Bigger on the Inside

Posted on Thu 13th Nov, 2025 @ 5:41am by Magnus Temple

2,378 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: From The Ashes
Location: Deck 28 - Senior Crew Quarters

ON:

As the shuttle had taxied gently into the docking bay and they were consumed inside SB109, Ambassador Temple and his team stepped out into the passenger corridor of the station. It was a busy thoroughfare of new arrivals and departures, a steady stream of traffic passing them by as the trio looked around for a moment. Then Ashra, Magnus' personal assistant, began organising the off-loading of their personal luggage from the shuttle's cargo hold with the station crew. Magnus began to scroll through his PADD, looking for the accomodation assignments that he had been sent prior to arriving.

"It appears my quarters are on Deck 28." He commented aloud, "Gen and Ashra, you are... " He pursed his lips slightly, "Lower down."

Standing next to him was Genevieve Gillard, his Federation Law expert, draped in a stylish maroon sheath dress with a matching blazer draped casually over her shoulders. She had curled her arms across her chest underneath the blazer, with a purposefully unamused tightness to her facial expression. At this news, Gen raised an eyebrow, "I used to have a view of the Champs Élysées." She remarked pointedly, and just as pointedly added nothing else afterwards. The sentence was her complete statement, the implication was implied and was quickly received by Magnus.

"You used to go the same cafe, the same restaurant, the same book store every single week." Magnus said, just as pointedly. "You came with me because you wanted to break that routine, get out of your rut, do something different. Right?"

The stoic woman curled her lip into a begrudging smile, "Right. But I best not be sharing with some noisy Ensign on night shift."

"You have your own civilian quarters," Magnus quickly answered, "On a very fabulous new station with new cafes, restaurants, and people to meet. A whole new view now."

"Oh it's amazing!" Ashra gushed as she joined the two of them, luggage secured on a hovering cart. "It's so exciting here."

Gen nodded, "It is very stimulating, there's a lot to explore."

"Let's find our quarters and get settled in," Magnus instructed, wanting to get started right away. "I want to meet the Captain and some senior crew as soon as possible, but perhaps we could meet for dinner tonight? A little arrival celebration."

"Sounds wonderful." Gen nodded, and Ashra agreed.

======

It took the Ambassador an embarrassingly long time to get his bearings and find his way to the turbo lifts, before taking a 160-deck journey up to the senior crew quarters. The lift had just kept rising and rising up the station. Having come from living in Paris, where there were only a small number of buildings that were at most around 80-storeys high - a long-standing, purposeful tradition to maintain the pleasant historic appearance of the city through strict height restrictions - Magnus was awed by the size of the station. Even the Palais, the heart of the Federation government, was only 20-storeys. To now see thousands of decks was nothing short of formidable.

SB109 may have appeared like a metropolis on the outside, but now it somehow seemed even bigger on the inside. As if that was possible.

Making it to his room, Magnus was pleased to see he had the standard-issue Senior Crew quarters. As Chief Diplomat onboard the station, he was afforded a larger living space with a full dining room, lounge and study, separate bedroom and bathroom. His view appeared to be of the main in-bound route that arriving craft were following to dock with the station, as evidence by the passing of a few different ships coming into port. The door chimed and a crew member arrived with his luggage.

"Thank you," Magnus smiled to the gold-shirted Crewman as she placed his belongings inside. She dutifully nodded and left the room.

Magnus turned away from the door as she departed, before he stooped down and opened up a silver case. Inside, wrapped safely in protective foam for the long journey from Earth, was a small wooden replica of the Marienborg building - the Danish country estate where he had spent many years growing up while his mother was a politician within the European council and later United Earth government. The statue had been bequeathed to Magnus from his mentor, a politics professor at school; his own hand-crafted piece of wooden art. Magnus had always brought it with him to every office he moved to as a means of good luck and protection. Or maybe it was just a reminder of where he had come from.

