Did people from MS-29 not know how to queue or something, Pirra wondered in annoyance.

The crowd outside the shuttle was merely a blob with no semblance of order. She saw drones trying to herd them around, but the people seemed extremely reluctant to do anything other than try to stand as close to the glass as possible.

Just a few antsy people had started it, as far as she could tell. Once they'd broken the line the others had just started milling about as well.

Where were the officers, trying to bring some order to this? The drones couldn't do this alone, they could use nothing except words against civilians, and few if any of the doctors seemed to respect their authority.

She saw one man in the ship's uniform trying to control things, but he was being talked to by at least five different people, and her system told her that he was just an acting-ensign.

"Hold this," she said to Alexander, shoving the bag she was carrying into his arms.

"You're not going to-" he began. But she'd already stepped away.

Glancing around the crowd, she clocked herself back into duty, and saw that many of these people were doctors or other specialists, people with rank. They should know better than this!

Taking control of the drones, she ordered them into a formation above the heads of the doctors, and spoke through them.

"This is Response Lieutenant Pirra," she said. It boomed out from the speakers on the drones, startling the whole crowd.

"I am issuing a direct order under section 37, article 19 of the ship's charter. You are all to assemble into an orderly line immediately. You have until this countdown completes."

"Ten," the drones said in their own voices in unison.

The crowd looked shocked.

"Nine," they counted again.

"Move it!" she barked.

They scrambled to obey. The count was just at three when they were all queued up. She let it stop.

Article 19 of section 37 only stated that Response personnel could, in fact, direct traffic. She had no authority for punishment.

But they hadn't known that. It was just all about the attitude.

"Ma'am," one man asked. He looked like trouble, she thought. She waved him over, but when others also began over, she barked out again. "Only him."

He hesitated, and she watched him, intentionally not blinking. It sometimes intimidated humans.

"Our shuttle is late," he said. "We've been waiting for thirty minutes!" He stressed the last two words as if they were the worst thing ever.

She continued to stare at him. "Then wait," she said. Her system told her that his rank was Doctor-Commander. Far above her pay-grade, and she technically had no right to order him around, not unless there was an emegency. Hopefully, he wouldn't think to look up the command she had cited.

"There's no one even controlling things!" he said. "We have one young man who doesn't know a thing!"

"We're overwhelmed," Pirra replied. "Our people haven't been back to Earth in a long while either, and we're carrying a lot of passengers. This is bound to happen. Now," she raised her voice so it carried through the drones again. "You are logged in the system. You are not forgotten. The shuttles are just behind schedule - no doubt because some people forgot how to behave in an orderly fashion." She cut off anything more pointed. "So we'll queue up, and then all quietly wait for our shuttle to arrive. Do you understand?"

There was a moment of hesitation where she was not sure if he'd listen. But the man nodded, and moved back into line.

Letting out a breath, she also moved back into line next to Alexander.

"Good job," he said quietly.

She glanced up and saw the acting-ensign looking extremely grateful.

"Thanks," she said. "Someone had to bring some organization to this. Are we really that short-handed?"

"Honey," Alexander said. "Your crest is up." He reached up, and gently patted the stiff feathery bristles.

She realized he was right, and willed them back down to lie flatter.

"Were you ready to punch him if he talked back?" Alexander asked her, laughing.

"Maybe," she replied, still feeling the adrenaline. Her kind, she knew, were often said to be 'calm until they weren't', and in her case it was quite true. If the doctor had recognized her raised crest as the warning signal it absolutely was, perhaps that was why he'd backed down.

Of course, she wouldn't have punched him, but he might not have been willing to bet on that.

It had worked, at least.

The wait wasn't as long as she feared it would be. Only five minutes later they received the notification that boarding would begin soon. And only three more after that, the doors opened to allow admission.

The boarding was rapid and efficient, until someone's bag got loose and floated through the tunnel, careening around until drones captured it.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

When her turn came, she pushed down the zero-g tunnel to the shuttle main area. Using the handholds she made her way to her seat, and was grateful that the doctor she'd ordered about wasn't near them.

Stuffing her bags into the compartment below the seats, she sat down. Alexander sat down next to her.

"Well," he said. "We're on our way."

Pirra felt a rush of euphoria. She'd been looking forward to this visit for months. "To Mars," she chirped happily.

*******

Zach had just arrived back on the Craton from dropping off Ian and Apollonia, and now it was time.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped onto the bridge.

This was not the first time he'd been in command - many times for Brooks alone had he functioned in the role temporarily.

He'd even been a captain for a few years, of his own ship. Granted, he'd not been given the rank of Captain, as the ship was merely a small patrol frigate, the Diamond Fog.

This time . . . it felt different. Ominous.

He had a sense of foreboding that he could not entirely chalk up to easy sources. The claims made by Director Freeman, that Brooks had failed in his duty, seemed impossible to uphold.

