Expectations

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"Experience suggests it doesn't matter so much how you got here, as what you do after you arrive"

 

- Lois McMaster Bujold

 

 

 

Lieutenant Stephen Molina, Yorktown science department, gripped the heavy secure-case by the handles on either side and lifted it up. Inside the case was a black box and a recording device, each separated to keep the evidence pure and untainted. He walked out of the lab and made his way to the docking area.

 

 

 

His current assignment was to deliver the items the Yorktown found floating in space and then to act as the Yorktown’s representative in this matter. He’d officially be working for Aegis security to assist them in forensic matters pertaining to the situation but he’d likely be seeing more of the local lab staff.

 

 

 

Molina had been in this area of space a while but he’d never set foot on Sky Harbor Aegis until now. Stations weren’t really his scene. They were always packed with crews from serviced ships trying to find a way to waste their spare time before they were back on the job. He’d heard of this place though. Supposedly it was one tough nut. It had beaten back invasions, Starfleet bureaucracy, violent attacks on its crew, ion storms, drug conspiracies, terrorism and it was still holding together in one piece.

 

 

 

The Lieutenant walked at a distinct pace, giving off an aura that said, “I’m getting to my destination at a fast speed whilst still looking dignified”. He’d made his way to the station promenade in swift time and was now able to make an early evaluation.

 

 

 

“Pretty alright”, he thought.

 

 

 

There was a colder air on this station than most. None of the relaxed atmosphere that most of these “truck stops” had was present. Obviously the events of recent had made things much more tense. Word on the grapevine said that on this very promenade, someone was brutally murdered very soon after another crewman met his demise in his own quarters. In Starfleet you always expect your death to come long after retirement or in an act of duty to the fleet. When you can be killed in your own bed, you get scared and it showed in this place.

 

 

 

Whoever the security chief for this place was, he had a lot on his plate and it was sadly Molina’s job to give him another helping. Stephen wondered what type of man this Lieutenant Commander Muon Quark was. Most likely in a volatile area like this, he’d be one of those annoying, no-nonsense, hugely built guys going on full testosterone. “All balls and no brains” so the phrase went. There was nothing wrong with being no-nonsense or working out at the gym, hell if there was, Molina would be guilty as charged. But when your biggest achievement in life was bench-pressing 500, one wondered how some of these guys made it through the academy with their tiny brain cells doing overtime.

 

 

 

Molina grinned as he turned into the security office with his cargo. Here it would be, a seven-foot tall ex-marine with wrestling trophies on his shelves.

 

 

 

Saying he was surprised when he saw the slender female sitting in the office chair would be an understatement.