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Post by lorkney on Mar 1, 2010 13:52:28 GMT -5
Ensign Candidate Laurel Orkney smoothed down her cadet’s uniform around her tall wirey frame as she looked at her reflection in her dorm room mirror. It was hard to believe that this time in her life was coming to an end. She had found it true that the busier you are, the faster the time seems to fly by. Her years in Starfleet Academy had just run their course so quickly, she felt like she might have been in a time warp. It seemed just mere weeks ago that she had been Cadet Candidate Laurel Orkney. Now she was Ensign Candidate. And after this afternoon’s ceremony she would be Ensign, First Class, Laurel F. Orkney.
“Flower!” At the sound of an older woman’s, Laurel turned, only to be held fast in a tight hug. “I can’t believe my baby is actually going to be a Starfleet graduate.”
“Mom, please don’t call me that. There are a lot of high ranking Admiral’s coming to today’s commencement and you never know who might hear you call me that.”
Laurel pulled back and glanced in the mirror again to assure herself that her neatly pressed maroon cadet uniform had suffered no untoward wrinkling from her mom’s embrace. Her long strawberry red hair was tied back in neat pony tail.
Her mom backed up, looking innocent. “Call you what? Flower or Baby?” “Both!” Laurel shot back. Then smiled. “ I love you mom, I couldn’t have gotten here without you and Dad’s support. But please don’t get me any nicknames before I even get my commission! By the way, where is dad?”
“Oh, you know your father,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “First time on a space station and he is like a child again. Has to see it all.”
Laurel smiled. Her mom had never been off of Earth either, but to her mom a trip to Saturn and back was about the same as taking the family skimmer to the down town Holoplex for an afternoon’s entertainment. It must all be routine. A tall Betazed looking student also clad in cadet garb entered the room.
“Mom, you remember my roommate, Zrohasa, don’t you? “
“Of course I do. It’s nice to see you again, Zrohasa. Congratulations to you too.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Orkney. And greetings to you also. I am glad that you are here to be able to see your daughter graduate. It is truly an auspicious day.”
Laurel often wondered at Zrohas’s very existence. The Vulcan side of her was cold calculating and logical. The Betazed, though supposedly more dominant side of her was incredibly emotional . How Zrohasa got these two halves of her heritage to coexist should probably have been studied by a xenopsychiatrist. Laurel also speculated often as to how a Vulcan female succumbed to the charms of a Betazed male. But there were some things she just didn’t ask. Nor probably want to know.
“Laurel, we have to get to the assembly for final instructions.”
“Oh, Flow… I mean Laurel,” her mom stopped her. “Before you go, I have something for you. But you can open it later.” She indicated a shiny wrapped gift she had evidently set on Laurel’s bed before the bear hug assault.
“Thank you mom.” Laurel gave her mom one quick wrinkle inviting embrace before heading to the door. On the way out, she grabbed her medical tricorder and clipped it to her belt. She never went anywhere without it. You just never knew when it might come in handy.
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Post by lorkney on Mar 1, 2010 13:57:26 GMT -5
The promenade of Sol Station was a sea of maroon cadet uniforms, broken up by the occasional dark reds, mustard yellows, or sky blues of the currently active Starfleet personnel. Most were in their dress uniforms. Many an Admiral had arrived with every decoration bestowed to them on them on full display.
Laurel and Zrohasa had just endured their very last Academy Instruction, directions on how the afternoon’s ritual would play out. They now had a few minutes of down time to socialize and relax before being called into the auditorium. Many a boring speech no doubt awaited them, followed by their official commissioning in Starfleet . They had decided to network a little with their future fleet mates. Academy tradition held that some members of the previous graduating class who had distinguished themselves should come back and say a few words to the new crop of Ensigns. A couple of these recent graduates were currently chatting with Laurel and her roommate.
“So there I was,“ the young captain said, handing his drink to his blonde female companion so abruptly it sloshed in her hand, spilling onto her uniform sleeve. All so he could have both hands free to gesture and act out his story. “Separated from my ship mates and facing a Klingon Blade Master, a Targ Master and a half dozen Targs ready to rip me to shreds at just one word.”
"Fascinating” Zrohasa said. She could be so Vulcanish when she wanted. The Captain’s companion just rolled her eyes as if she’d heard the story a dozen times. Laurel sipped her Raktajino to stifle a laugh. She would need the thick Klingon coffee to stay awake through the speeches to come. And this boring story. Zrohasa though seemed entranced. Along with a few other cadets that had wandered over, mostly female.
