Most of Captain Nushif Ejoma’s early childhood was spent among Vedeks and Priests of the Bajoran faith. Her family had always been called to the clergy, so growing up around asceticism had just been a fact of life. Liminal spaces and sparse accommodations with the bare minimum of creature comforts were not outside of the norm, and though her parents were relatively well off merchants, the Occupation had done them no favors in being able to provide more than that. Truthfully, even had they had the inkling to do it, the family’s predilection meant that function was the preference over comfort. 

Her time in the Bajoran Militia (the resistance having basically become the local guard/police force) meant her experiences in space travel remained largely the same as her experience on the ground. Even her first command, the Lightship Rakantha, was sparse in both its open space and accommodations. When she’d joined Starfleet and been assigned to one of the most prestigious, advanced, and massive ships that the Fleet had ever put afield, it had been a culture shock. She suddenly found herself with enough space to really sprawl out, collect belongings, and make a comfortable home for herself in her four years aboard the USS Ride.  She hadn’t done so, but it was comforting knowing that it was at least a possibility. 

Now, at the behest of the Admiralty, she had her own command for the second time in her life. It was bigger than the Rakantha, but miniscule compared to the Ride. This became glaringly clear to her as she looked around her new ready room. On the Ride she’d had an office with a sectional sofa, a few chairs, a table, and a large desk where she could conduct work with her colleagues. Her current ready room offered a window, an optional fish tank (it was currently empty of both water and fish,) a modestly sized desk with built-in display, and a chair on either side for both her and another person to sit in. Against the bulkhead was one decently sized window, with a small settee directly underneath. This was precisely five steps from her desk. She had measured. The word “spartan” came to mind. 

Stepping out of the small office, she took a brief look around the Bridge before sitting in the command seat. The Bridge was empty, as the Siren was docked and still receiving her final complement of crew. The Bridge was comparatively less spartan, though nowhere near the grandiose size of the Odyssey class Bridge she’d grown accustomed to. She suspected there would be a great many things about this ship to grow accustomed to, and the thought put a smile on her face.

The telltale swish of the turbolift doors took Ejoma out of her thoughts, and she turned her head toward the sound. A familiar woman stepped out, with a polite smile on her face. 

“Commander Greystone,” Ejoma responded, a somewhat shocked tone in her voice. “Of all of the people I expected to walk onto my bridge…you would be at least ten to twelve people past the bottom.” 

Stepping across the bridge, and handing the Bajoran woman a PADD, Greystone responded, “Lieutenant Commander Amanda F Greystone, reporting as ordered by Task Force 47 Operations. If you’ll read the PADD sir, you’ll see I’ve been assigned to be your mission specialist while you investigate the nearby Borg signal and ascertain who else is interested in it other than Starfleet. There was no reason for me to stay at Brunel Station while they determine what to do with it, and truth be told sir, I’m glad they’ve assigned me where my absurdly vast knowledge of the Borg Collective can be put to use. I’m also an engineer of no small skill should the need arise, and recent unfortunate events aside have a flawless track record.” 

Ejoma had effectively been reading the orders as the woman was reciting them. She looked up from the PADD and exhaled sharply. Greystone had been less than forthcoming about what was going on at Brunel Station, whether by omission or by order, and it had cost the lives of most of her own team. 

“Candidly, Captain, I don’t want to be on any ship at all, let alone yours specifically, any more than you do. But the Borg are a threat, and the needs of the many outweigh those of a girl who’s never felt comfortable flying through space on antimatter and dilithium. I can spend the entirety of my posting in a science or engineering lab, if you’re comfortable with that. I can scour the sensor data and provide you reports on an hourly…” 

“Are you going to let me get a word in edgewise, Commander?” Ejoma asked, a smirk on her face. 

Exhaling deeply, Greystone responded “I apologize sir. This is new to me. I’m still grieving the loss of my team but…it sounds like there’s a lot of Borg tech out there and a lot of real terrible people that want to get their hands on it.” 

“We aren’t exactly the best people to have their hands on it either Commander, but your point is a good one. I’ve got a capable engineer in Engineering, and I’ve got staff for the science labs. I’d prefer you up here on the Bridge providing your insight as the new command team and I power through our first mission into the Thomar Expanse.” 

Handing the PADD back, she continued, “What we’re not going to do is dredge up recent unfortunate events on Brunel Station, argue about what could have gone better, or discuss anything related to that. You’re likely beating yourself up more than I ever could, and I’m reasonably certain you had orders to remain tight-lipped about what you were doing.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You’re right. The Borg are a threat. You’re one of the most knowledgeable on the subject. We’ll be lucky to have your expertise out there. Familiarize yourself with the ship, get the rest of your gear transferred over, and report back to the Bridge at 0900.” 

Greystone nodded, and after a moment of silence said, “Thank you for making this easier than I expected it to be, Captain. I’m looking forward to working with you,” before turning toward the turbolift.