LtGeorgeMcLean

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean 0404.21 “More Than Enough” “There is a time for every purpose, to everything there is a season. But man must find his satisfaction, the gift of God in all his labour.” –DWP And so George McLean and another man found himself walking toward the residence of Bill Connolly, a former neighbor. George had respected this man throughout his child hood and into his young adult years. He held what he perceived to be as radical beliefs. What struck George, however, was not the beliefs themselves, but how passionate Bill was about them. George had been raised on the toleration doctrine, that everyone’s opinions were correct in some way, essentially that absolute truth was a hodgepodge of man’s ideas. Yet, George recognized some sort of moral law. He believed that some things were absolutely wrong. The taking of another’s life, for instance, he believed was wrong despite the circumstantial expediency in protecting one’s spouse from harm or protecting the Marine fighting alongside you in trenches, for example. It wasn’t hard for George to believe that there were some absolute truths, but most things in life he considered up for debate. George lived his life as a free-spirited rationalist. Of course, this had led him into trouble in the past. There was a reason that he was on Starfleet probation three times. He willingly chose to subvert the law set before him because he didn’t agree upon its principles. He recalled the day that he was caught playing poker on duty with his fellow Engineers. George honestly didn’t see anything wrong with such actions considering the ship was running in tip-top shape. He knew the regulations. He knew that if he was caught, he would be subject to punishment. He never expected the demotion and probation, but he was willing to subvert the law nevertheless and willing to transgress the loyalty oath taken by all Starfleet officers to “uphold all Starfleet regulations.” What a buffoon he had been in his early career. The return to Earth had been good for him, literally and symbolically. He had been meaning to talk to someone about his transformation. It really wasn’t a transformation per se, but George felt a stirring in his gut, as if he was being drawn to something. Why he thought of Bill Connolly? That’s anyone’s guess, but as George knocked on the large oak door of the Connolly residence, he knew that walking in would mean leaving something behind, perhaps his entire life. The combination of excitement and terror overwhelmed him and almost made him nauseous. When the elderly man finally came to the door, he was surprised to see an aging George McLean standing before him. Yet, the man was delighted, for he knew what George had come for. The unnamed man and George were both welcomed inside. “It’s about time,” Bill Connolly said with his wrinkled face beaming with life. Stepping in timidly at first, but then with greater confidence, McLean replied perplexed, “About time? What are you talking about?” Bill Connolly disappeared and reappeared with a loaf of bread and three cups of juice. “I’m sorry, it’s all I have to offer. I live humbly you know…off my retirement payments from Chrysler-Ford.” George smiled, “It’s more than enough, thank you.” More than enough. The words, rang in George’s head the rest of the evening. The three men talked for hours, each sapping up life’s wisdom from another. Then the mood became more serious as Bill shared his life story and the decisions that he had made in his life. George asked many questions and received many answers. He began to understand why Bill had chosen to live his life in such an anti-pragmatic way. The old man was brilliant and it seemed to George that the words coming out of his mouth weren’t coming from the brain, but were spilling out directly from the soul. George admired the hope in Bill’s eyes, the life in his steps. He found himself strangely accepting what Bill had said and he pondered these things in his heart. Sometime near dawn, George left Bill’s house, but as he crossed the threshold he realized that he had not left as he had come in. He had been changed, wholly and completely and was ready to life a new life. “All of you, is more than enough for, All of me, for every thirst and, Every need you satisfy, With your love and all I have in you is more than enough” –Chris Tomlin

