“Quite the record you have here Commander,” Mac stated as he tapped at one of the inactive padds on his desk. “And quite the list of rumours, accusations and intelligence briefings about you here as well, Captain Sidda,” he continued, emphasising the rank while tapping at another padd on his desk. “Piracy, blackmail, extortion, political revolution and even murder. Ranging across the Klingon Empire, the Federation and the balkanised Romulan territories.”

“Usually done in self-defence,” Sidda responded, smiling innocently at him.

“Usually?” Mac answered, sitting back in his chair and studying the Orion woman who was sitting across from him. She radiated self-confidence even more so than his former captain did and for some reason, it wasn’t sitting well with him at this time.

“Usually. I preferred to let someone try and kill me first before I killed them. But sometimes, if I had a really good reason and the person was absolute scum, I wouldn’t be averse to jumping the gun on them.” She kept smiling, relaxing as he had and set her hands down on a crossed knee. “I wasn’t always in a position where I could capture pirates, slavers and murderers to drop off with a Federation or Klingon magistrate. And in the case of the latter, I’m sure I was doing them a kindness.”

“I’m sure,” he said as he pursed his lips in thought. “And the political revolutions? Two of them on Romulan worlds.”

“One was a pack of old Imperial nobles wanting to kill me, enslave my crew and steal my ship to build their own pocket empire. The other was all circumstance – visiting while the Rator collapse kicked off, the governor refusing to let my people rescue me, slave revolts and inter-faction fighting. I was just seeking a resolution to multiple problems all at once.” She shrugged, again with that easy smile. “I think Ta’shen is now a member of the Republic and sends the only non-Romulan or Reman to their Senate.”

“I see.” He’d been impressed by the personnel jacket he’d been provided. Unlike many officers, he didn’t have a problem with Starfleet Intelligence, as long as they didn’t interfere in his day-to-day. And Sidda’s record had been impressive. But then digging around, calling in a few favours and reading news articles had given him alternative details or countervailing stories that didn’t sit right.

“I know my actions while on assignment with Intelligence don’t align with the expectations for a typical Starfleet officer, Captain MacIntyre, but I had a role to play and the expectations of the community I was involved with to live up to.” Sidda’s speech he noted was clear, precise and well-spoken. His mind leapt to label it as ‘educated’, though through the lens of his upbringing, it really meant well-to-do layabout with an overinflated sense of self. “But you can corroborate details with Lieutenant Jenu if you wish. She was embedded on my ship without my knowledge by Intelligence officials who hadn’t been briefed on my mission.”

“Who watches the watchers, eh? I’ll do that,” Mac said, again keeping himself tight-lipped. “And your transition back into regular duty, how are you finding it?”

“Refreshing,” Sidda answered. “I’m still bringing myself up to scratch on the changes in regulations. Starfleet loves bureaucracy.”

At that Mac couldn’t help but smile. And there was no use in squashing it after he found himself doing it. “Lawyers, I’ve been told before, are as fundamental to the universe as hydrogen.”

“And infinitely less useful,” Sidda responded with a slight chuckle. “I’ll be honest though, I am finding more than a few of the regs to be…burdensome. I’m sure they had a specific reason birthing them into existence though.”

“Undoubtably.” A deep breath in, a slow breath out. He was still studying her, still trying to place things in his own mind when it came to Sidda Sadovu. “You’ve had Republic for two weeks, running an errand out to Gateway Station.” He raised a hand to stop her from speaking, her body language giving her intent away. “Commodore Sudari-Kravchik’s permission has been relayed to me and if I ever feel the need to ask more, I’ll do it over a pint.” She nodded to him with a slight sideways tilt of her head, still smiling before he continued. “During that two weeks however it would appear that Commander Malcolm has managed to write no less than three separate complaints ‘for the new captain’ about you.”

“Guess it’s too much to ask to see them by any chance?” she asked, continuing after he shook his head. “Had to try. Commander Malcolm has made his displeasure with Intelligence known to me and known to my wife as well.”

“Crewman Sadovu-th’Ven, yes?”

