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Posted on Monday February 15th, 2021 @ 1:23am by

Mission: The Forgotten Outpost
Location: Deep Space Three
Timeline: Current

::ON::

Kollen Vis stepped of the beaten-up tramp freighter on which she’d hitched a lift from Starbase 117. It had been a tight, cramped, and stinking voyage aboard the Grazerite’s vessel, meandering through the furthest reaches of Federation space as the petty merchant had made his way this way and that in search of some profit at Warp Two.

Most of the time he’d managed to break even, but Vis was sure that the Federation News Network journalist’s expenses claims for the trips had more than done its fair share for ensuring the freighter’s deuterium and anti-matter storage tanks were kept as full as possible. The Grazerite had even managed to stump for some luxury goods to transport to the Klingon world of Bortas.

That had provided FNN a nice slice-of-life series of articles on the Klingon Empire. Familiar stuff, but the readers ‘back home’ as it were lapped it up. It was one of her most-read submissions to the network, a fact that she was proud of. She’d worked hard on it after all.

It had also justified FNN’s approval of her roving brief. In truth, Vis had been utterly surprised when she had been granted her request. Vis wasn’t exactly one of FNN’s high-flyers. Most of her assignments had been to backwater worlds and out-of-the-way outposts like Starbase 117 – somewhere where it had been exciting once, but the action had moved away.

When she’d been employed by the Federation News Network, she’d imagined glamourous assignments to the important worlds in the quadrant. Vis had fantasised about late nights working to deadlines reporting from Khitomer, Vulcan, Bajor. Maybe being a frontline reporter in the rebuilding of the Cardassian Union or the slow, steady disintegration of the Romulan Star Empire. Hell, I’d even have settled for staying home on Trillius Prime if they’d given me the chance.

Instead she’d found herself bumming about the Federation filing this-and-that report on agricultural developments on Tyrgana IV, minor political infighting in the Vulcan colonies, and latterly interviewing personnel aboard Starbase 117. Aging and greying flag officers and self-satisfied Commanders in cushy assignments far from the frontier didn’t quite get the journalistic juices going.

They were fine people, dedicated to their work, but … satisfied with their lot, not willing to push the boat out or even rock it. Vis had felt the stagnation seep into her bones by the day as she travelled up and down the old Regula-type base. The Trill had slowly and gradually gotten itchy feet and had sent the roving brief request through to her supervisor on Khitomer. It had taken a month or two, and some haggling over what expenses exactly she would be allowed to claim.

Her wanderings had seemingly come to an end when an old acquaintance of hers who worked in Starfleet Operations pinged her a heavy hint that something would be going down in the vicinity of the old Amargosa Observatory. Vis had barely been six when images beamed from the Enterprise fleeing the artificially-induced supernova had been televised across the Federation and beyond. It had stamped itself on her memory ever since. She’d grown up obsessed with the Galaxy-class vessels scattered far and wide across the known galaxy.

Vis had subsequently learnt that the venerable, abandoned, massive Stardock-class Deep Space Three was being brought back into commission, and from her Operations friend had learnt that only a small thrown-together crew would be sent to bring her online. The story just clicked with her in her head, and she’d implored the Grazerite to bring them to the Starbase.

He’d relented eventually, when they were close enough that FNN’s expenses would cover a short, direct hop over to the starbase.

The journalist had marvelled at the structure as they approached. Most of the Starbase was still dark, with only the docking section fully lit up, and a few tiny lights winking out from the staffed areas and quarters to add any kind of accent to the station’s grey exterior. As the freighter had settled in to one of the established civilian approach lanes, Vis had begun jotting down her first impressions of the immense structure hanging there in deep space.
Stood in the arrival hall, she marvelled at the amount of people even now passing through. Deep Space Three was barely on its legs, and people were already flocking. She’d heard a few Starfleet Officers passing though as she queued talking about something called the Shackleton Expanse and wondered if that had something to do with it.

Fidgeting with the strap of a bag that had been slung across her shoulder and which carried most of her terrestrial belongings, the Trill waited patiently for her turn. As she waited, the starbase’s security officials unsubtly scanned them to check for contraband items or possible weapons. Some, like Vis were pulled out of line to open their bags.

Setting the bag down on the table with a huff, she obediently followed the instructions to empty her satchel. Not bothering to keep anything tidy, she piled her clothes on one side, and carefully and delicately laid out her recording and writing equipment on the other. The Bolian security official raised and eyebrow and Vis wordlessly activated her PADD and handed over her press credentials.

‘Seems everything is in order,’ the Bolian sniffed prissily. ‘You can rejoin the queue where you left off.’

‘Thanks,’ Vis gave him a strained smile and wandered back to her place in the queue.

It wasn’t long before an Efrosian in the station’s civilian administration form was droning questions at her regarding her visit. His increasingly bored tone clashed with the growing feeling of excitement within her as she peeked over at the open concourse beyond the admittance hall. The journalist could see that there was a group of Starfleet personnel who had just been beamed in.

Most of them were gawping at the immense space the Main Docking section had been given over in a starbase of this size.

‘Your papers are in order – it seems your employers have already reserved you some civilian quarters down on Deck Seven-Two-One Section Green-Alpha. Turbolifts are to your left as you enter the Admittance Hall.’ The Efrosian looked up and smile, ‘I’m sure you’ll want to look through to the Spacedock area – there are viewports on the far side of the Hall too. But word of advice, they’re pretty crowded this time of day. If you’re sticking around, best to view them at night. Bit quieter, and the ship’s are in their night-cycles for the most part. Much prettier.’

‘Huh, thanks,’ Vis flashed a smile in return, ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’ The Efrosian was being obviously solicitous of her. She’d read somewhere that they were culturally programmed to flirt with any woman who came within a few feet of them, so she paid him no mind. Hard to break out of ingrained patterns.

Happily accepting her personal PADD back from the official, Vis stepped through the barriers and through to the Admittance Hall. As the Efrosian had said huge forcefield-enforced viewports dominated the hall, and the crowds milled about them. Small children pointed excitedly at the ships docked inside umbilically connected to the station by a network of cables, gangways and airlocks. It was quite the sight.

Not that Vis had paid the slightest attention. She was already buried in her PADD, checking the directions downloaded to it, and at the same time attempting to work out the senior staff of the base. She was sure that Starfleet’s media liaison would be willing to set up a few exploratory meetings so that she would be able to begin interviewing them.

As she threaded her way through the crowds to the nest of turbolifts, Vis spotted the Main Dock’s door slide open at a clip. Slowing her pace she saw an Intrepid-class vessel glide in to the dock and make its way to a quieter quadrant of the station. The journalist felt a frisson travel up her spine, and she suppressed a shiver.

She was more excited for the future than she had been in a while.

::OFF::
Kollen Vis
Federation News Network Journalist
Deep Space Three