Work Text:
The ride was sickening.
Not really, but the enclosed carriage of the turbolift didn’t help any nerves as it followed the track from the outer ring of quarters to the heart of the station, taking its not fully horizontal, not-quite-vertical path. The mechanical whirl ate the noise of Amienna’s exhale as she leaned against the paneled back wall, idly scuffing her boot over the tracks engrained in the floor.
Should I review my assignment again?
She had tried to read through the padd detailing her position earlier, but ended up taking it with her and resolving to review it later, unable to properly view it with the low contrast - frustrating, but federation padds didn’t come with the same visual settings or texture viewing like Celadon data storing did. The only thing Amienna would get from staring at it without fixing the settings again would be a headache for her troubles. I’ll just fix it over breakfast.
Sure, it was annoying… and inconvenient but she wouldn’t be ungrateful! It probably just slipped someone’s mind. She really had been lucky, even if this position was undesirable to any sane Celadon. Her Ama would lose it if she found out how far away her new astrophysics position was from Caeraula (and she was barely past Bajor!)
Amienna pulled on the edges of her uniform, willing the fabric to lay flat and formal looking, carefully reaching back and tightening her arcinate - neutral gray, the thin fabric slightly fanned out from where it connected to the ring of metal to manage her thick green chlori. She took one more pass over her head, barely stopping herself from stress tugging at her atna and sending spots through her vision, setting herself straight just as the doors slid open.
The Promenade felt still as she stepped out, just the hum of its systems and the noise of her boots. She hadn’t seen it this quiet before, and even if it had only been two days of living on-station, Deep Space Nine had struck her as always being some level of busy. Today was an early morning lull that felt discordant against her nerves. She could even hear the morning bell of the Bajorn temple services around the bend, chiming through the morning quiet.
Amienna followed the gentle curve of the lower walkway, past the infirmary. Even the replimat was near empty, only one or two people nursing a hot drink before the day started. She carefully stepped up onto the platform, picking her way over to the brightly lit replicator display. This, at least, was readable. Mm, I’ll get… “Kricorin,” Amienna ordered, only pausing when the split display flashed a pattern not found message. She’d been craving the dish to soothe her first-day nerves with something familiar, but sure, she’d get something else. Easy.
“Meddla nuts,” She had fond memories of rolling the seed pods out from the tough flesh, stealing a couple from the kitchen- pattern not found.
“Oh.” Amienna floundered for a moment, before her face tightened in disappointment as she glanced over at the small black and white menu plastered on the wall. “Kohlanese stew, please,” This time, it gently beeped, materializing the dish, warm in her hands as she took a seat, letting the bowl clunk onto the table.
The meal was fine, sure, and it wasn’t bad, but it just wasn’t anything. The taste fell flat in her mouth, but she still ate, more for the sense of normalcy than hunger. Amienna sighed, dropping the spoon and pushing the bowl away. The station hummed around her, steady and unhurried, like she could sit there forever with a knot of feelings lodged in the cartilage of her ribs.
Fine then.
She stood up, smoothing her uniform again, this time without fussing, then took the bowl back to the replicator to be recycled.
Amienna turned to walk to the turbolift, and this time, didn’t pause in her stride.