USS Malinche NCC-38997-A

<<Trace’s Apartment, San Francisco, Earth>>
<One Week Prior to the Malinche’s current Mission>

Trace awoke with a start. Pain ran up his back and out across his shoulders like it had been for the past few months. They kept telling him that it was phantom pain and that there was nothing physically wrong with him. Trace didn’t really have any choice but to buy it. He looked at the display on his bedroom wall, it read 0330. He sighed heavily and swung his legs out of bed, heading toward the bathroom.

Trace caught site of himself in the mirror. He stood at 6’0, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. His body was powerfully built, something that he took a great deal or pride in. He was standing only in his sleeping shorts, shirtless so that you could see the trail of spots that ran from his shoulders, down his arms, torso, and legs. Trace had been born with a rare genetic condition for a Trill that affected the spots appearing on his face or neck.

He splashed some cool water on his face and decided to try and lay back down in bed. A few moments later he was back to sleep. When he awoke again the time was much more manageable, 0700. He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee from the replicator.

“Incoming message form StarFleet Command, text only.”

“Transfer it to this display,” Trace ordered. Seconds later the text started to scroll by on his screen. They appeared to be his new orders.

“The Malinche, huh?” Trace said, rubbing his chin. It would be his first assignment since being placed in medical leave. “That name sounds familiar.”

Trace read through the rest of the file, his shuttle to the yards was due to depart at 1300. That left him a little time to get ready and get packed. He set down his coffee and went to get his things together.

OFF:

<<USS Cole>>
<Enroute to Starbase 386, 1130>

If there was one thing that Trace had learned from the previous hosts of the Vosh symbiot it was that it was better to travel light. He only had his duffel back and a few small cargo containers that were being transferred with him to the Malinche. The shuttle trip to the USS Cole had been pretty uneventful, mostly because the ensign piloting the ship looked completely bored out of his mind. Trace suggested that they try a few loops but was quickly told that the shuttle was no stunt ship and he was not that kind of a pilot.

Trace had never been on an Olymplic class vessel before. Generally speaking they were hospital ships; from what he could gather the Cole was on her way to Starbase 386 to offload some medical supplies before heading out on their own errand. The vessel was crammed with sickbays and operating rooms. Trace had a hard time navigating around the first few hours he was onboard and almost ended walking into a restricted area twice. It was weird that they had everything so open.

He made a right turn and then a left and arrived at two large gray doors. According to his map, this should be the ship's forward lounge. He was in need of something for lunch. He had left Earth in such a hurry that he didn't have a chance to eat. The doors whooshed open and Trace walked in. It looked much like the Ten Forward lounge on the famed Enterprise-D. He found a table and sat down, moments later the waitress came over and asked what he wanted. He placed an order for Andorian Elk Steak, something that Liliana, the last host of the Vosh symbiont, loved.

Trace was still adjusting to being a joined Trill, sorting out the memories of his old lives could get complicated at times. He loved the fact that he could draw on their experiences but found it overwhelming at times too. It was something that they warned him against during his joining training. He was also finding himself increasingly attracted to BOTH sexes, something else that he hadn't at all anticipated; the Vosh symbiont had two female hosts in the past and one male host that did his share of experimenting so Trace really shouldn't have been that surprised.

The waitress returned with his food.

"Thanks," Trace smiled.

"You're that new Trill right? The one that doesn't have any spots?" she asked.

"Oh I have spots," Trace stated, waggling his eyebrows. "You just can't see them but if want me to I am sure I can arrange a private showing."

The waitress giggled and walked off, leaving Trace alone with his food. He ate in silence, watching the starlines blur by. He was looking forward to working again and from what he was hearing, the Malinche was a fine ship.

OFF: