USS Raven: Legacy

Reporting for Duty (Robyn)

The corridors of the Reach are a buzz of activity, busier than normal for this time on a Monday morning. It makes my run more difficult as I dodge and weave my way through the flood of traffic.

"Make a hole!" I shout as I run past a pair of officers walking in the middle of the hallway. You would think after three years in the service that I would be used to this sort of activity whenever we make port, but in the vastness of space you tend to forget what happens either end of a long tour of duty. The Reach, and the rest of her carrier task-force, is docked at starbase 84, AKA the Scorpio fleet yards after another uneventful assignment to the Federation-Neo-Sith border. Patrols like that are by far the worst. Pilots like me are stuck running endless CAPs or flying shuttle duty, ferrying crewmen and unstable materials between ships. They drag on and on and the only entertainment we seem to get is intercepting the odd off course civie freighter.

I jog down a ramp onto the deck below and continue towards the next way point. It took me months to figure out a five kilometre run on this ship but after I found one it became part of my morning routine. Just like coffee and flight briefings. My mum taught me how to run during the summer before I joined the academy. I'd broken up with my boyfriend and I wasn't dealing well with the emotions that came with it. Running helped me clear my head and see it from a different perspective. Now I run because it keeps me sharp, focused and grounded in the moment. Also, it helps keep me in shape. The route I've found here is good but it's not like the one on the Raven or like back home in London. Those runs are special.

"Morning, Legacy." Phoebe says as she pulls in beside me. My best friend and I don't usually run together but she always has something to talk about when we do.

"Fancy seeing you here, Phoenix." I glance over at her. She's coloured her Trill spots in with luminous green make up this morning, she always seems to have a new colour for every day. I never see the same colour two days in a row. "You getting faster?" I ask, she doesn't usually run into me till I'm passing the flight deck.

"Nope you're just getting slower, Lt."

"You're out of line ensign." I joke as we run past an emergency bulkhead onto an empty stretch of corridor. "You going to apologise for your remarks?"

"Yes sir, sorry sir." She rolls her eyes as I laugh. I may out rank her but we never act like I do. I've known my wing man too long for that. "Did you hear who's coming aboard?"

"No, should I know?"

"I'll let the gunny tell you; he's pretty excited."

"Solid copy, Phoenix."

"Flight commander, I'm bingo fuel. Requesting permission to return to the barn."

"Granted, see you in the locker room in ten?"

"Copy that, Legacy." She says as she peels off down another corridor like a fighter breaking formation.

I've known Phoebe for as long as I can remember and in many ways she's become a younger sister to me. She struggles with who her parents are more than I do and it's clear in how she reacts when anyone mentions them. Always quicker to violence than I am when her abilities are called into question. Not that they should. Phoebe is the best pilot on the carrier; probably the best pilot in the fleet.

I struggle with who my parents are too, my callsign, Legacy, really says it all. At the academy, I used to try and avoid telling people my last name. I wanted to make a name for myself and be sure that everything I achieved, was down to my own determination, commitment and hard work. Not because my parents were decorated war heroes. Over time, I've learned how to distance myself from their legacy. Sometimes it means getting my CO to push me a little harder or taking on extra responsibilities but I always show I'm more than my mothers' last names.