Beginnings
Stardate 46412.0
Captain Robert Uhalie sat in his temporary quarters at Starbase 173. Certainly not the fanciest he’d ever been in. Other stations were certainly more accommodating, and had a slightly more pleasing colour palate. Uhalie scoffed. Since his recent promotion to Captain, he’d thought that Starfleet would be more serious about his quarter accommodation.
Originally, He’d guessed it was to accommodate the range of species the star base hosted. Not that they did encounter many or to the federation’s always-euthanasic wish to host, but procedure, according to the computer. Uhalie almost laughed, the computer on the station was notorious for it’s sketchy answers.
No taste whatsoever, he thought, tutting at the lack of style. He had been hoping that the quarters would be a bit more - well, interesting. The Station was deep in federation space, but it was rarely visited except by science ships and traders. He glanced at the dull lounge – at least it was comfortable.
Of course, he had tried to make his quarters more attractive since his time on the station. He added a few statues, books, and it almost – almost, made it more interesting.
He pulled a face as he smelt the musty, old air. For a moment, he could see himself opening the window to freshen the room. Of course, that wouldn’t be a wise choice on a station barely hanging in space.
He forced a chuckle and rummaged around in his quarters, picking a PADD at random. He ran his hand through his short hair and threw the PADD into the air, catching it as it fell.
He wore a look of focus as it flew into the air and decended, managing to catch it forteen times. Suddenly, a ship launched from the station, startling him. He missed, it landing on the ground with a crack. Uhalie winced and slowly picked it up with an inward moan. Unluckily, there had been an important letter about a Lieutenant’s recent reprimand.
Uhalie shuffled around on the lounge, already trying to think of an excuse.
Encountering a new hostile alien species wouldn’t work... Neither a wormhole suddenly spawning in his quarters, destroying the PADD leaving everything else unscathed...
He frowned, finally deciding to convince Alika to set up a diagnostic and shake the station a little. It was stupid, but so was the ops chief, Alika. Not in truth, but he followed orders without question, no matter how foolish or strange. One of his strengths, but at the same time; one of his faults. He was easily fooled, but also extremely loyal.
Uhalie wanted nothing more than his own command, and to steer her through the stars. It was what he had signed up for in Starfleet after all.
He had spent 7 months stuck up on the station and was congratulated for his new command. He rolled his eyes as he thought.
~ 1 week earlier, 0500 hours ~
Uhalie stormed into ops, in a bad mood. He heard a chime and glanced at a pannel. “Open the comm channel.” Uhalie commanded, already trying to stifle a sigh. He quickly sat down in the chair and rather discreetly, tried to get comfortable. Not that it was overtly possible, but of course, he always tried. His face was slick with sweat, and his entire body ached. He wiped his forhead, but instead of wiping it away, he simply let it drip down and stared forward at the viewscreen.
He had spent the entire morning trying to get the since-deceased Commander Burke’s office to something that resembled acceptable. ‘Commander Burke obviously had zero taste,’ Uhalie thought with a small shudder.
“Aye sir.” The Bajoran said with a neutral – almost bored - tone.
Uhalie groaned inwardly. He couldn’t blame her bored tone, he knew it was likely another plain science vessel, nothing out of the ordinary. Morale had been hard to keep up lately - there wasn’t much to do on the station after all. Of course, he had tried to keep it up, Commander Burke hadn’t done much.
Besides the constant struggle to keep up with smugglers, nothing remarkable ever happened.
A few moments later and a stern-faced man flickered onto the screen. His face was oddly pale, and his blinding blonde hair glimmered in the light. His eagle like eyes were sharp, darting around constantly. He gave an uncharacteristically large nod as he seemed to glare into the depths of Uhalie’s soul.
“Uhalie. Never thought I’d see you again.”
Uhalie saw that much of his crew scattered around ops had suddenly gone quiet. No wonder either, Captain Victor Sanders – was infamously known for his ... uniuqe command style.
The Bajoran’s eyes had widened and had began to whisper to the Lieutenant next to her who nodded slowly. Uhalie managed to catch ‘repression’ from the hushed conversation.
Sanders of course had claimed it, ‘improved proficiency’. Uhalie tensed up, he had served under Sanders as a young Ensign and knew his harsh tactics.
“Hello- Ensign- Oh, my mistake - Captain Uhalie.” Sanders almost spat. Suddenly, he expression changed to a mock warmness. “Congratulations on moving out from scrubbing conduits.”
“Captain... Sanders.” Uhalie said, as respectfully as he could, trying not the wince at the memory.
“We’ve come in for repairs. Starfleet sent a communiqué a few days ago.”
Uhalie nodded. “I received it.”
A middle-aged woman popped into the screen, who Uhalie recognized as Dianne Ciha. She wore laughing blue eyes with a broad grin and straight blonde hair and to Uhalie’s surprise, the rank of commander.
“Robert! I had no idea you were on this assignment! Congratulations on your new command.” She said with a large smile.
Uhalie almost choked with rage; him, in charge of this scrap station? Uhalie would rather have withdrawn his commission than take command of such a dumpster.
“Me? In charge of this station?” Uhalie managed to force a slight chuckle, trying not to look insulted. “I’m awaiting assignment. I have been given command, only until Captain Cantrall is scheduled to arrive next week. Commander Burke unfortunately had an accident and passed away a few weeks ago.”
“Oh, uh well...” The woman said, surprised, blushing at her incorrect assumption.
~ Back to the Present ~
