Reporting In: No Longer a Passenger

Posted on Sun Sep 26th, 2021 @ 10:13pm by Lieutenant Commander Hamish Brott

704 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Prologue: Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

He knew where he was going. The enforced inactivity of the trip out had given him time to prepare. It was both a holdover from his days as an Azhadi and part of his basic nature, preparation. So, he knew where he was going and he knew, from his time in Starfleet, that there was a routine to one's first day in a new assignment. It started with reporting in to the senior most officer, in this case, Lieutenant Commander Brott. At 6'3" with a physique honed to perfection by a training regimen taught to him long ago, Niahl moved with unexpected grace. His hair, black and impossibly straight, hung to just below his shoulders; the tips of his pointed ears peaked out occasionally as he moved, midnight blue eyes taking in his surroundings, watching for problems that weren't there. Dressed in uniform, as was expected, he carried a long combat knife, carved with runic symbols, in its hand-made sheath; he had sworn an oath, at the age of fourteen, to carry it always. And he kept his word. That the Imai had not was unimportant. His word held.

He stopped at the closed door to the Commander's office and pressed the chime. In the Federation, access was not a given. One must always wait for permission. Odd but then, the Azhadi had always gone into service on alien worlds. And while on those worlds, they adapted to the customs of those who sought to wield them, to point them at an enemy. It was not so far from what he might have done. And there were times, in the history of the people, when service had taken generations to complete. Or in his case, one lifetime.

Brott had been in his office for what felt like an eternity. There were things that were needed aboard the station, more than manpower. That was being finalized with the latest additions to the crew, but materials were needed, and some parts and pieces were required. He was having a difficult time navigating his way through shortages and logistical issues for certain supplies.

The station had a handful of work bees and two shuttles, but so far only one pilot devoted to the position who was supposed to be arriving soon. The sooner, the better. Like clockwork, the chime to his door drew his attention away from screens and PaDDs and to the man standing outside. "Oh yes, enter," Brott replied with enthusiasm.

He had sprung to his feet to meet the man at the threshold with a big broad smile and an extended hand. "Lieutenant Niahl, it is so good to have you aboard. I've been hoping that you would arrive today."

Niahl nodded as he extended his hand. An alien custom, one that could get you killed on his world, but, as he reminded himself for about the millionth time, he was no longer on his world. Alien customs must become his. And so, he shook the man's hand, his expression serious and somewhat shuttered, while he turned his attention to the matter at hand. "Is there something that needs to be done," he asked.

Brott scoffed and his eyes looked around his office. "This station has a crew of seven when it's operating with a 'full' crew compliment," the Bolian replied. "That is a rarity aboard the Bellwether. We are often working with a skeleton crew. I've been fortunate lately to have as many people aboard as I have. There's always something that needs done around here, Lieutenant. You'll find a type 10 and a type 18 shuttle in the bay. Maintaining those and the workbees will be a top priority."

"Understood," Niahl said. He understood, on some level, that this place, these people, were to be his new edun but the transition from stranger had never been instantaneous with him. And so, he stood quietly, hands at his sides, balanced and waiting. "It shall be done."

"Thank you," replied Brott with a smile. He was not sure things would work out long term with this particular man, but for the time being, he was suitable.

Note: Writer has since vacated the sim due to other commitments and inability to balance their writing load.

 

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