Armoury Duty

Posted on Sun Nov 9th, 2025 @ 3:34am by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Ensign Tyler Williams

1,221 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Armoury I, Deck 3
Timeline: MD007, 0720 Hours

The Armoury was quiet. Not that it was ever loud or busy, unless one considered settling dust upon weapons and ordnance to be loud. But it was a corner of the Astrea that was ill-frequented. Fluorescent light flattened the room into hard whites and grays. Rifles gleamed in their racks, symmetrical and inanimate.

Williams stood at the cabinet, methodical in his work, pulling down a rifle, checking the charge, the sight, the body. He called out the string of letters and numbers, his voice sounding firm with conviction, and set the weapon on the counter.

Looking over to JB for a moment, Tyler wondered how he had managed to get this duty. In saying that though, it was an opportunity to get to know one of his bosses a bit better. "We've got Phi-two-seven-four-Kappa here." He looked for the Marine that was going to get it.

The first marine stepped forward, boots scuffing across the hard deck. He was in his twenties, tousled brown hair, square jaw. JB shifted the weight of the data PADD in his hand, thumb poised. "Name?"

"Sergeant Donnelly."

JB’s eyes scrolled through the numbers, to the screen. “Phi-two-seven-four-Kappa. Donnelly.” His finger tapped across the surface of the PADD, and the record was entered. The sergeant hefted the rifle, gave a curt nod, and moved on.

"Gamma-six-eight-nine-Theta," Tyler drawled slightly as he picked up the next rifle and checked the serial number before handing it to JB.

Another body filled the space in front of him--broad shoulders, the faint smell of oil and starch. A rifle clinked onto the counter, the next in line.

"Name?"

"Ensign Morales."

"Gamma-six-eight-nine-Theta. Morales." The syllables clicked neat into place as he keyed them in.

The line shuffled forward, boots and sighs, the occasional cough of someone waiting too long. Williams kept pulling rifles down, the routine unbroken, while JB’s voice made the names real on the record, one after another, weaving the slow cadence of order through the cramped little room.

JB glanced up from his data PADD, seeing Williams removing another linen sheet that had covered a fresh row of phaser rifles. He hadn't properly met the man yet, both had been assigned armoury duty the day before by Lieutenant Xalanth and with the Unification Accords beginning in one day, both had simply arrived at zero-seven-hundred to begin the long process of handing-out weapons.

"How much of a Marine presence do you think Starfleet needs for this event?" Tyler started as he began folding up the sheet as neatly as he could while still trying to maintain the pace they had going, "I feel like the entire contingent is going to be down there, it's surely a bit much, right?" He was yet to see Mack, if she had even elected to go down for it.

Jean-Baptiste shifted the PADD in his palm. Another rifle landed on the counter--Delta-nine-four-two-Psi--and another officer leaned in to claim it.

"Name?" JB asked, not looking up.

"Staff Sergeant Grieves."

"Delta-nine-four-two-Psi. Grieves." Tap. Entered. Gone.

Only then did he glance sideways at Williams, who was folding the linen with slightly more precision than most officers folded their uniforms.

"They'll want to make a show of it," JB said finally, his voice contemplative. He lifted his eyes briefly to the racks of rifles. "Sniper nests, security checkpoints, roving patrols, entire areas under total lockdown." His thumb hovered for a long moment before pressing the next entry into place. "That's the way of things. To make peace, you need security. And security requires a show of force."

Tyler shrugged, "I guess it really is high stakes in there. I wonder what kind of protocols they'd have if something was to happen to someone." He enjoyed thinking about things like that, even thought every so often about how easy it would be to do crossover training and the Marines.

"Not that it will, I mean." He added for good measure.

Jean-Baptiste lifted his gaze from the PADD just long enough to study Williams. "Things always happen to somebody," JB said, keying in the next name. The screen blinked again, accepting the input. "They just never put that part in the speeches."

He turned to the next person up. "Name?"

"Kibwana."

"Omicron-eight-one-five-Sigma. Kibwana."

JB turned his attention back to Tyler. "Have you ever been planetside for one of these?"

Tyler shook his head as he handed the rifle over, "Unfortunately, I haven't." He thought back to his previous posting and how he'd just transferred onto the ship as a conference was being held and he hadn't got to be a part of it, instead being relegated to a duty similar to this. "This is the first time. But to be honest, I always thought that being in Security was going to be a bit more... exciting than this. Like, getting out there and getting involved with everything and everyone, but I find it kind of redundant that we have both Security and Marines on this ship and the duties are almost overlapping, if that makes some kind of sense?"

Jean-Baptiste let the next rifle thud into the counter before answering. "It makes sense," he said, running a finger along the edge of the data PADD. "On the surface of it all, it does appear redundant. Security, Marines--they all patrol, all enforce, all respond. But in practice, each layer exists for a reason."

The next officer appeared before the counter.

"Name?"

"Petty Officer First Class Tanix," said a young Bolian woman with bright green eyes.

"Kappa-nine-zero-one-Beta. Tanix." The name was entered.

JB learned back slightly, eyes scanning the orderly racks behind Tyler--the rifles catching the sterile light. "Marines are reactive, mobile. They establish presence, enforce containment, deal with immediate threats. Starfleet Security is more preventative--they control access, monitor behaviour, mitigate incidents before they manifest." He grinned to himself, recalling his time as a field analyst in Starfleet Intelligence.

"Just imagine when you have several branches at once--Marines, Security, Diplomatic Security, and Intelligence. Extra layers of complexity there. Diplomatic Security operate in a zone of extreme sensitivity. Their entire mandate is to ensure that political actors can operate without fear, interference, without any perception of bias. And Intelligence..." He tapped the PADD again. "Intelligence anticipates. They don't respond; they predict. They advise, intervene quietly, manipulate variables without anyone ever realizing it."

The next rifle was laid on the counter just as the next officer came forth.

"Name?"

"Corporal Bennett," said the red-haired and ruddy-faced young man.

"Alpha-zero-six-four-Alpha. Bennett."

JB looked back at Tyler. "I've dealt with all four branches before. Plus covert liaison units, local militia, civilian contractors. Different rules and different mandates. You finish your shift with a splitting headache and nearly dread waking up for the next one." JB scratched his jaw absently as he recorded the previous code. "Never say out loud that things aren't exciting--the minute you do, it goes off the rails and then you're wishing for a quiet shift."

---

Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea


Ensign Tyler Williams
Tactical Officer
USS Astrea

 

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