“Ephriam… How come my lab supplies were not delivered?” Lieutenant Kendall’s soft voice preceded her as she rounded the corner and entered Ephriam’s office. Her expression led to him believe she was for more annoyed than her tone indicated. 

“What do you mean Viviene?” Ephriam tossed down the PADD he was holding gently onto the mountain of others in front of him. 

“My team is conducting some time-sensitive experiments and requires some specialized lab equipment. I know you authorized the list on my last requisition request order to you, but they never arrived. I investigated and it indicated that it was stopped and canceled by Lieutenant Ay’dar, Chief of Security,” Kendall handed her own PADD to Ephriam and clasped her hands together lightly in front of her. 

“What the hell?” Ephriam’s brows furrowed as he confirmed what the Lieutenant had told him. “I’ll look into this right away Viviene, don’t worry,” he had approved the request for his team’s experiments, equipment that could not be replicated and it had indeed been stopped by Ay’dar. 

“Adrasin and Ay’dar. I need to speak with you privately and in fast form. Are you able to spare a moment?” Ephriam asked this after he tapped his commbadge. 

Ay’dar’s fingers moved swiftly over the PADD spread out on his desk, his brow furrowing in concentration as he delved into the dossiers. The soft tremor of the ship’s engines and the occasional beep of the console filled the room, this was punctuated by the tap-tap of his fingertips against the screen.

Suddenly, the calm was disrupted by Ephriam’s voice through the comms. Ay’dar’s jaw tensed, his grip on the PADD tightening as annoyance rippled through him. Without a word, he emitted a deep, guttural growl, a primal sound that reverberated in the stillness of the room.

After a moment, he composed himself, tapped his commbadge, his voice carrying a hint of his signature irritation as he said, “This is Ay’dar, I’m in my office, Lieutenant.”

It had only taken Ephriam several minutes to get to the security chief’s office and he had already played out several scenarios in his mind during transit. The first had him burst into the office in a dramatic flare and aggressive approach demanding the immediate release of the held requisition. The second scenario had him gracefully enter the office, be polite, and use his manners while acting more inquisitively in exploring why the requisition had been held. The third and final scenario had him on his knees begging for the equipment to be released.

Ephriam entered the office after he requested entry and decided to take a blended approach in the various scenes he had daydreamed on his way to see Ay’dar. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Lieutenant,” he started with something a bit more formal and then handed the security chief the same PADD Lieutenant Kendall had given to him moments before. “I am hoping you can explain to just why you have stopped some science equipment from coming on board?” Ephriam tried his best attempt at a stern-looking expression but it would instead emerged a bit on the meeker side.

Ay’dar’s attention drifted from the data on his PADD, drawn upward, his gaze traversed across his desk to meet the Science Chief, who stood with an air of tightly wound anticipation. Every movement seemed calculated, as if he had meticulously rehearsed this interaction in the privacy of a turbo lift.

A flicker of amusement tugged at Ay’dar’s lips, though he suppressed the urge to show it. Instead, he focused on the Adrasin, refusing to divert his gaze to the Lieutenant’s PADD, maintaining eye contact instead. He didn’t need to; he knew exactly what was accepted or disapproved to board the ship. This wasn’t merely a duty for Ay’dar; it was ingrained in his very being, woven into the fabric of his life aboard the vessel.

With a subtle inclination of his head, Ay’dar acknowledged the Chief’s request. “Yes, It was denied under general-order-forty-seven subsection-eight paragraph-twelve,” he said, his voice calm, intimidating, and unwavering. And then, he fell silent, allowing the weight of his words to linger in the air.

Ephriam groaned in frustration, an action that was something not frequented on his behalf. He seemed to surprise even himself at this, and his facial expression went funny for a moment. “I like to think I’m pretty intelligent Ay’dar but even I cannot recall general orders to the subsections. Can you help a fella out?” Adrasin asked this in as neutral a tone as he could albeit it did emerge slightly on the sarcastic side. He had noted how Ay’dar’s own reply seemed to be devoid of any telling features, he decided that man would be a talented poker player.

Ay’dar’s intense gaze lingered on ‘the boy’ in front of him, a low rumble emanated from his throat, a subtle manifestation of his growing impatience. While straightening his back, his brows furrowed, causing his ridges to deepen, his lips tightening into a thin line, betraying a glimpse of his irritation. 

After a moment of contemplation, Ay’dar finally spoke, his voice measured but tinged with frustration. “This regulation,” he began, each word carefully chosen, “addresses the intricate handling and containment of perilous substances and situations that jeopardize the safety of our vessel and its crew. And yes, Lieutenant,” he added, a hint of exasperation seeping into his tone, “it extends even to the delicate matter of cryogenically preserving tribble eggs.”

