Mjolnir-Class.

Mown could not believe it as he approached on the little standard runabout and it docked in the ship.

35 decks, a Type-12 primary shield, and enough phaser banks to make his eyes glaze over. And part of the responsibility for keeping this shiny new toy safe was him, the newly-minted Lieutenant Gworl.

If only the kids back on the mean streets of Ferasa could see him now, his fur neatly combed and his mane gelled back, wearing an immaculate uniform with gleaming hints of yellow.

All Mown carried was a duffle bag and a dusty Feresan drum. He had heard that someone would be there to greet him. He looked around the bay and scrit-scrit-scritched an ear with two delicate claws, jingling his earring.

He knew this was definitely going to be an adventure.

-CTO Mown Gworl