Floating Mass

Posted on Fri Aug 29th, 2025 @ 12:23pm by Fleet Admiral Mike K`Wor Bremer & Lieutenant Korrath Oshiro

961 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Episode 120 - Guardian at the Gate
Timeline: Prior to Pegasus Leaving SB400

Several Days Prior
USS Excelsior

Korrath snapped shut the lid of his Starfleet-issued case, the metallic click echoing softly in the quiet of his quarters. He exhaled a long, steady breath, unaware until that moment of the tension he’d been holding. His dark eyes swept the room—his soon-to-be-former home—taking in the familiar contours of the space. He shifted his weight, turning slowly, both to ensure he’d left nothing behind and to etch every detail into his memory. The truth weighed heavily on him: he didn’t want to leave the Excelsior. But he was a Starfleet officer, duty-bound to follow orders, no matter where they led.

His long black hair, neatly tied back, framed the traditional Bajoran earring dangling from his right ear—a cherished gift from his mother. The faint ridges on his forehead, a mark of his Klingon heritage, stood in subtle contrast to the more pronounced nasal ridges that spoke of his Bajoran blood. Together, they told the story of his dual lineage, a blend of strength and spirituality.

By the door, a stack of larger Starfleet cases waited, their contents too heavy for him to carry alone. They would be beamed directly to his new quarters, sparing him the burden of their weight but not the ache of departure. His mind drifted to his first day aboard the *Excelsior*, when these same quarters had been a blank canvas. He’d taken such care arranging his personal effects, transforming the sterile space into a reflection of himself. No sooner had he finished than Captain Peter Gardner had paid him a visit.

Peter Gardner, a captain known for his personal touch, made it a tradition to greet every new crew member with a meaningful gift. For Korrath, it had been a breathtaking painting of the Celestial Temple—the Bajoran Wormhole, guardian of Deep Space 9. That painting, wrapped with care, had been the first item he’d packed. Its absence now left the room feeling emptier than it should.

With a soft sigh, Korrath reached for the case on his bed, its strap worn but familiar in his grip. As he moved to sling it over his shoulder, the door chime broke the silence. He paused, adjusting the strap, and called out, “Come in.”

The doors parted with a quiet hiss, revealing Captain Peter Gardner, his broad smile as warm as ever. In his hands, he carried a wrapped bottle, its contents obscured by elegant packaging. “All ready to go, then?” Gardner said, nodding toward the neatly stacked cases by the door.

“Yes, Captain,” Korrath replied, his hand resting briefly on the cases. He hesitated, then turned to face the man who had shaped so much of his time aboard the *Excelsior*. “Captain,” he began, his voice steady but laced with respect, “serving under you has been a privilege. I’m deeply grateful for the trust you’ve shown me and the opportunities you’ve provided. It’s my fervent hope to one day return and serve with you again.”

Gardner’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkling with warmth as he regarded the taller officer. “Lieutenant, you’ve become part of the *Excelsior* family—a piece of her legacy. You’re destined for great things, and I told Admiral Bremmer he’s gaining one hell of an officer.” He extended his hand, and Korrath clasped it firmly, the gesture sealing a bond forged through shared duty. “It’s been a privilege to have you aboard, and I, too, hope you’ll return one day.”

Their hands parted, and Gardner offered the wrapped bottle. “A parting gift,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “Something to share with your new colleagues, perhaps.” Korrath accepted it with a slight bow, a reflex born of his upbringing under a traditional Okinawan Starfleet officer.

“Now,” Gardner said, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door with a flourish, “allow me to escort you to the transporter room.”

---

Ten Minutes Later

Korrath stepped into his new quarters, the faint scent of a recent deep clean lingering in the air. The space was noticeably larger than his quarters on the Excelsior, its stark emptiness a stark contrast to the familiarity he’d left behind. His heavier cases, already transported, sat neatly arranged near the wall, awaiting his attention.

He set his handheld case on the bed, the soft thud punctuating the silence. Another sigh escaped him, this one carrying the weight of resignation. He might not have chosen this transfer, but dwelling on it served no purpose. He was a Starfleet officer, and he would not merely perform his duties—he would excel.

With a tug, he straightened his uniform and turned toward the door, his stride purposeful as he made his way to the turbolift. “Ops,” he commanded, and the lift hummed to life, descending smoothly to Level 160. When the doors slid open, Korrath’s breath caught. Ops was vast, a sprawling hub of activity that dwarfed anything he’d seen on the *Excelsior*. He’d visited Spacedock-class starbases before, but never their nerve centers. The sheer scale of it—banks of consoles, officers moving with practiced efficiency, the low hum of systems—left him momentarily awestruck.

A passing crew member, noticing his pause, pointed him toward Admiral Bremer’s office. Korrath nodded his thanks and began crossing Ops, his pace deliberate as he absorbed the scene. The stations, the faces, the rhythm of the starbase—they were unfamiliar now, but he knew they would soon become part of his world.

He stopped before a set of imposing doors, a polished plaque confirming this as Admiral Bremer’s office. With a steadying breath, he tapped the chime and waited, ready to step into the next chapter of his journey.

"Enter."


OFF....

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