A light thud echoed continuously through the moving turbo lift, just loud enough to draw the attention of the blonde Bajoran casually leaning on the rail at the back of the car. “Will you stop that?!” She asked in an accusatory tone, definitely more of a command than a request, which was surprising given who it was directed at.

Removing the tip of his right index finger from his lips, Giarvar glanced across the car at his executive officer, somewhat confused by her order. “Stop what?” He asked with furrowed brows.

“That!” She declared with a stifled laugh, pointing at the man’s left foot which was tapping, apparently, without his permission or acknowledgement.

As soon as it became clear what his subordinate was referencing, the Captain made a conscious effort to stop, and smiled sheepishly at the ‘Blonde Bombshell’.

“Why are you nervous? You’ve done this before on Arimathea, what’s the problem?” Noli folded her arms across her chest, regarding the man curiously. She’d served with him a little while now and when she had, she knew him to be confident, assured and a people person. He’d had no problem getting to know people on Hathaway, or stepping up to command of the Arimathea, so it was strange to see him acting this way here.

“This crew has been through a lot in recent months,” Giarvar responded, reaching up with his left hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his head. “Nearly thirty of their crew were killed on Frontier Day, including their captain and first officer. I can’t blame those that left, but we’ve still got so many people here who are going to need support to get past what happened.”

“Do you think Romaes would have been a better option? Or Nazir?” The blonde asked with a twitch of her head and her trademark sass. “Romaes is used to sending people to do the impossible, not dealing with it himself, and I love the Boss, you know I do. We’ve all been through a lot together, but she isn’t the people person this crew needs. Most of the people here are youngsters not trained to deal with the sort of things they have seen and experienced lately. They don’t need Romaes; they don’t need the Boss. They need you, Giarvar,” the XO told in her assured tone and with a smile that tried its best to convey the belief that she had in him. “I wouldn’t have accepted the transfer if I didn’t think this was for the best. Let me be the hard ass, and you do what you do best,” she suggested with a cocked head.

Kauhn hung on his friend’s every word, nodding in all the right places and smiling when she had finished, appreciative of the way she kept him grounded. Having her join him as first officer was one of the few bright lights at the end of this new tunnel he was about to travel down, and for that he was very grateful. After all, she could have rejected the assignment and stayed with ‘the Boss’ on Lakota, but she had been happy to join him on the significantly smaller, far less glamorous posting of the Osiris.

At over half the size of the squadron flagship, the Reliant-class frigate they were now calling home was still relatively impressive for a ship of its size. Boasting an impressive sensor suite, not-so-insignificant armaments and efficient engines, Osiris would complement the flagship well, serving closer to home and getting her proverbial hands dirty doing the jobs no one else wanted. And that was just the way Captain Kauhn, and his Bajoran companion, liked it. He was also lucky that he’d been able to convince a number of his colleagues that this was a posting that would be rewarding and beneficial, both to them personally and to the greater good of Starfleet. Noli had tried to tell him that they were joining because of their belief in him, but he was certain that wasn’t the case. Not entirely anyway.

Promoting Hathaway’s assistant medical officer, the Cardassian Lieutenant Keshah Iddar, to her own sickbay had been a no-brainer; she was talented and a hard worker. For those from the Arimathea, like Lieutenant’s Natalia Usmanov, Linn Mora and Josue Torres, the option was pretty easy – join Osiris or potentially be shipped elsewhere. They all seemed happy enough with the decision. Akaria had been a tough cookie to crack. When it became clear that the command staff from across the squadron had been negotiating over personnel, Akaria had been hoping for the Lakota, and a return to the flagship. She’d felt a little disappointed when she found out that the Boss had picked some Orion woman over her, but Giarvar had done his best to address her concerns. While Osiris wasn’t a science vessel, it would present her with the opportunity to step up and work alongside the command team as the ship’s second officer, her first step up the ladder of command. Convincing Lieutenant Henry ‘Flyboy’ Mitchell of their project had been the hardest task of all. After all, who would want to pilot an eleven-deck frigate when they could pilot the squadron’s far-superior flagship? As it turned out, Henry would. He wanted the challenge. He wanted the chance to do something different.

Despite all these familiar faces, he still felt the nerves as the turbo lift slowed to a halt and he prepared to step onto the bridge for the first time. He expected it to be small, cramped, probably nowhere near as sophisticated as that of the Hathaway, but as the doors parted and he stepped out, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Large. Spacious. Modern. Everything he had hoped for in a command center. With almost a dozen duty stations around the room, including several facing inwards to no doubt aid their functions, he was certain that there would be a lot of work taking place there even on the quietest of days. The bridge of a science ship wasn’t the most functional of rooms sometimes, but this would surely be different. In fact, it already was.

Even docked at Avalon Fleet Yards, the bridge was a hive of activity, with personnel of all shapes, sizes and uniform colours darting about to conduct their business. Actually… it was all a little too focused. Too busy. It drew a confused glance from the Captain in the direction of Noli.

She didn’t need words from her commander to spring into action. Taking two steps forward, she lifted her right hand and placed her thumb and index fingers together into her mouth before unleashing an almost ear-splitting whistle that stopped everyone in their tracks. Dozens of eyes became laser-targeted upon the Captain and his right-hand woman. Looking around, she saw no familiar faces present, so changed tactics. “Who is in command here?” she asked.

Out of the crowd of people, a dark-haired man clad in operations yellow emerged. Thick eyebrows, studious expression, pointed ears. Two silver pips adorned his black collar. Standing before the two officers, the Vulcan nodded respectfully. “Lieutenant Voran,” he told, “chief tactical operations officer.”

“What’s the meaning of this chaos?” Giarvar stepped forward now, out from the shadow of his bad cop and took the lead from his partner in crime.

“Apologies, Captain. During your absence, we received orders from the flagship and as the senior most officer, I felt it prudent to action those orders,” Voran explained as he looked around the room. “The crew were simply following my directives.”

Giarvar and Noli shared a quick glance, and then the Captain addressed the Vulcan again. “What orders? The squadron has only just formed up.”

Stepping aside and gesturing to a slightly curved station directly behind the command chair at the heart of the bridge, the Vulcan welcomed the two senior officers further into the command center. Tapping at the controls, he brought up the orders from the flagship and waited for the Captain to share them with his subordinate. It only took a few moments for the two to read their very concise orders.

“A mission already?” Noli mused, folding her arms across her chest, eyes still focused on the text on the computer display until Giarvar pulled her aside for a quiet assessment of their situation. “Two days will go quickly. We’ve not managed any departmental reviews or situational reports. We haven’t even got the senior staff aboard yet,” the blonde whispered surreptitiously to the Captain.

“Probably the reason for the chaos,” Giarvar nodded slowly, echoing her stance. “We’ll proceed as the orders dictate, but let’s get our house in order first,” he instructed, eliciting a nod from his subordinate. Taking a step back from the console, he turned to the crew, his crew.

“We have our orders everyone,” he nodded, “but we will proceed calmly and with prudence. Go about your duties, get your departments cleared, and we’ll be ready should the Buran need us.”

“Senior staff will be reporting in over the next few hours. Ensure they are up to date as soon as they come aboard,” Noli decreed to a stunned silence as everyone watched, and waited. It wasn’t until she took a somewhat angry step forward and clapped her hands together sharply that people began to move once again and went about their business in a calmer fashion than before.

Standing with their hands on their hips, subconsciously mimicking each other, the two command officers couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh. This was going to be a crew that needed whipping into shape. And fast.