El lumbered through the corridors of the new station. They were wider, cleaner, though still had a mottled maintenance tunnel look to them. The air was fresher. That was good because El was sure that whatever stunk in the Honey Bee was still clinging to her. She followed the guides and at last came to the docking hatch to the Sojourner. She was now quite late. Her previous attempts at linking to the ship had resulted in her comms being locked out. At least she could still talk to flight control for docking through the Bee’s comms. Coming up to the docking port, El was stopped at the hatch by station security and asked for her credentials. She fished them out and presented them.

“I confirm that your name is on the roster, Ensign, but you are flagged by the computer for security violations. I’ll have to call my super to clear you.” El’s fist balled and she let out a breath, imagining her sea bag slamming into the man followed by her running into the ship and claiming sanctuary. She was tired and getting impatient.
“Look, I’m late com..”, she began, but was cut off.
“Your problem, Ensign. Mine is protocols. And you need to follow them, or your leader will be fishing you out of the brig.”
El sighed and shifted the bag to the deck. She couldn’t wait to get to her quarters. Was Liz still her bunk mate? She supposed she’d find out soon enough. Where was this ‘super’ coming from? Alaska? It felt like forever, but at last a Petty Officer came along. She looked as annoyed as El felt. The PO was reading something. “You were trying to access classified documents. Once is an error. Eight times is … not.” Her eyes flickered to El, accusing.
“I thought I might be able to get a little familiar with the ship before boarding. You know, engineer, supposed to know how to make big machine run.”
“Classified documents cannot be accessed by unregistered – which means unauthorized - personnel. That’s standard.” El frowned. Vaguely she recalled that from the Military Academy, though she simply had not run into that before. Bonaventure files had been sent to her ahead of time. Swallowing the statement that she was thinking of, she apologized. The PO frowned and held her gaze. “I have every right to hold you here until your superior comes to collect you. But as it is, with all respect, Ensign, you are ripe and I would rather you not hang about here any longer than you need to.” El flushed as the PO tapped on her tablet. “I’ll let you go. This has been sent to your super with a recommendation for a review course on basic security. Happy reading.”

El entered a new world – a shiny brand new out of the package ship. B Deck. She needed to find the lift going down. On the way she passed a bulkhead which had Transporter Room stencilled on it. Curious she poked her head in. It looked benign. A raised platform. A console in front of it. Didn’t look scary. Then she noticed it – a sign above the raised platform. It was evidently something someone put there as a joke. She hoped. It read:

ABANDON HOPE ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE

El let out a soft giggle then figured that she had best get gone else Lt Green would think she put it up there and pin the blame on her for it. Eventually she found her cabin while trying to avoid the gaze of the few others she passed and trying not to think about how late she was. Dropping her sea bag without even looking about the small room or even noticing that it was a single rather than a bunk, she then navigated to the lounge where the meeting was supposed to be held. On the way, however, more joy was to be found. She found her comms had been unlocked and there were several messages from Lt Green, basically saying she was late, that she was going on report, that there was no excuse for forgetting protocols, that she was really late, and, lastly, that questions will be asked about her not responding to messages. Angrily she shoved it into a pocket of her coveralls that were, by now, dusty, rumpled and, as the Petty Officer so kindly observed, ripe. At last she stormed into the lounge. It was empty but for two people sitting at a table near a window who turned to stare at this horror charging in like a banshee. Did she really look that bad? “I hate this ship,” she said under her breath.

El, Eng