“Any idea what this Anderson wants?” RJ asked as he and Mason walked down the corridor on Starbase 86, toward the new TFXO’s office.

“Nope.” Mason’s expression didn’t alter, but then he relaxed a little at RJ’s sideways glance. 

As irritating as the guy was, Mason knew he was rock-solid in a crisis. He’d really thought the guy would cut and run on Arriana against the Jem’Hadar, and then again during Frontier Day, but he hadn’t. In fact, both times he’d had Mason’s back.

“I expect he’s going to assign us to a new patrol route.” 

“No, it can’t be that.” RJ frowned. “That would just be a comm call, this must be something else.”

Mason shrugged. “Possibly, but it could also be because of the new squadron.”

“Yeah…” RJ’s look was sharp. “About that. How did I get assigned to the Mant—“ 

Mason cut him off by stepping in front of him, right into his personal space. RJ pulled up short before they collided. “We’re here,” Mason said in a low voice. “When we’re in there, throw him off. I need to get some alterations for the Manticore authorised.”

“Oh?” He had all of RJ’s attention now, those blue eyes sharp and focused. 

“Why not just request them?” Then his eyes widened. “You—“

“Throw him off,” Mason ordered in a low voice as he stepped backward, and the door to the office opened. With a final, hard look, he stepped through and smiled at the yeoman waiting for them. 

“Captain’s Mason and Reese-Riggs to see Captain Anderson.”

“The Captain is expecting you. Head on in,” The Yeoman replied with a smile. 

“Thank you.” Mason inclined his head, and carried on, RJ right on his heels. He sensed the glare boring into the back of his head but ignored it in favour of scanning the room. 

“Captain Anderson,” he nodded to the room’s sole occupant. “Mason and Reese-Riggs. You wanted to see us?“

Keith was standing across from his desk at the bookshelf, setting some old paper books on the shelf. He looked over at the two captains and offered them a smile, “Mason, Reese-Riggs. Good to meet you in person,” He said, setting the stacks of books left in his arms on the shelf and dusting his hands on his pants before he stepped over to them and offered a hand shake, “Sorry to pull you back to the station for a bit, but I appreciate the time.”

“Likewise, Captain,” Mason gave a small smile in return as he shook Anderson’s hand, sizing him up at the same time. He’d scanned the guy’s personnel file before heading over here. “And I’m glad you did, it’s always good to put a face to the name.”

He stepped aside for RJ, hands behind his back in parade rest. True to form, RJ’s smile was wide and charming. 

“Ignore grumpy,” he said. “He got out of bed the wrong side this morning. Either that or someone was using his favourite weights in the gym.” 

“There is simply no greater offense,” Keith replied, shaking Reese-Riggs’ hand as well and giving both men a disarming smile. “Have a seat, guys. Can I get you a drink?” 

“Coffee, please, black,” Mason said longingly. “The replicators on the Manticore are on the fritz,” he explained. “They only serve drinks with sprinkles.”

“Oh, I’m all for the sprinkles,” RJ smiled, watching Keith with a smile. “But I’m easy, whatever you’re having is fine.”

Keith stopped short on his walk to the replicator and narrowed his eyes at Mason, a grin on his face, “Yeah… I’ll have the Starbase Engineering team take a look at that for you,” He said, chuckling a bit. 

“What about you?” He said, nodding to Reese-Riggs. 

“Cappucino,” RJ replied. “Thank you. And it’s funny… because the Resolute has the sprinkle problem as well.” He turned to look at Mason accusingly. “Did your engineer screw with them before he left?”

“I’ll sort out the sprinkles,” Keith said, chuckling before telling the replicator their orders. “How are things going? I know there’s been… a lot to absorb lately. This stuff hasn’t been in the handbook,” He said, taking the two drinks and handing them to the other Captains before stepping back over for his own and then taking a seat behind his desk. 

Mason cradled the mug in his large hands almost reverently. The coffee was black and strong enough to singe his nostril hairs. It was heaven. 

“There has been a lot to absorb,” he admitted, his voice a little more gravelly than before. “We lost a lot of good people and a fair few of my crew are going to need support for a fair while. But we’re getting there, we have good systems in place so the Manticore squadron is good to go… although I do have a few requests to make before we leave.”

