Judgement – Arrival
by Citizen Akamu "Ka'er" Makani
Post Details
ON
Sulla Parek, Glen of the Cardassian Union, stepped off the transport that had been his abode for the past two weeks, and set foot on Deep Space Five for the first time. Hooded eyes darted about, casting a glance this way and that, analysing his surroundings, drinking in the details.
It was magnificent. The sights, the sounds and the smells. So many people living cheek-by-jowl in space. Truly it was a marvel of engineering, and a testament to the energies and creativity of the Federation mind. Parek began to walk through to Customs and Immigration. A place to be envious of, a place to learn from to make Cardassia great again.
His attire was that of a simple civilian, nondescript and typical of Cardassian clothes in the post war period. Though the Dominion War had ended a decade a go, Cardassia still wallowed in tight rationing and simple, rough-and-ready clothing for the lower orders. Not being wealthy himself, Parek was forced to wear the weave of a labourer, something which he had had to accustom to on his seldom-taken leaves. Still, it made him more innocuous, and allowed him to do what he loved most in places like these. Observe.
Not for gain, but rather for pleasure. Parek as many others in the Union had developed an interest in the mighty Federation and its peoples, a seemingly motley collection of worlds that had bested the greatest military and navy the Alpha and Beta Quadrants had ever seen. His fascination even extended to their literature, varied and rich in metaphor. To learn from them, as his superiors had told him, as he filed administrative papers, would re-awaken Cardassia from her troubled slumber.
Customs and Immigration were busy. Deep Space Five was an important regional hub for trade and transport. Milling about in the line were many a family, possessions clutched about them ready for any eventuality that would befall their children. To travel like that. Such trouble Parek thought to himself. Scattered about were the usual business-types: Ferengi Daimon looking for their next profit, Pakled technology-traders, and not a few Human entrepreneurs. All were watched over by the careful eye of Starfleet Security officers.
As the line meandered its way past the terminal, Parek was happy enough to observe a Bolian family as the mother tried to deal with her three young children. Two were running about the place, clearly enjoying some game or other, whilst one was still in her arms, just. It wriggled and writhed as if all it wanted was to be free.
Finally arriving at the booth, Parek handed over his credentials with a smile. All should be in order, his identification (back-up identification too) and the confirmation he was working at the Cardassian Embassy here. The bored human gave a cursory glance and mumbling the requisite, 'welcome to the Federation, sir.' Nodding, and passing through, he heard his own personal PaDD give a ping.
Pulling it out he saw that the station's computer had supplied him with information as regarded to his accommodation. It seemed he was squared away (was that even the right term aboard a place as vast as this?) way down on deck 1094. His eyes boggled. From what little he knew of Federation Starbases, there would undoubtedly be further decks below his to house communications arrays and the like. It was apt to describe this place as a city in space.
Emerging from a short corridor, Parek was thrust through double-doors to the Main Promenade. The PaDD he consulted helpfully told him that this was the first of four levels here. Looking about he could see that it was indeed a crowded place, vendors with stalls thronging the deck, and shoppers browsing as they went by. Children ran past in a small group, and a Benzite rushed ahead on some business or other.
The PaDD had laid out a map for him to consult, and following it he soon came to a bank of turbolifts. Stepping inside with a few others, Parek politely asked for his deck, ignoring some of the stares that were coming his way. The one thing he had noticed in all the diversity was the lack of Cardassians. No doubt there would be some floating about - Consulate workers for one, perhaps some merchants or traders - but they were still a rarity outside the borders of the Union. Ostracised for their brutality and aggression. He nodded politely in the direction of a Trill woman who was giving him a particularly hard stare before adjusting the strap of his travel bag and dropping his gaze for the rest of his trip.
The turbolift slowed, and came to a stop, and Parek slipped past a few of his fellow-riders and exited along with a young couple. Making a left turn he proceeded a short way down the corridor before taking a right at the next branching. As he approached his quarters he noticed a man stood outside in a starched uniform he was not familiar with.
'Mr. Parek? I'm Adam Bentham. The computer informed us you had arrived, and I'm here to give you the key to your quarters,' the man beamed in welcome and extended a hand, which Parek was more than happy to take.
'You're not Starfleet?' he questioned, curious as to the uniform.
