The first person through the hatchway was a middle aged human of thin build. He looked to be in his early forties. His skin was ruddy and his hair was a military cut brown, with more than an occasional gray. He, like all the others, carried a large duffle bag and a loaded backpack. They were dressed in typical gray/white camoflage gear. The silver leaves on his collar gave away his rank. As he stood up, he gave a quick salute to Captain Bolerov. "Captain Andrei Bolerov, I presume," he stated in a slow, southern draw. He extended his hand. "Lieutenant Colonel Sam Prichard, Starfleet Marines, Third Batallion."

Bolerov took his hand and shook it. The grip was, of course, quite tight, but Andrei did his best to match it. "Colonel, a pleasure. Welcome aboard the USS Warlord." He took his pained hand back.

"I gotta admit... I like the name," he said with a smile. Other Marines, dressed similarly to him, began filing past and lining up down the hall. Kirk saw human men and women, as well as a few alien species line up.

"May I introduce my first officer, Commander Stephen Kirk." He motioned to Stephen with his good hand.

"The pleasure's mine, Commander," Prichard said. He extended his hand.

"Lieutenant Colonel," Kirk nodded. He took Prichard's hand and shook it. Their grips matched strength ounce for ounce, leaving them both a little sore.

Prichard nodded. "Now that's a Marine handshake if ever I felt one. Where'd you serve?" He asked with a smile.

Kirk shook out his hand and smiled. "Thirty-fifth infantry and the hundred and ninth squardon, Sir."

Prichard raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Dang, son... you sure got around."

"Yeah, but he barely passed OCS!" Came a familiar voice from inside the hatch.

Kirk poked his head around the corner to see his old classmate walk through. "I scored higher than you!" He retorted with a smile.

In came a man in his mid thirties, roughly the same height as Stephen, but broader in the shoulders. His military haircut was so blonde it was almost white. His head almost looked too small for his body. From the looks of him, he wasn't all muscle any more, like he was when Kirk remembered him. "Just 'cause I was dumber than you doesn't mean you aren't dumb." He anwered back in his Wisconsin, almost Canadian accent. The two greeted each other with a hearty handshake as well. If this kept up, Kirk wouldn't be able to use his hand for the next several days. Other officers filed in behind them as the enlisted troops continued to walk in. The individual discussions began to increase in volume.

Prichard and Bolerov laughed. "Captain," Prichard finally started, "This is Captain Connor." The captains shook hands... Connor's being much more gentle. A woman, built more like a man, with short, red hair stepped out and stood at attention. "This is Lieutenant Thackery."

"Gentlemen," she answered with intense, green eyes as she shook hands. Her voice was high-pitched. It reminded Stephen of a fork scraping against a plate.

A tall, thin vulcan appeared behind her. "This is Captain Tonok."

"Captain," he acknowledged and shook hands expressionlessly. He turned to Stephen. "Commander," he acknowledged as well. They nodded in reply.

Finally, another red head, this one belonging to a thin human male, stepped through. His eyes were bright green. He looked alert and ready for fun. "Finally," Prichard announced, "Lieutenant O'Shea."

"A pleasure, gentlemen," O'Shea said with a prominant Irish accent. He shook their hands. They responded in kind.

"Well, that's my command staff," Prichard concluded. "Where are we bunkin'?"

Bolerov nodded as the last of the Marines boarded. "Starfleet thought you would want to be as close to the Corvettes as possible. Deck six has been designed especially for you. It has quarters, a common meeting room, a central command room, an exercise room, an entertainment room, and hangar bays for your ships."

Prichard smiled broadly. "That sounds perfect. You might want to move any starship personnel off that floor, though. We can get kinda roudy." He gave Bolerov an elbow to his arm.

Not seeing the humor, Bolerov replied, "Don't worry. You have the entire floor to yourselves, but I do hope your people will take every opportunity to get to know their shipmates."

"We certainly will," Prichard answered gleefully. He turned back to his company. "You ladies are gonna make sure you get to know the people you're babysittin', right?"

"Yes, Sir!" They yelled in unison before breaking down in laughter.

Bolerov cast a semi-concerned look to his first officer. Restraint... self-discipline... control... these were the hallmarks of the military... weren't they?

Kirk simply pursed his lips and tried to smile. This was going to be interesting.