“Keep in mind,” the Captain said with a twinkle in his eye, “My Phaser Rifle was empty. It was only good as a club. But they didn’t know this. But still. So then I bellowed a Klingon battle roar at them to throw them off guard,” with that he threw back his head and gave a fair impression of a Klingon attack cry. The blonde rolled her eyes again and downed her Suarian brandy in a single swig.
“You know they make that sound all the time,” he continued. “I knew I had to do something. A clubbed Phaser Rifle is no match for Bat’Leth. So I started to look around the ground for something to defend myself with. It was then I saw the body of the dead Klingon I had just killed moments before. You remember, the one I used the last of my Phasers power packs on. Well he was lying on the ground and tucked in his belt was a Disruptor. I did a forward roll like this…” The Captain energetically demonstrated his agility on the floor, “scooped up the Disrupter and promptly disintegrated the Targ Master.”
“Huh?” Laurel said, in spite of herself. “Why the Targ Master?”
“Because,” the Captain said sideling up to Laurel, meeting her gaze eye to eye and invading her personal space. “I could tell that the Targs were starving and once their master was dead, would devour the closest living being to them. And that being, “he lowered his voice to a whisper as if this was a secret only meant for her, “was the Blade Master.” He had leaned in to her and she felt his breath on her ear. She drew back instinctively. He just smiled at her.
“SO!” with dramatic flair he whirled around to his rapt audience.
“With their master gone, the Targs chowed down on the Blade Master. And I was able to escape back to the away team. The action earned me this, “he tapped a minor ribbon pinned to his dress uniform. “and of course the chance to spend some time with you fine, young minds.”
“We are so fortunate to have you here,” Laurel said dryly.
“You sure are, Miss..?” The question hung like a pitched ball waiting to be batted back.
“Soon to be Ensign, Laurel Orkney”
“Well aren’t you a lovely thing, soon to be Ensign Laurel Orkney?” Laurel saw the blonde give up and walk away.
“Yes and this is my roommate Zrohasa,” Laurel said back up and grabbing her friend for support.
“Nice to meet you both, roommates, eh?”
“And who is your friend?” Laurel asked indicating the blonde officer that was now chatting up some other cadets. Anything to distract him. “Was she a classmate of yours?”
“Oh, her? She’s just an occasional bunk mate of mine. Now as for you…”
“Oh!” Laurel said, throwing up a little in the back of her throat “We should be going. We have to get to the auditorium. Isn’t that right Zrohasa?”
“Wait a minute, what does he mean bunk mate?” Zrohasa had lead a sheltered life.
“Come on Zrohasa, we must be going.” Laurel practically pushed Zrohasa away.
“Well I look forward to seeing you again,” the Captain called, “Most people call me Captain Mike. Remember that.”
“We will,“ Laruel said pushing her friend a bit faster.
“I’m still a bit confused at his meaning,” the Betazed Vulcan said furrowing her brow.
"You know, for you being the product of two semi telepathic races you certainly have a hard time reading people,” Laurel laughed at her friend good naturedly, “He was obvious..ugh!”
Not paying attention to where she was going, she crashed head to head with Ferengi cadet, knocking herself to the ground. He stayed up right not seeming to even notice.
“Oh, sorry, Qualth,” She said recognizing her friend. “I was just a bit distracted and….”
Laurel trailed off. Qualth was usually very friendly for a Ferengi but there was something totally out of character in him now. His forehead and lobes glistened with a fine sheen. His large eyes, usually scheming, but always on the friendly side had a vacant look about them as if he was in a trance.
“Qualth? Are you ok?”
A thousand mile stare met her inquiry. He then lurched forward as if pulled by strings and moved on. Zrohasa extended her arm to Laurel and pulled her off the floor.
“Thank you. How odd.”
“Ferengi aren’t known for the logical behavior. Unless of course, there is profit in it,” Zrohasa chimed in unhelpfully.
“True, but he seemed off.”
“Perhaps he was out celebrating last night with the other Ensign Candidates.”
“Perhaps”
“Laurel, you have something on your forehead.”
As she rubbed her hand across her forehead she felt a slight oily residue come off onto her fingers. Laurel held the digits close to her nose. They gave off a faint order. It must have been from when Laurel and Qualth went literally head to head (which by the way, the early strains of a head ache were beginning to trumpet the fact that she had lost that contest). She recalled from her anatomy classes that Ferengi perspiration was not all that different from human. Zrohasa would know this for sure. Alien anatomy was one of her specialities.
“Zrohasa, is the composition of Ferengi sweat different then humans?”
The Betazoid cocked her head to one side and arched a single eyebrow up so high, it was a good thing it was attached, lest it fly off. A very Vulcan trait. “I am sorry, Laurel, I think I must have misheard you, could you please repeat the question?” After Laurel had, the Betazoid half kicked back in. “And your mother wonders why you are still single with such ponderings.”
