Obsidian Command

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The Flight In

Posted on 03 Jul 2018 @ 8:39pm by Lieutenant JG Itoban th’Shilliq
Edited on 03 Jul 2018 @ 8:39pm

=/-\= Runabout Interior, USS Ebro =/-\=

The quiet hum of the warp engines filled the small cabin of the Starfleet runabout Ebro as it warped towards the distant Loki System. A young Bolian ensign sat at the helm of the support craft, entering the random course correction and monitoring the sensors. She had been taking shifts with the craft’s sole passenger, a somewhat somber Andorian thaan that had kept to himself for most of the trip. In fact, the Andorian had said very little at all since leaving Starbase 211.

The Bolian had attempted conversation a number of times over the first couple days, only to get rebuffed by his very basic, often one-word responses. After that she had given up, resigning herself to quiet solitude, humming softly to herself from time to time. When they would trade off at the helm, they would trade basic status updates and go about their business.

Five days in, it was starting to get tedious.

A small alert sounded from the console, breaking her chain of thought and pulling her attention back to the journey. After reading the information that scrolled she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Lieutenant?”

The blue-grey-skinned man lifted his head from the PADD he had been reading, seated at the cabin’s starboard-side station. His voice was smooth, an even baritone, and his words were even and precise as he replied, “Yes, Ensign?”

“We’re crossing into the indicated sector now, sir,” she answered. She tapped on the navigation controls for a moment before continuing. “We’ll reach our destination in...two hours and fifteen minutes.

“Excellent. Thank you,” the man replied, again in a smooth, calculated tempo. He stood up from the chair and took in a breath before stepping over the seat next to her. After sitting down he began looking through the database for local traffic and approach patterns for the station.

Being the headquarters for the 9th Fleet, the station was obvious a very busy place. There was a lot of incoming and outgoing traffic that they would have to be aware of. Nothing difficult, perhaps, but definitely needing attention.

He’d have the chart memorized before they arrived.

=/-\= Two hours and ten minutes later… =/-\=

“Obsidian flight control to Runabout Ebro,” came a calm voice over the small craft’s comm. “Please change course to heading two-seven-five mark nine-zero and await further instructions.”

The Andorian’s fingers flew deftly across the console as he made the indicated adjustments to their course. Years of flight training and experience in the cockpit left flights like this feeling somewhat mundane for him. “Two-seven-five mark nine-zero, awaiting instructions, Runabout Ebro.”

Comm traffic continued between flight control and other various starships in the vicinity as the ensign sat staring out of the forward viewport at the starships cruising past, or those hovering over the growing Stardock-class station. “Interesting,” she muttered.

Looking towards her, the Andorian asked, “What is interesting?”

The young woman looked startled for a moment, her own blue-tinged skin darkening just slightly in what the Andorian assumed was a slight blush. “Oh, sorry. I was just...observing.”

“And what do you see?” The Lieutenant’s eyebrows raised slightly, though his focus remained on the console.

“It’s nothing,” she replied, obviously trying to downplay the exchange. “It’s just...the flow of starship traffic...it’s actually quite efficient. That’s surprisingly rare in some places.”

The comm unit lit up again, “Runabout Ebro, please adjust course to zero-one-zero mark nine-zero. Contact station approach on one-one-six-nine.”

Again the Andorian set into motion making the changes, “Zero-one-zero mark nine-zero. Contacting station approach. Thank you, control.” He tapped in the changes on the comm unit and opened a new channel, “Runabout Ebro to station approach. Current course zero-one-zero mark nine-zero. Requesting docking clearance.”

Only a moment passed before a reply came. “Runabout Ebro, you are cleared for docking. Turn to course zero-two-five. Prepare for arrival at platform one-nine.”

Itoban th’Shilliq, the newest flight leader for the station’s fighter group, replied, “Course zero-two-five. Arriving at platform one-nine, Runabout Ebro.”

 

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