Chapter Text
Sassen settled gracefully onto Musashi‘s primary flight deck; its landing gear engaging with a gentle thud as it transferred its full weight to the ship’s deck plates. The almost-imperceptible sound of the touchdown could be heard by those standing nearby, a subtle reminder of the shuttle’s impressive mass and the skill required to maneuver it.
Lieutenant Guilla Vazen stepped within view of Sassen‘s nose, with folded arms. She shook her head as she made eye contact with Timm through the tinted transparent aluminum. “You fucking bitch,” she mouthed with a playful smirk.
With widened eyes, Timm tilted her head toward her passenger, as though to warn her fellow pilot.
Vazen glanced to the cockpit’s right side and caught Leo Verde’s amused expression.
“Oh, shit,” she spat, breaking off contact to admire the deck.
“Good to see Vazen made it,” Leo said as she watched her sound the alarm. “Anyone else from Repulse?”
Timm locked down the shuttle after completing her post-landing checklist. “Oh, sure.” Without waiting for another word, she left him in the cockpit once she lowered the large aft egress door. As soon as the edge touched the deck, a flurry of personnel boarded to begin off-loading the much-needed gear.
He grabbed his duffel bag and slung it over his left shoulder.
To avoid impeding the bustling work crews, Leo used the starboard hatch of the shuttle. Carefully stepping down from the shuttle, he looked around, expecting an officer to greet him, but found none. Vazen apparently found other duties to perform. The absence didn’t faze him; it was typical of the organized chaos that characterized a starship under construction. He shrugged it off and made his way into the corridor.
“Okay, this is… deck nine,” Leo murmured, reading the nearest junction marking. He nodded to himself, orienting quickly. “The lift should be down that way.” With the assured stride of someone accustomed to starship layouts, he navigated the corridor towards the port side, spotting the lift doors ahead. He waited for the next car, and when the doors parted to reveal an empty interior, he stepped inside, feeling a fleeting sense of solitude amidst the construction noise.
“Captain’s quarters,” he commanded, his voice echoing in the confined space as the bare bulkheads did nothing for sound mitigation. The lift moved seamlessly into motion, ascending to accommodate his request. In moments, the doors opened onto the aft section of deck two, where the captain’s quarters awaited him just a short walk down the corridor. As he approached compartment 2A08, nestled beneath the main bridge, he felt a familiar twinge of anticipation mixed with the weight of responsibility that came with this new command.
Leo tapped the access panel beside the hatch, and the door slid open with a soft hiss. Stepping inside, he took in the stateroom’s unique layout, shaped by the slanted overhead that mirrored the underside of the bridge deck above. Protective coverings draped over the installed furniture, hinting at the room’s potential beneath the layers of plastic. Despite the coverings, he could already perceive the spaciousness of the Matsumoto-class ship, similar in size to an Excelsior.
“This is bigger than my quarters on the Crazy Eight,” he remarked, the words hanging in the air as he pivoted in place, taking in the full three-hundred and sixty degrees of his assigned living space. The stateroom had a subtle grandeur, still raw and unfinished, yet already felt like his own. He appreciated the thoughtfulness in the design, from the broad viewports to the well-planned layout that offered both comfort and functionality—a quiet promise of the life that awaited him as the ship’s captain.
The slanted overhead featured three expansive viewports, which overlooked a spacious central sub-compartment and offered a stunning panorama of the aft quarter; including the auxiliary craft landing path to the main doors of the flight deck seven decks below. The room had a wide desk, a high-backed chair, ample seating, and suitable tables for hosting small gatherings or receptions. Leo moved through the quarters, orienting himself and seeking the essentials. He discovered the bunk area, dominated by a queen-sized bed that promised a touch of comfort amidst the starship’s ongoing construction. Next to it, a private head offered a rare sense of solitude. On the opposite side, he noted access to a compact dining room, positioned to take advantage of one of the angled viewports, creating a cozy yet commanding space for meals with a view.
Leo set his duffel atop the bed, hearing the protective covering move underneath its weight. Opening it, he removed his uniforms and hung them in the provided wardrobe. The maroon jacket carried upon it the various accouterments earned through his years of service. On the shoulder sat the rank insignia of a captain; the device gifted to him by the crew of Repulse earlier that year.
After a brief consideration of walking the decks in civilian attire, Leo quickly dismissed the idea. He didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention from the security teams or distract the engineers already focused on their work. Instead, he stripped off his jacket, shirt, and slacks, replacing them with the standard departmental white turtleneck, the bomber jacket, and uniform trousers.
Now in attire that showed his authorization, he departed the stateroom for the corridor in order to start his self-guided tour with the bridge.