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Star Trek – Nebulous
Prelude: That Old Ship Smell
Jonathan felt the usual sensation of a transporter beam picking him up from the transporter pad of the freighter and setting him down somewhere else. The pad he materialized on looked old, almost archaic actually, he thought when he took a look around. But contrary to the standalone pad that had sent him off, this one belonged to an equally old, but proper transporter room. A room which, apart from him and his luggage, was completely empty.
The lieutenant picked up his bags and stepped down from the pad, ready to find his way around the station himself, when the door opened. The man who came in was about the same height as him and human, the wrinkles on his face centered around creases around his eyes and his short gray hair was already receding on his temples, but he still seemed very fit. The dark red jacket he was wearing loosely over a plain black shirt identified him as a command officer, but it took Jonathan a moment to realize he was wearing the rank insignia of a commodore, since it was missing the gold trimming that was standard for flag officers.
"Lieutenant Jonathan Falk reporting as ordered, sir," he said, and straightened into attention. For a moment he wanted to salute, too, but then decided this would have to suffice, because he didn't want to drop his bag. "Requesting permission to come aboard."
"At ease, lieutenant," the Commodore replied. "And welcome aboard. I am Jason Sora, in command of this starbase. Please excuse my delay, but personnel transfers don't happen all that often around here, so it always puts a little stress on everyone. Now, if you would follow me, I'll show you your quarters where you can store your stuff and then I'll introduce you to the rest of the crew."
"Yes, sir. Thank you," Falk replied hastily. He had to settle into a trot to follow the long steps of the commodore, who was already out of the door. They were following a long, curved corridor lined with windows on one side. The white color of the walls was already graying and on a corner he could actually see the paint chipping, something that just wasn't supposed to be happening anymore. It made him wonder just how old that paint was.
"Since Ricardo is leaving with the same transport you came on, you will be the only engineer around, but our maintenance needs are rather simple," the commodore continued explaining. "You see of the original starbase only this level is actually still in use, aside from the core section that houses the computer core and power plants. Some of the lower levels probably aren't even pressurized anymore and most of the facilities on this level aren't in use either. Also I am sorry to say that life around here isn't very exciting. It can be weeks sometimes until the next freighter comes by."
"I see, sir," Jonathan replied with a mental sigh. He knew he should be glad he was still a member of Starfleet, he hadn't even been demoted, but this was literally the worst punishment anyone could have come up with. While the commodore went on explaining about their limited facilities and the few ships that came around every now and then, he only listened with half an ear, looking out of the window instead.
He had seen Starbase 225 from outside. While the design was visibly old, it was still huge, even by nowadays' standards. Back in its own days it must have rivaled the big stations like K7, or even the Earth Dock. Not so much by the size of the the base itself, but by the intricate network of docks built around it.
It amazed Jonathan how such a gigantic structure could just be left empty. And what was even more amazing were the myriad of small craft, transport vessels and even starships still sitting in the far stretched docking arms.
"Sir, what is with all these ships?" Falk asked, when the commodore paused.
"Oh, that," the other man said, slowing down. "They have been here for decades. Centuries in some cases. You know, this base once used to be a highly frequented trading post with big yard facilities. I think even building strips at some point. But that's a long time ago. Ever since the coalition with the Klingons and the Romulans is stable, the trading routes have shifted towards what previously were border area and Neutral Zone, so hardly anyone ever still comes through here. Enough to keep the outpost up, but not enough to post more than a minimum staff."
The commodore stopped when he noticed that the younger officer had fallen behind. Jonathan was standing at a window, literally pressing his nose flat against the transparent sheet that separated him from the outside. He was staring at something at the very edge of the snowflake-like structure that held the docking slips and realized that the transparent aluminum had to have been purposefully ground to magnify the docks, because the ship he was looking at seemed almost close enough to read her registry off the bow.
To Falk she looked more elegant than any ship he had seen, except in pictures, even while she was moored to the docking arms. The clear-cut geometrical forms were brought out perfectly in untouched white paint against the star-dotted blackness of the space beyond.
"Is everything alright, lieutenant?" the commodore asked in a friendly voice, but Jonathan could also hear a little concern.
"Yes, sir," he replied hastily, but then the lieutenant hesitated and pointed at the ship outside the window. "Sir, is that a Constitution class?"
"Looks like one to me," the commodore replied with a twinkle in his eyes and walked on. "But I'm neither an engineer nor a historian. Maybe one of the ladies can help you with that, so let's go and have me introduce you to them. I think they're already waiting."
"Yes, sir," Jonathan answered and hurried after his commanding officer. What he had seen had just changed his mind. With a little luck, this assignment might change into the best thing that ever happened to him. And it promised to be not boring at all.