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Lt.Cdr. Arturo Maxwell - A Bunk, Perchance To Sleep

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((Max's Quarters, USS Narendra - Starbase 118.))


Max was sprawled out on his bunk – mercifully back to his proper height – with a old paperback novel lay on his chest. Unusually for him he was snoring loudly.

All the lights were off, with only the glow of passing stars at warp speed flickering gently across the room. From the bedside cabinet his photograph of Milly on the beach with Ishani aimed a pair of bright smiles at his snoring form. He snorted and rolled over as a message alert trilled from the wall-mounted viewer.

A few moments later, it trilled again.


Maxwell: Hmph... b'grr uff...


He buried his face into his pillow, huffing sleepily to himself as he settled again. The trilling continued, until Max groaned and rolled over again. Straight off the bunk and onto the floor. Picking himself up he rubbed at his eyes and blearily looked over at the viewer, eyeing the priority icon attached to the message.


Maxwell: Computer, open message.


There was no sender listed, and the message appeared to be text only. Exiting the small bedroom into the equally-sized lounge/dining area, Max made for the replicator and a mug of tea. As he manually tapped in his request, he rubbed at his eyes again.

Scooping up the steaming mug he went and sat and his little corner desk before pulling up the message again.


The Clamour of Battle,

And the Beating of Shields.

The Ringing of Blades,

My Thoughts are Cast to the Hall of Kahless.


Of Battle against the Empires Foe,

Blood is Spilled, and Insides Cut Free.

Treacherous Hearts Torn Asunder,

Honour Restored by Loyal Warriors.


Vipers Nest Cast Down in Ruin,

And an Empire Reborn, A House Reborn.

Glory Earned by Hearts Aflame,

Flames Tempered by Distant Space.


Max sipped at his mug of tea as he continued to read the following seven verses.

He placed the mug down lightly with a look confusion upon his face as he reached the end of the message and the picture it contained. A picture of a tall and proud warrioress.

He ran his eyes over the picture for a moment.


Fists planted upon her hips, she stood before a huge stained glass window displaying the sigil of House Kravzo'ch. Her uniform was pristine and cut a fine figure of a great and noble Matriarch.

Heavy boots with polished metal shin plates, fitted leather trousers of a deep red and a subtly-armoured and also not so subtly corseted and sleeved top half. Shoulders wrapped in segmented sections of polished plate armour and forearms protected by thick leather vambraces that were laser-burned with intricate designs. A deep green cloak hung down her back, as did the wavy mass of her long dark hair. At one hip she wore a long blade, and at the other a heavy pistol and brutal-looking dagger.

Her crimson sash was tied about her waist instead of it's traditional shoulder-to-hip arrangement.


A KDF brooch, and one of her House alongside several prestigious Imperial decorations completed the striking image and Max couldn't help but be impressed.

But why send it to him of all people?




Lieutenant-Commander Arturo Maxwell.

Chief Tactical Officer / Second Officer.

Starbase 118 Operations.


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