Time to make the donuts.

Posted on Sun Dec 24, 2017 @ 3:24am by Lieutenant Commander Krang Darkmoon

574 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Victory Conditions
Location: Various
Timeline: MD01: 0600 - 1000

::ON::

Krang could barely believe what he was reading. He had read and re-read the orders several times, but they just didn't seem real. He had resigned himself to Chief of Security on Typhon being the pinnacle of his career, and if he had to be honest, he had not only come to terms with it, but was actually beginning to grow content. He liked his quarters, he didn't hate most of his co-workers, it was not a bad life all things considered.

Then, this morning, completely out of the blue, re-assignment orders had come through, making the Executive Officer and Chief of Station Operations on Deep Space Five.

The attached letter said that one of his former COs had recommended him, but it didn't say which one.

[Four hours later]

He was standing in the head, in his temporary quarters aboard the transport. He had replicated a new uniform, complete with it's maroon under tunic, and was now wearing it, standing in front of the "looking glass", trying (somewhat in vain) to get used to the look of it.

He had just finished a painfully short subspace chat with Anna, and while she was happy for him professionally, the distance was going to be painful for both of them.

The last several years had been some of the best and some of the worst. On the good days, he had a sense of pride and accomplishment for keep the station safe, and relatively crime free, but on the bad days, he felt every single moment of his 40 years of age. Some of the more "adventurous" days of his youth had taken they're toll, and if he was going to be completely honest, he had last a step or two in the last year.

A friend and confidant had told him recently, "You do know that not every problem is a nail, and not every solution has to be a hammer, don't you?" and as much as he didn't want to admit it, they were right. Not every patrol had to end in a bar brawl.

He shook his head lightly to return from his thoughts of the past and straighten his uniform jacket.

"To boldly go, and all that rubbish." he muttered to his reflection.

[Attention all hands, this is the notice of final approach to Deep Space Five. If you are disembarking, please make sure to have all belongings properly prepared from transfer. Disembarkation will take place through Airlock 4 on the port side of Deck 11.]

The announcement startled him. He checked the time and noticed that the transport was actually docking ahead of schedule.

"Time to make the donuts." he said, invoking an ancient mantra of his people in reference to doing what needed to be done, whether one was ready or not.

He walked out into the main sitting area of his quarters, gave it one last sweeping glance, then shouldered his duffle and made his way to the airlock.

As he crossed the umbilical and stepped onto the deck of the station, he took a deep cleansing breath, squared his massive shoulders and marched toward the security check point with an air of confidence that he most definitely did not feel on the inside.

When challenged by a very young man staffing the check point, he handing the youngster a PaDD containing his transfer orders and said in his deep, rumbling baritone, "Lieutenant Commander Krang Darkmoon, reporting as ordered."

:: OFF ::

 

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