(Authors Note: So I set the challenge, and it gives me a couple ideas. Don't think I'll enter though, but I would like to know what people think of the narrative style so far? Does it work? Is it terrible? Never tried writing it like this before.)
I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did. It just sort of… happened. And now?
Well, maybe I should start from the beginning. I suppose that was… three weeks ago? On Stardate 52329.5, when I arrived for my new assignment.
The large round airlock doors slid open as the new Chief of Station Security stepped onto the Promenade. Lieutenant Commander Mitchell Ferguson looked around the abysmal place, wondering who he had angered to send him to this Cardassian scrap heap.
‘DS9 is an important station,’ the admiralty had told him. But he didn’t buy it. Oh sure, the proximity of the station to the wormhole was important to the Bajorans, since their superstitions told them that their gods lived there, but he was never much for faith. And in his experience beliefs like that give people reason to do terrible things, and the Dominion War was a perfect example.
Still, it wasn’t as though he had much choice in the matter. Bajor was entering the Federation, which meant DS9 would become a permanent Starfleet outpost, and he was one of the unlucky few who got sent here.
‘It even smells foul,’ he thought to himself as he sneered and made his way to the Security Office. On his way, he evaluated his surroundings. There were at least 27 obvious security violations in that short distance, most of which comprised of blind spots in the security monitors. Four people tried to pick-pocket him, and failed, and he could see signs of several concealed weapons. He had to wonder what kind of job his predecessor was doing, because it was obvious that it wasn’t security.
I think I just assumed he was incompetent, or perhaps he had been bribed by one of the shopkeepers. The Ferengi were definitely known to do that, but a Starfleet Officer wouldn’t allow that to happen. Would they?
So, I checked in with the officer on duty, looked over some of the current dealings, and made my way to Ops. I wasn’t sure what to expect there, as I had heard the station was run by two commanders. One Starfleet, the other Bajoran. I couldn’t imagine who would think that was a great idea, there should be one commanding officer. Anything else, it gets confusing and mistakes happen.
“Lt.Com Ferguson reporting for duty Sir,” he said as he stood in front of his superior’s desk.
“Welcome,” a middle aged man replied as he stood up. He looked to be in his forties, graying hair and a stark shade of steel blue eyes. He wasn’t tall, perhaps 132 cm in all, but he had an imposing air about him. He was a man who had seen combat during the war, but the more gruesome kind. Starship combat was controlled, precise… No, Ferguson was sure this man had seen ground combat, and more than anyone should have to see. “I am Captain Franklin, and this is General Kira Nerys.”
“A pleasure to meet you Lieutenant,” she said quickly.
“Thank you ma’am,” Ferguson replied.
“Let me also congratulate you on your recent promotion,” Franklin said as he smiled.
“Captain,” the man interrupted, “Permission to speak freely?”
“Very well.”
“With all due respect Sir, I’d like to skip the formal platitudes,” Ferguson said bluntly. “To be honest, I don’t want this posting. I’ve seen enough Cardassian architecture to last me a lifetime, and I can’t wait to get transferred. In the mean time, I would like to put my gear away and get to work.”
There was a long silence as he stood there, waiting for the captain to say something. It felt like an eternity, and Ferguson was certain the man’s gaze was painting a target on his forehead.
“As you wish,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “You’re quarters are on the habitat ring, section h-22, apartment 2122. You’re duties start at 0800 tomorrow.”’
“Thank you Captain, General.”
And then I left. Ok, so maybe I was a little rude, but for them it was 1523 hours, for me it was 0122 hours. I know, I know… that’s no excuse. But I was tired, grumpy, and had just arrived in that hell hole. I didn’t feel like being nice.
Besides, even now, years after the war there was a short supply of niceness. We were ‘helping’ the damned spoonheads, but no one really trusted them. And the rumor was that the Klingons were doubling their war budget which only meant one thing… They were looking to pick a fight.
So from there, I made my way to my quarters. They were as dismal as the rest of this place, and I began to wonder of Cardassians only saw the color Grey. Actually, I began to wonder that when I spent six months of the war in a Cardassian prison camp, but you get the idea.
I didn’t sleep well that night. The walls were confining, bringing memories of interrogation by that… that… All the foul insults from all the known worlds aren’t strong enough to describe Gul Markon. So instead, I walked; not that it was much better, but at least I was on my feet. The station felt cold to me, lifeless. Like a body that had been dead for some time, all traces of life gone.
“Excuse me?” a voice called out, pulling Ferguson from his thoughts as he turned to see who it was. “I’m a little lost, can you help me?”
Ferguson’s eyes locked on to a young woman, maybe 25 years old. She was a small woman, with vibrant red hair and pale skin. He guessed she’d be about 55 kilos if she fell in a pool, but that was being generous. What caught his gaze the most were the eyes, a deep green color with flecks of gold, making it appear that her eyes glowed.
“How can I help you, Miss?”
“D’ana Katrin,” she replied as she held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Charmed,” he muttered as he took her hand. “Lt.Com Ferguson, you said you needed help?”
“Yes, this station is so confusing… I’m looking for section h-22, apartment 2123.”
“That is next door to me,” Ferguson stated as he gestured down the corridor. “I can take you right there.”
“Well, at least I have a cute neighbor,” D’ana said with a wry smile.
Well, maybe DS9 wouldn’t be totally bad; she did say I was cute.
I sat with D’ana for hours, just talking the night away. She told me she was here on business, something to do with expanding to the territories of the gamma quadrant. To be honest, I wasn’t listening; I was lost in her eyes. They seemed like they could contain entire world’s right there.
Before I knew it, it was time for me to be on duty. What a great way to start a first day on the job, tired. But, after having a cup of Raktajino and leaving D’ana’s quarters, I felt like I could take on the universe. Strange how someone can have that effect on you.