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean “Mos maiorem” 0404.19 George simply could not believe it. There he stood on Terran soil for the first time in a very long time. Just a couple weeks ago he was preparing himself for death, but today, he was basking in the fullness of an abundant life. What was the fullness of abundant life to George? Being back in his hometown of Kokomo, Indiana, among the stalks of corn. He smiled as he looked out over the horizon. It was dusk and all the farmers had gone in for the evening. The moon was already shining brightly overhead. Visibility was spectacular. In every direction, there were miles after miles of nearly ready to be harvested corn. Your average spaceman had the inability to really appreciate this George surmised. The average gung-ho Star Fleet officer would find such a scene far too grounded, for he hates to look anywhere but up. He fails to find the beauty of the horizon. In essence, he is so heavenly minded that he is no earthy good. Yet, George was learning to love both. Sure, the adventures of space exploration were exhilarating, but George equally loved the thrill of standing in his hometown seeking out not new life and civilization, but rediscovering old lives, long gone, and civilizations left behind at the expense of human progress. “It’s beautiful isn’t it,” spoke a deep soothing voice from behind him. “Yeah…,” replied George not turning around. “We’ve missed you around here George.” “I’ve missed this place…” The man behind him kept quiet for a few moments, and then he drew upon his internal frustrations. “You know, we’re a dying breed here…on Earth. Despite all the attempts at appeasement, the agricultural community here is still being trampled. With replicators in almost every household, no one cares about the real thing anymore.” George smiled, “I still care….” “Bah,” replied the man, “you’re a rare breed. The vast majority of humans don’t care anymore. The aliens, even less, for the culture that man has built for thousands of years.” George responded, “Can progress be achieved without sacrificing the mos maiorum?” “Can a man, transformed, be really transformed with the old man not slain?” This comment striking George, “What do you mean?” “George, there’s something different about you, something that has changed. I see a renewed sense of hope in your eyes, I see life in your steps, yet, I do not see this played out to its completeness.” George smiled, “Yeah, I sort of had a…transformation back on Reaent a few weeks ago.” The man waited for a few moments to ask, “What have you discovered?” George shook his head, “I really don’t know…all I know is, I’m not alone anymore.” “Are you involved again?” George laughed, “No! It’s not like that…gosh…” “I’m sorry George, I didn’t know,” replied the man regretfully, “I guess I never thought you the real philosophical…err…even religious type.” “I’m not…really. Something has just changed. It’s almost as if I’ve been granted a second chance. I’m one of those guys who believes that I don’t even deserve a first chance. It’s a miracle I guess.” The man applied his hand to George’s shoulder, “Whatever makes you happy.” George pondered on this, “No…I can’t even express what I’m feeling. It’s far beyond the shallowness of utilitarianism. I need to talk to someone.” The man did not respond, he was almost in awe of George’s internal changes. George turned abruptly, “Is Bill Connolly still alive?” “I don’t know George…why do you ask?” George chuckled, “I want to see him…” George and the unnamed man walked down the paved road toward a dwelling a few miles off. George found symbolism in this journey. There was something that Bill Connolly had that he thought he needed, some unexplainable link to his mos maiorum. He had always liked Bill, despite his lack of exuberance for the progress of mankind. Yet, George felt ready to discover the past; something he knew would alter his future. The sun is almost set, the dawn waits with expectation.

Lieutenant Travis Kroells and Lieutenant George McLean USS Reaent “Bubble Bath” 0403.18 As George and Travis poured through the data decoded by Ensign Voran and Ensign Graham, the frustration level in the room began to rise. They couldn’t make any coherent sense of anything that the probe had given them. Yet, they both knew that the answer was contained somewhere in the data. George looked up from the screen towards Travis frustrated, “None of this really makes any sense Travis...” Travis, equally annoyed tossed his PADD and replied, “I don't think it's meant to.” George stared up at the ceiling and let out a deep sigh, “I'm just trying to figure out...why exactly the moves of the probe have been so calculated.” Travis let his thoughts escape aloud, “The thing, looked like it readjusted it self when it took off. Maybe...that thing it jumped into, is only in specific places.” “That seems to be the only consistent thing this probe has ever done.” “It can’t just go to warp at any given point in space like we can.” George shrugged letting his gaze shift elsewhere, “As far as we know...our sensors weren't really able to penetrate that far into the hull.” Travis nodded, “And because of that, we have to try and make educated guesses.” George, obviously not happy with the response from Travis gave in, “Ok...let's go off your hypothesis, what could propel such a thing if it didn't have such capabilities?” “I'm guessing that it has something to do with the subspace bubbles that sent us to the borders of the Andromeda galaxy not to long ago.” “We know even less about those bubbles Travis, only that they've brought us to this place,” replied George frowning. “What...what if we only try to figure out how the probe uses it, and mimic its actions?” “Yes, all we have to do is find the bubble bath, eh Travis? Give me a freakin' break,” answered George looking back at his data. Travis stood up and grabbed George by the shoulder, exerting significant force, “Look! I don’t see any ideas of grand coming from that sarcastic mouth of yours! So either help me, or go back to yelling at your engineers, I can do this on my own!” George responded by standing up and puffing out his chest to reveal his full stature, “I would advise against that Travis...the last time you did that resulted in something quite unpleasant for you. Back off. I’m just as frustrated as you, you know?” Travis shook his head and mumbled, “Yeah, sucker punches to a guy that had just been stunned with a phaser.” Obviously not listening, George sat down abruptly, “Wait, maybe we have something here!” Sarcastically Travis bites back, “Now, then Professor McLean. Teach me something.” “Ok...these bubbles...maybe they do... come from some bubble bath! Meaning, the bubbles are the...I don't know...come on George think!” Travis calmly, “Water…I think I was wrong before…about, these bubbles being connected...like a network.” Still thinking, George expounded, “What if the probe traveled on some sort of connected river?” “Of course...and the bubbles...are like the beaches, or something in that sense. A place to get off the line.” “This would explain the calculated movements of the probe right?” “Of course, I had to line up, if it was to enter the ‘river.’” “There's still a problem...we can neither see the river, nor do we know of to get into it.” “Well...how did we activate it before?” Travis inquired. George tapped on the console, “We didn't...we were pulled along in the bubble remember…It was all the probe....” Travis nodded solemnly, “The key, what ever it be...is in what that probe tried to tell us.” George looked over the data and spoke, “What if the probe were trying to show us the way?” George motioned Travis to look at the data and Travis stared over George’s shoulder. George continued, “This data is what occurred just prior to the disappearance of the probe…Notice this here,” as he pointed to the screen, “Does that look like a rift to you? It seems to be a subspace rift. Only, it didn't want us to enter with it...like the other times…hmmm….” Travis jumped in, “I don’t think it wanted us to follow it.” George pointed to the screen, “If we enter at this point, then we should be able to travel the river..., but we don't know how to navigate this thing....” George sat back looking defeated. They had come too far to hit such a roadblock. Then, Travis saved the day, “Would it be possible, to use the warp field, or the deflector dish to...sail on the top of it...?” George stroked his chin, “It would...but how would we know where to get off? We don't have a map of this thing.” “The probes used it before…and, the Federation tracked the probe, the last time it went through federation space.” “Not through this thing though...could we equip a shuttle?” Travis thought for a moment then replied knowingly, “Probably. It we sent it ahead...it'd be able to detect places to get off...and relay it too the ship. The ship would need the extra time...it's not nearly as maneuverable..., but...it'll be a rough ride.” George nodded. “We'll have to start shield, sensor, and hull modifications now.” George set to work, “I'll get on the hull modifications...you start with the sensors and I'll get Mr. Shamor to work on the shields.” George stood up and moved quickly towards the exit, but suddenly turned abruptly around and smiled as Travis watched him. “Thanks Travis.” Travis slowly nodded and after George had exited sighed, “Engineers….”

