“Incoming. Northwest.”

Tanna flinched reflexively, even though she was pretty sure it wasn’t anything dangerous huffing and grumbling in the trees, but her hand still moved towards the Type-1 phaser that was stashed in a small belt pouch.

Moments later, the bushes rustled sharply and parted as Captain Silas Crowe emerged from the treeline, pushing a branch aside with a grunt. His coat was scuffed and speckled with dust, the hem still damp from a stream crossing. Just behind him came an officer – tall, thin, with mottled gray-blue skin stretched tight over long limbs and wide, black, unblinking eyes that gleamed faintly in the pale sunlight. Crowe strode toward the group, boots crunching over dry moss and loose stones. “Sorry we’re late to the party,” he said with a wry smirk. “The Io got delayed—tied up playing escort for the Brass.”

His gaze shifted to the towering Llanarian nearby, who hadn’t moved a muscle. The warrior’s arms remained slightly tensed, his posture coiled and watchful, as if he still hadn’t ruled out a fight.

Crowe nodded with casual familiarity. “Raan,” he said, letting the name hang with a hint of amusement. “I see you couldn’t resist the invitation either.”

Raan grinned, a white flash of teeth in the mass of his beard. “Of course not. Who needs a beach holiday when you can be here, braving the wilds!” He spread his arms, hatchet held in one large hand, moss in the other.

Crowe’s gaze shifted suddenly, locking onto another familiar face in the group. A slow grin spread across his face.

“RJ,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Good to see you. Tell me, think you’ll manage to keep your pants on this time?”

RJ snorted from where he was leaning up against a tree, idly watching Raan do all the work. His expression held all the disdain of someone who’d been born and bred in space and really didn’t like setting foot dirtside unless he absolutely had to. “Pretty sure, yeah. I wouldn’t want to get bitten in… undesirable places.”

Crowe turned to the rest of the group and gestured casually. “I’m Silas Crowe, and this here is Commander Byrr… Byrry…”

“Just call me Franz,” the Commander cut in, his voice was gravelly and unbothered.

Silas exhaled sharply through his nose, annoyed that—after all this time—he still couldn’t get the damn name right. But he didn’t let it show for long. He shrugged and went on, “Yeah, everyone just calls him Franz. Anyway, sorry to barge in, where were we headed?”

RJ pointed up the mountain.

“Up that big rock, apparently. After a pitstop for whatever that is,” he pointed at the moss Raan was holding.

Varyn had frozen at the call of ‘incoming,’ but relaxed when the incoming were proven to be fellow Starfleet officers.  The Orion remained to the side, now feeling even more awkward at the presence of even more senior officers.  After a moment, he spoke.  “If we can find a river, wouldn’t that make a good place to camp?” he asked.

Alara looked to see if Mason or any of the group would react to the Orion’s seemingly sensible suggestion. Still, she’d also noticed that what she’d originally taken for eagerness was in fact nerves on the Ensign’s part. “Don’t worry.” She whispered, walking past and placing a hand on the Orion’s right shoulder briefly. “I haven’t got a clue who most of this lot are, or how I’m meant to fit in.”

“I’m glad it’s not just me,” he whispered back.  “Wasn’t even expecting to be invited on anything, and now I’m here with so many more experienced people, and I don’t want to embarrass myself, you know?”

“Oh, my Captain put me up to this little adventure; she was the one who got the invite,” Alara replied with a half smile.  “As for experience, just watch and learn, we might both pick up a few tips.”

“I hope so,” Varyn replied with a small smile.  The Orion still seemed nervous, but slightly less so now, like at least some of whatever was occupying his mind had been eased.

“Wait, did your captains make you come too?” Tanna asked, joining the other junior officers, “Mine said something about a quiet vacation away from everyone, then ordered me to come here.”

Varyn shook his head.  “Believe it or not, I’m actually the Culver City’s ranking officer at the moment, so the invitation ‘to the commanding officer’ got forwarded to me.”  He chuckled awkwardly, at least one cause of his anxiety now clear: the young ensign, an acting captain.

“No way, that’s awesome!” Tanna said excitedly. “What’s it like to command your own ship?”

“To be honest?  Pretty intimidating, but in a good way, y’know?  I think it helps that she’s not done with refits yet, so it’s more an engineering challenge at the moment, and that I understand more.”  Varyn smiled ruefully, seeming to relax a little more as he started actually talking.  “I’m not yet sure what’ll happen when she is ready, but whatever it is, I hope I’m up to it?”

Silas’s eyes darkened as he leaned in. “Right now, it feels like nothing can touch you. But one day, you’ll sit alone staring at a terminal, and you have to tell someone their brother, mother, or uncle didn’t make it while you were responsible. We’ll talk then.”

Varyn nodded, smile fading fast as it was replaced by an intimidated expression.

Silas let his heavy facade slip and gave Varyn a quick wink.

I’ve never served on a Cali, but I think you’ll do just fine in the big chair.” Alara offered in way of support

“I guess we’ll find out…  Well, if Command even leaves her with me, ensigns don’t usually get commands,” Varyn replied, some of that self-consciousness about his age and very junior rank coming back out again.

Suddenly, there was a crash through the trees. 

Into the clearing waded a small group of Klingon warriors, laughing loudly as they went. They stopped when they noticed the group of strangers. One stepped forward, then slapped his friend on the chest with the back of his hand. 

“Look a this, Duhan. I told you Starfleet was not worthy. We have been here for hours, and they have only made it this far.”

His friend laughed even louder. “You were right, Shapok, I owe you a tankard of bloodwine!” he turned to look at the group, then pointed his finger at Silas. “We will wait for you at the finish line, PetaQ. If you even make it that far.” The group then marched forward into the trees on the other side of the clearing, still talking and laughing loudly as they went. 

A grin tugged at the corner of Silas’s mouth. He rolled one shoulder in an easy unconcerned shrug, then pivoted toward the group.

Tanna looked stunned for a second. “Did… did those Klingons just call us petaQs?”

“No, they called me a PetaQ,” Silas said with a flat tone. After a short pause, he added, “They just laughed at you, all of you, in fact.”

He let the words hang in the air like smoke, daring them to feel the sting. His eyes flicked around the group as he watched the young officers stiffen, their jaws tightened one by one, and even a few fists curled at their sides. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, just enough heat to catch.

Tanna looked from Varyn to Alara. “Well, to hell with that, I’m making it to that mountain peak if it’s the last thing I do.” She turned on her heel and started after the retreating Klingons, walking fast. At the treeline, she turned back around, staring in disbelief at the group. “Are y’all coming, or what?”

Varyn, who had tensed once again himself when the Klingons appeared, looked between Tanna and Alara and the senior officers, then back to Tanna.  “Wait for me!” he called, following.

Mason chuckled, looking around at the rest of the group. “Well, we can’t have that. Shall we?”

Franz pivoted sharply and launched into a run. His long limbs swung unevenly, giving him a ragged rhythm that seemed off balance, but each stride ate up the ground faster than expected, leaving the group of humanoids trailing behind.

“I’m not sure we’re that far behind.” Alara mused. “Would the Klingons really waste their time doubling back, to check on our progress?”

After seeing no senior officers responding, Varyn piped up as he walked.  “I don’t think so…?”