Engineering teams had worked over the two aging transport ships after their generous donation by Harris Transport.  Ensign Gabriela Castillo adjusted the worn seat in the cockpit, grumbling about the lack of…well, everything.  “It's been a while since I flew something like this.”

Quartermaster Henry Wyatt stepped into the cramped cockpit, eyeing the ancient console, “The good news is they'll believe that we're broke space pirates scraping our way across the galaxy.  Emphasis on the scrape.”  He'd seen his share of shuttles and transports in his lifetime.  Harris Transport had found some real winners in a nearby sector.  “What are we calling this old girl?”

Castillo clicked the switches and felt surprised at the system's response, “I say we call this one Grandma.  Reminds me of mine. Stubborn and refuses to die.  My mother would prefer her to take that last trip sooner.”  She laughed at the amused look from Wyatt, “They've never gotten along for very long.  It's why they live across the country from each other…but Grandma figured out how to use her personal transporter a month ago without needing her nurse's authorization code.”

Henry mused, “I suppose that went as well as Kirk and Khan's second meeting?”

The Chief Flight Control Officer nodded gravely, “And there's no nebula to hide in for either of them.  It makes me glad I'm here…and not there.  The messages I get are quite enough.”  She clicked a few more switches as the flickering displays confirmed the sputtering warp engines were coming online, “They did a great job making this thing barely workable.”

Wyatt sighed, “Well, as long as they get us back home in one piece, I'm happy.”  He returned his attention to the tiny cabin with his checklist.

“This isn't going to end well.”  On the other shuttle, Chief Medical Officer Henry Longfellow had strapped himself into his seat in the cabin and was staring at the low ceiling, musing about his life ending in a transport that was older than him.  To his right, Chief Communications Officer Oscar Reede was trying not to listen to the man too much.  His graduation from the academy was coming at the end of the month.  He very much wanted to live to see that day.

“Doc, has anyone told you are a pessimist?”  Reede was practicing his breathing, but he couldn't hold his tongue.  Longfellow had been complaining since they'd stepped aboard the shuttle, and he'd kept it up once they'd left the shuttle bay, and now, as they were sitting alone in space with the other transport to keep them company, he was starting to understand why some cadets joked about throwing annoying officers out of airlocks.

Henry smiled, “I prefer cynical pessimist, thankyouverymuch.”  He tapped at the metal floor with his feet, “You are not the first and certainly not the last.”  Despite how tightly he had strapped himself into the seat, he managed a shrug, “I'll be the one putting y'all together, so I've earned my griping, cadet.”

Chief Counselor Juliet Woodward cast a scowl at Longfellow as she took the seat across from him, “We've talked about this, Henry.”

“We did.  I remember our conversation.”

“And?”

He pursed his lips, “I'm a work in progress, counselor.”

Woodward grumbled, “Well, work harder, Doc.”  She returned to the checklists while Chief Of Security Seraphina Pearce worked in the cockpit.  She could hear her cursing the tight space and didn't blame her.  Transport and pirate shuttles rarely featured the amenities of Starfleet-level comfort.  No wonder the folks who served on these ships were always pissed or upset at something.

Pearce squeezed out of the cockpit, irritated, “I will shoot the goddamned idiot who thought this was a good idea.”

Longfellow mused, “They're probably dead, Chief.”

The security chief stared at him, her annoyances bubbling, “Then I'll dig the bastard up and shoot ‘em again.  You see that insanity?” She gestured forcefully back where she had come, “I’m liable to blow this thing up when we're done with it.”

Juliet raised her hands to quiet the contention, “I'm not wearing my referee shirt.  Can we get on our way?”

Seraphina sighed, “We need to devise a name for the ship.  The other crew is calling theirs ‘Grandma.’  Whatever we come up with must make sense and connect to our backstory.”

Longfellow offered, “The Other Grandma?”  He rolled his eyes at the accusing stares, “We're not a family company…we're scrabbling on the floor when it comes to making ends meet.  Creativity isn't going to be high on the list of a company trying to survive.  Besides, Grandpa would be too convenient.”

Pearce wasn't mad about the idea, “That's…not the worst thing you've said all day, doc.”  The others nodded their heads after a moment of contemplation. “I'll input it into the computer.  Grandma is ready, so we will head straight for the colony.  It'll take us an hour or so to get there with these low-end warp engines.  Get familiar with your story and history…and be ready to roll out when we land.  We've got a lot to prove in a very short amount of time.”  She returned to the cockpit, cursing as she forced herself into the position.  “Hold onto…well, whatever you can!”