Cascade – Into the Fire
by Lieutenant JG Gralthek Sirran
Post Details
[ON]
The transport ship Mount Selaya settled into her moorings and the docking umbilical connected. More than a few of the passengers aboard sighed in relief. It had taken an unusually long time to get docking clearance. The transport had been vectoring to final approach when the station had suddenly ordered them to hold position. No explanation given except that there was an emergency, please stand by. And so they had waited, and waited, until finally the Mount Selaya's Captain had hailed station ops and told them he had over a hundred Starfleet passengers aboard, and wouldn't they be useful for whatever crisis was in progress? It was a bribe of sorts, but it worked, and the transport was granted docking clearance. Much to the dismay and protest of the other ships holding station.
The airlock doors motored open and passengers began to disembark. Among them was a young Andorian with a red-collared duty uniform and a bag over his shoulder. He and the other passengers were steered by security personnel to check in with arrival inspectors waiting nearby with PADDs in hand.
"Name?" the arrival inspector asked, not looking up from his PADD.
"Lieutenant Gralthek Sirran" the Andorian answered.
"Your business here?"
"Reporting for duty."
The inspector tapped a few more commands into his PADD, then handed it over to Sirran. "Hand print on the screen, please."
Sirran looked at him quizzically, then did as he was told. "New security protocols?" he asked.
"There was a bombing at the Cardassian Embassy earlier," the inspector replied. "Arrivals are being logged, including Starfleet personnel. And no one leaves."
"Seems prudent," Sirran said with a raised eyebrow. "Whom do I see about getting settled in?"
The inspector pointed to the overhead. "Personnel Office is up on deck fifteen. The yeomen there will get you quarters and replicator access. Then report to Ops to get your security clearances and meet the skipper. Keep in mind, though, she's probably busy at the moment."
"Thank you," Sirran said with a nod. Then he was off, leaving behind the other passengers and the transport he had called home for the past couple of weeks.
Sirran strolled calmly through the arrival/departure area. Most everyone around him, he noticed, did not. People scurried in silence to get to where they needed to be. No one wanted to linger in the open, crowded places. The atmosphere was tense. Would another bomb go off somewhere? Were the Cardassians the only target, or was everyone a target? Who knew?
A large crowd was gathered at one of the embarkation points, clamoring to get aboard a docked transport. Security officers held them back. Sirran overheard snippets of conversation as he passed.
"How long do we have to wait?"
"They're not letting anyone leave."
"I have to leave! I have an important conference on Galorda Prime!"
"We have perishable cargo! We have to get underway!"
"Damned terrorists."
"Yes, and we're stuck here with them."
"It's a kill zone here! They have to let us go!"
"Our blood is on their hands if something else happens!"
Sirran could see part of the transport's hull through the observation windows. Her running lights were on and the engine nacelles were glowing on warm standby. The docking clamps, however, were locked down. She wasn't going anywhere.
It was an ominous scene. One that looked like it could degenerate into a riot at any moment. These people were antsy to get off the station, but the security officers, stone-faced and immovable, were not going to give in to the pushing and yelling. Their phaser hands were noticeably free and ready to draw.
Sirran could also feel the apprehension welling up inside him. Panic was like a virus, passing from person to person, insidious, destructive. He was not officially on duty yet. What would he do if another attack happened? Who would give him orders? He had to keep his wits about him. Do what you know. Get the formalities done quickly and then you can get to work. He picked up the pace, but not too much. He didn't want any civilians to think that he was anxious as they were, despite the clenched jaw and the antennae that were flared back, alert to possible trouble. It didn't matter. No one paid attention to him. It was a devil of a way to report for duty.
He kept walking.
[OFF]
Lt.(jg) Gralthek Sirran
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
by Lieutenant JG Gralthek Sirran
Post Details
| Title | Into the Fire | |
| Mission | Cascade | |
| Author(s) | Lieutenant JG Gralthek Sirran | |
| Posted | Sat Jan 19, 2013 @ 12:09am | |
| Location | Docking Bay 7 | |
| Timeline | SD70 1745 |
The transport ship Mount Selaya settled into her moorings and the docking umbilical connected. More than a few of the passengers aboard sighed in relief. It had taken an unusually long time to get docking clearance. The transport had been vectoring to final approach when the station had suddenly ordered them to hold position. No explanation given except that there was an emergency, please stand by. And so they had waited, and waited, until finally the Mount Selaya's Captain had hailed station ops and told them he had over a hundred Starfleet passengers aboard, and wouldn't they be useful for whatever crisis was in progress? It was a bribe of sorts, but it worked, and the transport was granted docking clearance. Much to the dismay and protest of the other ships holding station.
The airlock doors motored open and passengers began to disembark. Among them was a young Andorian with a red-collared duty uniform and a bag over his shoulder. He and the other passengers were steered by security personnel to check in with arrival inspectors waiting nearby with PADDs in hand.
"Name?" the arrival inspector asked, not looking up from his PADD.
"Lieutenant Gralthek Sirran" the Andorian answered.
"Your business here?"
"Reporting for duty."
The inspector tapped a few more commands into his PADD, then handed it over to Sirran. "Hand print on the screen, please."
Sirran looked at him quizzically, then did as he was told. "New security protocols?" he asked.
"There was a bombing at the Cardassian Embassy earlier," the inspector replied. "Arrivals are being logged, including Starfleet personnel. And no one leaves."
"Seems prudent," Sirran said with a raised eyebrow. "Whom do I see about getting settled in?"
The inspector pointed to the overhead. "Personnel Office is up on deck fifteen. The yeomen there will get you quarters and replicator access. Then report to Ops to get your security clearances and meet the skipper. Keep in mind, though, she's probably busy at the moment."
"Thank you," Sirran said with a nod. Then he was off, leaving behind the other passengers and the transport he had called home for the past couple of weeks.
Sirran strolled calmly through the arrival/departure area. Most everyone around him, he noticed, did not. People scurried in silence to get to where they needed to be. No one wanted to linger in the open, crowded places. The atmosphere was tense. Would another bomb go off somewhere? Were the Cardassians the only target, or was everyone a target? Who knew?
A large crowd was gathered at one of the embarkation points, clamoring to get aboard a docked transport. Security officers held them back. Sirran overheard snippets of conversation as he passed.
"How long do we have to wait?"
"They're not letting anyone leave."
"I have to leave! I have an important conference on Galorda Prime!"
"We have perishable cargo! We have to get underway!"
"Damned terrorists."
"Yes, and we're stuck here with them."
"It's a kill zone here! They have to let us go!"
"Our blood is on their hands if something else happens!"
Sirran could see part of the transport's hull through the observation windows. Her running lights were on and the engine nacelles were glowing on warm standby. The docking clamps, however, were locked down. She wasn't going anywhere.
It was an ominous scene. One that looked like it could degenerate into a riot at any moment. These people were antsy to get off the station, but the security officers, stone-faced and immovable, were not going to give in to the pushing and yelling. Their phaser hands were noticeably free and ready to draw.
Sirran could also feel the apprehension welling up inside him. Panic was like a virus, passing from person to person, insidious, destructive. He was not officially on duty yet. What would he do if another attack happened? Who would give him orders? He had to keep his wits about him. Do what you know. Get the formalities done quickly and then you can get to work. He picked up the pace, but not too much. He didn't want any civilians to think that he was anxious as they were, despite the clenched jaw and the antennae that were flared back, alert to possible trouble. It didn't matter. No one paid attention to him. It was a devil of a way to report for duty.
He kept walking.
[OFF]
Lt.(jg) Gralthek Sirran
Chief Strategic Operations Officer