He placed the wooden statue onto the desk in his quarters, making a mental note to move it to his Embassy office when the renovations were finally complete.

Sitting down at his desk, Magnus activated his console and entered his credentials. From this, his personal files and official communications began to appear on screen. In his personal messages, there was one from his brother regarding Christmas presents, one from his sister-in-law Emilie regarding school recommendations for their children, and several from his mother regarding everything from whether he is eating enough vitamins to the performance of the Minister of the Exterior. He chose to ignore the latter.

After answering his personal messages, Magnus turned to his work files. He was over-seeing an expansion and redesign of the Federation Embassy on SB109. Most consulates were polite, formal offices; well-decorated spaces for pre-planned meetings where a lot was said but very little was done. He wanted to change that narrative. He wanted the Federation embassy to be - like the station itself - a place of change. Subject to approval from the Captain, of course, Magnus was going to make the consulate a working help centre, where anyone could come and receive support, a functional tool for the Federation and Starfleet. Bigger on the inside.

He was in the middle of reviewing the reception plans when an internal video call appeared on screen from within the station. Perplexed, he answered the call. On the other side was a female of unmistakably Boslic descent, as evidence by her arrow-like forehead markings and the hint of purple hair, though it was tucked under a dark shawl she had wrapped around her head and across her body, as if she had been attempting to hide her appearance. Magnus had no idea who she was, and had not been expecting any meetings with the Boslic. Though her frightened face was concerning.

"Hello?" The Boslic called desperately into the screen. "Federation?"

A confused Magnus nodded, "Uh yes, hello? Can I help you?"

"I have been attempting to reach the Federation embassy." The women exclaimed, "For help."

"The Embassy is under renovations," Magnus replied, now realising that once he had activated his credentials, the system must have automatically routed the calls for the Embassy directly to him, "Are you okay?"

"No! My name is Rakila, I was in service on a Ferengi trade ship, owned by DaiMon Kroll." She explained, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see if she was being watched.

"Service?" Magnus immediately asked, before the realisation hit. "Oh. Service. You were being held against your will?"

"Yes!" Rakila replied, eyes squinting in a mixture of rage and pain. "I was sold to that monster's ship to be his companion. It was... disgusting. I saw an opportunity to get myself off the DaiMon's ship and made my way here." A bitterness crept over her lips, "But he has followed me. He searches for me now." She spat out. "His property."

Magnus' heart went out to the woman - there was an obvious desperation in her voice, her tired eyes portrayed the sleepless nights attempting to hide on the station. She looked frail and distraught, afraid of what would happen if she was found.

"Please!" She interjected into his thoughts. "I need your help. You are the Federation, yes?"

Magnus nodded solemnly, "We will help."

======

Magnus stepped off the turbo-lift onto the Promenade deck. It was alive with people going to the various restaurants and bars on the station. Normally, he would have taken his time to soak in the atmosphere, sights and sounds, but Magnus was on a mission. He found Gen and Ashra standing outside of the restaurant they had agreed to meet at.

"Just in time." Ashra beamed as Magnus approached, "I have been eyeing off the appetisers at this place and - "

"They'll have to wait." Magnus interjected urgently, his face ashen. He put a hand onto each of their arms, to guide them back towards the lifts. "We have a problem. We need to go."

"Already?" Gen complained loudly as she was dragged away.

It was an even longer journey going down from the Promenade decks to the Brown Sector on 2245. The lift get descending and descending. At one point, Magnus had the intrusive thought that they would drop out the bottom of the station and drift away into space - as if that were possible. And yet, after what seemed like an eternity, they made it to their destination.

Once the doors opened, they were faced with an entirely different view this time. A permanent refugee encampment had developed in this lower level of the station, like a micro-universe within a universe. There were people, markets, businesses - without the sophistication and advancement of the developments upstairs. The diplomatic trio immediately felt like they were sticking out here; that they didn't belong.

Gen pulled her blazer tighter over her shoulders, "Are you sure she's down here?"

