[BACK POST] One Small Step

Posted on Wednesday June 2nd, 2021 @ 2:23am by Ensign Lethe Sivarr

597 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: S1-A1-Ep. 1: Spectrophobia
Location: Qualor II
Timeline: Three Weeks Ago...

[ON]

"Oh, there you are. I've been wandering half this deck looking for you."

Seated on the deck 10 catwalk, Lethe paused in his work to consider the words, then took a moment to look around; working aboard the decommissioned hulk of the Miranda class USS Korolev, Lethe and lieutenant Mitchell were currently the only two souls onboard, on the lowest deck of the starship outside of the nacelles and pylons. With the exception of the turbolift, the catwalk, and the two remaining scanner suites, there was really nothing else to be found. "Wandering half this deck could not have taken more than a couple seconds," he pointed out, unconcerned. After all, if Mitchell really needed to reach him, there was always the combadges.

Mitchell shrugged, leaning against the safety railing. "I didn't say I was wandering around for long, but it was still half this deck," he pointed out with a grin, then motioned to the scanner Lethe was working on. "How's it coming?"

"The stembolts are seized and being..." The translator failed for a moment to interpret the guttural snarl in his throat. "... stubborn. However, give me twenty minutes and it will be fully decoupled and ready for transport."

"Hey, no rush, the transport won't be here till tomorrow to haul it off to wherever they need it."

"I still need to pull those plasma relays and three transporter transceiver assemblies before the end of the day," Lethe added, his lower arm sweeping the deck behind him until he located the plasma cutter, and brought it around to check the settings. "The shipment will not be delayed on my account."

Mitchell nodded, running a finger over the nearest edge of the scanner and checking for dust. "A lot of the engineers that end up at the salvage yards either aren't good enough to cut it on an actual starship, or just like the quiet life with very little action. You, on the other hand, take your job seriously, and you're not afraid to do what it takes to get noticed. I said as much in your performance review, though I rather regret it now. I'll be sorry to see you go."

The Rechakan stopped short of activating the cutter, looking up at the lieutenant with a confused look. "Sorry to see me go? Go where?"

"Your next assignment. Apparently you got yourself noticed, and your transfer orders arrived an hour ago."

The plasma cutter clattered onto the catwalk as Lethe grabbed the guardrail and hoisted himself to his feet, eyes wide with a spark of excitement. "Assignment. They're giving me a ship? I mean... posting me to a ship?"

The red haired lieutenant nodded. "Looks like. You'll be joining the transport in the morning to ferry you out where you can catch a connecting flight."

"A ship..." For the better part of two years, the ensign had been working salvage at Qualor II, stripping down derelicts too damaged or run down to be good for much more than parts. His time aboard starships had been spent pulling them apart; an Ambassador, a couple Excelsiors, and more than half a dozen Mirandas, including the Korolev he was standing on now. "Do they say which one?" he asked quietly, images flashing through his head. Akira class? Nebula? Galaxy? Or could he have drawn enough notice for even a Sovereign? Something big, modern, state-of-the-art, sleek and powerful...

"USS Poseidon. Miranda class."

Lethe stopped, four arms dropping limply to his sides as he turned a fierce eye on the bulkheads around. A Miranda class? "Aw, son of a b-!"

[OFF]

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