<em>The klaxons blared as Captain Airik Mitchell grabbed onto the sides of his chair. “Red alert!” Being self-critical he considered the irony of the alarms sounding before his order. People around him jumped at his voice. This would be it. <br/><br/>The alarm continued to scream endlessly. It wasn’t protocol and downright annoying. His vision began to get blurry. It was the end.</em><br/><br/>Opening his eyes, Airik cursed the alarm that alerted him to wake up. While the Ba’ku had many traits to them, the concept of time was not one of them. Time had a different meaning for a seemingly immortal species. Granted, their immortality was not biologically inherent, but a byproduct of their planet.<br/><br/>Now, off his beloved home world, Airik resorted to constant reminders of time. He quickly learned to adjust to class schedules at the Academy. Fearful he would make a mistake he always set his clock forty-five minutes before his intended wake-up or meeting time.<br/><br/>Airik rubbed his face with his hands in an attempt to force the sleep away. It had been long days and long nights preparing for the maiden voyage of the USS McNair. He had yet to even meet most of the crew. He studied their crew profiles carefully, but meeting in person was another thing altogether.<br/><br/>The McNair’s Commanding Officer flipped his legs over the side of the bed. In the unfamiliar setting of his new quarters, he swung a bit too far and smacked the bedside table.<br/><br/>“Sh…t” Airik’s propensity to use curse words in private found its way into his vernacular his sophomore year at the Academy thanks in large part to a particularly verbal roommate from Texas. Every other word out of the cadet’s mouth was censored. He made a great strategic ops officer.<br/><br/>Now the sheet fell back and onto the bed as Airik got himself up from the bed. He limped for a moment as the pain eased. One couldn’t tell the chronologically ancient age of the young looking Captain, another fascinating result of his home world’s unique radiation. Unfortunately time had started to make its mark on Airik…literally. The damn bedside table would definitely leave some type of mark.<br/><br/>The Ba’ku continued limping over to his bathroom. The light flicked on and he winced as he looked into the mirror. Not bad for 215. He reached over to the counter and grabbed a hypospray. Probably the most critical issue with leaving his home world was the realization that the radiation prevented a rare genetic disorder from appearing.<br/><br/>Airik suffers from a rare genetic pulmonary disorder that inhibits oxygen uptake into his body. The prognosis is chronic, though not terminal. The treatment is self administration of a steroidal compound orally or subcutaneously, most often using a hypospray. The disorder does not provide any physical limitations provided he has taken the steroid.<br/><br/>He pressed the instrument to his forearm and let the medication enter his body. Airik set the hypospray back on the counter and finished getting ready for his first meeting with the ship’s Executive Officer.<br/><br/><moved to Ready Room><br/>