Marine Meet & Greet.

Posted on Sat Dec 13th, 2025 @ 4:31am by Colonel S'er'in'e & Colonel Jason "Jack" Frost & Major Samantha Snyder
Edited on on Sat Dec 13th, 2025 @ 4:33am

2,141 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: The Hand That Rocks The Babe
Location: Marine Deck
Timeline: Final Hours Prior To Departure.

The turbolift doors parted with their usual soft hiss, and Colonel Frost stepped into the Marine Operations foyer just off Deck 14. Even after all these years across the Dreadnought’s lineage of hulls and refits, he still found comfort in the thrum of the ship’s core, steady, familiar, loyal. The Marines aboard joked that Frost could probably navigate the ship blindfolded, guided only by the heartbeat of the vessel he had served on longer than most Starfleet captains served a posting.

He was reviewing the padd in his hand containing personnel rotation schedules, updated holodeck training parameters when he felt a shift, like a feeling of being watched.

The new arrival had impeccable timing.

Colonel S’er’in’e stepped through the opposite doorway with that unmistakable Caitian grace, upright, composed, but with the fluid readiness of a creature who had never forgotten the instincts of a world far more dangerous than any Starfleet corridor. His white fur caught the overhead lighting, giving him an almost ceremonial presence.

Frost lowered the padd, studying the newcomer for a quiet moment.

“Colonel S’er’in’e,” he said at last, voice steady, carrying the authority of a man who’d led Marines through more planetside deployments than most officers dared to tally. “Welcome aboard the Dreadnought. I hope your trip to the ship was smooth?"

S’er’in’e inclined his head in a polite yet distinctly Caitian gesture—somewhere between a nod and the poised readiness of a warrior acknowledging a peer. “It was…efficient,” he replied, his tone measured. “Your marines maintain an impressive standard of training, respect and preparedness. I am to join your complement as Marine Liaison.”

Frost gestured for him to walk with him down the corridor. “The Dreadnought’s seen her share of battles, rebuilds, and the occasional political nightmare. Marines here function a little differently than the Academy’s expectation, but you’ll get the rhythm of it quickly enough.”

S’er’in’e matched his stride easily, tail swaying in a slow, deliberate arc. “Adaptation is expected. I am here to facilitate coordination between Sector Marine Command contingents and your own Marines. But above all, my purpose is the success of this ship and her missions.”

“Good,” Frost said, stopping just short of the tactical briefing room. “Because on this ship, Marines don’t just follow orders, we anticipate them. And we protect Starfleet officers who still think ‘covering fire’ is something handled by the ship’s shields.”

For the first time, S’er’in’e’s whiskers twitched, a hint of humour. “I suspect,” he murmured, “we will work together just fine, Colonel.”

Frost keyed open the door. “Let’s get you properly checked in, Colonel. After that, I’ll walk you through how things work around here.”

Side by side, one human, one Caitian, both seasoned leaders, they entered the room, beginning the first steps of what would become a formidable cooperative command. The administrative wing of Marine Country was quiet at this hour, just the low murmur of duty staff and the steady hum of workstation displays lining the walls. Frost led S’er’in’e past the row of open alcoves and shared offices until they reached a door bearing a freshly updated panel:

Liaison Office – Marine Command
Colonel S’er’in’e

Frost paused long enough to let the Caitian read it before palming the door open. “Your workspace,” he said. “Not the largest on the deck, but it’s got a direct link to my command net and the company ops channel. You’ll be able to coordinate with both Starfleet and sector detachments from here without tripping over the lieutenants.”

The room was modest but efficient. A desk with dual displays, a wall-mounted tactical holo emitter, and after a heartbeat S’er’in’e noticed, an environmental control panel already tuned a few degrees warmer than standard Starfleet comfort. Someone had done their homework.

S’er’in’e set his personnel case beside the desk. “This will be suitable. Thank you.”

Before Frost could respond, a voice called from behind them:

“Sir? Apologies for interrupting.”

A woman approached with a confident stride, tall, athletic, her blonde hair pulled back in a regulation-approved but no-nonsense braid. The uniform sat on her like old armour, comfortable and worn in all the right ways. Major Samantha Snyder, Frost’s Executive Officer, gave a crisp nod to the human colonel before turning her attention to their newest officer.

“Colonel S’er’in’e,” she said with a professional smile that reached her eyes. “Major Samantha Snyder, Company XO. Welcome aboard the Dreadnought.”

S’er’in’e offered the Caitian equivalent of a polite bow, a subtle lowering of his head and a soft forward tilt of his ears. Customs had to be observed even in uniform, the Major was a female and she was due his cultural respect. “A pleasure, Major. I have read your file."

Snyder raised a brow, amused. “All good things, I hope.”

“Competence,” S’er’in’e replied. “And endurance. Both qualities spoken of with respect.”

Frost chuckled. “Sam’s been with me longer than anyone else still breathing. She keeps the company from eating itself during stand-downs.”

She shot Frost a look but it was the comfortable kind, the one officers shared after surviving more deployments than most of Starfleet’s shiny new captains. Then she gestured into the office. “I took the liberty of having your access codes synced,” Snyder said. “Training schedules, weapons logs, armory permissions, comms routing, it’s all ready for you. And if anything’s not to your preference, tell me and I’ll get it adjusted.”

S’er’in’e flicked his tail once in acknowledgment. “You are efficient.”

“I try,” Snyder replied. “Colonel Frost can make demands at a pace most people’d call unreasonable.”

Frost folded his arms. “It’s how we stay alive.”

Snyder smirked. “See what I deal with?”