Then why was he so concerned?

Kell was also gone. He'd gotten so used to the Shoggoth's presence that he'd forgotten just how much tension its presence created.

He couldn't say he missed the Ambassador, despite him feeling he had something of an understanding with the being, he did not like it being around.

But even that potential explanation for his concern was gone. So was it just his nerves?

Walking onto the bridge, attempting his own version of Brooks's steady and paced gait that displayed no nervousness, he moved to the middle of the top disc and peered around.

"Status report," he queried.

He heard a chorus of 'ayes', and updates immediately flooded his system. His internal systems scanned each for major issues, and finding none, he then took a moment to personally peruse the overall report.

As they were at port, there was very little to do that the department heads were not already handling. He saw reports by each of them, their assistant AIs compiling real-time reports on the fly.

The preparations for the recall election were nearly complete, only awaiting word if they'd be needed. Zeela Cann was remarkably efficient, all too often overlooked in that role, he thought. She'd organized several events as well, that focused on the Craton as a community, a feast in congratulations for their recent accomplishments in aiding New Vitriol and MS-29, and a commemoration day for the ships first Captain, Kure Kei.

Kure had been well-respected, and had also greatly endorsed Brooks's appointment as new Captain.

Urle wondered if Cann had picked the event just for that fact, and perhaps to bring attention to the fact that Brooks had not actually left, thus there was no need to note his departure.

At least he hoped as much.

He spent time on the bridge, continuing through the reports. Dr. Y had only a few standard appointments to go through, he'd already prepared all paperwork for their recent emigres. Jaya was running a security drill that was going well. Sulp was ahead of schedule on getting everything they'd pulled out for the emigres re-stored, and soon they'd be taking on new provisions.

After sorting through all of it, he took up the file for the biggest event that was to happen under his command; the arrival of the Star Angel.

That something so important could have slipped from his mind . . .

It should have outshined all other events for them, had this nonsense with the Captain not come up.

Just six years ago contact had first been made with the strange lifeforms from a binary star system at the edge of known space. The smaller of the two stars, a white dwarf, leeched matter from its larger neighbor, with great volumes of plasma and ionized matter swirling about. The volatility had made it a poor candidate for colonization, and little notice had been taken of it.

Until the radio signals were detected.

Investigations by SU first-contacters had discovered a lifeform long-speculated, but never before encountered;

Plasma life.

To be fair, they were not fully plasma; inside of their internal fields existed simple molecules that interacted under the magnetic fields of their body to form DNA-like information storage.

Communications issues were monstrous, making learning more about them a very slow process. Their 'language' was the easiest part, simply a modulating radio signal that they could produce naturally, and our technology could easily replicate.

From what they had learned, their mere existence and mode of life seemed to defy the very definitions of lifeform. The 'Star Angels', as they had been dubbed, did not procreate as life normally seemed to do, though sometimes they seemed to exchange genetic information.

The differences were so stark that even explaining many concepts that seemed otherwise universal among intelligent species could hardly be described to them.

Yet the Star Angels had been endlessly curious, and did not even seem to understand the concept of violence.

While the radiation-scoured vacuum around their stars was deadly to nearly all forms of life, such places of intense heat and energy were the only places they could exist. For all of their history they had been trapped in their system, and could never even hope to leave.

Technology alone seemed to offer them hope. Though conditions varied in many ways, an active fusion reactor created conditions that could not only support their form of life, but they seemed to actively enjoy.

It helped, too, that they were capable of surviving for a few hours in the absence of strong plasma and magnetic fields, enabling their transport to be quite safe.

Their keen interest in seeing the rest of the universe, rapid willingness to join the Sapient Union, and the fact that none of their behaviours - besides being incredibly alien - were in any way objectionable to other members of the SU, had caused events to move quickly. And now, they would be taking a Star Angel on board.

The Craton would not be the first ship to host a Star Angel, but it was far from common.

And it would arrive tomorrow.

"Has Engineering prepared reactor seven for the Star Angel's arrival?" he asked.

The answer from Cutter came immediately. "Preparations were completed seventeen cycles ago. Efficiency of fusion reactor reduced by only 2.4%, and I predict future tweaks after arrival should enable recovery of lost efficiency within ~0.2% margin of error."

So it seemed that part was ready. He checked his itinerary and saw that the timeline for his involvement had already been marked and prepared.

He had been very much looking forward to meeting the being, but right now other concerns were souring his excitement.

But he needed to learn all he could.

Taking a deep breath, he watched his O2 meters spike briefly, and let his mind calm. Turning up the relative rate of operations in his cybernetics, he prepared to think all of this through.

He was not going to take chances, he was going to put in the hard work to get this right, no matter what his personal feelings were, or where his mind wanted to go.