As the transporter finished cycling and the transporter room aboard Republic came to his senses, Lieutenant Commander Matt Lake, late of the USS Vamektu, found himself greeted by only two people waiting for him. Or more precisely only one of them was waiting for him, the other was likely just there to facilitate his arrival.

Dismissing the ensign behind the transporter controls and focusing on the lieutenant in front of him, an Orion woman of a solid build in Security yellow, admittedly a guess at her department, he offered a warm smile as he stepped down off the pad. “Lieutenant Commander Matt Lake, permission to come aboard?”

“Permission granted and welcome aboard the USS Republic,” the woman answered, her voice quiet and level. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t place his finger on it straight away. “Lieutenant Selu Levne, Chief of Security,” she introduced herself, then held out a hand to the door exiting the transporter bay. “I apologize that Lieutenant Commander Malcolm couldn’t be here to greet you personally but he’s been called shoreside.”

As they exited out into the corridor, busy with personnel moving around, be it merely rushing from one place to another, or facilitating the receipting and storing of the ship’s stores from the look of it, she led him through the tumult with ease. “A Lieutenant Commander is a little junior to be commanding a new Constitution III, so I’m guessing this Malcolm fellow is the XO?” he asked as he increased his gait to match hers and keep stride.

She might have been shorter than him, but she walked with purpose. That aura, that sense of being, was likely the mystical force parting the seas of junior officers and enlisted, letting two of the ship’s senior officers move around mostly unmolested. She turned her head briefly to look at him, an eyebrow raised, before turning back to look straight ahead. He’d been judged and found wanting clearly.

Again, alarm bells were ringing in his head and again he was failing to understand what his subconscious had picked up on.

“Lieutenant Commander Malcolm is the Chief Engineer for Republic and was, until your arrival, the senior officer aboard ship.”

He stopped. He watched her take a few steps past him, then turn to face him, again with that curious look on her face. “I’m sorry, did you say he was the senior officer aboard ship? Was as in the past tense?”

“That would be correct,” she replied, then turned, her head first, then body in a fluid motion, as she continued down the corridor, forcing him to catch up once more. “According to records you have three weeks of seniority on Commander Malcolm, so until the executive officer reports aboard, you are nominally in command.”

“My first command, how grand,” he said, unable to prevent the sarcasm from infecting his words. “Any word on when the XO is supposed to report aboard ship?”

Levne had led him to a turbolift, pausing in front of the door, the indicator light next to the door showing a car was on the way. “Tomorrow afternoon, ship time,” she answered as the doors parted.

He followed, letting her select the destination and found himself riding the short distance in silence. With a stunning lack of conversation, he turned to study her features, to commit them to memory and see if he could deduce what some quiet part of his own mind had twigged to about her that was odd. Olivine skin tone, dark hair and eyes, strong shoulders, and solid build. Nothing he couldn’t rationalise with what he knew of Orions already.

But whereas he was used to an easy charm from Orions, she was standoffish. Stoic even. She must have noticed him studying her but she’d ignored him. Not even glancing in his direction or asking what he was doing. Just endured the silent study until the turbolift doors parted once more and she continued to lead him through the maze of the ship’s halls. “The ship’s operations chief will also be reporting aboard with the executive officer tomorrow. Until then we’re operating on a schedule of my design. I have you scheduled as officer of the watch tomorrow morning if that is acceptable?”

“Uh, certainly,” he stammered out.

“Your quarters,” Levne suddenly announced as she stopped in front of a door, no different from any of the others on his deck or that they’d passed. A finger pressed to the controls next to it and it parted for him. “The rest of your effects will be brought to you as soon as possible and I have asked Lieutenant Stoner to report to you within the hour to give you a tour of the science labs aboard ship.”

“Uh, thank you.” He squinted at her then, studying her and in response, she raised a single eyebrow at him. It was a near-universal expression, the unspoken question prompting the first person to explain themselves. But it was enough for his subconscious to finally let his conscious mind in on what it had deduced. Or wildly speculated at. “Tell me, Lieutenant, out of curiosity, do you have any Vulcan ancestors by any chance?”

The eyebrow settled back down, which Matt had learned from his years working with Vulcans was either ‘everything is back to normal’ or a non-verbal sigh. He had never managed to figure out which was which, even with other context clues. There must have been some other body language sign he was missing and Vulcans just weren’t willing to explain it. A ‘you wouldn’t get it if we tried’ cultural thing. Something best learned through cultural absorption, like a child in their formative years.

“Senior officer personnel records are available for your perusal,” Levne answered. “If that is all Lieutenant Commander?”

“Certainly. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

 With a brief nod, she turned on her heel and was off, leaving him to stare through the doorway and into his new quarters. It was intensely barebones, with just the barest of furniture present. There was no warmth, no character to the room. He could have stepped into a dozen other quarters on this deck and likely only known the difference by the view outside the windows.

“Oh, this just isn’t going to do,” he muttered and stepped inside, tossing his carry bag onto the provided grey couch. He’d had hotel rooms with more character to them. “Not going to do at all.” Then he looked out the window, catching the disc of Avalon, the blue-green tantalizing to those in orbit. “Wonder how quickly I can get things delivered?” he asked, thought about it for a few moments, then marched towards the desk and the console waiting there.

One couldn’t judge a bit of procurement for decoration now could they?