Transfers and Check Ins ptB
Posted on Mon Aug 18th, 2025 @ 10:38pm by Lieutenant JG Christian Rogers
589 words; about a 3 minute read
Mission:
Below Decks
Location: Docking Station
Timeline: prior to departure
“Did he specifically say he was going to wait or that he wanted to try to get it to work?” Warren asked as he and the young Bajoran worked their way through the corridor to their room assignment.
“Well, no,” Triss Cort answered. “Not specifically but, I mean...you don’t think he will?”
Warren shrugged but realized the younger and shorter man in front of him wouldn’t see the non-verbal gesture. “You guys aren’t going to be able to get together for a long time. Do you even have more than a few weeks of leave?”
Cort frowned. “Maybe three in total.”
“That’s not going to even get you back to this sector, much less be able to spend some meaningful time together. I think he just let it end without saying it’s over. Kind of a asshat move, really.”
Cort stopped and turned. “I don’t want it to be over.”
“No, I know, man, but you gotta see it. If you think about it,” Warren said, wishing he hadn’t needed to be the one to have to tell the young man that the relationship with the security officer from their last assignment was over.
Cort sighed then turned around and turned the corner. “I think this is it,” he said, fishing the PaDD out and checking the quarters assignment and and Warren were given. He verified the berth and then entered the security code they were given. The doors swooshed open and Cort entered with Warren shortly after him.
“Wait, this has to be a mistake,” Warren said as he worked to drop the rucksack near the door. “There’s only two bunks.”
Cort looked around the small enlisted quarters as well. He was sure that maybe there were two other bunks on the other side, but it didn’t appear so. All he saw was a workstation, a couple built in shelves and two lounge chairs sitting on either side of the room. The two bunks were built into a wall with a door. “That must be the head,” he said, nodding toward a door at the end of the bunks.
The two young men turned to each other, the clunks of the heavy rucks hitting the floor, both smiling. “Seriously? Just the two of us?”
“It’s the closest I’ve had to having my own room ever,” Cort said, looking around in amazement once more. “We’ve even got a replicator in our quarters!”
“Yes!” Warren said, raising his hand to “high five” his squadmate. “This is so awesome!” As lance corporals – or seamen in Fleet ranks – they were used to berthing assignments of up to eight people in a small bay and then a shared common space with maybe two heads. The idea of coming aboard a ship where even someone as lower decks as they were only two to a room was, as Cort said, almost the same as having private quarters.
“Alright,” Warren said, dragging the ruck toward the bunks. “We got a few to get gear stowed. But I want to go find the Mess before we’re supposed to report to Security. Hopefully the Mess will have something special for today.”
“If not,” Cort said, glancing at the opposite wall. “We’ve got a replicator right here in the quarters!” The two kept smiling over such great fortune.
SWAT/S Squad (LTjg Christian Rogers, player)
Seaman Sean Warrant
SWAT/S squad tech, armorer
Seaman Triss Cort
SWAT/S Explosive Ordinance, Communications
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