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Ensign Logan – Moving on, but can you ever?

Ren Rennyn

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((Par’tha Expanse, Beta Quadrant, USS Darwin, Deck 8, Personnel Quarters))

::Taking a last look round his shared quarters after making sure that all his belongings were packed such as they were, with replicator technology the only things that were carried were items that had a personnel significance everything else could be replicated when you arrives at your destination. Thinking of his meeting with Lieutenant Pond when she was moving quarters and her multitude if items that had miraculously been packed into the bags that she carried, made him look at the two that he had, not packed tight and not massive. One sea bag with the more important items in and one Corp duffel type bag, with everything packed Kurt did the one thing his father would despair at but his mother insisted on, the art of saying goodbye::

::To his father machinery was machinery smaller bits were put together to make bigger pieces all inanimate and in no way effected by the words or actions made by the crew to elicit continued working or performance above the parameters set by said machinery. His mother was on the other side of the coin it didn’t hurt to be polite even to inanimate objects especially when they kept you alive as did virtually everything on a ship did virtually every day. Then there were the stories that virtually every crew had about their ships where it exceeded its design limits set by those inanimate objects that made everything up, if two examples were needed then the USS Gorkon and its year long run in a hostile dimension and the very ship he was on now the USS Darwin. She had taken more punishment than she designed for and fought as hard against a battleship as any other battleship would have, way beyond her design limits. So regardless of your feelings to the odd golf ball on a stick shape that while perfect for her designated role wouldn’t win any beauty contests she had won a warm place in most of the crew aboard::

Logan oO Well those that chose to look properly at her anyway Oo

::A hand rested on the bunk he had ironically occupied twice, once when first assigned aboard then again after his demotion and then a tap to the bulk head on his way out to the corridor, hearing the door close Kurt settled his sea bag on his shoulder and with duffel in hand headed to the Turbolift::


((Deck 7 docking port))

::Due to the number of crew changes and organisational changes brought on by the enlargement of the Andaris taskforce all four of the ships were docked with Deep Space 26, allowing for easier personnel and cargo movement. Kurt could have used the transporter to quickly change to the Atlantis but time wasn’t pressing so it allowed time for a small Corp ritual that Kurt liked to do, there were enough in the Corp gathered from all the races that made up the Federation. Some unique to a singular race some a hark back to the origins of the unit, this was one of those an old custom’s that had somehow kept going due mostly to that belief that kind words and belief could lift you and yours beyond what was possible. That included what sat in his hip flask that sat in a pocket attached to a sash that was tied round his waist seeing as Duty uniforms didn’t come supplied with a pocket for hip flasks as standard, something to do with drinking on duty. Sitting inside the flask was a drink known as Grog and although it sounded much like something a Klingon would find appetising it was a drink that had begun with the Marines on earth sometime around 1740 so the history said. Made up of the sailor allowance of Rum mixed with water, lemon juice and cinnamon, designed so their allowance couldn’t be hoarded over days allowing for a drinking session to take place. After a time the recipe developed a following of its own as the drink for the Marines to have, times had changed as had the development of different alcohols and replicators so storage wouldn’t be an issue any more, still tradition is tradition sometime for good sometime to stagnate, this one was a good one::

::Standing before the open docking port door a Security officer talking with another in gold noting down the comings and goings, usually even on a friendly base this door would be closed for security reason the fact that it was open and manned meant they knew that it had been requested for use. Turning his back to the door Kurt placed his bags in the floor and lifted his hip flask in hand taking a look around he unscrewed it’s top::

Logan: To you and those that walked along side, and to those that stay. Thank you for bringing us home.

::Taking a swing of Grog Kurt snapped a salute to ship, he could hear the silence from behind him no doubt they hadn’t seen of someone doing a salute before leaving a ship. Replacing the flask he re shouldered his bags and turned to the silent faces staring at him Kurt focused on the Security Officer::

Logan: Ensign Logan leaving the Darwin for the Atlantis

::Accepting the silent nod from the officer Kurt stepped of the ship and down the docking corridor, with a final turn and nod toward the ship he headed off to the Docking port that held the USS Atlantis.


((USS Atlantis Deck 8, Docking Port))

::In a déjà vu image Kurt walked up to the Atlantis who’s door was also open with an officer talking with a, this time, a woman in gold talking about no doubt additions and subtractions from the ship. His nod to the ship caught the attention of both officers who looked over their shoulders to find the individual that was the recipient of the nod, finding no one the creased brown of confusion greeted him as he stopped next to them::

Logan: Ensign Logan transferring from the Darwin to the Atlantis

::Showing his transfer orders his name was marked against and he was given the permission to come aboard, walking past leaving them to continue with their conversation Kurt stopped several paces into the ship and paced his bags down and lifted his hip flask again its embossed emblem glinting in the light::

Logan: To you and those that will walk along side, and to those that no longer can. We ask you bring us home.

