SD960902.18 - Lt. Cmdr. Mark Cross - "Paradise?"

[Mark Cross]

It had been over three years since the 14th Fleet had heard from Lieutenant Commander Mark Cross. He'd transferred away to the USS Rapier as a Chief Engineer, and there he had pretty much stayed put. Until now. During the early part of his career, he was on something of a roll. He climbed through the ranks at a rate of knots, and his name enjoyed a growing reputation with both Senior staff and his peers. He was unorthodox in a lot of ways, but he got the job done, and to most that was all that really mattered at the end of the day. He even had his own Command once...briefly. Mark's short-lived time in the centre chair was thrown on him out of Starfleet's necessity, and it was clear the appointment came at just the wrong time in his career. He couldn't handle the pressure. Anger and rage swam over him far too readily. His laid-back, almost casual demeanour which was his signature had all but disappeared, and it wasn't long before he did the best thing for his ship, his crew, and stepped away from the limelight, returning to his old spot on the Rapier. Slowly but surely, glimpses of the old Mark Cross began to return, the Chief Engineer that was loved by his subordinates, and looked upon with a mix of interest and caution by his superiors. He kept his head down for the most part, stayed out of trouble, spent his free time on the Holodeck with fellow engineers, or cooking up culinary delights back in his quarters. Real cookery was a dying art. He'd kind of taken it upon himself to keep it going, and share it with everyone he possibly could. As we touched on earlier, Mark was unorthodox, but he'd often be...misunderstood, more than anything. One particular line stuck out in a routine psychological report, which pretty much announced to any potential senior officers that Mark, Lieutenant junior grade at the time, conducted himself more in the manner of an enlistedman than a Starfleet officer. To this day those words were still permanently etched into his service record, which he was still rather bitter about. Even he would admit though, that he rarely did things 'by the book' as such. His views on the Chain of Command weren't as rigid as Starfleet probably would have liked for a start. It was no surprise that he was a popular choice as a Department Head, at least with the department. He treated his crew as equals, and as individuals. He'd socialise with them. He earned both their respect and their friendship in a very short space of time, and in return he'd more often than not get the performance he wanted and expected from his staff. It was unusual, but successful. The story of his career. As an Engineer he was as hard a working officer as you could find. During his early days he'd be the first to arrive for his shift and one of the last to leave. He was warp-speed fast, efficient, and sometimes just very lucky, there was no other word for it. Mark's ability to give something a swift kick, only to see it whirr into action seconds later was well documented. Mark called it his gift from the Gods. His peers called him suicidal. Mark surveyed his new quarters. He could see the term “Paradise” was being used very, very loosely here, but it was fine. It was what he needed. He'd become too comfortable in his surroundings. Even during a time of war he could head back to his quarters, strum on his guitar and just get some downtime. He'd been going through the motions, working very much within himself since he'd left the 14th Fleet, all because of a relationship that didn't quite go to plan. It had ruined him. He'd gone soft... One creature comfort caught his eye mid-thought. He had a means of cooking in here! Brilliant. With any luck, he'd be able to find some local produce, cobble together some exciting new recipes to savour. He got the feeling the food here wasn't going to be up to his own high standard. Priority number one, eat fresh, healthy, hand prepared food as often as possible. There was nothing quite like it. The engineer kept getting distracted. His mind was jumbled, his thoughts jumping all over the place. This had been going on far too long now. He needed to focus, remember why he took this assignment, why he was in this place... Mark Cross was a name that used to mean something. There was a time when his medal collection was more extensive than all but maybe one or two of the Commanding Officers in the 14th Fleet. There was a time you could rely on him trying to be the hero at least once on a mission, with varying levels of success, but that was what he was all about. It had been some time since he'd done something...award worthy. Far too long. To Mark, this was a fresh start. A chance to step out of that comfort zone he'd slipped into and get back to the man and the officer he used to be. Not afraid to get down in the trenches and get his hands dirty. Willing to stand up and take the responsibility to lead, and lead well. He couldn't tuck himself away in his quarters after a shift, surrounded by little projects he'd work on to try and keep his mind engaged. This was serious. This assignment was probably going to get ugly. All hands to the pump. Long, arduous working days, where endorphins and adrenaline would be about the only thing that would be keeping him going just that one extra hour to finish what he was working on. It was a welcome challenge, the kind of situation he used to yearn for just a few years previously. Mark had a career to turn around, and he was going to drag this Planet kicking and screaming along for the ride with him. Welcome to Paradise. This was going to be fun. / / /======| | |======\ \ \ Lt. Cmdr. Mark Cross Engineer Paradise IV Project / / /======| | |======\ \ \