Previous Next

Running In Circles

Posted on Fri Sep 14th, 2012 @ 8:12pm by

Mission: Purgatory's Shadow. Season 2 Episode 7
Location: Docking Ring; Deep Space 12
Timeline: 0600 Hours

Sweat formed a dark triangle down the front and back of Aral’s low-necked teal vest. His feet, one after the other pounded the deckplates of the docking ring as his hands raised and fell in line with his knees. The docking ring was a single circular corridor of approximately two point three kilomeres and it stretched out before him and was, with each step, more identical than the last. Aix ran. He had begun to run at the age of eighteen, shortly after he was joined. It was an important skill in a lover, coward and survivor. The malaise he had found in Main Operations seemed to extend throughout the station, staffing was low and the civilian population, although sizeable, was conspicuous by its absence in the corridors and hallways. He had decided to capitalise on it by trading a treadmill in an as yet undiscovered gym for the real world of bulkheads and deckplates; thus far the scenery’s dark regularity had provided little relief from the monotony of the treadmill.

Aix ached as he passed his checkpoint, docking bay one for the third and final lap. Nevertheless he continued, pushing himself onwards. Several metres on he collided with a Romulan gentleman of middle age and landed flat on his back.

D'Traal had watched the Klingon Ambassador as she left and then turned back to the last of the unloading of cargo from his ship. His attention however remained with the Klingon and he barely heard the soft slap of gym shoes on the deck until the sound was nearly upon him. He turned at the last moment just as a humanoid runner slammed into him...
“Ach.” Exclaimed Aral as his eyes opened and the dark corridor returned to a dizzy focus. He found himself to be clutching his knee. “I’m sorry.” He offered by way of feeble apology to the man, whose tunic he had just imprinted with a streak of perspiration.
D'Traal looked from the prostate runner to his stained tunic and back again. He was personally unharmed, his stocky Romulan frame had easily absorbed the impact. The man's skin markings indicated he was a Trill, the ones who ingested some kind of sentient maggot. D'Traal repressed a shudder at the thought. The Trill was also wearing a Starfleet vest. Was the encounter deliberate or was the man just not paying attention he wondered...
"I see you are continuing Starfleet's mission of rushing blindly forward" D'Traal commented, not offering the man a hand up. He removed his tunic, shaking it out and hanging it over his arm. He had done so to check the man had not planted any kind of device on him, as well as not wishing to walk around with this one's sweat on it. He would have it cleaned and properly scanned later. "Are you injured?" he enquired

Aral checked each of his four limbs and thought for a moment. “Just my pride.” He lied, he had abandoned pride years ago. “You know us, forward not back, up not down. Of course it’s more difficult in a vacuum to tell them apart.” In the absence of assistance Aix climbed to his feet. “Aral Aix. Science Officer” He extended a hand that sparkled with sweat.

D'Traal observed the offerred hand without making a move towards shaking it. "D'Traal" he replied then added "Of Romulus" Then stood there, just watching the Trill.

Aral continued smiling, either undeterred or unaware of his interlocutor’s indifference. His hand eventually fell to his waist before shooting up to his head height in excitement at a new thought. “I haven’t visited the empire in a century.” Aral began as he skirted around D’Traal at lightening pace and amicably clasped him across the shoulder, “I have not had a decent Jumbo Mollusk since.” Aral continued talking away about his time on Romulus as the two gentlemen proceeded.


Previous Next