Runaite, Little Trouble-Maker

Posted on Wed 5th Feb, 2025 @ 10:47am by Runaite

778 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: From The Ashes
Location: Brown Sector Refugee Docking
Timeline: Current

It was a Breen freighter, retrofitted for a complement of those not Breen, being piloted by a human, navigated by a Hermav, captained by a Half Vulcan/Half Romulan, with a Klingon engineer, and carrying a complement of a motley assortment of transients and refugees. The ship appeared, inside and out, to be the culmination of galactization, the coming together of many the galaxy had to offer for a communal purpose. This time, though, it was the solemn trek across the stars for many to get out and away from all the infighting of the old and crumbling Romulan Star Empire.

There was not galactization to be had here. And the only communal purpose was to get away and to find safety, a home, a bed, food, warmth.

For Runaite, this was just another stop, another running away. Normally she would be handed off to another family or another artisan or another merchant. Sometimes, it was another abuser. Not so normally, she would be the one doing the running away and finding a new place on her own. Sometimes that new place was not always kind or inviting. This was another of the not so normal times and she knew that the place was run by the Federation. She was unsure of how inviting or kind the place would be, but at least it was not dangerous. And, as far as she knew, there was no one here who knew the name Runaite.

The freighter was docked and the complement was being offboarded. A team of sparsely spaced Starfleet uniforms lined the corridors guiding the people this way and that toward some place where they would perform further processing of the new arrivals.

The first thing Runaite saw was a sign welcoming them all to “Starbase 109,” she read aloud, “Brown Sector.” She wondered if the ‘brown’ part of it all had some kind of double-meaning for excrement. The place did not smell especially fantastic but not terrible at the same time, though there was an acrid tinge to the air. But that came from the people who were offboarding.

“Just move along that way please. Just move along,” said one uniform.

“Excuse me,” Runaite stepped up to one. “I need to find my parents. They…”

“Just move along. All your questions will be answered. Just move along that way.”

The place did not appear as elegantly as she recalled in the images and videos she had seen of Starfleet starbases. This place seemed to have experienced its share of neglect, refugees, graffiti artists as well as repair and upkeep. Perhaps there just was not enough of these uniforms to keep the place as dust and filth free as they wanted.

SB109…Brown Sector…looked in well enough shape however. But it was not perfect. And that imperfection seemed just perfect for Runaite.

She pressed onward clutching a stuffed animal to her chest. It was her only possession aside from the clothes she wore. She stayed along the side of the river of people in the corridors as they were herded to another location. Her height did not offer her much of a view, but it did help keep her concealed.

These Starfleet uniforms were spread equidistantly with but a few gaps of opportunity here and there. She found a corridor where another uniform was directing people to turn down. Runaite made her way into the middle of the river of people and found a middle-aged Romulan. He appeared really down on his luck with a blank expression as though wondering how everything went so wrong and so fast.

Runaite did not hesitate to help him fall a bit lower in his luck as she placed a foot before his and tripped him. The man did not receive injury but did fall sprawled out upon the floor. The crowd separated to make room with no one acting immediately to catch him or help him up. They just held on to their own. The Starfleet uniform stepped away from his position to offer a hand and, as he worked his way through the crowd and toward the fallen man, Runaite started toward the uniform, bumped into him which caused him to bump into one or two others. Runaite quickly snatched the PADD hanging by his side, via a carabiner, as he ventured forth toward the downed Romulan.

With the PADD in hand, Runaite worked it under her shirt and pressed her stuffed animal to her chest again. She left the crowd and the river of people, making her way down the corridor, not in the direction the uniforms were directing them, rounded a corner and disappeared further into Brown Sector.

 

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