Sparks showered the bridge as consoles exploded under the deadly, concussive force of their enemy’s initial strike. Plumes of thick, hazardous smoke quickly enveloped the bridge, reducing the visibility and breathable atmosphere the crew needed to survive. Bulkheads rattled and deck plating threatened to buckle under enemy bombardment.

Spluttering, the occupant of the command chair woke to find her bridge in disarray and panicked souls dragging their colleagues, dead or alive, to safety. She was in a disorientated haze, but lucid enough to feel the throbbing pain in her left temple. Lifting her hand, dampness confirmed her fears, but as the fog began to dissipate, she could make out the prone figure on the floor beside her.

What was he doing down there? He should be in the chair beside her, barking orders and ensuring the safety of the ship while she was incapacitated. No, wait. He was the reason she was incapacitated. It was becoming clearer now; that he’d saved her. He was the reason she was incapacitated and not lying dead on the floor of the bridge. The piece of bulkhead that had fallen from the damaged ceiling would have almost certainly flattened her if he hadn’t intervened, throwing his body between her and the falling debris. It was the trailing edge that had caught her and resulted in her unconsciousness, but what about her trusted colleague?

“Onsas…” her cracking, dry voice called out, unheard by any of the crew trying their best to rescue those most in need. She tried again. And a third time, until finally, someone responded. A figure, tall and blue in colour, crouched beside her.

“Captain…”

“Hmmm?”

“Are you all right, Captain?”

Swivelling her head to the left, she made eye contact with her tactical chief behind the tactical operations station on the port wall.

“You were in a daze, ma’am,” Lieutenant Mora told Columbia’s acting commanding officer as the smoke and death faded away and she found herself back in the here and now.

“I’m fine,” Noli smiled apologetically, “just thinking, Lieutenant. Did you need something?”

“Melbourne reports she is holding position and awaiting our arrival. We’re to make contact as soon as we’re in transporter range,” the Bolian declared, receiving a nod of acknowledgement from Noli in response.

“Any thoughts on who it could be?”

Turning to the woman on her right, the Bajoran shrugged her shoulders. She’d run through all the usual suspects, people she knew that didn’t have a command of their own at present. James Ryan had left Hypatia in a cloud and was frustrated at Starfleet’s lack of response to the crisis. Giarvar Kauhn had stepped up to command Lakota and had been rewarded with a period of enforced shore leave. Tharia sh’Elas had been bumped off to an XO role somewhere and Fleet Captain Vos was overseeing the Inquest. Then there was Keziah, but as far as she was concerned, her former CO was still in rehab. Unless Task Force Command went outside the bubble to find a replacement, Giarvar remained the most likely choice, which she wouldn’t have normally disapproved of. Still, in recent times they’d begun to grow closer, in a way that would most definitely have to stop if he did board the ship. From a selfish point of view, she didn’t want the Trill anywhere near the ship or crew, but she was beginning to realise that she wasn’t exactly on track with Starfleet’s way of thinking lately. Everything she thought, they disagreed with.

“I just want it to be someone we can all get behind,” she finally responded to the Orion. “It needs to be someone who can hit the ground running. They won’t have the luxury of time to get to know the crew before we go on the next leg of our mission,” she tilted her head back against the headrest of the command chair and, for a second, it felt like her gaze penetrated the bulkhead and out into the heavens.

“I don’t envy whoever it is…”

A little over an hour had passed since Melbourne had first made contact, and now, on the very edge of the Zaran System, the two ships stood face-to-face for the start of a new period in their respective histories. Before the Nebula-class vessel could head off on its own mission of scientific exploration, something to do with the Zelar Nebula, a volatile region on the edge of Federation space, she had to ferry her precious cargo to her rendezvous with her Galaxy-class sister ship. A new commanding officer was something the Columbia crew had been waiting forty-four days for, and the day had finally come.

Marching through the doors of transporter room two, Noli was one of the last members of the senior staff to fall in for the arrival of their new commander. No one knew who it would be, not even the acting Captain herself. She had her suspicions, but unlike the rest of the crew, she had refrained from openly speculating as to who it would be. They didn’t have long to wait for the answer.

“Melbourne reports ready to transport,” T’Kir reported from behind the transporter console, having relieved his subordinate for the momentous occasion.

“Here we go, people,” Noli called to the assembled group of officers, making eye contact with her own acting XO. “Best foot forward and all that,” she added, tugging on the hem of her uniform jacket to iron out any creases. Whilst others in the group prepared for the Captain’s arrival in their own ways, the Bajoran gave her nod of approval to the silver-haired Vulcan fox behind the controls.

It was time.

“Why do we have to miss out on all the fun?”

Slowly turning in her chair to the left of the command seat, Akaria couldn’t help but look at the man in command with derision. “Are you seriously pouting because you aren’t stood in the transporter room with the rest of them, waiting for some unknown face to come aboard?”

Turning sheepishly to his left, Henry shrugged. “Maybe…”

After they’d been laughing for a minute or so, Flyboy and the Risan medic were caught off guard by the emergence of Noli and her green-skinned deputy from the port turbo lift. Both swiftly rose to their feet in the hope of impressing their new commanding officer when they emerged from the turbo lift. But when the doors closed behind Commander Zail, both looked disappointed.

“Well?” Henry asked, hands on his hips as he glared at Noli, “who is it?”

Noli, having stopped behind the mission operations station, looked at her Orion friend, and then back to the red-clad Flight Ops chief who had been left in command during her brief visit to the transporter room.

Lights from the corridor outside bathed the private abode in a warm glow once the doors opened and revealed the Bajoran Blonde standing, waiting for admittance. An almost ethereal voice from within called to her, welcomed her inside and offered her the sanctuary of the room to make herself at home. Wandering into the lounge, the Bajoran politely declined the offer of a beverage and took a seat on the sofa. There, in relative comfort, she couldn’t help but notice the lack of ambient lighting in the room and, if she didn’t know better, she’d have assumed the newcomer had forgotten to turn the lights on at all. She’d served with a lot of the Captain’s kind and there were several aboard Columbia herself, and from what she knew of their people, a lot of them liked darker rooms reminiscent of their home world.

“I hope things are to your liking,” she called back to the owner of the voice, her head turned in the direction of the archway leading to the rest of the private living space.

Instead of the vocal response she expected, a series of footsteps approached, growing louder and louder until a shadow emerged from the hidden space, a shadow of a tall, imposing figure. Then, when ready, the humanoid finally revealed themselves.

There, illuminated in the light of the lounge space, an imposing figure filled the arch. With creased blue skin, white hair with flecks of silver and two cranial antennae drooped over and pointed in her direction. The man looked burly and somewhat intimidating, a force to be reckoned with, to say the least. His words suggested quite the alternative, however.

“Quite satisfactory Commander, thank you,” he smiled appreciatively, making his way to the sofa sat opposite his guest and collapsed into its comfortable cushions. “I want to thank you for the welcome. I can imagine the last few weeks have been quite tough, for yourself especially,” the man told his new subordinate.

And Thalek th’Zorati was right, it had been. But, she did her duty anyway, proud to the last, and she certainly didn’t harbour any hostility towards the newcomer.

“So,” he got comfortable, waiting for story time to begin. “Tell me everything I need to know.”