A Sheltered Life

Posted on Sun Dec 23rd, 2018 @ 11:39pm by Captain Liarra Von & Lieutenant Commander Marit Lantry M.D., Ph.D. & Lieutenant Marcus Rutilius & Samanthia Akiashiro

Mission: Weathering the Storm
Location: Emergency Shelter, Starbase 332

Marit moved briskly through the station, looking for people who were still out and about despite the incoming storm. For the most part, the station was like a ghost town, but there were a few people who either didn't believe the storm was anything to worry about or they still believed there was plenty of time. The counselor's maternal streak plus her nervous energy made her the perfect candidate to talk to those few stragglers and convince them to get to the shelters. She exhaled in relief every time someone made it to safety and a name disappeared from her list of outstanding crew members.

Soft whispers and scurrying sounds echoed through the vacant corridors. A slam of a hatch from around a corner. Caught by the sudden appearance of Marit, three young humanoid faces looked up at her with eyes wide with a bit of defiance in them. They wearing shabby dressed clothing that were obviously cast-offs.

Instinctively, Marit raised her hands in the air to show she wasn't a threat. "Hi. I'm Marit. I'm a doctor on the station and I'm here to make sure people have a safe place to go during the storm. May I help you guys get to a safe place?"

"They gotten lost." The more braver one spoke up, giving slight nudges to his companions. They nodded in agreement. "I was sent to retrieve them." More nods from his companions, looking up at Marit with eyes wide.

Marit lowered her hands, but kept her guard up. "Who were you sent to retrieve?" They seemed genuinely surprised, but she knew she couldn't just assumed everything was as it seemed.

"These two." The brave one spoke up as he grabbed the two with him by the arm as one flinched at being grabbed. The arm shifted, several flat packs of emergency rations fell from under his shirt to clatter onto the floor between them.

"Look whot you made me do!" The smaller boy kicked the group spokesman in the shin, making him release his hold on him. He scrambled to pick up the stolen ration flatpacks off the floor. "Elder's gonna be angry at you!"

Emergency Shelter, Starbase 332

Marcus looked around the room. The past couple of hours had been relatively quiet, allowing the mixture of civilians and Starfleet personnel spread out across the modest space had to settle in a little.

Some seemed to be trying to make the most of their time by getting work done. They were scattered here and there, identifiable by the PADD or two they were tapping away at. He could understand the motivation to want to limit the inconvenience of their evacuation.

Others had taken a more relaxed approach by playing games or otherwise trying to distract themselves with entertainment. A group of technicians had rigged up a portable screen at one end of the room where several people were watching some sort of film or something from the station’s cultural database. The rest sat together in various small groups and talked quietly.

He was impressed with how calm it all seemed. An ion storm was no small thing, even for seasoned veterans. This was his first time going through something like this. Like many of the others, he was certainly anxious about what could happen if things suddenly took a turn for the worse. For the time being, however, everything was fairly subdued.

“Ensign,” a voice said, interrupting Marcus’ thoughts, “Sir…it’s your turn.”

Marcus brought his attention back to the chess board. Across from him, a young man of around thirteen or so sat waiting.

“Right.”

Thus far, he’d been holding his own, but the young man was better at this than Marcus had anticipated. It had taken a few lost pieces for him to realize he was going to have to step it up if he wanted to stay in the game.

He had just reached out to make his next move when someone else approached the table.

Traxx, owner and proprietor of Traxx's Personal Spacecraft Emporium, found himself unable to sit still. It had not been the first time that the bolian had spent an emergency in the shelter, and it was assumed to not be his last. Well, at least he had hoped he'd live to see the next one. He was surprisingly calm given the circumstances, and spent his time walking around the shelter, looking for anyone that looked troubled that would be interested in his brand of support.

The bolian was all smiles as he approached a game of chess unfolding on a storage crate. "Evening, gentlemen. I hope I'm not bothering you. I was intrigued by your game."

"You're welcome to join us," Marcus offered, "Pull up a chair."

Traxx grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it over to the makeshift game table. "I've heard of chess, but I've never actually played. I've always imagined that it was similar to a logic game that I learned back on Bolus." He suddenly had a look of alarm. "Forgive my rudeness. The name is Traxx."

The name sounded like something Marcus had heard before, though he couldn't quite remember where. Starbase 332 was such a large facility with a population that rivaled several decent-sized cities. Perhaps they had crossed paths at some point or maybe he'd just heard someone else talking about the man. Whatever the case, Marcus decided it wasn't worth the effort trying to figure it out right then and there.

"Marcus Rutilius," he said, extending his hand toward the Bolian.

Traxx shook the ensign's hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I hope this visit to the shelter goes more smoothly than last time. I suppose an ion storm has to beat being under siege," Traxx said with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.