We All Fall Down – Home is Where Your Generic Quarters Are...
by Lieutenant Mikaela Locke
Post Details
[ON:]
"Okay then..."
Mikaela Locke stood outside the airlock and looked left, then right... and left again.
It had taken five days and three starships to get her to her new post and, even though she had had plenty of time to mentally prepare herself, she was pretty sure that she still wasn't ready.
Everyone else disembarking from the Trident seemed to be in an awful hurry to get somewhere and, as such, she found herself being shoved back and forth as she stood rooted to the spot.
“I’m sorry…” she mumbled a couple of times, but no one seemed to be listening. They were only concerned with getting to wherever it was they were going.
“Can I help you, sir? Are you lost?” asked a young Bajoran man, dressed in science teal, with an ensign pip on his collar. The brightness in his eyes suggested that he was altogether too eager to impress – probably his first assignment.
“No, thank you,” Mikaela replied, finding that her usual composure immediately restored itself the second that she realised someone had noticed her. “I know where I’m going.”
This was, of course, true – she had studied the station schematics and committed them to memory as part of her preparation for her new assignment. Direction was not the issue. Motivation was.
She moved away from Ensign Eagerness and towards the nearest turbolift. By this time everyone else who had arrived with her had already cleared the area and she found herself waiting for the turbolift alone, her bag containing her few personal effects slung over her shoulder.
The lift arrived and the doors slid open with their familiar hiss. “Deck twenty-four,” she stated, and the doors closed her, ready to carry her to the rooms that would constitute her new home for the foreseeable future.
The journey wasn’t a long one and soon she found herself navigating the short walk from the turbolift exit to the entrance to her quarters. The door slid open automatically and she stepped in far enough to allow the doors to close shut behind her, before pausing to look around. The quarter’s were larger than those that she had occupied on the Regent, although that was not a surprise, given the abundance of room that the Celestial-class starbases boasted.
She crossed to the couch and placed her bag down before having a quick look around to confirm that everything was exactly as she expected it to be. The living space contained the couch and two other soft chairs, a table and four dining chairs with a replicator in the wall behind. In the far-right corner a desk and chair sat in front of a giant interactive screen.
She crossed to the replicator and ordered a black coffee. As the beverage shimmered in to existence, she unzipped and removed her uniform jacket and loosened the collar. She picked up the cup and sat down on the couch next to her back.
Once again alone, she suddenly felt a wave of emotion sweep over her. She was unsure if she had really had any friends on the Regent, but she certainly worked well with her colleagues there. “Stop being stupid,” she whispered to herself. This was the life of a Starfleet Officer. You serve in one place for a time and then you move on. The attachments that you make are broken and new ones have to be made.
She took a sip from the steaming cup that she clutched with both hands and sat in silence for several minutes trying to decide whether it as the steam from the mug or her complete and overwhelming sense of emptiness that was making her eyes water.
“Computer,” she finally announced, finally deciding that sitting around moping wasn’t going to get her anywhere, “where is Commander t'Vaurek?”
“Commander t’Vaurek is in the station commander’s office,” the computer replied in its familiar soft, female tone, “Deck twelve, section…”
“I know where it is,” Mikaela interrupted, standing and placing her half-finished coffee on the dining table, and headed for the door, as if her small act of defiance against a non-sentient computer was somehow sufficient to remind her that she was in control of her own destiny.
[OFF:]
_______________________
Mikaela Locke
Chief Intelligence Officer
Deep Space Five
by Lieutenant Mikaela Locke
Post Details
| Title | Home is Where Your Generic Quarters Are... | |
| Mission | We All Fall Down | |
| Author(s) | Lieutenant Mikaela Locke | |
| Posted | Mon Sep 22, 2014 @ 9:03pm | |
| Location | Deck 200 - Docking Port 39 / Deck 24 - Mikaela Locke's Quarters | |
| Timeline | Previously... |
"Okay then..."
Mikaela Locke stood outside the airlock and looked left, then right... and left again.
It had taken five days and three starships to get her to her new post and, even though she had had plenty of time to mentally prepare herself, she was pretty sure that she still wasn't ready.
Everyone else disembarking from the Trident seemed to be in an awful hurry to get somewhere and, as such, she found herself being shoved back and forth as she stood rooted to the spot.
“I’m sorry…” she mumbled a couple of times, but no one seemed to be listening. They were only concerned with getting to wherever it was they were going.
“Can I help you, sir? Are you lost?” asked a young Bajoran man, dressed in science teal, with an ensign pip on his collar. The brightness in his eyes suggested that he was altogether too eager to impress – probably his first assignment.
“No, thank you,” Mikaela replied, finding that her usual composure immediately restored itself the second that she realised someone had noticed her. “I know where I’m going.”
This was, of course, true – she had studied the station schematics and committed them to memory as part of her preparation for her new assignment. Direction was not the issue. Motivation was.
She moved away from Ensign Eagerness and towards the nearest turbolift. By this time everyone else who had arrived with her had already cleared the area and she found herself waiting for the turbolift alone, her bag containing her few personal effects slung over her shoulder.
The lift arrived and the doors slid open with their familiar hiss. “Deck twenty-four,” she stated, and the doors closed her, ready to carry her to the rooms that would constitute her new home for the foreseeable future.
The journey wasn’t a long one and soon she found herself navigating the short walk from the turbolift exit to the entrance to her quarters. The door slid open automatically and she stepped in far enough to allow the doors to close shut behind her, before pausing to look around. The quarter’s were larger than those that she had occupied on the Regent, although that was not a surprise, given the abundance of room that the Celestial-class starbases boasted.
She crossed to the couch and placed her bag down before having a quick look around to confirm that everything was exactly as she expected it to be. The living space contained the couch and two other soft chairs, a table and four dining chairs with a replicator in the wall behind. In the far-right corner a desk and chair sat in front of a giant interactive screen.
She crossed to the replicator and ordered a black coffee. As the beverage shimmered in to existence, she unzipped and removed her uniform jacket and loosened the collar. She picked up the cup and sat down on the couch next to her back.
Once again alone, she suddenly felt a wave of emotion sweep over her. She was unsure if she had really had any friends on the Regent, but she certainly worked well with her colleagues there. “Stop being stupid,” she whispered to herself. This was the life of a Starfleet Officer. You serve in one place for a time and then you move on. The attachments that you make are broken and new ones have to be made.
She took a sip from the steaming cup that she clutched with both hands and sat in silence for several minutes trying to decide whether it as the steam from the mug or her complete and overwhelming sense of emptiness that was making her eyes water.
“Computer,” she finally announced, finally deciding that sitting around moping wasn’t going to get her anywhere, “where is Commander t'Vaurek?”
“Commander t’Vaurek is in the station commander’s office,” the computer replied in its familiar soft, female tone, “Deck twelve, section…”
“I know where it is,” Mikaela interrupted, standing and placing her half-finished coffee on the dining table, and headed for the door, as if her small act of defiance against a non-sentient computer was somehow sufficient to remind her that she was in control of her own destiny.
[OFF:]
_______________________
Mikaela Locke
Chief Intelligence Officer
Deep Space Five