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Aerospace Traffic: Controlled

Posted on Wed Oct 17, 2018 @ 6:33pm by Lieutenant Amelia Forscyth-Coyle
Edited on on Sun Nov 25, 2018 @ 8:53pm

Mission: S01E02: First Unity
Location: Langley Station - Tier E - The Strip
Timeline: MD10 0200 Hours


It wasn't that Amelia didn't -like- starbases. In reality, she had little quarrel with the, as a whole; they were an incredible keystone of Federation technology. Aside, perhaps, from purpose-built orbital defense stations like the ones in orbit around Qo'noS, or the anti-drone defense stations set up around Io and Luna, she'd never seen structures quite as large. Service on several different flavors of carriers had gotten her used to some wonky size differences, but even her first assignment, the Rhine had only been an Akira: capable of fielding barely eighteen-strong mix of fighters and bombers. But, her last assignment? She'd been aboard the Gibralter, which had been one of the largest carrier-class vessels the Federation had ever built, with a fighter wing of a sneeze over fifty, and almost like Amelia mothballs now. To be fair, she tried not to think too hard about that very often; she knew full well operating a pure warship of that size was simply not economically viable.

Fortunately for her foul mood and brooding, the stations' commercial center was largely empty at this hour. A (to her) surprising number of shops and storefronts were still lit up, advertising various foods, trinkets, knick-knacks and more for the tourists and transients that usually occupied the area. For her part, Amelia had wandered out of her cabin and eventually wound up in front of one of the massive windows that looked out over the planet of Lyshan, spinning gently below. Even for a military and research hub, there was always -something- going on (and equally usually, going wrong) in Lyshan orbit, and that meant it was at least partially her responsibility. Directing traffic hadn't been as awful as she'd anticipated, but it was just about as skull-crushingly boring as expected. The thought, and what the good Admiral would have to say about it, made her face quirk into a half-amused expression, and she was deep enough in her own head she completely missed the civilian's approach.

"It's pretty, inn'it?"

Turning in mild surprise, she took the stranger in. He was tall, taller than her by at least five or ten centimeters, with short, brown hair. His clothes were well-fitted, if nothing else, and he was grinning at her: it caught her off-balance enough to have to take a few moments to collect herself, looking back out across the planet. "Oh, yes. Yes, it is." He, too, looked back out and over, continuing in the convivial nature of a man who's fully aware he's little to do, and lots of time to do it in. "I didn't mean to surprise you," he paused, sneaking another glance at her. "Lieutenant." He'd at least had the decency to approach her on the side opposite her cane, which followed her around most places like a shadow of Plague, at least in her own head. "Coyle," she finished for him. "Lieutenant Coyle, then." He looked at her with a half-grin, sticking his hand out, the other folded neatly behind the small of his back. "Gunny Michaels, though I'd say just call me 'Mike'. Been a bit too long since I wore the green, anyway."

Turning again to regard him with slightly more respect than she would've warranted to any random spacer, she took his hand and shook it, nodding. "Mike, then. Amelia. You'll have to forgive me," she deadpanned, releasing his hand and putting both on the head of her cane, putting it pointedly between her legs, leaning forward on it as she stared down at the planet. "I understand," he said, chuckling as his hands met behind him, too. "It isn't just anyone who'd dare approach a fuming, Starfleet officer." She could see his smirk reflected in the glass in front of them.

"Fuming?" She looked at him. "What makes...fine. How'd you tell?" She narrowed her eyes at him, before looking bemused and, like him, deliberately looked away. "You spend enough time around them, you get to know them?" She looked back, unimpressed. "...okay. Fine. I saw the reflection of your face in the viewport when I looked up. Seemed like you were sucking on sour lemons." That got a genuine laugh out of her, and one hand fluttered up to her lips, covering her unladylike sniggering. "Well, I mean. You're not entirely wrong, I suppose. I'm not happy with my new job," she admitted, surprising even herself with just how quickly she admitted it, to a stranger.

"Ooh," he nodded, making a noise as he sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, that'd put you in a poor sight." He inspected her again, nodding at her uniform: she had her duty jacket open, since she wasn't on the stations Operations center. She wasn't outright required to wear the uniform off-duty at all, but going without felt oddly wrong, to her. Regardless, his eyes lit on the filigree that traced up her shoulders: Starfleet had shifted uniforms thrice while she was in the service, but even she had to admit that the latest incarnation was the most comfortable. "What, red isn't your color?"

It was his turn to laugh at the withering look he earned, but she softened it up by speaking shortly afterwards. "I used to be a CAG," she admitted, which earned her the wariest look from him yet. After the war ended, shuttle accident," she emphasized this by lifting her cane a bit off the deck, then thudding the foot back down to punctuate her sentence. "Now I'm in charge of making sure pleasure-craft idiots don't smash into one another, or some fuddy doesn't go get sucked into the grav-pull of a warship fifty times his size." She snorted. "Though, occasionally, something interesting happens. Just last week, I, personally, got half a dozen threats, bribes, and treatises for marriage."

He looked at her again, and they stared at one another for a few solid seconds, then they both began to laugh, Amelia shaking her head. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this." He shrugged. "I asked?"

She mulled that one over for a bit, quirking her lips into a grin again, and she faced-about as he stepped away from her, back towards the center of the ring. "I've got to be going, as much fun as it was, Amelia," he offered, sticking his hand out again. "My ship is waiting for me, but. I'm glad I stopped to talk." She even had the decency to blush as he lifted her hand and brushed his lips against the back of it, respectfully dropping it after that. "I'll remember who to offer a bribe when I want to dock first."

She had a half-formed barb on her lips as he turned to walk away, but bit it off. "Until then," she called after him, idly wondering what'd really made him stop and talk to her. Regardless, as she turned back to look at the planet, she didn't even realize she'd left her cane leaning against the handrail, and when she looked down at Lyshan, she was smiling. Perhaps traffic duty wasn't all bad. Meant she didn't have to fly away into combat, at least.

Heck, she might even stop by that Italian place before she went back to her quarters.
'I wonder if they deliver?'



Lieutenant Amelia Forscyth-Coyle
Chief Flight Control Officer
Langley Station


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