“No, seriously.”
“I believe the differences in chemical composition to be minute. Why do you ask?”
“Not sure, yet.”
Just then the lights flickered in the promenade announcing the time had come. Cadets along with the respected keynote speakers filed into the main auditorium. As everyone took their seats, Laurel stole a glance two rows back to where Qualth was seated. He still seemed stiff and disjointed. His demeanor, the perspiration that was out of the ordinary. It didn’t quite add up. Her mind was racing to connect the dots.
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Post by lorkney on Mar 1, 2010 14:00:42 GMT -5
The ceremony began and dragged on. After an hour of introductions and several diatribes from top brass on what each new Ensign was expected to do and not to do, Laurel still hadn’t figured it out. Unable to stand it no more, she slipped her medical tricorder off her belt and began scanning the residue on her fingers.
The clicking and whirring of the device caused several sets of eyes to turn in her direction. The more senior in rank of them disapprovingly. Laurel felt the glare and silently cursed her model of tricorder that was one of the most advanced pieces of Federation technology. Yet no one had thought to put a mute button on it. Quickly she completed her scan and put it away. Fortunately the current speaker had just finished and polite applause had covered some of her clandestine examinations.
“When your name is read,” the Academy Superintendant said in his most authoritative voice from the podium, “please come up to the stage and accept your commission. Ensign Reginald R. Ascariot…. Ensign Atinlala… Ensign Franklin T. Aurthor…”
The list of names went on. Laurel saw movement from the corner of her eye. Qualth had gotten up and was moving out of the chamber. “Where was he going?” she thought. His name isn’t for a while. Nor was hers. She got up to leave herself, Zrohasa from the seat beside hers, put a restraining hand on Laurel’s arm. “I’ll be right back,” Laurel whispered in her ear. She crept out of the auditorium into the now empty promenade. Qualth was nowhere to be seen.
Pulling out her tricorder, Laurel begin scanning the area around her. Quickly she found what she was looking for and headed off down the corridor. As she walked she could hear the muffled indistinguishable voice of the Superintendent reading off the names and quickened her pace.
Taking the turbo lift up to decks, she followed her tricorder’s readout down the hallway to a a door that lead to an upward observation. The door parted with a swish as she walked forward. The small copula had a few controls built into the wall and a commanding view of the auditorium and stage below. Qualth was there, his back to her, looking over the railing onto the dais below. The Superintendent’s voice was once again audible here.
“Orithanal J. Meridth….. Roberoto P. Mithorson… Moravia… Juliet R. Morrison…”
“Qaulth” Laurel hissed in a whisper. “are you aware….“ she trailed off as she saw the crumpled figure on the floor, pushed off to one side. A security member who look like he’d been attacked from behind. He had on a weapons belt, but no weapon. Laurel’s instinct over took her and she took several steps towards the victim. But she could tell already by the unnatural angle of his head his neck had been broken.
“Naroxis… Aquiam S. Narstromo… Navaberta…”
As Qualth turned around to face her light glinted metallically off the hand Phaser he held. The guard’s missing weapon no doubt. It was pointed right at her chest.
Time froze for Laurel. It was like she had hours to think, plan and take in every detail. Qualth’s blank expression. The deadly weapon in his hand. She even was sure that she cold see from her position on the business side of the Type I that it was set on kill. Even the electronically boosted voice of the Superintendent seemed to slow down.
“Donnnnnnnnnaaaaallllllldddddddd Seeeeeee Ohhh-leeeeevvvv-ahhhh….”
Laurel saw it all play out in her minds eye. Qualth in his current state would kill her with a single blast of the Phaser with no more thought then a red cardinal sitting on a tree outside of her window at home would use to snatch a passing bug off a branch. She wished she was home right now. She could already smell her scorched flesh and burnt clothes where the blast had struck her. She was sure her body would not even have time to drop to the floor before Qualth had turned back to the stage. Only two stories above the auditorium he could easily start eliminating cadets. No!
That wasn’t his target. Realization dawned on her. The weapon should have enough range to kill the assembled commanders on the stage. A wide dispersal pattern would bathe the entire group in a deadly light. It was a whole sale assassination attempt on the Admiralty. He could kill a dozen before security had time to react. Who would expect this at Sol Station during a commencement?
Her only consolation was that her death would prematurely expose Qualth’s plan and perhaps buy a few precious seconds for a couple more Admirals to get to safety and escape. She had no weapon, no where to run, she was helpless. Us she couldn’t give up. Laurel had to act.
She was the only one who knew.
