Settling In

[H.G. Reed 0]

"Thank you again," H.G. called to the departing quartermaster, as the doors slid closed behind him.

 

She turned, taking in her newly assigned quarters; they were small and sparse (as expected, given her rank), but she knew that they would do quite well for her. She moved from the living area into the bedroom, where her cargo trunk sat, and knelt beside it, running her hand over the lid. It was Starfleet standard-issue, emblazoned with a large United Federation of Planets logo across the top and her name underneath, but the sight of it evoked childhood memories of a similar trunk that would sit in the hallway while her family took tea in the parlour to celebrate father's homecoming. Sighing, she lifted the lid and stared down at the neatly folded stacks of uniform jackets, turtlenecks, and pants.

 

Silently, she began to unpack, stowing her gear in the chest of drawers. Near the bottom of a pile she found a tiny black skirt which made her wince. It was a standard uniform variation offered to the female personnel; she had worn it once, but once was enough to tell her that it was uncomfortable and made modesty difficult to maintain. She placed it in a drawer with the few articles of off-duty clothing she had packed. Next, she retrieved the wooden box containing the various straps, ribbons, and Starfleet insignias for her uniforms and placed it on the nightstand.

 

Retrieving two smaller cases from inside the trunk, she moved into the outer living area, placing them on the table before opening the first. A pouch containing two isolinear chips sat on top, a picture of her father and brothers underneath, her only concession to sentimentality. The picture had been taken at her graduation from the academy; all four of them conveying that distinct air of austerity, combined with spit and polish, typical of Reed men in uniform. The family had a long and distinguished history as military officers, beginning with service in the British Royal Navy and continuing on in Starfleet.

 

Her great-grandfather had been considered a black sheep for eschewing the navy and instead choosing the infant Starfleet, but his distinguished career had paved the way for the generations that followed. H.G. had vague memories of visiting him as a little girl, eating pineapple while listening to fascinating stories about numerous first contact missions and other heroic acts during humanity's first steps into space.

 

Beneath the picture, she was surprised to find a display case, the top containing a portrait of her astride Aeolus and the bottom displaying her Olympic medals for grand prix show jumping, dressage, and endurance riding. Attached to the back was a note, written in her Uncle Iain's careless and ungainly scrawl that matched the coarse brogue with which he spoke.

 

Hannah, me wee lass, jus' because ye canna take yer horse with ye, doesna mean ye should leave him behind. Safe journeys in yer new adventures, an' be a good darlin' an' drop yer ol' uncle a line or two when ye have the time.

 

A bittersweet expression graced her features as she stared at the plaque for a few moments longer, before placing it back in the case and closing the lid with a snap. Opening a storage locker, she removed her emergency decompression suit and pushed the case to the back, then replaced the suit. Opening the second container, she removed the small stack of books inside, placing them on the desk. One was out of place, although it was a favourite of hers; an old-fashioned, first-edition, leather-bound copy of In the Days of the Comet, something she did not recall placing there herself. As she gently thumbed through it, an inscription written on the fly page in her father's neat and precise copperplate script caught her eye.

 

*Fortitudine et labore, in sublime.

H.G. bit her lip, grateful that her father would present her with such a gift, inscribed with the family motto to remind her of who she was. Placing the book on the desk with the rest of her collection, she straightened her uniform and turned towards the door, ready for duty.

 

 

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* Latin translation: By Fortitude and Exertion, Upwards

Edited March 1, 2009 by H.G. Reed