"Yes," Magnus insisted as they began to walk through the packed streets. "I got the coordinates from the comms system."

"What if it's a trap?" Ashra asked aloud, holding close behind Magnus. She secretly assumed any kidnappers would be far more interested in the Chief Diplomat and the Federation Lawyer over a personal assistant so she was a step behind.

"Yes, why hasn't this woman sought assistance from Starfleet?" Gen said, "That would be the first thing one should do."

They turned a corner and found another packed street, Magnus was keeping his eyes peeled for the location markers. "I don't think she completely understands our structure. Plus she might not trust people in uniform."

Ashra nodded solemnly, "Makes sense."

"Okay, but then why aren't we seeking assistance from Starfleet?" Gen persisted in her questions. "Surely they should know what we're doing?"

"And risk scaring her off or alerting the DaiMon to her presence?" Magnus replied quickly, "No. She's sought asylum with the Federation. We are bringing her into our care first, then we'll handle this with Starfleet."

"I still think it's a trap." Ashra whispered.

"Noted." Magnus sighed, just as he came across the corridor marker he was looking for. "Here!"

The three stepped off the main street and into the side alleyway where Rakila had made her call from. The lights were dim and there were some crates blocking their view.

"Hello?" Magnus called out. "It's me, I've come to help?"

Silence followed.

"Hello?" Both Ashra and Gen called out. Despite their reservations, and suspicions, now that they were here they were going to help.

Once again, there was no reply from the dark.

They moved further down the alley together, each holding up tri-corder flashlight to shine into the darkness of the corridor. As they passed by a stack of crates, Ashra suddenly exclaimed, "There!"

Ashra pointed her flashlight down onto the ground where a black piece of clothing was on the floor. They rushed over and Magnus picked it up.

"It's Rakila's shawl." He answered. "She was wearing this on the call."

"Then where is she?" Gen asked the obvious question, looking around. Again they looked around with their flashlights, but it became evident the alleyway was empty apart from them.

"She's not here." Ashra frowned, feeling equally sad and afraid. "But why would she leave this?"

Magnus could only muse, "Maybe she had to leave in a hurry? God, I hope not."

Gen looked back towards the main street, a thought crossing her mind, "There wasn't any commotion out on the street or by the turbo-lift, Magnus. If the DaiMon had found her, we would have seen it on the way down here. She may have fled but I don't think she was caught."

Magnus nodded, thankful for her observance. "I agree. That's a good sign."

"So how do we find her now?" Ashra asked, "On a station like this? It's a labyrinth down here."

"We have to hope she finds a way to contact us again," Magnus shrugged. "In the meantime, I will alert station security as well. They will need to know."

"Agreed." Gen and Ashra nodded firmly.

"Can we get out of here?" Ashra added on, looking nervously around them. "I didn't envision spending my first night on SB109 in some darkened corridor."

Magnus smiled at her, "Come, let's get back to my quarters. If Rakila tries to contact us, the call will come through to there. And we'll get some of those appetisers sent to my room."

Gen was immediately heading back towards the light of the main street. "Actually, I think I saw something good on one of these stalls." For all her sophistication, she couldn't deny good food when she smelt it. "I want to give it a try."

Ashra quickly followed after her, "Ooh, show me!"

Magnus trailed after the two, still holding Rakila's shawl in her hands. He took a look back into the corridor, sending a silent prayer that she was okay. Ashra was right; this place was a labyrinth and Rakila had managed to hide herself away for weeks now. If the DaiMon couldn't find her down here, the trio wouldn't either. He would just have to hope that she was able to make contact again, and they could finally rescue her from her dire situation. Until then, she was hidden once more amongst the station's many decks and places.

'Bigger on the inside.' Magnus thought to himself as he caught up to the others.

It wasn't what he had envisioned doing on his first night, either, but he had vowed to come here to make a difference. If that first act was to find Rakila, then that's what he would do.

OFF

 

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