'No sir! Federation Colonial Authority, in charge of non-Starfleet areas of the station. We're the bureaucracy around here. Dispensing permits, authorising cargo holdings and the like. And making sure your luggage gets here on time and in one piece. Now, would you like to open up?' Bentham smoothly slid a key-card from his pocket. 'Works with your combination. It's set to Zero-Zero-Zero-Zero right now, but once you slide this in, you'll get a prompt to set your own number. Go on, try it.'
Doing as he was told, Parek punched in a new combination he would remember after carefully checking the man was looking away. The doors slid open, and Bentham entered ahead of him. 'As you can see, your luggage is here,' he said briskly, indicating the baggage pile in the middle of the floor before proceeding to take him on a tour of the apartment, 'here is your main living, dining and office area. Furnished, naturally. Through here is your bedroom - closed space, a double-bed.' He breezily flew past Parek to show him through the next door, 'and here is your bathroom. Sonic shower as standard, basin, loo.'
Bentham retreated back to the centre of the room. 'There we go. Now if you have any problems, don't hesitate to contact us. There's a leaflet on your coffee table with our contact details. Rent will be on the second of each Earth-calendar month. Any questions?'
Parek shook his head mutely.
'Excellent. Well, I'll be leaving you alone now. Welcome to Deep Space Five, sir!'
Bentham saw himself out, and left Parek alone as the doors slid shut. Sighing to himself, Parek took a cursory glance to see that all his luggage had indeed arrived. Which it seemed it had. Standing in the middle of hte room for a second, he pondered what to do before trying out the sofa.
It was comfortable, plush. Very relaxing. He could get used to it here. It was a rather expensive set of quarters, but an Ambassador's Aide's remunerations were still quite good. All government salaries were - the Council knew better than to get on the bureaucracy's bad side.
Reclining lazily and stretching out his legs, he figured he could get one thing done before unpacking.
'Computer,' he asked, 'what is the location of Gul Tharek Getal?'
OFF
Glen Sulla Parek
Ambassador's Aide
Cardassian Consulate
Deep Space Five
by Citizen Akamu "Ka'er" Makani
Post Details
| Title | Arrival | |
| Mission | Judgement | |
| Author(s) | Citizen Akamu "Ka'er" Makani | |
| Posted | Mon Jan 03, 2011 @ 7:30pm | |
| Location | Deep Space 5 | |
| Timeline | Current |
Sulla Parek, Glen of the Cardassian Union, stepped off the transport that had been his abode for the past two weeks, and set foot on Deep Space Five for the first time. Hooded eyes darted about, casting a glance this way and that, analysing his surroundings, drinking in the details.
It was magnificent. The sights, the sounds and the smells. So many people living cheek-by-jowl in space. Truly it was a marvel of engineering, and a testament to the energies and creativity of the Federation mind. Parek began to walk through to Customs and Immigration. A place to be envious of, a place to learn from to make Cardassia great again.
His attire was that of a simple civilian, nondescript and typical of Cardassian clothes in the post war period. Though the Dominion War had ended a decade a go, Cardassia still wallowed in tight rationing and simple, rough-and-ready clothing for the lower orders. Not being wealthy himself, Parek was forced to wear the weave of a labourer, something which he had had to accustom to on his seldom-taken leaves. Still, it made him more innocuous, and allowed him to do what he loved most in places like these. Observe.
Not for gain, but rather for pleasure. Parek as many others in the Union had developed an interest in the mighty Federation and its peoples, a seemingly motley collection of worlds that had bested the greatest military and navy the Alpha and Beta Quadrants had ever seen. His fascination even extended to their literature, varied and rich in metaphor. To learn from them, as his superiors had told him, as he filed administrative papers, would re-awaken Cardassia from her troubled slumber.
Customs and Immigration were busy. Deep Space Five was an important regional hub for trade and transport. Milling about in the line were many a family, possessions clutched about them ready for any eventuality that would befall their children. To travel like that. Such trouble Parek thought to himself. Scattered about were the usual business-types: Ferengi Daimon looking for their next profit, Pakled technology-traders, and not a few Human entrepreneurs. All were watched over by the careful eye of Starfleet Security officers.
As the line meandered its way past the terminal, Parek was happy enough to observe a Bolian family as the mother tried to deal with her three young children. Two were running about the place, clearly enjoying some game or other, whilst one was still in her arms, just. It wriggled and writhed as if all it wanted was to be free.
