It was late, almost the end of Beta shift, but not quite so late that the crews would be eager to change over. It was time, this had to be done. Placing hands on knees she pushed herself to standing, groaning at stiff hips. Eldorin was in the kitchen area and looked over at her, “Not. One. Word.” She walked over to the work station and rummaged through the desk draws and dropped the object in her pocket. She left her quarters and took a long walk around deck 2 and 3. She walked deep in thought, but not so deep that she didn’t stop to speak to the occasional person that she passed. She laughed and joked with them. Problem solved a little bit too, and generally was the elderly grandmother she was for a while. And it was a member of this tentative family that was on her mind tonight. Something simply had to be done. Things could not continue as they were.
She stopped at a view port and stared hard at the stars. Perhaps there was an answer there, maybe she was reliving similar situations from her countless life times. Rende stood, legs spread shoulder width apart and arms crossed over her chest, and stared. Daring the vastness of space to deny her the answer she was seeking. After long silent minutes, where no one seemed brave enough to interrupt her thoughts now, Rende made her way to the nearest turbolift, “Bridge.” Came the terse order.
The doors to the rear lift swished silently open and she stepped out and scanned the bridge. It was a quiet evening and Rende waved the nearest officer back to her station. There in the center seat was Kohr with his ‘resting Klingon face’ and the creak of his leather gauntlet. Kohr didn’t quite get the joke, but Rende found great pleasure in the moniker. He was a good man to have at her side and to watch her back. He put the well being of the crew and the safety of the ship above all things and served with honor. And that was word that Rende didn’t use lightly. She had seen far too much of fake honor in her time. She was sure that Lt Cmdr Kohr would have much to say on the topic that was on her mind tonight.
She made her way around toward the center chair, where Kohr stood to give her her seat. She nodded to him, but did not sit. Instead she leaned down and pressed the ship’s comm button and across every deck, every quarters, every lab, lift, recreation area, and Jefferies tube the whistle sounded. “All hands this your Captain.” The bridge officers paused and turned from their stations to face the captain, who was in turn sizing Kohr up.
Let the ship’s log by the request and recommendation of Captain Rende Asam, with full of approval of the Meridian Fleet Command, on stardate 239711.29, for services above and beyond to the USS Viking and Star Fleet at large, Lt Cmdr Kohr is here by promoted to the rank of full Commander with all the responsibilities and privileges there in. He is an officer and a warrior that I am honored and humbled to have at my side.” A quick press and the whistle sounded again closing the ship’s comm system. Out of her pocket Rende pulled a small black, velvet filled box and with one hand flipped open the lid on a brand new shinny solid pip. She took it from the box, reached for Kohr’s collar and removed the hollow pip and replaced it with the solid gold one. Stepping back she gripped is arm in a warrior’s grasp. “It is my privilege to serve with you, Cmdr. Kohr.”
OOC: Now usually I wait to do these things at the end of sims, but Jason has really worked hard for this. He stepped in to a ship that was struggling and in need of a lot of TLC. He’s updated and maintained our MOTD, is more on top of AWOLs than I am, and has brought a level of creativity and style to the ship that no one else can. Over the last several months I do not know how I could have managed with out him. He has stepped up to watch over us all even when he knew that I would be away periodically for school. He has been a sounding board and a staunch supporter of the entire crew. Jason it is my honor and my privilege not only to write with you but to command this ship with you. Congratulations Commander!
© 1991-2022 STF. Terms of Service