“That’s her.” Sidda’s expressions shifted subtly. It wasn’t a trained or practised mask of smiles and happiness, but actual happiness. Could he define it exactly? No, but he could tell when he saw it just then. “Anyway, Evan Malcolm is a competent, skilled and knowledgeable engineer. He just has firm opinions on Intelligence. And he’s heard or read enough rumours about me to…taint his opinion of me in a deleterious manner.”

“Careful Commander, you’re starting to sound like one of those lawyers.”

“Goddesses forbid,” Sidda quipped. “I don’t hold Malcolm’s prejudices against him, just yet. He’s a construction worker who’s being forced into the Fleet to qualify for a promotion. And we badly need skilled Engineers after Frontier Day. The fleet is a bit messier than a shipyard and most people probably have a view of Intelligence being the…dirtier aspect of the Federation they’d not like to think about. I’ll turn him around eventually.”

“Perhaps consider easing up on the charm? He might see it as you trying to butter him after all for something. Just…be?” He cringed inside as he said that. “Just, relax around him for now. We’ll figure out a strategy for dealing with him that hopefully means you and he can work together and my inbox doesn’t get filled.”

She nodded in understanding a few times and he continued, picking up yet another padd to refresh his memory before continuing. “A klingon disruptor, two knives and a sword, which I’ve been told is a monomolecular edged blade made of duranium that matches Federation starship hulls.”

“Girls gotta have hobbies,” Sidda joked. “So, the disruptor…”

Hours later, many hours later even, well past the end of the interview, which turned into a working meeting at some point without any conscious effort, and Mac finally found himself walking through the doors on his own quarters. It had been a long, meeting-filled day. He’d seen his quarters earlier, admired the stark emptiness but wealth of volume he was assigned as ship’s captain and then not thought about them at all until just now. The social space had all the accoutrements one would expect – a table and chairs, a few couches and a coffee table, and a workstation for even more ‘don’t bother me’ work. The bedroom had been equally as bland but would be serviceable for now.

He’d walked through the door rubbing at the bridge of his nose, then his eyes, trying to work some energy into them, which is why he’d missed that someone was already there, waiting for him. Blake Pisani had somehow gained access to his quarters well in advance of his granting access and had made herself at home on one of the couches, feet kicked up and over one arm, head supported by a couple of pillows as she read from a padd, earbuds blasting music into her ears and her’s alone.

She hadn’t seen him enter or heard him over whatever wretched audio torture she was favouring currently. So he took the opportunity to take off his boots, to pop into the bedroom and strip off his tunic, hanging it properly, before he returned to the lounge. A gentle prodding or sliding into her peripheral vision wasn’t going to cut it this time to get her attention. Instead, he just walked over and pried the padd from her hands in one swift action, bringing it up to read.

“Hey!” Blake shouted, but any further protest was cut off.

“The initial response of the aircraft to a longitudinal stick input is greatly dependent on the dynamic -.” He stopped reading aloud the contents on the screen and looked down at Blake, who was moving to sit up on the couch, pulling earbuds from her ears. “Is this a flight manual for an airplane?”

“Yes,” Blake answered. “Tikva pissed me off by being actually good at my holoprogram, so I thought I’d read up on what I was playing at.”

He looked at her, holding up the padd. “You could be reading the manual for shuttle operations you know. Getting better at flying something a bit more modern.”

“And put all those fancy flyers you have out of a job?” Blake answered, getting to her feet. She took back the padd and tossed it onto the other couch before stepping right up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him briefly. “Hope you don’t mind I broke in.”

“No, but I am interested in how you did it,” he answered, wrapping his own arms around her waist. “I’m going to find a chief medical officer override in the logs aren’t I?”

“Maybe,” Blake answered ruefully, following it with a smile. “So, how was your first day as captain?”

“Exhausting. Mentally that is.”

“Think you can work with this crew?”

“I can work with Sadovu,” he answered. “The others…well if I can’t, I’ll let Sadovu make them walk the plank. But they all seem a mostly…interesting bunch.”

Blake chuckled briefly, then turned Mac loose before turning him and pushing him back onto the couch before marching triumphantly towards the replicator, ordering two cups of tea and a smattering of biscuits. The replicator in its programmed wisdom threw in the tray without request, allowing Blake to bring it all over with ease.

“Now,” she started, handing over one cup to him, claiming a biscuit for herself then her own cup, “why don’t you tell me about it, hmm?”