RJ stayed silent and sipped his drink. He was just glad to be back in uniform, and plus, technically Mason was his superior officer. 

“Okay,” Keith said, leaning back and sipping his own drink. “What do you have for me?” 

Mason shot RJ a glance, but the asshole just sat there, that damned smirk on his face. This was not going to plan at all, an unusual occurrence for Mason. So he reverted to type. Frontal assault. 

“The Manticore is at its heart a warship,” he said bluntly. “I’d like permission to switch out the diplomatic suites to facilitate a heavier payload.”

Keith cleared his throat and sat back, regarding the man across from him with curiosity, “So… you want to strip out the Diplomatic suites… for… bigger guns?” He asked. 

Mason nodded. “Yes.”

RJ moved, crossing one leg over the other and bringing attention to himself without a word. Even though he was sat, his posture was best described as a lounge. “Let’s be real about this. Those suites are just going to gather dust with Captain Sunshine here, and I’m more than happy to host any diplomatic parties on the Resolute…”

Keith chuckled at that, but shook his head, “Look, I fully understand that no one likes the diplomatic missions. They’re long, they’re arduous, they’re absolutely mind numbing… but Starfleet, at its core, is a diplomatic organization, Mason. Besides, I’d think someone with your background would want to help in that capacity,” Keith replied. 

Mason’s expression set, just for a split second before he got it under control. He was out of practise, there had been a time when he wouldn’t have reacted. 

“Is that the stock uniform you’re wearing?” RJ asked, taking another sip of his drink. “Or have you had it tailored? It fits you really well.”

Keith didn’t hide the smirk, “Stock. I’m built like a Starfleet Officer, and I know I look damn good in it,” He quipped back. “Give us a minute, Captain Reese-Riggs. Don’t go too far,” Keith said, nodding toward the door. 

He hadn’t missed the flicker on Mason’s face. It was only a minute, but there was something there that he needed to discuss in private. 

“Of course,” RJ blinked but recovered quickly, grinning as he levered himself out of the chair with insolent grace and headed for the door. He cast a look back quickly, at Mason, his expression unreadable, then the door closed behind him. 

Mason didn’t say anything, letting the silence fill the room as he sized Anderson up. Let a silence develop and people talked, often more than they intended to. 

“So why did it make you squirm a little when I mentioned your background?” Keith asked, ignoring the steely look Mason was giving him. It wasn’t angry, but it was definitely stubborn. 

“Squirm?” Mason winged an eyebrow up. “I don’t think anyone’s accused me of squirming since I was a toddler.” 

“Well,” Keith said with a smirk, “I doubt many people would have noticed to be honest, but I am very observant. Including observing the fact that you ignored my original question.”

Mason gave him a blinding smile, almost as charming as RJ’s. “Which question was that?”

Keith thought about continuing the cat and mouse, but opted to go ahead and pounce, “You’re a diplomat. Big fancy pants from your home world, high ranking, with all the trimmings and trappings of being a politician. You have everything you need to be a diplomatic force in the fleet, but you hide it behind a bullet-minded knuckledragger and I don’t understand why,” he said, bluntly.

Mason leaned back in his chair, not seeing the point in maintaining the rigid soldier posture now the real guns were out. “You did your homework,” he said, oddly charmed by the blunt approach. Most people didn’t try it with him. “You’re observant though. Tell me why.”

“No,” Keith replied. “I have my theories, but I want to hear it from you,” He said.

Keith sat his coffee down and leaned forward, looking the man in front of him dead in the eyes, “See, I feel like you and I aren’t too different at the core, and I think we could work really well together. And I’m happy to keep your secrets for you, but you can’t keep them from me. You have to trust me, and it starts here,” He said, simply. “That’s why I sent your cohort away, so what we say here can be between us.” 

“And believe me,” He said, before Mason could talk, “I’m well aware the danger I’m putting my yoeman in by doing so,” He said, grinning just a bit at Mason.

“You’re good,” Mason grunted, maybe a little begrudgingly, but not many people had bested him quite so easily, or seen through him so quickly. 

