Fresh Meat?

Posted on Wed Aug 27th, 2025 @ 4:03pm by Lieutenant Brendan Dernah & Lieutenant Commander Jack Slattery

2,150 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: A marathon not a sprint
Location: FO's Office

The XO’s office was quiet, save for the steady hum of the Wolff’s systems behind the walls, a sound Jack had come to appreciate. It reminded him the ship was still breathing, still holding together after all that had already passed. Every ship had its own sound...he was just now getting used to this ship and its sounds.

He glanced down at the file on his desk, Dernah’s name sitting sharp at the top.

Brendan Dernah. Thirty-seven. Betazoid. Chief Operations Officer.

Jack had skimmed enough of the man's service history to know this wasn’t someone fresh off the line. Brilliant mind. Engineering background. A man who had clawed his way through personal tragedy and experimental temporal shifts and still came out Starfleet. There was a rigidness in his record, the kind of self-discipline Jack recognised...not in himself, perhaps, but in people who lived by structure because they had to.

Ops people. Jack had flown with them. Argued with them. Relied on them when life support flickered or power needed to be rerouted mid-flight. You didn’t get far as a pilot without trusting the person who kept the systems from shorting out under your arse. And if this man was half as sharp as the record implied, Jack figured he’d already calculated a dozen possible outcomes for this meeting.

He leaned back in his chair and glanced at the wall display. The time wasn’t quite on the dot yet, but Jack would wager Dernah arrived precisely when he meant to. He imagined the man entering with precise posture, sharp clothes, not a hair out of place. Jack had known people like that at the Academy: the ones who saw excellence not as ambition but as baseline. It was never arrogance, exactly. More like...efficiency with no room for wasted energy.

And yet, there was more there. The file hinted at loss, resilience, a career shaped by both trauma and the need to keep moving forward. A Betazoid, too. That meant Jack would have to keep his thoughts steady,,,at least as steady as they ever were. Like most, Jack wasn't a fan of being read without his consent. Sometimes it was unavoidable. Even so...Dernah might not be overtly empathic, but you never knew how finely tuned someone was.

Jack straightened slightly, eyes flicking once more to the door.

Let’s see what kind of officer you are, Lieutenant, he thought, not unkindly. Just curious. And maybe a little ready to see if the service record reflected the man.

The door to the First Officer's Office was closed and locked as Brendan approached it. So, he rang the chime and waited to be bid enter. He wondered what type of person his new 2nd in command would be. He had read the man's service record like any good officer but the file was sorely lacking in pertinents as far as what kind of man he is only what kind of person he was.

He made it a point to not read Lieutenant Commander Slattery's mind to get the information out of him. For one of his ability, it was not only easy but also natural. Since he signed an acknowledgement of Starfleet's telepathy code when and again after he graduated, he also knew what he would be giving up if he committed an infraction against any officer much less a superior officer. He decided he had worked too long and too hard to give it up for something so frivolous.

And so he waited but he didn't have to wait long. Lieutenant Commander Jack Slattery unlocked the door to his office and it slid open. Brendan looked around just inside the door, stood tall, straightened his tunic and walked in.

"Lieutenant Brendan Dernah, reporting as ordered, sir," he said in the deepest voice he could muster.

Jack looked up as the door slid open, catching sight of the tall, precisely-groomed figure in the doorway before the man had even spoken. Of course he stands like that, Jack thought, one eyebrow lifting slightly at the immaculate posture, the clipped cadence of the introduction, and the way the man's voice dropped half an octave like someone trying to broadcast professionalism on every available frequency. But hey, Jack was a flyboy originally. Most likely even had been guilty of doing the same thing. He stood slowly from his chair, giving the man a smile that softened his eyes a little. “Lieutenant Dernah, come on in and have a seat,” Jack said, his voice steady but approachable. “Want something from the replicator?”

"Peppermint Hot Chocolate, please," Brendan said, less thought more reflex and in a slightly higher tone.

Jack nodded and walked to the replicator. Peppermint hot chocolate for Dernah, black coffee for himself. He carried it over and offered it to the man, meeting his eyes. "Welcome to the USS Wolff," he said, meaning it before he pulled back and sat down.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Slattery. And it's a pleasure to be here," Brendan said in reply after accepting the drink for his new First Officer. Then Brendan sat down in front of the desk. "May I ask you a question or two?"

"I'm feeling generous," Jack said and there was a hint of humour in his eyes and the smile. "Ask up to ten. Any more and you'll have to buy me dinner." The joke landed lightly, with the warmth of a pilot who now sat in a different soft of chair and flew a different role. He sipped his coffee and gave a nod of acceptance to the other man.

Brendan laughed at the commander's joke. "May I ask you why I'm here? I'm not saying that I don't already know but I would like for you to tell me. If you don't mind, that is."

"On the ship, or in my office?" Jack asked with a small smile, holding his eyes for a long moment. The smile was polite, but there wasn't anything hard underneath it. Rather, he was studying the man, reading him like a course correction in an android belt. Not in any Betazoid or telepathic way, but a human looking for visual clues in another person's face.