::The Swig of Grog and snapped salute was again accompanied by silence from behind him, the chuckle that bubbled within from the image of the two behind him looking at each other Kurt held in it wouldn’t look good to, however good natured it was laugh at two crew members he didn’t know. In terms of transfers this one had had a lengthy window of time meaning his authorizations had already been granted and his quarters were already assigned and they were in another round of déjà vu shared quarters. It was the usual arrangement of two, two person bunk rooms shared a small lounge and a bathroom which in terms of size and shape mirrored the one he had occupied on the Darwin::


((Deck 7, Crew Quarters))

::A shared room didn’t give a lot of space for personal effects, in fact the small shelf above the bunk consisted of that space unless agreement was made with either your bunk mate and or the other two in regards of lounge area. Kurt had few personnel effects that he put on show, his Marine Sabre he fixed to the bulkhead he had been allowed to keep it despite the manner of his movement so it took its rightful place next to him. The only other item was one of his old dancing shoes, his left one the other shoe was at home on the mantel piece placed there by his mother so he would always know where to come home to, dust free and polished as much as old leather could be it was the only other piece to be displayed::

::Of the rest only his Corp uniform remained in his sea bad, along with his growing weapon collection the duffel held his rosewood boxes containing his awards. He hadn’t opened them since he had received them, yes the boxes were dusted and kept shiny but the contents hadn’t been touched::

Logan oO No doubt that will come up sometime with Sindrana when I next have to have a conversation, although with her on a different ship that may thank fully take some time Oo

::Storing his bags in the under bunk space Kurt eyes drifted to the one different box in his duffel, a dull silver glasses case he wanted to put it straight back into the bag but his hands instead slowly opened it. As the top slowly hinged upwards Kurt willed the box to be empty to find nothing but a pair of dark glasses even though he knew it would be, he knew what he would find.. a dog tag. It laid there its chain underneath it the light shining from its surface highlighting the indented letters on its surface::

::The dark corridor spotted with weapon hits to the bulkheads flickered in to and out of view as the lights spluttered with life, burnt wiring and insulation hung heavy in the air mixed with clinging smell of death. No matter how fast he ran it wouldn’t leave him it only became stronger the father he went, but he couldn’t stop he had to go faster always faster, faces appeared in from of him and just as quickly vanished. Lines of fire from energy weapons left lingering traces in his eyes as he moved orange lines joining the green criss-crossing the corridors in front of him::

Logan: …..no……

::He had made a promise he couldn’t, no wouldn’t  fail not for him but there was so many of them everywhere he turned raising stings of pain from him but he refused to fall to stop. There it was the barricade or what was left of it, yes he had reached it he’d made it now together they could.. a Phaser rifle lay on the ground a Phaser ll lay to its right, there were other weapons even if they were spent there had to be::

::He saw the feet first then legs slowly he let his eyes climb, hands held weapons still ready to fight scorch marks on the uniform led upwards till Kurt looked him straight in the eyes..::

Logan: …NO…

::The throbbing in his left hand cut through the stings from elsewhere, different sharper looking down he saw his clenched fist but he had been holding something hadn’t he…yes..YES he had been before the corridor, something in his hand. Forcing his hand to open his breath coming shallow and sharp, at first it refused to obey the stings becoming stronger but slowly it obeyed him, slowly it opened revealing what was inside. Focusing hard the Dog Tag came into view shinning in the darkness no not darkness it was light, light and clean and safe, safe. Darkness evaporated round him revealing the bunk room on the Atlantis his left hand aching where the edges of the Tag had dug into his hand, dampness clung to him a run of sweat traced his spine as he stood there. Placing the Tag back in the case a shaking hand placed it back into the duffel his voice cracking::

Logan: It’s been a long day my friend, I’ll see you soon at the end of it

::Securing the last of his belongings the bathroom became a sanctuary, the sonic shower a comfortable cloak bringing the world back into focus. Stepping back out into the bunk room the mirror checked his dress, clean sharp standing tall, room squared away officer squared away, locking the door as he exited Kurt headed down the corridor to his next port of call on his new ship::


Ensign Kurt Logan – Security/Tactical Officer

USS Atlantis, NCC-74682

Andaris Task Force


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