Lieutenant JG Orson Marshall - Dead Man’s Float

[Jo Marshall]

(( LtJG Marshall’s Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon ))

::A dark grey kitbag was packed and slung beside the door. Just the one.

::Travelling light had never hurt him before; preventing the accumulation of the trappings of a life lived in one place for too long. Keep it small. Limit the sentimental.

::Between the PADD on the table and a half full glass of whiskey sat an open cloth tool roll. Latinum slips stashed into invisible holders, artist pencils replaced for hacking tools that could splice open nearly any replicator and console he’d come across before. Leaning forward, he picked up the phaser from the low table. Unregistered. Untraceable.

::That was all he needed. Clothes. Ordnance. Currency. It would get him from there and into a bolthole, bankrolling some kind of supplies to keep him ticking over until… Well, until the inevitable happened and his parents were presented with a Starfleet flag. Or perhaps not.

::He stared at the phaser for a moment, twirling it around between his fingers. With any luck, he wouldn’t have to fire it at all, but trying to get anywhere on any of the outposts without a weapon - or without what looked like one, like a concealed banana or miniature porcelain dolphin - was next to impossible.

::Tales of space faring adventurers with a phaser in each hand were the norm for the galactic exploits comically littering holonovels in the library. In practicality, trying to shoot one while running was like trying to hit a flying tribble while on fire.

::Slipping the weapon into the holster beside his ribs, he patted it for his own peace of mind. Easily hidden beneath a flight jacket. Easy to move with. Easy to whip out in the face of danger and/or flying tribbles.

::Picking up the PADD, he pressed the control - the inky screen lit up with the Starfleet symbol revolving serenely… and balked at the message displayed so prominently.

::Rising slowly, gripping the device in his hand, his heart dropped into the fathomless pit that opened up before him, as wide as a chasm. His jaw clenched, breath becoming ragged at the flood of adrenaline. Chest heaving under the exertion, he gripped so hard to the PADD, he feared his hand might crack under the strain.::

O. Marshall: =/\= Computer. ::His teeth ungritted slowly.:: Where is Rear Admiral Reynolds? =/\=

Computer: =/\= Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds is currently in the Ready Room, Deck One. =/\=

::He exhaled a slow and controlled breath through his nose, and took off out of the door, knocking over the glass in the process.::

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Lieutenant JG Orson Marshall

Logistics and Communications Officer

USS Gorkon

simmed by

Lt. Commander Jo Marshall

First Officer

USS Gorkon

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