The 27 year old engineer’s paw steps stepping off a shuttle which had just made it to the Wolverine happened to be somewhat hesitant. Alba very lightly dusted off black sleeves before taking a couple of steps forward, surely enough this seemed to be a crowded area.

She adjusted the strap of her equipment bag, the small movement betraying a nervousness she would have denied if anyone pointed it out. Her ears shifted toward every passing footstep, every chirp of a console, every voice echoing through the department.

New ship.

New crew.

New expectations.

The first few steps into the Shuttle Landing bays located on the first Deck. A group of crew members passed nearby. She caught the rhythm of their steps before they even came close, adjusting her position slightly so she wouldn’t be in their way.

Her paw found the handle of her cane, and she unfolded it with practiced ease. The small tap against the deck plates gave her another layer of information—the shape of the space, the distance to nearby objects, the open paths through the bay.

The familiar motion helped.

It always did.

The junior officer’s ears shifted rapidly, trying to separate the different sounds. She searched for something familiar—a reference point, a landmark, anything that would tell her exactly where she was standing.

Nothing.

Her grip on her cane tightened.

That realization was one she hated admitting.

She was lost.

The environmental systems were louder here than she expected. The shuttle bay’s acoustics distorted distance, making nearby sounds seem farther away and distant sounds seem closer. The ship’s constant hum surrounded her from every direction.

A distraction.

That was what it was.

Fixing things was easier than admitting she was uncomfortable.

A familiar pattern.

One she knew too well.

Alba heard footsteps approaching.

Different from the others.

More deliberate.

Someone walking with purpose.

Her ears angled toward the approaching person.

She waited.

A moment passed.

Then another.

She couldn’t tell who it was.

Not yet.

No face.

No rank insignia.

No expression.

Just footsteps.

She hated how vulnerable that made her feel.

Her grip tightened around her cane.

“Lieutenant Junior Grade Alba Waban,” she introduced herself nervously, wanting to turn her head to the side. Hoping it would avoid the look upon her purple looking eyes.

“I’m assigned to Engineering.”

A pause.

Then, more quietly:

“I’m… looking for the department.”

Lt. JG. Alba Waban
Engineering Officer
U.S.S. Wolverine - NCC-99199 (Brazen Class MK. II)