Finally arriving at the booth, Parek handed over his credentials with a smile. All should be in order, his identification (back-up identification too) and the confirmation he was working at the Cardassian Embassy here. The bored human gave a cursory glance and mumbling the requisite, 'welcome to the Federation, sir.' Nodding, and passing through, he heard his own personal PaDD give a ping.
Pulling it out he saw that the station's computer had supplied him with information as regarded to his accommodation. It seemed he was squared away (was that even the right term aboard a place as vast as this?) way down on deck 1094. His eyes boggled. From what little he knew of Federation Starbases, there would undoubtedly be further decks below his to house communications arrays and the like. It was apt to describe this place as a city in space.
Emerging from a short corridor, Parek was thrust through double-doors to the Main Promenade. The PaDD he consulted helpfully told him that this was the first of four levels here. Looking about he could see that it was indeed a crowded place, vendors with stalls thronging the deck, and shoppers browsing as they went by. Children ran past in a small group, and a Benzite rushed ahead on some business or other.
The PaDD had laid out a map for him to consult, and following it he soon came to a bank of turbolifts. Stepping inside with a few others, Parek politely asked for his deck, ignoring some of the stares that were coming his way. The one thing he had noticed in all the diversity was the lack of Cardassians. No doubt there would be some floating about - Consulate workers for one, perhaps some merchants or traders - but they were still a rarity outside the borders of the Union. Ostracised for their brutality and aggression. He nodded politely in the direction of a Trill woman who was giving him a particularly hard stare before adjusting the strap of his travel bag and dropping his gaze for the rest of his trip.
The turbolift slowed, and came to a stop, and Parek slipped past a few of his fellow-riders and exited along with a young couple. Making a left turn he proceeded a short way down the corridor before taking a right at the next branching. As he approached his quarters he noticed a man stood outside in a starched uniform he was not familiar with.
'Mr. Parek? I'm Adam Bentham. The computer informed us you had arrived, and I'm here to give you the key to your quarters,' the man beamed in welcome and extended a hand, which Parek was more than happy to take.
'You're not Starfleet?' he questioned, curious as to the uniform.
'No sir! Federation Colonial Authority, in charge of non-Starfleet areas of the station. We're the bureaucracy around here. Dispensing permits, authorising cargo holdings and the like. And making sure your luggage gets here on time and in one piece. Now, would you like to open up?' Bentham smoothly slid a key-card from his pocket. 'Works with your combination. It's set to Zero-Zero-Zero-Zero right now, but once you slide this in, you'll get a prompt to set your own number. Go on, try it.'
Doing as he was told, Parek punched in a new combination he would remember after carefully checking the man was looking away. The doors slid open, and Bentham entered ahead of him. 'As you can see, your luggage is here,' he said briskly, indicating the baggage pile in the middle of the floor before proceeding to take him on a tour of the apartment, 'here is your main living, dining and office area. Furnished, naturally. Through here is your bedroom - closed space, a double-bed.' He breezily flew past Parek to show him through the next door, 'and here is your bathroom. Sonic shower as standard, basin, loo.'
Bentham retreated back to the centre of the room. 'There we go. Now if you have any problems, don't hesitate to contact us. There's a leaflet on your coffee table with our contact details. Rent will be on the second of each Earth-calendar month. Any questions?'
Parek shook his head mutely.
'Excellent. Well, I'll be leaving you alone now. Welcome to Deep Space Five, sir!'
Bentham saw himself out, and left Parek alone as the doors slid shut. Sighing to himself, Parek took a cursory glance to see that all his luggage had indeed arrived. Which it seemed it had. Standing in the middle of hte room for a second, he pondered what to do before trying out the sofa.
It was comfortable, plush. Very relaxing. He could get used to it here. It was a rather expensive set of quarters, but an Ambassador's Aide's remunerations were still quite good. All government salaries were - the Council knew better than to get on the bureaucracy's bad side.
Reclining lazily and stretching out his legs, he figured he could get one thing done before unpacking.
'Computer,' he asked, 'what is the location of Gul Tharek Getal?'
OFF
Glen Sulla Parek
Ambassador's Aide
Cardassian Consulate
Deep Space Five