<Katra Station - Deck 2>If the first few days of his arrival on
Katra station was a whirlwind, then the subsequent two weeks was a positive
typhoon.
Paul sat at his new desk, still mildly bewildered at the recent turn of events. Following the arrest, questioning and charging of Gregory Pell, the elderly
agent provocateur had been taken to a place of safekeeping, similar to the frosty Ms Tulra Beecoil who was currently enjoying the temporary benefits of a greatly exaggerated death in return for her ongoing birdsong.
The new tiny dark disc on his collar was now a forgotten adornment. Forgotten because it mattered not in the fullness of things, but also because it was a reminder of what he had thrown away to get where he was.
And where he
was was not where he had
hoped to be.
None was more surprised than Wessex that his tenacity in the 'Great Shoe Conspiracy' would warrant a recommendation for promotion to Sub-
Leftentant (or' Junior Grade' in Starfleet parlance); from SCPO Solen of
all people, said recommendation supported by Acting-Captain Noh'Ves. A very junior rank to be sure, and although a mildly depressing milestone he had to come to terms with, it was also an indication of the rungs of the ladder that he had slipped down to be here. And yet...it was a rapid commission, and he had to fight some dark musing to realise the rank was less important than the reasons behind it; testimony of his competence in a new role. That said, Paul had momentarily wondered if Starfleet would really stamp their agreement to the almost-unprecedented swift recognition.
But what was more surprising was that the promotion, presented by the returning Captain Solluk - and his first real meeting with his
bona fide Commanding Officer - was the offer of Chief of Security to accompany it.
Wessex perhaps took a moment longer than was customary to thank the Captain for the trust shown in him in doing so, but the truth be told: his heart sank a little. 'Chief of Security' on a space station was oceans away from his desired goal - who
really needed a Chief of Security aboard Starfleet's newest sub-surface explorer? Certainly his background in NavPat would
perhaps put him on a shortlist, but unless the
Varuna-class would regularly be boarded by particularly malevolent jellyfish, anyone could slip into the position with ne'er a ripple of prior experience necessary(although, from the reports of the
Lod Qan mission, 'metal space jellyfish' wasn't so different!). It wasn't as if diving experience would come in useful at those depths. In the Federation Naval Patrol - as it was on other Starfleet postings - his prior career as Principal Weapons Officer straddled both what was classed as Tactical and Security responsibilities.
The icy
words of Rebecca Jacobs came back to him.
And yet... he continued to stand-by his decision to leave one for the other, as rash as it may look now.
So, with a nonetheless appreciative and professional thank you, and an affirmation he would continue and unwaveringly discharge his duties to the best of his abilities, Lt Paul Wessex accepted the honour afforded to him and so began the next chapter of his new career - rising perhaps as swiftly as his original hopes sank into inky fathoms.
The days after his promotion and installation, and station scuttlebutt had circulated like water down a sinkhole, the volume of direct requests for his
personal intervention to concerns, complaints and conspiracies had increased - thanks to the rapid, and perhaps mildly sardonic, calculations of Petty Officer T'Vesh - by 477%. Indeed, some of the civilian population had come to call him by a variety of seemingly non-ironic, and complimentary, nicknames, reflecting their appreciation for his continued law enforcement presence in the Civilian Zone; they, of all the population aboard
Katra, either did not know, or care, about his new position. He made them feel safe, supported and respected. And while he had been someone reticent to face his peers-come-staff, there had been good natured acceptance and ribbing at the news.
Which softened the initially uncomfortable necessity to mete out the duty assignments to those he had until recently, considered himself to be one of. Now he was their ultimate Department Head; a member of the station's senior staff (albeit one that wasn't terribly routinely expected in the Operations Control Centre unless there was a meeting) and not just a proverbial flatfoot merely patrolling the CZ.
The most difficult of the transition was recognising that his new position meant a transfer of such from his previous Department Head, the somewhat cool Lt Commander Rayek tr'Lhoell;
now there was a chap of exacting and uncompromising standards, and dark eyes that seemingly studied Paul for some time after; never was there an officer better suited for the role of Strategic Operations - after looking up what such a role would entail, certainly much of it Wessex would never covet; too shadowy for even his abyssal experience.
So...what is my taste, then? he chastised himself.
At a crossroads of contemplation, Paul picked up his PADD and reviewed actions for the day.
