Meet and Greet

Posted on 06 Nov 2025 @ 4:10pm by Lieutenant JG Dezran Taalen & Lieutenant T'Lara Ahmad

1,805 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Shakedown
Location: Main Engineering - CEO Office
Timeline: current

The low hum of the warp core was new again, and it had a different timbre since the refit - brighter somehow, and not quite as deep into the deck plating as T'Lara remembered. The rhythmic thrum should have felt like home, but after everything it seemed almost foreign. She stood in her office, the transparent bulkhead giving her a clear view of Main Engineering where personnel moved like purposeful ants, finishing last-minute diagnostics before departure.

The new desk arrangement was… close. She stepped back two paces, then forward one, evaluating the room’s energy flow as much as the ergonomic distribution of consoles and status displays. Engineers often thought in terms of systems. Vulcans, in terms of order. T’Lara was currently relying on instinct, and she did not like it.

The office was still half in disarray: a padd resting face-down beneath a neatly folded uniform jacket, another leaning precariously against the base of a display console. Someone—even she herself—had put her stylus in a mug rather than in its usual rest. It made her jaw tense. She smoothed the line of her tunic, then forced her shoulders to settle.

For a moment she froze mid-motion beside her desk, uncertain if remembered was even the right word. Memories came to her now like objects glimpsed through frosted glass — shapes she recognized, details she did not trust.

I am recovered, she reminded herself. Or rather—she had been declared recovered.

Memory gaps - the doctors had warned her. "Residual disorientation is expected, Lieutenant. Short-term reconstruction may take time..."
Time she didn’t have.

She closed her eyes briefly, centering herself in the breathing exercises she’d learned as a child. One, two, three—

The doors parted with a soft hiss.

She did not turn around immediately; it was a discipline she had been slowly reclaiming — to react after processing stimulus, not before. Still, she could feel the presence before the footsteps fully crossed the threshold. Calm, curious, not hurried.

Dez walked into the Chief Engineer's office, his neck craning to look around. It was new, like the rest of the ship he'd seen so far, which wasn't much. The smell was sterile, stiff. Like a ship that hadn't even seen itself in the mirror yet. Dez never relished starting over, but he seemed to do enough of it. He'd like to say that he was good at it by now, but there wasn't a scenario he could think of that he excelled at involving people.

Eyeing the Vulcan woman across the office, he was reminded why he was here. She seemed distant, like something called her away. Dez shifted on his heels, adjusting the pack still on his shoulder. Maybe it was the hollow sensation the office gave him—unadorned and fresh—but she seemed to command the attention of the room. Even though it was only the two of them, his focus was drawn to her. She was taller than he expected, but he still looked down at her. Clearing his throat, he announced himself.

"Lookin' for the Chief," he said, knowing full well he'd likely found her.

There was a lapse...a pause...but T’Lara turned at last, posture resuming its usual composed precision. “You have succeed in your search then,” she replied evenly. “I am Lieutenant T’Lara Ahmad, Chief Engineer.”

No gesture to shake his hand, no invitation to sit — Vulcans did not clutter openings with unnecessary social ritual. But something in her gaze sharpened, just a degree, as she assessed him.

“You are new to my department. Logical deduction suggests that you are Lieutenant Dezmond Rael.” A beat of silence. “Or someone has absconded with his transfer orders.”

The delivery was dry as Vulcan desert stone. She crossed to the console nearest her desk — not to retreat, but to reclaim spatial alignment — hands clasping lightly behind her back.

Dez's eyes narrowed as he observed the woman. He couldn't tell if she was testing him, attempting a joke or perhaps both. It was uncanny. He disliked the use of his full first name in its natural form, but the misuse of it seemed even more distasteful. Not that that was her problem.

"Close," he said, his typical uneven smile forming naturally. "Lieutenant Dezran Taalen," he corrected plainly and without contempt. "But Dez is preferable, if you'd be so inclined.

He let the moment settle, breathing evenly in the silence. So far, the first encounter with the new boss was going very close to what he'd expected, and he typically kept his expectations low to save disappointment. There was a tension in the air that was almost tangible. He could feel the thrum of the warp drive—the pulse of the energy dispersing to the ship. It was subtle, but enough to lull him into a sense of calm that he appreciated.

T’Lara inclined her head in acknowledgment, her expression unreadable but her tone precise. “Noted, Lieutenant Taalen.” There was no hint of warmth or mockery — just the calm statement of a fact to be catalogued.

She silently regarded him for a moment longer than was comfortable. The silence was not hesitation but study—an appraisal layered with the weight of data she already knew.

