The Deck Eighteen mess had become considerably more appealing to Jessica once she worked out when most of Blackwatch wasn't using it. Between normal meal periods there were usually enough people around that it didn't feel abandoned, but not so many that sitting down automatically became a group activity. Nobody was paying much attention to anyone else, which was generally how Jessica preferred it.

She collected a cup of coffee and something the replicator had optimistically labeled vegetable soup before turning toward the tables. The coffee had been mediocre yesterday and she saw no reason to expect technological advancement overnight, but habit was habit.

The Zakdorn sitting alone near the far bulkhead was familiar enough that she'd seen him several times during her first few days aboard, although they'd never spoken. He seemed focused on his meal, but his attention shifted whenever the doors opened or movement changed around the room. His eyes would move, register something, then return to whatever he'd been doing without the rest of him following.

Jessica recognized the habit because she had her own version of it. Spend enough years listening for things other people didn't notice and eventually you stopped consciously deciding to pay attention.

Her gaze dropped briefly to his uniform and found the insignia without needing to linger. Petty Officer Second Class. His eyes came up almost simultaneously and paused at her collar, registering the warrant insignia before returning to her face. At least they'd managed the rank introductions without saying anything.

There were other open tables, but his was also the farthest from the small group near the viewport. Jessica stopped beside the chair opposite him. "Taken?"

The Zakdorn glanced at the empty chair, then at the rest of the mostly vacant table. "Statistically, no."

Jessica hesitated long enough to decide he probably had intended that to be funny, then sat down. For the next minute neither of them spoke. She sampled the coffee, confirmed yesterday's assessment remained accurate, and moved on to the soup while the Zakdorn continued eating without appearing particularly bothered by the Chief Warrant Officer who had invited herself to his table.

Eventually he looked up. "Chief."

"Petty Officer" Jessica returned, earning the slightest movement at the corner of his mouth.

"Marn" he offered after another bite.

"Jessica."

That settled it. They both knew the other's rank, both understood what it meant, and neither seemed inclined to make it shape the rest of the conversation.

Marn's attention eventually shifted toward her cup. "Port-side replicator makes better coffee."

Jessica looked toward the two units along the wall. "They're identical."

"The hardware is" Marn said, explaining that four days of sampling had established the port-side unit as consistently less bad. The certainty behind the statement made Jessica look down at her cup again.

"Less bad is your standard?"

"For replicated coffee? It's realistic."

She reluctantly admitted he had a point and asked how he was settling in. Marn said mostly, then seemed to reconsider whether that was enough of an answer. "Four days is enough to stop getting lost. Not enough to know what everyone is lying about yet."

Jessica looked up from the soup. "You assume people are lying?"

"Usually they're simplifying. Starfleet likes simplifying."

"The patrol-cutter description bothering you?"

That earned the first real flicker of surprise she'd seen from him. "It isn't very convincing."

When she asked why, Marn explained that there were too many specialists for routine patrol work, too many restricted compartments for the stated mission profile, and too much about Deck Eighteen that didn't resemble normal crew accommodation. "Individually, none of it means much. Together, it narrows things."

Jessica sat back slightly. Four days. She knew people in Intelligence who could spend four months aboard a ship and remain blissfully unaware of anything that wasn't contained in their assigned reports.

"You make a habit of inspecting every posting?"

"I make a habit of knowing where I am."

"Most people use deck plans."

"Deck plans tell you where things are supposed to be" Marn said.

Jessica's eyebrows rose, which he noticed almost immediately. When he asked what the look was for, she decided there wasn't much reason to be diplomatic.

"I'm deciding whether you're always like this."

"Like what?"

"Certain."

There were other words available. Abrasive came to mind, although she hadn't known him long enough to make that one fair. Confident wasn't quite right either. Confidence implied there was something deliberate about the way he presented himself, while Marn seemed to speak as though the question of whether other people found him confident had never occurred to him.

He considered the description with more seriousness than she expected. "Usually when I say something out loud."

Jessica felt the beginning of a smile and returned her attention to the bowl. She'd already guessed his specialty. "What are you here for?"