Am I Really Doing This?

Posted on Sat Sep 9th, 2017 @ 9:05pm by Ensign Andrew Gervais

The door opened to Andrew's quarters and he walked through, exhausted. The running program in the holodeck had actually been quite a challenge. More so than usual lately. He made a mental note to remind himself that he was getting out of shape just supervising a bunch of support craft pilots.

It wasn't the position he wanted, but it's what was available. It wasn't entirely for selfless reasons. His Academy buddy Paul had applied to this ship around the same time, and he didn't believe for a moment that they'd both get on board. But they did. And aside from the First Officer being a rabid hellbeast that he couldn't stand, the first 6 months had gone quite well. And he at least knew a few people aboard.

He removed his uniform jacket so that only the red sweater underneath was left, and looked outside. It wasn't his dream job, but he hoped just another year or two and he could be a flight control officer. He did so well on the simulations, and even did amazingly as a pilot. The fact he was a minor department head so early in his career was rare. But on a support craft team mostly full of NCOs, they needed someone to be the boss. Though he was still a little terrified that someone was him. Some days he felt too old for this shit. And others he felt too young for this shit.

"Sangria synthale." Gervais called out to the replicator. He was off duty now. He could take a drink. He picked up the glass and took the first sip. It felt amazing. It had been an incredibly long day. Shuttles to maintain and fix. The Marine Department's XO was almost as demanding as Bowman about one of the larger Shuttlecraft. But after 5 hours or so, he had the XO off his back.

He couldn't believe he was here. It all seemed like a dream at the Academy. The idea that he'd ever make it aboard a starship. But here he was. He knew at some point, he'd have to send a transmission home to his family. He missed them terribly, and they were worried about him as well. The fact there was a wormhole to a quadrant that would once take 80/90 years at maximum warp to travel from helped make the galaxy just a little smaller.

He kicked up his feet, sipping the Sangria. He wished there was more time at New Earth. All he knew is they had to pick up a Commodore to go talk some Klingons down from causing a war out here. Because that's totally what was needed. He came to explore the galaxy. Yes, fighting would be part of the job but it was not the part he was the most fond of. It was a necessary evil to him. He derived more pleasure in seeing nebulae and planets amid strange sectors of space than he did having to assume battle stations.

He sighed in contentment to himself, thinking 'At least this coming mission will probably be easy.'