“Your service record was… comprehensive,” she said at last, tone neutral but precise. “Starbase Twelve. The Bonchune. The Antares. The Agamemnon, Monitor.” Each name was delivered with an almost metronomic cadence, the kind that implied she had memorized it before he ever stepped aboard.

She circled the edge of her desk as she spoke, fingers lightly grazing the surface as if assuring herself that it was solid and real. “A commendation for life-preserving ingenuity during a shuttle incident on the Antares. A field promotion aboard the Monitor during active conflict. Two reprimands for conduct violations, one suspension. It is quite an irregular...trajectory, Lieutenant.”

Dez lifted an eyebrow at the commentary from the Chief Engineer. He wasn't offended. The truth was the truth. In fact, he found it somewhat relieving that she chose to not dance around the facts.

"Well, Lieutenant, I do believe that is the downright nicest thing anyone has ever said about my service record," he said with a jovial tone. His posture relaxed slightly as he read the temperature in the room. "Is this the part where we talk about my actions and decisions? Some call 'em mistakes, but I don't tend to agree with some—or most—if that isn't obvious," he said. He wasn't rigid. He held no contempt. His eyes shone with all the honesty and transparency he could manage. He had been through enough of these Department Head initial introductions that he found it best to get the elephant out of the room as quick as possible. Some appreciated that, some didn't. It was a mixed bag that sometimes surprised him.

T’Lara regarded him for a long moment — the kind of silence that pressed down, measured, dissected, and recorded. Then, finally: “Discussion of past actions at this juncture would serve no function, and this is not a 'Captain's Mast.' Your record indicates capacity for both competence and complication, Lieutenant. I trust you will emphasize the former while serving in this department.” Her tone was as level as ever, but the edge of scrutiny hadn’t dulled. “You were granted this assignment because Command determined your expertise outweighed your… unorthodox history. I am inclined to accept that conclusion—until presented with data to the contrary.”

Dez examined the Chief for a moment. Her words were stiff, albeit surprisingly welcoming. For a Vulcan. Clasping his hands behind his back, he nodded. "I'll take competence, Lieutenant. And I'll try not to—complicate your life more than necessary." His words rolled off his tongue with a tilted wit. "Besides, with the overhaul goin' on around here, I think you're gonna be needin' some help. Tell me if I'm wrong," he said.

T’Lara did not immediately respond. Her gaze drifted past him, unfocused just enough to suggest she was observing more than merely the present moment. For a beat too long, Dez might’ve wondered if she’d even registered his question. Then—with the same precision as a schematic snapping into place—she returned her full attention back to him.

“You are not wrong,” she said simply as if the longer than usual pause did not occur. “The retrofit was extensive. Systems integration remains ongoing. I do require assistance to ensure this vessel’s return to operational status before departure.” Her tone did not soften, but it gained dimension—admitting need was not weakness in the Vulcan lexicon, but it was nevertheless deliberate.

She took a step closer, drawing herself just slightly within personal range—but not intrusively so. “You will be assigned to EPS and ODN calibration, starting with secondary relays on Deck Nine. There are still latency issues with the power redistribution cycles, and I require someone capable of thinking beyond standard Starfleet troubleshooting procedures.”

Her brows, just faintly, raised. A subtle challenge. “I have reviewed your work on the Antares. Your solutions demonstrated proficiency with... improvisational engineering. Channel that appropriately here, and we will function efficiently.”

"Well, fortunately Lieutenant, solutions outside the standard Starfleet procedural manual are kind of my specialty," he said with grin and a feigned bow. "If out-of-the-box is the kind'a work ya do here...well, I think we'll get along just fine," he said.

T’Lara remained completely motionless for a moment, but her eyes tracked the curve of Dez’s bow with an almost microscopic lift of a brow—just enough to register the gesture but not enough to dignify it as logical. It was the look of someone cataloguing new data and processing it against a lifetime of strict, internal schemas.

Then: “Improvisation,” she repeated, the word tasting unfamiliar in her mouth. “Within acceptable structural parameters, of course.”

A pause. Subtle. Cool. Controlled. Then, with Vulcan emphasis she added, “Welcome to Engineering, Lieutenant.”

Her tone held no warmth, but it did contain something rarer—grounded expectation. A statement of joint purpose, even alliance. It was not praise, but permission: he belonged here now, and she would hold him to the same standard she held herself.

Dez's face drained of the levity that was commonplace for him. The flat response from his new Department Head was about the best he had hoped for—maybe better than he'd deserved. With a look of acceptance, he nodded. "Within acceptable parameters then," he conceded. It wasn't a bond of instant approval, but it would have to do. For now.

-----

Lieutenant T'Lara Ahmad
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Cygnus

&

Lieutenant JG Dezran Taalen
Assistant Chief Engineering Officer
USS Cygnus

 

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