Ayres and Parr stood near the access hatch to the docking corridor that led back to the Sacramento while the engineering project manager – a broad-shouldered lieutenant commander with a PADD tucked under one arm – rattled off a summary of the ship’s status. Both of them had already heard all of the details from the various work crews onboard and so this was an exercise in polite impatience for both officers.

“Structural reinforcements along decks four through six will take another two weeks. Environmental on deck three is still running at partial output,” he broke off when his combadge chirped, “Go ahead?”

The voice on the other end was clipped, official. “Please inform Captain Ayres and Commander Parr to report to operations immediately. New orders from command.”

Parr glanced at Ayres, but his expression did not shift, only the barest narrowing of his eyes before he nodded.

“Understood,” the engineer said into the badge. “They’re right here.”

“Good. I’ll send the orders to your PADD now.” The engineer looked between them, clearly curious, but handed the PADD over. “Seems your schedule just changed.”

Ayres took it, scanning the brief message. “We’re being reassigned,” he said evenly. “USS Farragut. Departing in forty-eight hours.”

Parr’s brows went up a fraction, but she only asked, “Both of us?”

“Yes,” Ayres said, passing her the PADD. “The Sacramento will remain in dock for extended repairs.”

The engineer cleared his throat. “The Farragut, sir – that’s a hell of a step up. Congratulations.”

Ayres inclined his head in thanks, the motion awkward and exaggerated. “Thank you and your teams for the work on the Sacramento. Take care of her, please. It was a short tour together, but a hard one. And that forged a bond. I’ll be checking up on you.”

Ayres moved on without waiting for a reply and Parr turned quickly enough to match his pace as they walked along the corridor toward operations.

“Well,” she said, a dry edge to her voice. “That was sudden.”

Ayres’s mouth twitched. “We’ll discuss it later.”

She tilted her head, reading the layers under his tone. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They navigated the corridors and crossed the concourse in silence, moving through the shifting flow of uniformed personnel and civilians. The muted weight of the conversation they had not yet had seemed to travel with them, unspoken but present in each step. Ayres was pensive, Parr was upbeat and curious.

They moved past the viewing bays and into the primary operations centre, Ayres glancing at the commodore’s office and wondered if he would get a more detailed explanation of what this was about.

Ayres stood in front of a young lieutenant sitting at the desk outside the commodore’s office, impatient and more rigidly upright than normal. “Lieutenant, I’m Captain Ayres.”

“Captain Ayres, Commander Parr.” His voice carried an authority that he had not earned. “Thank you for coming, sirs. The Sacramento will not be space-worthy for several months. Task Force Command has decided your skills are better used elsewhere, immediately.” The lieutenant tapped at his computer station, the movements rapid and the pressure of each tap unnecessarily hard.

Ayres nodded once, trying to ease the growing tension in his jaw. “The Farragut.”

“Yes. The Farragut is a Nebula-class heavy cruiser, a newer model. It has a squadron of fighters assigned to its mission module, hence your assignment. Sir.”

Parr’s tone was steady. “What’s the mission profile?”

“Aside from its fighters, the ship is configured with an advanced intelligence facility and you will be assigned to provide support to high priority and particularly sensitive negotiations.”

Ayres absorbed that without letting the weight show. “And the crew?”

The lieutenant tapped more at his desk, aggressively striking buttons and bringing up a list of names and service records on the adjacent wall display. “Your senior staff will transfer with you, with several augmentees with greater experience with a Nebula-class ship. Commander Parr will retain her position as executive officer.”

Parr glanced at Ayres, not long, but long enough for the acknowledgment to register.

“Departure is in forty-seven hours,” the young officer continued. “Shuttles will begin moving your personal effects within the day. All of your crew have already been notified.”

Ayres bristled again. “May I discuss this with the commodore?”

The lieutenant looked up from his screen. “No, sir. Fleet assignments have all been cleared, and given the quantity of moving pieces, the commodore has asked for me to liaise with the captains.”

Parr took a step forward, placing a hand on Ayres arm. “Thank you, lieutenant. Please send all of the new crew assignments to us both.”

“Yes, sir. Fair travels, captain.” The lieutenant gestured to an ensign walking past and then rose out of his chair to follow them.

Ayres watched the young man leave as he remained standing in the spot in front of his desk, confused as to whether to be livid, excited, sombre or matter-of-fact. He realised that Parr’s hand was still on his arm just as she exerted pressure to steer them both back out of the operations centre and into the corridor.

