The runabout sliced through the fabric of space like a needle through silk, its warp engines humming with a harmonious symphony of energy. Inside the cockpit, Lieutenant Jenner’s knuckles whitened as she pushed the control panel, her eyes fixed on the swirling vortex of light outside the viewport. Beside her, Ensign Lavoy monitored the ship’s systems, his fingers dancing across the console with practiced precision.

Through the canopy, the stars elongated into streaks of brilliance, painting the void with ribbons of light as the runabout surged forward at warp speed. The thrum of the engines reverberated through the cabin, a steady pulse that seemed to synchronize with the beating of their hearts.

Then, with a suddenness that took their breath away, the streaks of light outside the viewport began to contract, folding in on themselves like a collapsing star. The warp tunnel shrank to a point before vanishing altogether, leaving the runabout suspended in the vastness space.

Lieutenant Jenner released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the ship’s trajectory. Ensign Lavoy let out a low whistle of admiration, his eyes wide with wonder as he gazed out at their destination, a Sagan-class starship, that had just appeared.

Jenner cast her eyes over the Sagan-class, her admiration evident in the soft curve of her smile. “There she is, The Hathaway, what a beaut,” she remarked, her voice tinged with appreciation.

A voice interrupted from behind, its tone measured yet inviting. “I think the four-nacelle design takes some getting used to.”

It was Commander Jinaril Miller, the soon-to-be Executive Officer of the Hathaway, an esteemed position often referred to as ‘Number One.’

Lavoy seemed to hesitate for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, it does,” he agreed, trying to mask his surprise at the unexpected input from the Commander.

“It’s okay to like it, Ensign,” Jinaril continued, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t have to agree with me just because I outrank you.”

Ensign Lavoy’s cheeks flushed crimson, caught off guard by Jinaril’s understanding. Beside him, Lieutenant Jenner couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene unfolding.

Meanwhile, Jinaril’s gaze drifted out of the canopy, where the runabout had nearly aligned perfectly with the center of the four massive nacelles. They were now approaching the main shuttle bay, nestled within the saucer section’s central hub.

The runabout’s airlocks sighed, releasing pressure with a soft hiss, before the doors parted with a mechanical whir. Jinaril, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder, stepped onto the cargo bay’s floor, greeted by the cool touch of metal beneath his boots.

“Ensign, Lieutenant, thanks for the lift,” he expressed, his hand gracefully gesturing as he exited the craft. With each step onto the bay’s surface, a subtle tremor rippled through the deck, a silent confirmation of the dampeners’ efficacy.

Before he could proceed further, a deep, resonant voice cut through the bustling ambiance.

“Commander Miller, welcome aboard,” a Lieutenant, his Klingon heritage evident from the prominent ridges on his forehead, greeted Jinaril with a confident stride.

“I am Lieutenant Ay’dar, the Hathaway‘s Chief Tactical Operations Officer. Captain Romaes requests your presence for a personal welcome if you would follow me.”

Jinaril nodded, his lips curving into a cordial smile. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. But I’d like to see to my luggage first.”

“We’ve got that covered, sir,” Ay’dar assured, signaling to an ensign who promptly approached to relieve Jinaril of his bag.

Handing over his duffle bag with a grin, Jinaril quipped, “I guess that leaves me no choice.”

He then trailed after Ay’dar toward the nearest turbolift, taking in the lively scene around him. It had been some time since he had been in such a bustling cargo bay. Hathaway’s crew worked in efficient synchrony, managing the various tasks of loading and securing cargo with practiced ease.

“So, how long have you been stationed here?” Jinaril inquired as they entered the turbolift.

“Where, sir?” Ay’dar replied.

Jinaril chuckled softly. “On the Hathaway, of course.”

“Yes,” Ay’dar confirmed with brevity.

“Ah,” Jinaril acknowledged, sensing the Lieutenant’s reserved demeanor, and decided to probe further.

“And have you been serving in Starfleet long?” he asked as the turbolift doors slid shut.

Ay’dar emitted a soft sound, almost a grunt, lost amidst the closing mechanism’s hum.

“Yes, I have,” he eventually responded, before issuing the command, “Deck One, Bridge.”

‘At least he’s just as courteous with the turbolift,’ Jinaril mused to himself, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes as he casually leaned against the turbolift wall, his gaze fixed on Lieutenant Ay’dar, hoping for a more substantial response to his question. “So, Captain Romaes, is he on the bridge?”

Ay’dar emitted another of those grunting sounds, but this time, it was not followed by a verbal answer.

A playful smirk played on Jinaril’s lips. “Lieutenant Ay’dar,” he persisted with a light chuckle, “I believe grunting isn’t quite the Starfleet way of answering, is it?” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. But before Ay’dar could react, if he was going to, the turbolift doors whisked open, revealing the epicentre of the Hathaway – it’s Main Bridge.

As Jinaril stepped onto the bridge, he was struck by the sight of the crew members working diligently at their stations, each one a cog in the well-oiled machine that was the Hathaway. The new consoles emitted a soft blue glow, casting an ethereal hue over the bustling workspace.

Ay’dar had already reached the command chairs, engaged in conversation with the figure occupying the center seat. From a distance, Jinaril noted the hints of gray in the man’s hair, the stubble on his jawline, and the distinctive ridges on his nose. As the man turned towards him, a glint of light caught on an earring adorning his right ear.

It was Captain Romaes Anjin, the esteemed Commanding Officer of the USS Hathaway.

With a respectful nod, Jinaril approached the command area, offering a warm smile. “Captain Romaes,” he greeted, his voice steady and respectful, “I am Commander Jinaril Miller, reporting for duty as your Executive Officer.”

Using the arms of his chair, the Captain propelled himself to his feet and offered the younger man a hand in warm greeting. “Welcome to the Hathaway, Commander. I hope she’s everything you thought she would be?”

The handshake caught Jinaril off guard, a firm grip that didn’t quite belong to the Bajoran customs but had clearly found a home with the Captain, a testament to his extensive service among humans. As their hands parted, a flicker of thought crossed Jinaril’s mind, contemplating whether to mention the odd interaction with the Lieutenant or his opinion on the two ‘extra nacelles.’ But the moment passed as swiftly as it had arrived, and he found himself responding with a confident smile, uttering the words “Everything and more, sir.”

“Good,” Romaes grinned and then gestured for the XO to follow him across the bridge towards the science station. “Your arrival comes at a most opportune moment, Commander. We have orders,” the Bajoran looked excited as he politely relieved the attending science officer and began tapping on the LCARS display. “It’s not a lot, just a supply run to the Kanaan system, but I’d like to take a detour here,” he pointed to a location on the display, “to complete some readiness drills. If you have no objection, Number One?”

Jinaril’s eyes widened, drawn to the display, his pulse quickening with a sudden rush of excitement. A familiar sensation flooded through him, a realization dawning that he had been missing this. With a swift glance back at Romaes, a determined grin curved his lips. “I have no objections, sir,” he declared firmly. “No objections at all.”

“Then we leave by the end of play today. Make sure all departments know of the adjustment to orders and have Ops contact anyone who hasn’t arrived yet. Anyone not aboard by nineteen-thirty will have to catch us up,” the Captain instructed, moving away from the science station and standing behind his chair. His fingers caressed the headrest and drew a deep inhalation and a smile. “It’s time to get back out there,” he grinned at his new right-hand man with boyish enthusiasm.

“The crew will stand ready to head out there, sir,” Jinaril affirmed, a confident smile playing on his lips. “That’s precisely why you brought me aboard.” 

He glanced at a nearby PADD, “If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ve got to unpack before nineteen-fifteen.”