Star Trek and all its intellectual property is owned by Paramount/CBS. No infringement intended, no profit made.
This story has not been been beta-read, and therefore any mistakes in it are mine.
Author's Note 1: Em Gomez and Bernhard Muller are borrowed by kind permission of Chrysa and Volley respectively.
Author's Note 2: This was a small plot bunny which hopped out of its burrow and nibbled me on the ankle till I got the story written. If anyone is responsible it's Rigel99, who brought Major Hayes alive on the page.
"Shuttlebay to Lieutenant Reed."
The Head of the Department heard the call, but did not respond immediately. His head, bent over a PADD, didn't even move for just half a second, and his Gamma Shift second-in-command noted that omission and drew her own conclusions.
"Gomez." She pressed the comm button herself; it wouldn't do for anyone to think the Armoury staff were slow.
"Shuttlepod Two is on final approach, Ma'am. Lieutenant Reed asked to be notified."
"I'll pass on the message. Thank you. Gomez out." She cut the communication and – carefully unobtrusive about it – shot a thoughtful, summing look at her Patrón.
She didn't repeat the information; she didn't need to. Everyone in the Armoury could have heard it, and its senior officer would certainly not have suddenly become hard of hearing – even though she herself had reason to suspect that he would rather have liked to have done so.
The days and hours of ceaseless, intensive work on preparing Enterprise for the new mission had been exhausting. Everyone was tense, their nerves on the stretch for any news of a second attack materialising from the limitless reaches of space without warning. So far no attack had materialised, but still the tension remained. The pressure on the shoulders of the man in charge of the ship's weaponry was so intense that he was strung tighter than cheese wire; always an exacting taskmaster, he was no harder on his subordinates than he ever was, but today there was a sense that he was holding himself in check on an iron rein. In ordinary circumstances there was a comfortable knowledge that as long as the work was done well and promptly there was a little leeway for banter, but now the Armoury staff worked in silence. Nobody wanted to draw his attention their way while that thundercloud was so conspicuously visible on his brow.
Even Em – who got away with more than most, though never failing to accord him absolute respect – hesitated somewhat before gently touching his arm. "Lieutenant, the shuttle will be docking at any moment."
He stared down at the rifle on the desk in front of him, its component parts neatly laid out ready for reassembling. "Thank you, Ensign." His voice was inexpressive, unless you knew him extremely well.
Em was one of those who knew him that well. "I will accompany you to the Shuttlebay, sir."
Not even a glance acknowledged her formality, or the extreme rarity of that honorific from her in such relatively informal circumstances. It was unlikely he hadn't noticed – he noticed everything – but right now he was far too strung up to react to it. Nor did he refuse, as he would ordinarily have done, and that in itself spoke volumes.
They left the Armoury. Neither of them spoke as they strode down the corridors.
As they reached the turbo-lift, however he seemed to emerge from his reverie. "On second thoughts, Ensign, it may not make the best impression if there are two of us. It may imply that I feel in need of reinforcements."
His grin as he spoke was bitter and brief, and she nodded. That had occurred to her too. But she was in little doubt that he had a tough furrow to plough, and she wanted him to feel that he had the support of his department as well as his junior officers – and for the new arrivals to see it. They all felt the same mixture of resentment and apprehension that he did, and for all that he rarely made any display of his sensitivity to his staff's mood, he was undoubtedly aware of it.
"Buena suerte, Patrón," she murmured, giving him as sympathetic a look as she dared before she turned away to return to the Armoury. He would need all the good luck he could get.
Bernhard was working on one of the new torpedoes when she returned. He glanced up, and there was the same undertone of worry in his voice as he asked whether this was the first of the new MACOs arriving.
"Sí." Mentally she heaped curses on the captain's oblivious head. Surely the capitán must understand how savage a blow to his Armoury Officer's pride it was to have 'professional' soldiers brought on board – as though his own security staff were not competent to carry out demanding duties when their commander asked it of them! If he did, however, she was reasonably certain that he had not addressed that issue with Lieutenant Reed. On the day it had been revealed that the ship was to carry a complement of MACOs when the mission started, the Armoury Head had returned to his department pale with anger, and passed on the news to his juniors in a voice from which emotion had been so carefully and utterly excised that they understood perfectly well that he was enraged – and bitterly offended on his department's behalf.
Historically there was intense rivalry between 'squids' (the derisive MACO term for fleeters) and 'sharks'. The nickname, derived from the MACO badge, summed up the contempt in which the non-combatant Starfleet crews were held. It was unlikely that any of the Enterprise crew had welcomed the news of their soon-to-be bunk-mates, and the Armoury staff would be the most resentful of them all – with their Department Head still bristling at the perceived insult as the first of the incomers arrived.
Space aboard the ship being limited, living quarters were having to be modified, and everyone would have to make do with somewhat cramped quarters to accommodate the new arrivals. Em and Bernhard had already submitted a request that instead of sharing their own quarters with MACOs they could share a cabin with each other – since they covered different shifts this would not be an issue. Strictly speaking this was not an arrangement likely to foster an attitude of acceptance, but their senior officer had already given them permission, and by the glitter in his eye as he did so, was prepared to defend his right to do so if challenged on it.
It was unfortunately likely that he would be challenged on it – and on many other matters beside. The MACO contingent was to be headed by a Major Hayes, and that officer technically outranked him. As the resident Head of Security the lieutenant would effectively be the senior officer of the two, but there was little doubt that his decisions would be subject to scathing scrutiny, if not challenged at every turn.
Short of a miracle, it would not be a comfortable relationship.
Perhaps only now that it was threatened had it become clear how smooth and unruffled the working atmosphere in the Armoury had been under Malcolm Reed's firm and steady guidance.
Maybe they were worrying over nothing. After all, it might be that the unknown Major was prepared to compromise, and to work amicably with his new superior, regardless of their respective ranks.
"So Gott will." The murmur from her opposite number in charge of the Beta Shift showed that his mind had been running on exactly the same wavelength as hers. They exchanged expressive looks. Things would be difficult enough during the coming months without friction in the command chain, but they knew all too well that their senior officer had every expectation of having to fight like a tiger to maintain his authority.
Em and Bernhard sighed almost in unison, and got to work on the warhead of the torpedo.
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