She had to be brave.
She was trained for this.
The correct logical response for any emergency should be preplanned and ready to execute. Wasn’t that what they taught in Starfleet Academy?
She knew what to do.
She threw her tricorder at him.
With a thwack the device bounced off the Ferengi’s large cranium. It knocked him back a bit, but the phaser was still clutched in his hand and pointed at her. Quickly, Laurel looked around for something heavier to throw, but there was nothing. Qualth’s momentary surprise at the scanning device projectile was wearing off fast. So instinct took over.
With as much of a running start as the confined space would allow, she launched herself at the Ferengi, jumping into the air, connecting with his mid section and wrapping her arms around him for all she was worth as she moved forward. The momentum she had built up knocked Qualth back against and over the waste high railing, sending them both up and over and plummeting into the neatly set rows of chairs below.
“Laurel. F. Orkney…”
“Good Grief,” Laurel thought to herself, “my career as an Ensign won’t last any longer then my current hang time. I so hope that Ferengi are softer then they look.”
The ground raced up to meet her way too fast.
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Post by lorkney on Mar 1, 2010 14:19:38 GMT -5
Totally blackness parted horizontally as her eye lids flickered open. She recognized the Sol Station Sick Bay. One of the nicer rooms no less. With an external view. Outside in darkness she could make out the Earth slowly rotating before her.
“Oh good, you are awake. There is some one who has been waiting to see you.” The Nurse walked out rather quickly not even giving Laurel a chance to open her mouth to ask a single question. She struggled to a sitting position though she was still sore all over.
Looking up over her shoulder she could see the LCARS readout on her condition. Yep, she would live. Some broken bones that were on the mend. A punctured lung that was practically good as new. Laurel cursed that Ferengi’s weren’t made out of marshmallow and thick cotton mattresses.
The automatic doors parted to allow the entrance of tall mysterious Romulan dressed as a Starfleet Admiral. He looked very severe and by the book. He stood at attention beside Laurel’s bed. As Laurel struggled to rise he motioned to her to sit at ease. He got right to business.
“We reviewed the station’s video feed and we have a good idea of what occurred during the… incident. What we are unsure of is how you knew that something was wrong with Cadet Qualth.”
“Yes, sir. I had physical contact with him prior and found he was secreting an oily substance. It smelled lightly of canola oil which didn’t make sense to me. I analyzed a sample and realized that he was suffering form Panather’s disease. Ferengi give off certain pheromones when they are infected. He was easy to trace once I realized what to look for. What I didn’t understand was how he didn’t seem aware of his condition. And why he hadn’t sought aid. Panather’s causes the body to run hot and untreated he could have permanent damage very quickly.”
The Admiral studied her for a moment and then pursed his lips in contemplation.
“You were correct in your diagnoses. Cadet Qualth did indeed have Panather’s. What you might not know is that Ferengi with the condition are very susceptible to suggestion. Even complex instruction. We believe that he his food was doctored the day before.”
“Who would do that?”
“That is not your concern. You know nothing of this event.”
“Yes, Sir.” Laurel knew a direct order when she heard it. Though she was dying to know who was behind it, she certainly wasn’t in a position to be in on the investigation. Was the target the entire group, or a certain person. And was the person doing the “suggesting” to Qualth a member of the Klingon Alliance? A Romulan operative? A Borg plant? Or worse still, a Federation officer. She doubted she would ever know.
“You did a very brave thing. Your non standard use of a Tricorder, not withstanding. However, with an ongoing investigation we can not publicly acknowledge your actions. However, we can pull some behind the scene strings and get you any assignment you desire.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Think nothing of it. And I do mean, think… nothing… of it.” With that he pat her on the arm. Almost affectionately. “You get better soon and decide where you want to go with your new commission, Lieutenant.”
Seemingly out of no where, he produced a PADD that he handed to her, snapped a salute that Laurel quickly returned, and then click his heels together in an about face and walked out the door.
“Wait, “she called, “you mean Ensign, right? Sir? Sir?” But he was long gone. Laurel took a minute to take it all in. Then she turned her attention to the PADD in her hands. It was her rather brief service record. As she expected, there was no mention of the “incident” as the Admiral had called it. It showed her starting rank as a Lieutenant, with a notation it was a brevet promotion for a classified reason.
“Lieutenant Laurel F. Orkney,” she said aloud. She liked the sound of that.
Lt. Orkney laid back in the hospital bed, hugging the PADD to her chest. Not the way she wanted to start her career, but now she had arrived.
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Post by onezero on Mar 10, 2010 16:37:03 GMT -5
(( A very exciting graduation! I look forward to reading more of your adventures! ))
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