Obsidian Command


Posted on 22 Nov 2018 @ 8:32pm by Civilian Cassandra Leblanc

Mission: The Void
Timeline: MD-01

Cassandra didn’t usually work all night like this. This new step in her career, however, had come on such short notice, that she was left with no other choice. Of course, she had been briefed, however summarily, about her latest assignment before she left Paris. She had read all that she could on the starbase itself, its history, the star system it was located in. She had just never thought there would be so much material. She assumed that eventually, she would be in contact with inhabitants of the Loki system, but she didn’t really know exactly when. Therefore, it just seemed prudent learn all about it beforehand.

She yawned, blinked. “Computer, time please,” she called. Gods, it was probably early morning. She didn’t really care what time it was; she was going to bed anyway. “Never mind that.”

She rose from the floor on which she had been sitting on for hours, pouring through the material she had been given. Aside from her giant mug of coffee, which she placed back in the replicator, she left it all where it was. She didn’t think anyone would wander into her office if she wasn’t there anyway.

Retreating in her bubble, Cassandra stepped out, head down, to the nearest turbolift. Once inside, she leaned back against the rear wall and almost dozed off when she felt the floor lurch under her feet. She yelped as she held onto the rail, and almost lost her balance when the lift abruptly stopped, screeching along the way.

“Well, I’m not getting any sleep,” she muttered as she heard the red alert blaring in her ears. When she felt certain the turbolift wasn’t about to move again, she took a tentative step forward, and fell to the ground as it dropped a few feet, and came to a stop as if it had a hit a large obstacle.

Putain, je vais mourir ici… she thought as she tapped her commbadge. “Leblanc to Ops, I’m stuck in a lift,” she started, quickly realizing comms were offline. “Ah, putain…”

The lift lurched once more, and fell as the object that had been blocking its path finally gave way. Cassandra couldn’t help but scream in abject terror as she dropped several decks, and screamed some more as the emergency clamps activated, stopping the lift with a deafening metallic screech. She would have found herself in a rather embarrassing situation had she had company: a diplomatic aide, curled up in a ball, arms over her head, screaming bloody murder and crying to her mother at the thought of plummeting to her death.

This time, Cassandra was certain the lift wouldn’t move again. After what seemed like forever, she slowly, tentatively stood, and moved over to activate the manual door controls. Et merde, she thought as the doors opened: the deck floor came to just below her chin.

And just beyond the door opening were two pairs of boots.

Cassandra sighed, and raised her head in an attempt to see to whom the footwear belonged.

Definitely not Starfleet.

She sighed again in resignation. “Good morning,” she greeted before being brusquely hoisted up and dragged away.