“Tribble eggs….. tribble eggs,” Ephriam muttered a couple of times to himself and his eyes widened upon realization of what Ay’dar had said, there was no way he had attempted to authorize that at least he hoped that was the case. “Can I have that back for a moment please?” He stated this in a bit of a panicked tone as he quickly leaned forward and snatched back the PADD, his attention immediately fell on the finer print details of the request which did state tribble eggs. He swallowed dryly and his eyes raised back up to meet Ay’dar’s. 

Another officer might typically offer reassurance to his colleague in such a situation, suggesting that such occurrences are inevitable or guiding him on the correct course of action. However, Ay’dar’s reaction was markedly different. As he sat there, his jaw clenched tightly, his eyes narrowed into slits, betraying the storm raging within him. The subtle twitch of his fingers revealed the struggle to contain his mounting irritation. His breaths coming in heavy, controlled bursts. The atmosphere around him seemed to crackle with tension as he locked eyes with his colleague, his gaze unwavering and piercing.

There were a few questions that needed answering now. First, was why his officers were requesting such a thing anyway, had they tried to take advantage of the situation? Second was just how he had missed that finger detail and submitted the request anyway. Ephriam was new to this role, and a bit overwhelmed with everything too. He wanted to believe there was a sound explanation for this. Thankfully his counterpart had been diligent in his duties. “I believe I owe you an apology, lieutenant. I appear to have made a bit of a mistake,” Ephriam bit his bottom lip and smacked his lips together, an odd little habit he had developed over the years in moments of backwardness.

Ay’dar’s lips curled into a silent snarl, his nostrils flaring as he exhaled sharply, the sound carrying the weight of his frustration. He leaned forward, his posture rigid, and locked eyes with his subordinate, his gaze ablaze with disappointment and simmering anger.

“A mistake?” His voice was a low, menacing rumble, punctuated by a sharp edge that sliced through the air. “You’re lucky I caught it.” Each word dripped with disdain, carrying the weight of unspoken reproach. He clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tensing visibly.

“I won’t let the Hathaway become one of those ‘loser’ ships, infested with tribbles.” His tone was firm, unwavering, a declaration of his unwavering resolve. 

He paused, his breath catching in his chest before he released it slowly as if savoring the tension that hung in the air. The silence stretched, thick and palpable, a tangible barrier between them. Finally, he spoke, his words measured and deliberate.

“Before you waste any more of my time,” his voice was a controlled growl, each syllable laden with suppressed fury. “I suggest you turn around and get your department in order, Lieutenant.” 

Ephriam’s face dropped slightly and for a moment he looked like a puppy that had been scolded by its owner. True – he had made a mistake and would learn from it, like any mistake in his career but he had found Ay’dar a bit unforgiving in his approach. Perhaps he deserved that much. “I will do just that. I’m sorry to have disturbed you. Thank you for your time.” Each sentence seemed a bit disconnected as he began to walk backward slowly.

Watching the young Lieutenant’s departure, Ay’dar couldn’t help but notice the defeated slump of his shoulders, the hesitant shuffle of his feet. Ay’dar’s senses prickled with an unusual sensation, a subtle stirring that whispered through his veins like a breeze rustling through leaves. It was a feeling he couldn’t quite grasp, one that danced on the edges of his consciousness, leaving a lingering trail of curiosity in its wake. Empathy stirred within Ay’dar, a quiet understanding born from his own experiences.

Just before he exited the office, Ephriam stopped and looked over Ay’dar once more. “Lieutenant… Unrelated to this, I was hoping you might consider helping me brush up on my marksmanship in the near future,” part of Ephriam had quested himself as to just why he was asking this man for help but the area of his brain responsible for logic and reasoning had won out. Hathaway had already seen combat multiple times since his boarding and Ephriam knew he was less than stellar in the area of self-defense, he barely passed such basic skills at the Academy. If there was one person on board to help see to that, he figured it was this stern brute of a man.

Ay’dar’s rigid facade softened imperceptibly, a subtle shift in his demeanor as he addressed the Lieutenant. His voice, usually commanding and stern, took on a gentler tone, hinting at a depth of understanding beneath the surface.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Ay’dar said, his words measured but carrying a quiet reassurance. “Tomorrow, report to the holodeck at Oh-Seven hundred.” The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, a fleeting glimpse of warmth in his gaze before he returned to his usual composed stance.

“Oh-seven hundred, aye,” Ephriam gave Ay’dar a nod in confirmation and his all too familiar smile began its return to the surface. “Thanks again for your time, lieutenant,” he then made a quick and abrupt exit.