Captain’s Log, stardate 78335.5

Captain’s log. Honestly, a few years ago I doubted I’d ever say those words. But recently started wondering when I would get to say them. And now here I am.

So, I think I’ll let this be nice a short.

The ship and crew are ready to deploy. The captain, not so much just yet. Give me a few days, let me read all the paperwork, then we can go cause chaos somewhere.

The door to the ready room hissed open upon Mac’s command and in stalked Blake Pisani, who didn’t even bother to say hello as she looked around, eyes locked on the replicator and went straight for it. “Two scotch whiskeys, neat, double.”

“Please specify whiskey of choice,” the device responded.

“Blake,” Mac started to say from his seat, only to stop as she held out a hand to him, a single raised finger telling him to be quiet.

Blake’s attention was on the list the replicator provided for a mere second before she tapped on one of the options, then scooped up both glasses as they appeared. “Doctor’s orders,” she stated as she approached Mac’s desk, setting one in front of him before perching herself on the edge of the desk facing him. “A promotion and a new ship are nerve-wracking experiences and we can’t have you suffering nerves.” And to punctuate the point, she took a hefty sip of her drink.

“It’s lunchtime,” he countered, then sighed and conceded defeat as she turned her professional glare on him. A small sip satisfied her for now and brought a small cough from him as the whiskey burned its way down. “Happy now Doctor Pisani?” he asked as he set the tumbler down amongst the padds.

“Marginally,” she answered, then nudged his leg with her own as she smiled. “Your own ship eh?”

“Honestly, I’m still having trouble believing it. It’s been two hours, and I’m still waiting for a surprise to jump out of a cupboard. I spent the whole tour expecting something, anything to happen.” He pushed back from his desk, littered with padds and his personal computer, display alive with profiles. “I should have called you as soon as I could.”

“Yes, you should,” Blake answered but shrugged it off. “Not that I’d have had a chance to talk. Lin and Rrr got to me just as you and the boss beamed over here and told me the news. Still haven’t packed and moved everything over, but they helped me get the essentials over at least. Going back this evening to move everything else.”

“Oh shit, I hadn’t even thought about my quarters.” With that realisation, he reached out for the whiskey tumbler and brought it back to his lips for another sip. For the nerves after all, or so his doctor had informed him. “I’ve seen my schedule for the next two days and I don’t know when I’ll get time before either we or Atlantis have to disappear off to who knows where.”

“Lin told me that Fightmaster is sorting your quarters out. And no, I asked, we’re not going to be allowed to steal him. Or clone him.”

“Tikva would kill me if I tried. She hated the idea at first of a yeoman but honestly, Fightmaster has done wonders. Going to do my best to keep squadron paperwork to a minimum for both of them.”

“They’ll appreciate it,” Blake said. “Any guesses on who’s taking your seat over there?”

“Velan would be the logical choice. He’s the second officer, good record, and knows the crew. And Gérard deserves a chance at the engines. But,” Mac trailed off, using the time to take a sip from his whiskey again, only a single cough this time and plaintive ‘smooth’. “Tikva told me apparently Atlantis is receiving an exchange officer for at least six months to fill my position.”

“An exchange officer? From who? Gods, a Klingon on her bridge is a recipe for disaster.”

“Yeah, but for who?” Mac asked, earning a shrug from Blake. “But no, not a Klingon, that much I have been reassured. The Empire is dealing with things.”

“Things?”

“Things,” Mac repeated. “But that’s all I know. Whoever she gets, it’ll be an adventure.” He leaned forward, collected a specific padd, checked it and then handed it over to Blake for her to look at. “I’ve got my own adventure as well.”

Blake took the padd with a quizzical look and a sip of her drink. “Let’s see, your CMO is a mess.”

“A hot mess,” Mac interrupted.

“No argument,” Blake replied. “Your XO is ex-Intel, and so is your Ops officer. Fun. Oh, and they spent time undercover as pirates?”

“Yeah, over in the Archanis Sector. Years in fact.” Mac sat back, leaning his chair as Blake continued to read. “But honestly, my read of Sadovu so far is she’s on the level.”

“Asked the boss for her read? What with her Betazoid gifts?”

“I did not. Haven’t had a chance. And it’s my problem to sort out anyway.”

“Huh.” Blake continued reading. “Beckman looks like a hotshot. Oh, picked a fight with Red Squad at the Academy. Eh, mark in her favour as far as I’m concerned.”

“And a mark for some dangerous flying at the Academy, but otherwise nothing major since then. An early promotion, so she must be good at her job. But she’s now at a leadership level, so here’s hoping.”

“Want me to have a word with her? Gauge things? After all, I’m only a lieutenant.” Blake gave him a questioning look, head tilted to the side.

“Can’t hurt,” Mac answered. “I just want to make sure I don’t have a bomb on my bridge waiting to go off.”

Blake set her glass down to free a hand and scrolled down the list further. “Lake looks a model officer, and so does Levne, though this medical absence in her record intrigues me. Huh…an engineer who has never had a ship deployment till now.”

“He did build Republic and oversaw her construction trials. He knows his stuff,” Mac reassured. “But yes, a little concerning.”

“Huh.” The padd was set down, the whiskey reclaimed. “So, yeah, fun adventure.”

“Second best adventure I’m on.” Mac finished his whiskey and slowly got to his feet.

“Second best?” Blake asked. “What’s the first?”

“Whatever this is,” he answered, waving between the two of them. “Glad I’m going to have you with me.”

“Smooth,” Blake answered, slipping off the edge of the desk and onto her own feet. “Lunch?”

“Read my mind. Beam over to the station, picnic in the same park as last time?”

“Rank hath its privileges it would seem,” Blake answered before she reached out and took one of Mac’s in her own and led him towards the door. “But no hun, we’re having lunch in the Agora.” She smiled at his quizzical look. “Republic’s Port Royal. The crew need to see their new captain.”

“And you want to let anyone who might be interested know I’m off the menu,” he said as she dragged him away from his work, though not with much resistance from him. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I shall neither confirm, nor deny that,” Blake answered as the doors to the bridge hissed open. “Now come on, I’m hungry.”