“Attention, captain on deck!”
Francis Argon strode across the bridge, looking over his crew and his ship. “As you were!” he said, crisply and firmly to everyone assembled. A few of the rookies relaxed a bit, but most of the veterans, including all of the senior officers, kept their posture formal and rigid.
It wasn’t that Argon was an intimidating man, at least not in personality. His appearance had a certain size and his walk had a certain swagger that would put men on edge, but his voice was never brash and his close friends might have even called him warm.
But there was something about him that demanded attention and respect. So, when he stood at the head of the bridge, everyone was silent, waiting for this natural leader to begin his speech. Even the few new engineers and pilots, fresh out of school on their first mission, were tacitly aware of the situation.
“Congratulations!” Argon began. “You’ve all been granted the honor of serving under my command on this cutting-edge ship. I hope you’ve packed everything you need for the foreseeable future because we’re all going to be on this thing for the next six months. Get to know your bunkmates and your neighbors, because this is your new family.”
Argon paused, looked around at his assembled crew. He recognized a few of them, senior officials that he had requested from previous missions. But most of the faces staring back at him were new, eager, ready for excitement. He sighed. Argon liked working with people he knew, and he especially disliked having to indulge in his emotional side with relative strangers.
He continued. “There have been some rumblings about the exact nature of this mission. Aside from a few people who aren’t on this ship, no one other than me has been briefed on the details. I have been given the responsibility of disseminating this information and I have chosen to do it in stages. In the meantime, you will all be given individual orders and I expect you to obey them.”
A small quiver of concern passed over some of the faces in the crowd, while others – those that knew Argon better – had something else (relief? resignation?) wash over them.
“That’s all,” Argon said. “For now, at least. Your commanding officers will give you your orders in the morning. Take tonight to get acclimated to your bed, your room, your ship. Welcome aboard.”
Argon held in a sigh, turned and walked out of the bridge. These speeches, these start of mission inspirational bits, were expected of him. He didn’t terribly enjoy them, though, especially on missions such as these. Some of the captains in the fleet – those who had fought in the Federation Wars – liked these kinds of missions. Not Argon.
He even had a suspicion that because he disliked them and publicly let it be known to the Council, that they intentionally gave him these missions, filled with confidential documents, secret passphrases