I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did. It just sort of… happened. And now?
Well, maybe I should start from the beginning. I suppose that was… three weeks ago? On Stardate 52329.5, when I arrived for my new assignment.
The large round airlock doors slid open as the new Chief of Station Security stepped onto the Promenade. Lieutenant Commander Mitchell Ferguson looked around the abysmal place, wondering who he had angered to send him to this Cardassian scrap heap.
‘DS9 is an important station,’ the admiralty had told him. But he didn’t buy it. Oh sure, the proximity of the station to the wormhole was important to the Bajorans, since their superstitions told them that their gods lived there, but he was never much for faith. And in his experience beliefs like that give people reason to do terrible things, and the Dominion War was a perfect example.
Still, it wasn’t as though he had much choice in the matter. Bajor was entering the Federation, which meant DS9 would become a permanent Starfleet outpost, and he was one of the unlucky few who got sent here.
‘It even smells foul,’ he thought to himself as he sneered and made his way to the Security Office. On his way, he evaluated his surroundings. There were at least 27 obvious security violations in that short distance, most of which comprised of blind spots in the security monitors. Four people tried to pick-pocket him, and failed, and he could see signs of several concealed weapons. He had to wonder what kind of job his predecessor was doing, because it was obvious that it wasn’t security.
I think I just assumed he was incompetent, or perhaps he had been bribed by one of the shopkeepers. The Ferengi were definitely known to do that, but a Starfleet Officer wouldn’t allow that to happen. Would they?
So, I checked in with the officer on duty, looked over some of the current dealings, and made my way to Ops. I wasn’t sure what to expect there, as I had heard the station was run by two commanders. One Starfleet, the other Bajoran. I couldn’t imagine who would think that was a great idea, there should be one commanding officer. Anything else, it gets confusing and mistakes happen.
“Lt.Com Ferguson reporting for duty Sir,” he said as he stood in front of his superior’s desk.
“Welcome,” a middle aged man replied as he stood up. He looked to be in his forties, graying hair and a stark shade of steel blue eyes. He wasn’t tall, perhaps 132 cm in all, but he had an imposing air about him. He was a man who had seen combat during the war, but the more gruesome kind. Starship combat was controlled, precise… No, Ferguson was sure this man had seen ground combat, and more than anyone should have to see. “I am Captain Franklin, and this is General Kira Nerys.”
“A pleasure to meet you Lieutenant,” she said quickly.
“Thank you ma’am,” Ferguson replied.
“Let me also congratulate you on your recent promotion,” Franklin said as he smiled.
“Captain,” the man interrupted, “Permission to speak freely?”
“Very well.”
“With all due respect Sir, I’d like to skip the formal platitudes,” Ferguson said bluntly. “To be honest, I don’t want this posting. I’ve seen enough Cardassian architecture to last me a lifetime, and I can’t wait to get transferred. In the mean time, I would like to put my gear away and get to work.”
There was a long silence as he stood there, waiting for the captain to say something. It felt like an eternity, and Ferguson was certain the man’s gaze was painting a target on his forehead.
“As you wish,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “You’re quarters are on the habitat ring, section h-22, apartment 2122. You’re duties start at 0800 tomorrow.”’
“Thank you Captain, General.”
And then I left. Ok, so maybe I was a little rude, but for them it was 1523 hours, for me it was 0122 hours. I know, I know… that’s no excuse. But I was tired, grumpy, and had just arrived in that hell hole. I didn’t feel like being nice.
Besides, even now, years after the war there was a short supply of niceness. We were ‘helping’ the damned spoonheads, but no one really trusted them. And the rumor was that the Klingons were doubling their war budget which only meant one thing… They were looking to pick a fight.
So from there, I made my way to my quarters. They were as dismal as the rest of this place, and I began to wonder of Cardassians only saw the color Grey. Actually, I began to wonder that when I spent six months of the war in a Cardassian prison camp, but you get the idea.
I didn’t sleep well that night. The walls were confining, bringing memories of interrogation by that… that… All the foul insults from all the known worlds aren’t strong enough to describe Gul Markon. So instead, I walked; not that it was much better, but at least I was on my feet. The station felt cold to me, lifeless. Like a body that had been dead for some time, all traces of life gone.
“Excuse me?” a voice called out, pulling Ferguson from his thoughts as he turned to see who it was. “I’m a little lost, can you help me?”
Ferguson’s eyes locked on to a young woman, maybe 25 years old. She was a small woman, with vibrant red hair and pale skin. He guessed she’d be about 55 kilos if she fell in a pool, but that was being generous. What caught his gaze the most were the eyes, a deep green color with flecks of gold, making it appear that her eyes glowed.
“How can I help you, Miss?”
“D’ana Katrin,” she replied as she held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Charmed,” he muttered as he took her hand. “Lt.Com Ferguson, you said you needed help?”
“Yes, this station is so confusing… I’m looking for section h-22, apartment 2123.”
“That is next door to me,” Ferguson stated as he gestured down the corridor. “I can take you right there.”
“Well, at least I have a cute neighbor,” D’ana said with a wry smile.
Well, maybe DS9 wouldn’t be totally bad; she did say I was cute.
I sat with D’ana for hours, just talking the night away. She told me she was here on business, something to do with expanding to the territories of the gamma quadrant. To be honest, I wasn’t listening; I was lost in her eyes. They seemed like they could contain entire world’s right there.
Before I knew it, it was time for me to be on duty. What a great way to start a first day on the job, tired. But, after having a cup of Raktajino and leaving D’ana’s quarters, I felt like I could take on the universe. Strange how someone can have that effect on you.
Last edited:
