The Coming Storm

Posted on Sun May 31st, 2015 @ 7:50pm by
Edited on on Sun May 31st, 2015 @ 7:51pm

Mission: Prelude to War
Location: Rennan Aamas' Quarters - USS Dromodon
Timeline: Around 0400 Hrs

[ON]

Montgomery to Captain Aamas.

Silence.

Captain Aamas, please respond.

Ren rubbed his eyes as he sat up in his bed. It was early, at least 0400 hours. He had parted ways with Jana only a mere few hours earlier. The two ate some dinner, told stories, reminisced, laughed, and even cried – well Jana did anyway. Now though, the comm came to life, rousing him from a dead sleep. “Aamas here, go ahead Lieutenant,” he called out into the dead air, his words thick with grogginess.

We just got a communication that we will be rendezvousing with the Manoora sooner then originally thought.

Pushing the covers off of him, he grabbed a hold of his legs and swung them over the side of his bed. He reached for his chair, dragging it toward him. Sliding a little closer himself, he maneuvered himself into his chair. Reaching for his left knee, he pulled up that leg first, then followed it up by pulling his right leg into position. “When?” He placed his hands on the rungs of his chair, held one rung while he pulled on the other to do a half turn. One solid push had gotten him to the ‘fresher.

0700.

That didn’t leave them a lot of time to get ready, though there was no reason to grouse about it since that was the time they were allotted. Though this timetable changing had been inconvenient, it certainly wasn’t surprising. Things were starting to change rather quickly. Having dealt with the Cardassians before, he knew they couldn’t be trusted, that they would do something without thinking about the consequences. Starfleet and the Federation couldn’t just sit on their laurels, the fleets needed to be organized and mobilized. They had to be ready to defend and protect the billions and billions of citizens that populated the Federation. “Please notify the wing,” he said, “they need to assemble in the bay by oh-six-hundred.”

Aye, Captain. Montgomery out.

Ren bit back a sigh. The timetable changing had given the wing far less time to get going. For the most, at least he hoped, his wing was ready to go. Everyone’s quarters should’ve been packed up, and ready to go. He himself had been ready for days, Jana helping him pack up the few belongings that he had. He picked up his toothbrush, applied the toothpaste and began to brush as he went over a mental checklist of all that needed to be done.

Almost thirty minutes later, he had exited the bathroom with the towel draped over his lap. He transferred back to his bed to finish up his morning routine, which was dressing.

The one thing that annoyed him a bit was the change in uniform that Starfleet had implemented. It was multiple pieces now instead of just trousers and a tunic. But, he adapted, though it took some time. After the accident, getting dressed was one of the first things he had to deal with once the physical therapy had gotten underway. Getting dressed took longer and it certainly took more maneuvering of his upper body to do so. He certainly could never do this in a hurry, but would manage somehow if he did.

The socks, underpants, and tank tee went on with practiced ease. Next came the rich, bright green of the turtleneck tunic. Next was the black trousers, he pulled them on and pulled them up to mid thigh. Leaning back on his elbows, he gave one quick yank to pull them up around his waist. Dropping completely on his back is how he tucked the tunic into the trousers. First he tucked in the front, and then arched his back the best, and reached under the small of his back so he could push in the rest of the fabric into the back of his trousers. After everything was buttoned and zipped, the uniform boots were next followed by the two toned uniform jacket.

The routine of getting back into the chair was repeated; he grabbed his commbadge from his nightstand, affixed it, and then followed it by pinning his rank bars to the tunic collar. He gave himself a quick glance in the mirror, and then grabbed his duffle. As he draped it over the back of his chair, he gave one last a look at his quarters. The Dromodon had been his home for almost five years. He would miss it, but more importantly he would miss some of the people.

He wasn’t afraid of the coming storm; all he could do was his job to the best of his ability. He also knew he could die, and even that thought didn’t unnerve him in anyway. He had cheated death once, and the chair he used to propel himself around was proving that even cheating death could come at a price. This next time, he knew, might end in a much higher price. But, he wore the uniform, even after his accident he chose to put on the uniform. The price he paid wasn’t enough to keep him away from the organization that he had sworn to protect. If being confined to a chair day in and day out didn’t stop him, a combined Cardassian and Dominion fleet wasn’t going to stop him either.

With one last look, he turned his chair around, heading out the doors into the dimly lit corridor. He would head to Jana’s quarters to say goodbye, after he would head to the bay where the fighters were held. The Manoora would be his next stop after that, no doubt, it would be time to face the incoming storm.

The big question was, who could weather the storm the longest.

[OFF]

Captain Rennan Aamas
Flight Leader
USS Dromodon