in with Ensign Dalaa by his side. 

“Ensign, before you leave, ensure everyone knows to conduct those new security sweeps of every piece of supply we have being put together ready for the Exeter,” Horin ordered the young ensign. 

“I’ve already scheduled several training drills with key personnel, who can disseminate the information to their subordinates,” the young Ensign confirmed, tapping away furiously on her data PADD, ensuring that she had the most complete listing of the cargo supplies being transferred to the Exeter. It was her first real instruction from the Captain, and there was no way the Orion was going to muck that up.

“I don’t want to hear that one of these crates is a changeling in disguise,” He whispered to her as he strode across the room and saw a familiar person standing by one of the shuttles. Smirking, he walked over, still with Dalaa hanging off him. “Ensign, have I introduced you yet to my son?”

Dropping her arms to her side, the youngster locked eyes on the man that was, apparently, the son of her commanding officer. “No, Captain, I’ve not had the pleasure…” she trailed off, trying to keep pace with her superior.

As they approached Tate, the captain realised he was in deep conversation with another officer. “Tate, I didn’t realise you were down here today?” 

Stopping his conversation, the young cadet stood to attention. “Yes, sir.” He said firmly. “My orders this morning changed, and I was assigned to shuttlecraft loading duties, sir.”

Ignoring his son’s formality, Jaxxon looked to the lieutenant in science blues. “And you are?” He asked.

“Ashfield, sir,” Ryke straightened up. “Counselling. It was the end of my shift, so I came down to help where I could.”

“Well, we appreciate all of the help we can receive, counsellor.” Horin looked at Dalaa, “Ensign, I’m sure you can take over here for me.” He looked at both men. “As you were.” He turned to Tate, “Cadet, I’ll see you tonight.”

Tate just nodded firmly as his father walked away to exit the room. Once the doors closed behind him, he let out a sigh. “Sorry,” He said to both officers. He turned to the ensign. “I’m Cadet Tate Horin, ma’am.”

“Dalaa, strategic operations,” the Ensign smiled at the Cadet, offering a hand to the son of her commander.

“My father is not normally that…” Tate considered his words carefully. “Formal.”

Ashfield gave a small smile. “We’re in a fraught situation at the moment. So everyone’s reactions are likely to be a little… off?” he suggested.

“Don’t be too dissimilar to normal,” the Orion reminded the gathering, her eyes locking on each member in turn, “lest someone thinks you are a Changeling infiltrator…” her look was menacing and suspicious until she let out a playful grin.

Horin gave out a nervous chuckle at that remark. 

“Okay, I guess we should get started. My job here is to make sure we have completed all of the security checks required for this cargo. Do we have a complete chain of signatures for them?” the Orion asked, arms folded across her chest, PADD tucked between the and her chest.

Ryke plucked a small PADD from its resting place on top of the crates.

“Everything seems all present and correct as far as I can see,” he replied, quickly looking down the lists. He wasn’t a logistical specialist, but lists were lists; he could follow the logic there. “I can send you a copy?”

“That’s perfect,” the green-skinned beauty nodded, “but it’s not enough. Command is insisting on phaser sweeps of all cargo containers and facilities before we depart as additional security measures.”

Horin wasn’t surprised by the ensign’s statement. “So shall I just grab a phaser and sweep over everything we’ve loaded?” His question was filled with the innocence and naivety expected from a cadet.

At that Ryke looked at the ensign for clarification. His general day included lots of listening to people’s troubles—days he suspected were about to get longer, with much darker troubles—and much less of trying to figure out if the crate in front of him was actually a crate and not a changeling in disguise.

“Setting three should be enough. Wide beam to cover a greater area, but you want to make sure you get in any crevices,” Dalaa told, matter of factly, not entirely sure whether the younger Horin was being facetious or naive. 

“So, do you think what others have been saying is true? Has the Deneb Sector truly fallen to the Dominion’s Lost Fleet?” Horin asked as he walked over to the nearest weapon’s locker and pulled out a weapon.

Ryke gave a small shrug. Even though he wasn’t on duty, he was still a counselor, and his job was to ensure the crew’s mental and emotional well-being. Even in small talk, no matter what he thought.

“I think that gossip sometimes runs away with people,” he replied in a level voice. “And the people chattering here probably don’t know much more than we do. I think if the Deneb Sector had actually fallen, then we’d definitely know about it. And from more than gossip.” He caught both his companions looking at him. “But… all this, all the preparations… this has the hallmarks of ships going into a hard fight.”

“I know,” Dalaa interjected, “that what we’re being told, and what’s true, isn’t correlating right now. The only thing we can trust right now, is the people around us,” she concluded, effectively terminating the conversation with her hands on her hips. Changing the tone of the conversation, the strategist rubbed her hands together in glee.

“Right, what shall we shoot first?”