Captain Jean-Luc Picard
Commander Riker enters the bridge, making his way over to you, and salutes. He only does that when he wants to speak freely, knows you wonít like it, and wants to show youíre in charge. ďIíll be clear. I wish to complain about the replacements. I know they are legally humanÖĒ His tone makes it clear that the distinction annoys him, ďbut this is a sensitive mission, and I donít like having untried crew members in charge of major roles while we are performing it. Particularly ones who are members of species not part of the Alliance and who themselves are not members of Starfleet.Ē
He stops his tirade. Itís a fair complaint, in itís way, but he recognizes itís out of line and not what you need to hear at the moment.
Lieutenant Commander Worf, Commander Anubis Cruger, Kat Manx, Bridge Carson
The two of you have been placed in charge of familiarizing the new arrivals with the ship, showing them the ropes, introducing them to the other officers and otherwise ensuring they fit comfortably in.
"Most of us do not expect the Alliance to play fair. They want to own everything, to name everything, to write their names on everything. I do not anticipate them allowing us to continue as we have." He guestures at the rest of the group. "And it would seem I am not alone."
The bridge was a huge sweeping arc which apexed in a massive curving viewscreen dominating the entire area. The floor he stood on arced downward as well, creating two levels. In the middle sat a huge chair, position at the wall separating the bridge's upper and lower sections. Droids worked at humming stations lining the entire back of the place.
He sat on the chair, tapping his figertips as he watched the depths of space. Hard, yet regal, it kept whoever sat in it alert and ready for whatever was coming, but also reminded him of the station he possessed. And did the same to any whom looked at him.
Space. Endless stars, tiny pinpricks of light in the endless blackness, dark as his own soul. Or maybe he was the blackness, maybe it was all an extension of him, and the void that crushed against the worlds within, slowly smothering them all was he. He inclined his head beneath his hood slightly, lips quirking a little. He liked that idea.
Then he shook his head. "Steady. If it can't be expressed in figures, it is not science; it is opinion.Ē He reminds himself, sitting up and paying attention again.
A sleek, silver droid, like an insect with a head like a curved blade turned, it's eyes glowing crimson ominously, then sensing no commands in Edward's voice it returned to what it was doing before, ensuring that the ship remained on course.