S’er’in’e’s whiskers twitched with a hint of reserved amusement. “You two appear to have…established rhythm.”

“We have,” Frost said simply. “And we’ll bring you into it fast. Marines don’t waste time.”

Snyder stepped back to the doorway. “I’ll leave you to get settled, Colonel S’er’in’e. Shift briefing’s in two hours, if you need anything before then, just comm me.” With that, she nodded once more and disappeared into the corridor.

Frost tapped the desk console, bringing up S’er’in’e’s new command interface. “Take your time to settle in. When you’re ready, meet me in the briefing room. We’ll go over the things they don’t put in the formal posting packet.” Frost then departed, leaving S'er'in'e to settle in.

The office door had barely slid shut behind him before Snyder let out a quiet exhale, the kind she only allowed herself when no junior Marines were around. Frost caught the look she shot him as they stepped into the corridor.

“So,” she began in a low, conversational tone, “that’s our new Marine liaison.”

Frost gave a grunt that could’ve meant agreement, curiosity, or mild amusement. “First impressions?”

Snyder folded her arms, watching the closed door for a moment before answering. “He’s…controlled. Every movement deliberate. Ears track everything even when he tries not to make it obvious. That’s someone who’s been responsible for people for a long time. Someone who expects trouble before it arrives.”

Frost nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong.”

“And he’s observant,” she added. “Didn’t miss the environmental adjustment in the room. Didn’t miss my braid. Didn’t miss the fact that you pretended not to notice the way he sized you up when we walked in.”

That earned a quiet smirk from Frost. “I suppose thats natural for him, he is a predator after all. Instincts don’t just vanish because they put on a uniform.”

Snyder tilted her head. “Think he’ll fit in?”

“Oh, he’ll fit,” Frost replied, voice lowering to a more serious register. “Question is how fast. He’s got the résumé, the poise, the discipline. But I’ve worked with enough to know that kind of person commit hard, or they don’t commit at all.”

“And which do you think he is?” Sam asked.

Frost considered that for a long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. “He’s one of the committed ones,” he finally said. “You can hear it in his tone. Feel it in the way he stands. He’s here for the ship and not the glory, not the politics, not the posting. The ship.”

Sam let out a short, satisfied breath. “Good. Because the last thing we need is an external appointed officer who folds at the first sign of real combat.”

“Sam,” Frost said dryly, “if that Caitian folds, the bulkheads will go first.”

She couldn’t help but grin at that. “Point taken.”

They walked a few paces down the corridor, letting the hum of the ship fill the space between words. Then Snyder added, quieter. “He’s protective, too. I’ve seen that stance before. Like someone who’s lost people. Which means he values life and not one to needlessly or recklessly throw marines at a situation."

Finally, he clapped her lightly on the shoulder. “Keep an eye on him. Learn how he ticks. The sooner he syncs with the company, the smoother everything else’ll run.”

Sam nodded. “Already on it.”

With that, the two Marine officers continued down the corridor, veterans of the Dreadnought, already adjusting their mental maps to include a white-furred Caitian whose arrival promised to shift dynamics in ways neither fully understood yet.

The quiet that followed Frost and Snyder’s departure settled over the office like a soft blanket. S’er’in’e stood still for a moment, letting the ship’s background vibration pass through the pads of his feet and the fine hairs along his spine. The Dreadnought had a different rhythm than the vessels he’d served on before—deeper, calmer, but with an undertone of power that reminded him of a predator at rest.

He approved.

With a soft exhale, he opened his personnel case and began setting the space to his liking. Starfleet efficiency was commendable, but it lacked…identity.

Next came a folded cloth, a gold and green with silver thread embroidered upon it, the symbol of his Caste. He draped it carefully over the back of his chair. The fabric shimmered faintly, catching the office lights in ways Federation materials rarely did. Finally, he adjusted the environmental settings a few degrees warmer and with slightly lower airflow. The room responded instantly, and he felt the tension in his shoulders ease a fraction.

Just as he was about to unpack his final item—a small transparent container, almost like a jar. Within it contained the lock to his collar that he'd presented to his Mate, soil from his homeworld and metal strip which had engraved upon it the audio graph of the first cry of his Daughter upon her birth. A soft chime sounded at the door.

S’er’in’e’s tail stilled. “Enter,” he called, voice composed. The doors parted with their smooth mechanical whisper and a young Marine Lieutenant nearly stumbled in, eyes widening at the sudden appearance of the tall, white-furred Caitian framed by his still-unpacked office.

“Colonel S’er’in’e, sir!” the Lieutenant blurted, snapping to attention so quickly he almost dropped the padd in his hands. “Apologies for the interruption, I, uh I was told to deliver your preliminary deployment rotation and… and to see if you required anything else from Marine Logistics.”

S’er’in’e blinked once, slowly, then stepped forward with that fluid feline grace that made humans instinctively straighten their posture. “There is no need for alarm, Lieutenant,” he said gently. “You may stand at ease.”

The young officer relaxed, only slightly.

S’er’in’e accepted the padd with a nod. “Thank you. And tell Major Snyder I will review the rotation and forward any adjustments within the hour.”

“Yes, sir!” The Lieutenant nodded so hard it was nearly a bob. “Welcome aboard, Colonel.” The Lieutenant hurried out, almost forgetting the door panel entirely. When the room returned to its quiet hum, S’er’in’e exhaled softly and returned to his desk, his new domain aboard the Dreadnought. He picked up the final metal case, weighing its significance, its secrets, and set it precisely in the center of the desk before taking his seat.

Whatever came next, he would meet it with the calm strength of his people and the discipline of an officer who had seen far too much to be rattled by a new posting.

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