The shuttle hatch sighed open, releasing a faint puff of recycled air and the soft hum of the Saracen’s environmental systems. Lt. Cmdr. Llakar Harel stepped over the threshold and onto the deck with deliberate calm. The moment his boots hit the floor, something in his shoulders eased.

New ship. New department. Hopefully… fewer existential threats.

The Saracen was no stranger to conflict—few ships of her class were—but for once, Harel was reporting in as Chief of Operations, not as a security officer, not as a trauma-laced anomaly consultant, and not as someone bracing for the worst. That alone felt like progress.

He carried a single duffel slung over one shoulder—no unnecessary baggage, literal or metaphorical. Just the essentials: duty orders, one slightly frayed leather-bound journal, and a pair of boots that had seen it all.

He nodded politely at the ensign at the checkpoint. “Lieutenant Commander Llakar Harel, reporting for duty. Chief of Operations.”

The ensign tapped at their console and looked up. “Welcome aboard, Commander. The Executive Officer is expecting you in the ready room.”

Of course they were.

As he walked the corridors, he took note of the smooth deck plates, the low hum of systems well-maintained. Efficient. Clean. Predictable. He let the silence settle, just for a moment.

After his time spent chasing living singularities and whispering anomalies that warped time and soul alike, the predictability of power grids and transporter patterns was practically luxurious.

He smirked to himself—luxurious might be overstating it. But there was something appealing in the idea that his biggest challenge here might be allocating power during a refit or recalibrating comms relays during ion interference. That, and keeping the junior officers from rerouting EPS flow without telling anyone.

After the Apollo, where serving as Chief of Security had felt more like herding caffeinated cats with phasers, and the Ogawa, where every corridor smelled like disinfectant and grief, Harel was cautiously optimistic. This ship didn’t need saving—it needed organizing.

And he could do that. He could build systems, anticipate needs, hold the center.

He approached a junction and paused just long enough to lay one hand gently against the bulkhead. The Saracen didn’t know him yet. But she would.

And this time—maybe—he could avoid the storm.

-Lt. Cmdr. Harel
Chief of Operations