“I’m a good soldier,” he said, matching Keith look for look. “And yes, I’m trained in politics and diplomacy… but make no mistake, I am not a good man. This,” he motioned to himself in his starfleet uniform. “The captain act, is just that, an act. I follow the rules,” he said bluntly. “Because I choose to, but I could just as easily choose not to,” he added, well aware it could tank his career. “Do you really want to put someone like that in charge of high level diplomatic negotiations?”

Keith let the silence linger for a minute before he sat back in his chair, “First of all, I don’t believe that. Anyone can choose to follow those rules or not, but it takes a choice and you made yours. It also takes a good man to stand up for someone who’s getting railroaded for something stupid,” Keith said. 

He let that linger a moment before adding, “Word gets around.”

“Yeah, well…” Mason shrugged. “He’s an idiot, but there’s something else going on there.”

He sighed. “I’m not getting those extra weapons, am I?” 

Keith leaned back further in his chair with a grin, “You’ve got a couple secondary science labs that we could probably repurpose for munitions, but you’re keeping the diplomatic quarters. And you’re going to use ‘em,” He answered.

“And, incidentally, I agree with you about RJ. Anything I can do to help in that front, let me know,” He replied. 

He leaned over and tapped the call button, “Elanore, would you please send Captain Reese-Riggs back in?” 

“You knew,” Mason said before the door opened.

“That RJ was harassing my yeoman? Oh yeah, I knew,” Keith said with a wink. “I know lots of things.” 

That worried Mason, rather a bit and he decided there and then he never wanted to be on the opposite side to Anderson in any conflict. 

The door swished open and RJ walked back in. His eyes narrowed as he clocked the body language in the room, and he instantly went on the offensive. 

“You’re right, you do look good in that. You’ll have to let me in on your workout regime.” 

“Sit down, Captain, or I’m going to send you for a cold shower,” Keith replied, rolling his eyes. “Everything is all good, right Mason?” 

Mason nodded. “We’re good, yeah.” 

RJ looked between the two of them, trying to figure what had changed and where the balance of power in the room was now. He’d have said before it was Mason. The guy had more secrets than Pandora’s box, but… Anderson wasn’t the pushover fleet officer he’d initially assumed him to be. Nor had he been flustered by his flirting. That made RJ consider him more closely. 

He sat, still watching them both. 

“Now, I called you guys here because I need to adjust some things with how we’re running. After everything with the uh… Breen in the Deneb sector, we’re adjusting our patrol routes and I want to send you guys along a different route than normal,” He explained. 

Mason inclined his head. “Which route? Given you’re assigning us, then I’m assuming we’re either sending a message, or the route poses significant risks that other ships are not suited for.”

“A little bit of both,” Keith admitted. “We’re going to have you guys here,” He said, pulling up a holodisplay of the region. “These areas were deemed by Starfleet Intelligence as being the highest likelihood of Breen incursion. We want to make sure that if they do come through, we’ve got the firepower in place to stop them,” He explained. 

Both RJ and Mason leaned forward slightly to study the route, one coldly analytical and the joking manner falling away from the other. 

“We’re going to need to operate in tandem in some of these areas. The Resolute to recce, and the Manticore in backup,” Mason mused, but then nodded and looked at Keith again. “When do we leave?”

“Now,” Keith replied. “SFI is concerned that a Breen retaliation is a strong possibility.” 

Mason tilted his head slightly. Both ships were ready to go, he’d just have to go find a certain crew member if he’d hit the bar. “Not a problem, we’ll be ready to leave within the hour. Is there anything else you need from us?”

“Just keep me posted,” Keith replied. “And let me know if you need anything,” He said, then looked over at Mason, “Anything. Okay?” 

“How about a drink when we get back?” RJ interjected smoothly, offering a cheeky grin as they stood. 

“Captain, you couldn’t handle a drink with me,” Keith replied with a smirk, “But you’re welcome to try.” 

“It’s a date then,” RJ quipped back. 

“Come on,” Mason growled, already herding him out. “Before the Captain throws you in the brig for harrassment.”

“It’d be straight to the airlock with him. He’d enjoy the brig too much,” Keith replied, conversationally. “Good luck out there, Captains!” 

The door was just sliding closed as RJ turned and threw back over his shoulder. “Only if handcuffs are involved!” 

Keith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Those two are gonna be trouble,” He said with a chuckle.