“Well,” Parr said at last, her voice lighter than Ayres felt. “That was not the ‘how’s the EPS grid?’ update I was expecting today.”

Ayres allowed himself the smallest of smiles, fighting against the darkening of his mood. “I’m not sure anyone expects to get handed a new command by an abrupt lieutenant before lunch.”

“Especially not together,” she added, glancing at him. “You realise if they’d split us up, someone else would have to learn to see when you’re pretending not to brood.”

He shot her a sidelong look. “I don’t brood.”

She gave a quiet laugh, and for the first time since the engineer handed him the PADD, the suddenness of the news eased in his chest. Ayres leaned a shoulder against the wall. “It’s a big change.”

“Big ship, bigger missions.” Parr’s tone softened. “A bigger target on our backs.”

“You worried?”

“Not as long as you’re still in the big chair.” She said it without looking at him, but the corner of her mouth curved just enough for him to notice as she encouraged them in the direction of the viewports.

He held her gaze when she finally did turn. “I guess we better see if the chair is comfortable”

Parr had only taken a few more steps down the concourse when a voice, precise and level, called from behind them. “Captain Ayres.”

They both turned. Approaching through the flow of foot traffic was a shorter than average Vulcan in an immaculate duty uniform, posture so straight he seemed immune to the casual chaos of the starbase. The three gold pips at his collar marked him as a full commander, which struck Ayres as odd given the man’s obvious advanced age.

He stopped before them and offered a wide, unexpectedly warm smile and an effusively welcoming gesture. “I am Commander Aloran. I will be embarking with you on the Farragut as the new task group commander.”

Ayres’s expression did not flicker, though the title landed with quiet weight. “Commander?”

“Correct. While you will retain full authority as the ship’s captain, my mandate grants me operational command of the task group and its diplomatic missions.”

Which meant, Ayres thought, that Aloran technically outranked him without actually holding the ship’s command. A subtle but significant intrusion into the usual hierarchy.

Parr’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Will you be bringing a staff, commander?”

“No. I find such attachments inefficient. I will work directly with you as the ship’s command team. But I have seen to it that the Farragut has an exceptional contingent of diplomatic and intelligence officers.” His gaze shifted between the two of them before he made another effusive and disarming gesture toward Ayres. “I hope that is a transgression you will forgive in time, captain? I promise to stay out of your way. And what use would an old diplomat like me be to a ship as big and dangerous as the Farragut? And all those starfighters? Much better in your capable hands.”

Ayres inclined his head, unable to do much more in light of this whirlwind of changes attacking him. “Yes. Understood.”

“Well. This was not the best way to meet. I had asked the commodore to mediate between us – an old habit! – but her gatekeeper, the lieutenant, was impervious to my protests.”

Ayres almost growled rather than spoke his comment, “Someone less restrained would put his imperviousness to the test.”

Aloran looked straight at Ayres, as if seeing him for the first time. “Yes, captain. I think if someone did help the lieutenant in such a manner, his future career would no doubt have better prospects.”

Parr laughed loudly, an enjoyable sound that kept the tone moving in a lighter direction.

“We all must have a lot to do, captain, commander.” Aloran smiled at them again, giving his face an almost mischievous quality. “This was an unexpected assignment for me, as well. And once you reach my age I have found it sensible to take whatever time I can find to contemplate change, quietly. So I will take my leave of you, sir, commander.”

Aloran gave a faint bow, a little more theatrical than necessary, and turned to go, his stride cutting cleanly through the passing crowd.

Parr waited until he was well out of earshot before muttering, “What a strange man. And he’s your boss. That will be fun.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d choose,” Ayres said, his voice low.

She glanced sideways at him, a trace of a smirk breaking through. “Good thing we’re both so easy to work with.”

Ayres let out a quiet breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, eyes still on the direction Aloran had gone. “This just got more complicated.” He met her gaze, and for a beat the formality dropped. “I’m glad you’re coming with me.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “You’d get yourself into trouble without me.”

“Probably,” he admitted.

“If he’s going to be in every senior briefing, we’d better figure out our signals.”

Ayres raised an eyebrow. “Signals?”

“You know, looks, secret words, comments, gestures. Let’s use some of those forty-six hours to work on our body language.”