A Moment of Silence
Posted on 02 Sep 2020 @ 12:40pm by Lieutenant Commander Godiva Kimberlye
Mission:
M1 - Emergence
Location: Runabout North Saskatchewan
Timeline: MD3 1030HRS
1120 words - 2.2 OF Standard Post Measure
The North Saskatchewan streaked through space at a lazy pace of Warp Six, the cruising speed the older runabout was happiest. Ensign S'Ran on the other hand, was finding it harder and harder to keep his usual Vulcan composure, as his passenger continued on another tangent. She had, at his estimate, been talking for the last two hours straight, though no point of her speech ever reached a logical conclusion. In fact, he was wondering how a questions about her work in the field of Borg research lead her to discussing the finer points of Bolian theology. The pilot, a man of nearly a hundred and six, had joined Starfleet as a way to experience a wider view point of the galaxy as a whole, to explore his species' way of understanding it in connection with the universe, and working as a ferry pilot had allowed him that opportunity, even if it was relatively thankless.
He now regretted that decision, and considered resigning his commission on the arrival at Obsidian Command. Someone could fly him back to Vulcan, and he could become a monk, study at one of the many temples. Maybe he would never see another human again, and before that thought would have distressed him, but after eight days in transit with the Lieutenant Commander, he considered it would be preferable. A beep on his console drew his attention, and he looked down at it, seeing that Navigation was reporting they had arrived at their destination. He cleared his throat to inform his passenger, but nearly jumped from his own skin when she slammed her hands on the co-pilot's console in excitement. He looked to her, as the mess of barely tamed hair about her head bounced wildly and wonder and excitement filled her eyes.
"We're heeeeeeeere!" she exclaimed, something he was more than aware of. The streaks of passing stars faded, and instead a large planet dominated the view before the pair, the form of Obsidian III. Drifting in front of it was Obsidian Command, the local space around it filled with work craft and other ships. Repairs were clearly still under way, and there was a buzz of activity that seemed focused on getting the station looking in one piece. S'Ran looked over at the woman again, as they began their slow approached, and inwardly groaned. She was about to tell him something. "Obsidian Command, 9th Fleet's former headquarters, rescued by the USS Vesta after 18 months in the Void." The Ensign paused, normally he would have let her ramble, but he hadn't heard any of this, just that the station had reappeared after being missing.
"Rescued? I was under the impression the subspace anomaly deposited the station back into normal space. How did the Vesta manage the recovery?" He immediately regretted the question as the woman regarded him with what almost appeared to be sparkles in her eyes.
"Oh that is what Federation news would share. The nature of the Vesta and her Quantum Slipstream Drive are still highly classified. The fact they were able to use their systems to force the anomaly back open, and drag the station back through was a stroke of genius but Commodore Minawara and Captain Darrow! What is more fascinating is the remnants of conflicts in this area from various pirate and criminal organizations in the power gap left behind! I am lead to believe there are remains of an almost perfectly intact 22nd Century Romulan Bird-of-prey! What is it doing here, who was operating it, what were their intentions, can you IMAGINE?!" A series of quick energetic giggles escaped from the woman, and the Vulcan paused to contemplate what he was seeing.
He knew, full well, that this was going to be the woman in charge of the single largest regional Intelligence body, overseeing operations that would effect the entire Fleet. She would likely see every single report and every single bit of information that moved through the area. When he'd first met her, he'd considered that Starfleet Command had made a mistake, but as he watched her work, he started to consider that opinion flawed, his own logic on the matter flawed. Yes, she prattled on and on, and had disassembled the secondary replicator when he wasn't paying attention, but there was something else there, a thirst for knowledge and truth that was so often missing from officers. She was scatter brained and came off as eccentric, but behind that, there was a brain that absorbed information at an incredible rate. It made sense now.
The pair were brought out of their respective wonders by a beep from the communications console. It beeped again, and the Ensign reached over to answer. "This is runabout North Saskatchewan we read you Obsidian Command." A brief burst of static came through, followed by a high pitched whine and screaming noises.
"Oh, Obsidian Command, it sounds like your transceiver is pooched," came the reply from Lieutenant Commander Kimberlye, as she slid into the seat next to him, rerouting controls and signals at a speed he couldn't keep up with. "I am guessing your having issues with your light-based communication too, let's clean that up for you, just give me a second and- there!" Through the interference a voice came through.
"-Runabout, please respond if you can. This is Obsidian Control, can you hear us?"
"Obsidian Control, this is runabout North Saskatchewan we an hear you. I have Lieutenant Commander Godiva Kimberelye for delivery to the station for assignment. Which shuttlebay is clear?" Asked S'Ran, his face settling into a traditional Vulcan mask.
"None North Saskachewan and transporters are down, with issues in internal sensors we cannot give accurate transport locations. We are freeing an external docking port, please make for the indicated port." The comm went dead. S'Ran looked like he was about to apologize, but realized the woman next to him was bouncing from foot to foot qith excitement.
"This is going to be such an exciting challenge! Imagine all the work that needs to be done! I wonder if Engineering will let me help? Oh of course they will, they'd be..." the pilot watched as she bounced along out of the cockpit into the crew area, still talking aloud as if he was listening. He watched in confusion, which turned to mild amusement as he turned back to his controls. He was sure she was going to be a fine officer for the station, but was absolutely convinced who ever had requested her aboard the station didn't have the foggiest what they had wrought upon themselves.
