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Cmdr. Evan Merlin | Quiet Never Lasts Long

Posted on Tue Jun 9th, 2020 @ 4:25pm by Commander Evan Merlin

Mission: When The Circus Comes To Town
Location: Cold Station Theta
Timeline: SD 242006.09

The commander sat in his chair in Central Ops, cup of Vulcan spice tea in one hand, a PADD in the other. It was quiet today. Well, quiet was a relative thing on Cold Station Theta: there were always ships arriving and leaving, minor crises to be averted or solved. Such as a Starfleet crewmember who had drunk too much firewine in the Heart of Targ the night before and discovered five minutes too late that his ship had departed (a shuttle and a transporter quickly solved that problem).

Not that he minded. Quiet, in his experience, was good. However, the thing about it was that it never seemed to last long. So he sipped his tea and listened to the activity around him: the soft conversation going on between the Ops station and Flight Control about allocations and transports, and the even softer conversation between two Ensigns in the back about an upcoming sports match and related bets. He knew that one backward glance would still that conversation, but for now, at this hour he let it slide.

Fifteen minutes till the end of Alpha shift, after that another hour in his office to work through the PADDs which had piled up during the day, then the day would be done. Provided nothing came up.

"Commander, incoming signal."

He smiled to himself. Of course something came up. "What is it?" he asked.

"Secured line directed at you. Admiral Didac. Would you like me to send it to your office?"

He was already in motion. "Yes, please." Two long strides and the door closed behind him. He slid in his chair and opened the channel, wondering all the while who Admiral Didac was and what he wanted from him.

The Admiral turned out to be a Barzan, and a quick search in the database told him that he was in command of another sector, one of the other outer regions of Starfleet. "Commander Merlin," she said briskly. He thought she looked tired, though.
He quickly blew a loose strand of hair from his face (it would slide back in a moment or two, it always did). "Admiral," he said politely. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I'm delighted to inform you that your starbase has been chosen as the next place to host the Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange." The capital letters were clearly audible.

"Oh," was the first word which slipped out. Feeling that response was perhaps not what the Admiral was looking for, he quickly added: "I'm sure we're honoured. What, precisely, does this Interstellar Cultural Exhibition and Exchange entail?"

"Precisely what it sounds like, Commander," the Admiral replied. "It is an initiative from various races, both within the Federation and outside, to have a cultural exchange. There will be various diplomats present, there will be plays, items of significance from said races are displayed on this exhibition…"

He blinked. "What, like Kahless' favourite mug or Sarek's robes?"

"Commander!" the Admiral said sharply, but he was certain he saw a corner of her mouth twitch. Oh yes, he'd read her correctly. The whole carnival was on her station now, and she was only too happy to foist them off to someone else. He could already imagine the delight on Admiral Red's face when she learned this news.

"I'm sorry, Admiral," he said and brushed the fallen lock of hair back again. "When I can I expect them?"

"Within the week. I have sent the list of guests, exhibition pieces and all requirements to you. I trust you'll make the proper arrangements. Didac out."

He called up the list and scrolled through it, page after page. Then he tapped his comm badge to hail various department heads. "Hi, everyone. I'm about to make your day…" It was two minutes to the end of shift. Oh yes, they would be overjoyed.


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