"Yes, sir," Brendan offered. He was also studying the First Officer for any signs of switcheroos (Brendan's own word). Brendan wanted to know if there was any truth in his service record. He knew the man's record was true as in the strictest sense of the word but it highlighted what Starfleet wanted people to know and/or what they thought was relevant or pertinent.

Jack tilted his head a little, taking a slow breath. "We needed someone," he said, lightly. "To fill the position." That was the answer why he was on the ship. And his office? "I make it a point to meet any and all new transfers to this vessel."

"Ah, well that explains quite a bit. Actually answers both question, sir," Brendan said smiling. He enjoyed frazzling his superior officers especially right after meeting them.

Jack gave a small nod, the kind that acknowledged more than just words. “Fair enough,” he said, setting his coffee down. “You’re not the first to want to know why they’re sitting across from the XO on day one.” He leaned back slightly in his chair, studying Brendan without scrutiny, just measured observation. “I don’t go in for formal welcomes and ceremonial speeches, mostly because there just is not enough time in the day. But I like to know who I’m working with...especially at senior level. There’s knowing someone’s record, and then there’s knowing how they sit across a desk from you.”

He let that sit for a moment, then added with a faint, dry lift at the corner of his mouth, “And it’s easier to have that conversation over peppermint hot chocolate than during a red alert.”

"True, Commander. I agree with everything you have thus far said," Brendan said in response. He merely looked over the office while surreptitiously scanning the surface emotions of his new first officer. "From one first officer to another, I appreciate the fact that you don't stand on ceremony either. I, for one, never had a chance to be in your shoes during my short tenure as First Officer, but I didn't do that either. The crew already knew me for roughly a year before the captain named me his number one. Less than six months later, the Damocles was decommissioned." Brendan's countenance fell when he said this.

Slattery watched him for a long moment, tilting his head a little. "And why are you here as Chief Operations, rather than on another ship as its First Officer?" he asked bluntly. Not coldly, or aggressively. Just wanting the facts.

"That's a very good question and one I was not certain about until I was posted to the USS Tilberry right before this. I hadn't made up my mind fast enough for the OPM. And was billeted there and it was only that up to the last minute when I had finally come to my decision. I wasn't yet ready for the full responsibility and requested a posting as Chief Ops. Luckily there was a ship needing one and so..." Brendan said. "I trust my answer is satisfactory, Commander?"

Jack looked at him, clearly considering it. Taking in the words. "Yes," he finally said and gave a nod. "And I appreciate your honesty. It takes an understanding of one's self to admit they're not ready for the seat yet." He considered it for a moment, studying the other man. "What would it take for you to be ready?"

"To be perfectly honest, sir, I'm not entirely sure yet. Is there a reason for this question?" Brendan replied. He found himself asking that very same question increasingly over his journey here. And found it increasingly odd that so many people had asked him the exact same thing of late.

"As First Officer...part of my duties are making sure our Senior Officers have what they need," Jack said as he met his eyes, holding them for a long moment. "That includes for their future careers. You've clearly expressed an interest in the position in the past. So if I can help making you ready for it in the future...well, nothing bad in that, is there?"

"I suppose not, sir. Apologies, but I felt something 'sinister' behind your question. Something along the lines of your leaving the ship or anything, sir. "Again apologies, I didn't intend to speak out of turn, sir," Brendan hoped he hadn't said anything that would cause him to be put off the ship or at worst for him to be court-martialed.

Jack looked at him before he chuckled, his eyes softening a little at the apology. "Oh, I don't exactly expect to be transferred off. And...since this is not a Cardassian or Romulan vessel, I am not concerned of being phasered out of my seat either. Nothing sinister...more facilitating. It isn't often we get someone who was a First Officer who then requests to become a Department Head again. And you didn't speak out of turn."

Brendan breathed a heavy sigh then took a sip from his drink. "Thank you, Commander. I realize what I've done in my career choice is outside the norm but it's what I've elected to do...for now. And I hope isn't a career killer; I just couldn't see myself in the position to make the sort of decisions I made on the Damocles again."

"It's not a career killer," Jack said, his voice quiet as he studied him. A slight frown came to him and he sighed. "Not even a mark against you. So don't worry about that. Starfleet's...good at looking holistically at someone's record."

"That's good to know, Commander and thank you for your words of wisdom. I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time with my visit," Brendan said.

"I slotted this in to make sure we had the time you needed. Now, before I let you go...do you have any concerns or questions?" Jack asked with a small smile, meeting the man's eyes. "Although if it is 'just how much is left of our hull', I suggest heading to Engineering."

"I had planned on going there after stopping by and checking in on my staff. If that's alright with you, that is, sir?" Brendan asked the Lieutenant Commander behind the desk before him.

"Of course," Jack said as he watched the other man before he gave a nod. "Dismissed, Lieutenant. And welcome to the Wolff."

OFF:

Lieutenant Brendan Dernah
Senior Ops Officer
USS Wolff

&

Lt. Commander Jack Slattery
First Officer
USS Wolff

 

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