The chrono in the corridor clicked over to 0600, and the dedicated duty boots of Alanna Barker were already in motion, her trusted PADD curled in her right hand as she walked with purpose.  The last month had been her shakedown cruise aboard the Olympic as her first yeoman in a few years.  The officer and crew’s adjustment to her was equalizing after a brief storm of confusion and concern.  The good news was that she had tamed Captain Crawford’s tempestuous organization issues. Mostly.  It had taken several head-to-head arguments, debates, and discussions to get them to a place where they could talk to each other calmly.  

The first three weeks had been a real test for the two of them.  Today was the first day of May, and she had spent the previous evening corraling department heads to complete the monthly reports due on Crawford’s desk in just a few moments.

“Ensign Barker.”  Captain Helena Dread joined her as she strolled down the corridors, sipping at her coffee.  “You’re very punctual on the mornings you have duty.  I’ve timed you crossing this corridor every day at the same time with little variation.”

Alanna side-eyed the Executive Officer, “You stalking me, sir?”  There was a sly smile on her lips.

Dread returned the smile, “As you’ve noted several times, my timing needs improvement.  Just trying to learn from the resident scheduling badass.”  She tapped at her PADD as they turned a corner, “We’ve got orders to return to Deneb in the double.  The Changeling and Borg have been rinsed from the ranks…and people are suddenly much more interested in doing their jobs.  Imagine that.”

They entered a turbolift, and the yeoman grimaced, “We’ve got to stop depending on Picard and his crew to save the universe.  They’re going to die eventually.”  She caught a surprised look from Helena and shrugged, “It’s the truth, Doctor.”

The door opened, and they continued, Dread replying, “I was just impressed at your dark humor, Ensign Barker.”  They rounded a corner and stood at the door to the captain’s quarters.  “Allow me.”  She tapped the button, “It’s Helena with Ensign Barker.”  It took a moment, but the door opened.

Crawford stood in the kitchen, breakfast finishing as he read over his PADD.  He waved them in, “Over here.  Back to Deneb.”  He pushed around the hashbrowns as he nursed a steaming cup of English Breakfast, “We’ve got guests incoming as well.”

Barker slipped onto the barstool at the counter, her standard seat at this time of the morning, “Craig Syracuse, reporter for the Federation News Network, along with his production crew and producer.  Four people total.  I’ve assigned them quarters.  We’ll need someone to interface with them while they’re onboard.  We haven’t been granted a diplomatic officer.”

Dread groaned and sat down at the counter, “Doesn’t surprise me.  Word is that Diplomatic Services took their hits during Frontier Day. I don’t think we’re gonna rate for one.”  She accepted a plate of waffles, scrambled eggs, and thick bacon, “I’m going to miss this when they promote you, Crawford.  Or give you a shiner ship than this.  I never ate this well on other ships.”

Pete chuckled as he slid the over-easy eggs, sausages, and oatmeal over to Barker, “I could always get fired or demoted, Dread.  Don’t leave that possibility out.”  He put his pancakes, bacon, and cheesy eggs on a plate and stood in the kitchen as the gathered group broke bread together.  He had started it on a lark when the two had arrived at his door at the earliest hours with reports and missions aplenty.  It had fast become a part of their shared mornings.  He tossed the bad news out between bites, “I’m assigning you the job, Dread.”

She stared at him, fork in mid-air, “The hell you say?”  She dropped it with a clatter, “Don’t you dare, Pete.”

He gestured to himself and Barker, “I’ve got a full cargo bay, Helena.  On most ships, the XO is the one…”

Dread rolled her eyes, “We aren’t most ships.”  She went to work on her plate, polishing off her breakfast in record time and staring at her captain in silence as she drank from her cup, muttering.  He slid his plate into the sink and leaned on the counter, asking her with his eyes, and she replied. “I don’t suppose I can claim rank or prerogative on this one.”

Pete smiled widely, “That’s the spirit.”

She handed him her cleaned plate, answering him sourly, “There are days where you can be a real bastard, Crawford.”  Helena asked, “Have you talked to The Editor about this yet?”  Pete accepted Barker’s plate and slid into the pile in the sink, not answering her question.  She noticed.  “You have talked to her about this?”

Pete wiped down the counter, his eyes apologizing as he replied, “She scares the hell out of me, Dread.”

Helena scoffed, “Peter Crawford, the man who faced the Dominion twice in his lifetime?  You can’t be serious.”

He resignedly nodded, “She’s asked to meet with you about an unrelated matter anyway, so it seems like she’d rather talk to you.”

“Hell.  You’re gonna owe me for this, Crawford.  Barker, take note on the chart and add another mark on the balance sheet.”  Alanna made her note as requested and chose to remain silent.  Staying out of firing range between the two captains had served her well when they were agitated.  “You got everything else, Pete.”

Crawford put his hands up in surrender, “I’ll take the rest from here.”  She gave him a parting smile and headed out of the door.  Barker turned to him, and he drained his mug, “Let’s get to work on the rest…”