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean Duty Log (Sim Recap) 0403.12 “Computer open log and begin recording… With Captain Michaels and Commander Ridire taking a few hours off, the senior staff was provided the chance to make some headway in the situation on their own. First Lieutenant Shamor brought out some interesting information about the probe. He hypothesizes that the wounded area from which we were attempting to extract a sample of its hull is not as old of a wound that we first thought. This, in his estimation, is the reason why we should be stay vigilant to any abnormalities we might pick up. The situation could only get worse if a Borg scout decides to come this way. Dr. Smith is heading up a team working with scans taken from the hull of the probe. Although the scans are not very detailed, they are better than what the Reaent was getting from afar. Dr. Smith is working with Dr. Kitty and Ensign Xavier. Their results can confirm or deny Shamor’s analysis of the hull. Ensign Graham and Ensign Voran are working on decoding the information trail that the probe left behind. The amount of data is quite overwhelming. Travis and I are already seeing positive results from their work. Ensign Graham is also commanding a team of Engineers finishing up the completion of repairs. Lieutenant (Jg) Revelone is working with my former subordinate, Lieutenant (Jg) Scherer on what was accessed when the probe scanned through our computer system on the Reaent and on the shuttle. Their progress is unknown to me at this time. Finally, Lieutenant Kroells and I are working on analyzing data that the probe left behind when it left. Looking at the data we noticed that the probe is following a predictable path. Geometrically speaking, the probe seems to be traveling on a path that is almost oval shaped. Yet, Travis and I have not yet been able to determine why. It almost seems that either the probe is programmed in this manner or that it is somehow trekking on some sort of “space superhighway.” If this is true, perhaps we can find a way to get on this highway and somehow make it home…in time for dinner. Computer, save log and close program.”

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean Chief Engineer USS Reaent 0403.05 “AT Recap” “Computer, open duty log and begin recording… Per orders of Captain Michaels we left at 0900 hours in shuttle beta in efforts to gather more information about the probe. We tried, with short bursts of the forward phasers to gather a sample of the probe’s hull. The reason we chose this course of action is because we believe that at least the outer hull of the probe is organic in its most basic nature. The original plan was to gather a piece, even a small piece, from the hull and bring it back to Reaent to study. If worst came to worst we would use the information gathered hopefully to build some sort of chemical weapon that could react like an acid on the organic parts of the probe. Unfortunately, the mission failed. We were not able to gather any samples from the cell. In fact, after we stopped using the shuttle’s phaser (we assumed that it was only absorbing our energy), the probe put all of our systems on the fritz. The probe appears to be on a course away from here, and Captain Michaels is wise to keep us out of that wake. Still, I remain optimistic. While for some staying out here for ten years, provided we’re able to make it home, is quite a long time, I’m beginning to see the possibilities that the next ten years could bring. With no real family and friends back home, “lost in space” could help establish friendships and professional relationships that would last maybe even a lifetime. But, I’m getting ahead of myself. The present situation looks pretty bleak, but there’s always a chance that things will turn to our favor…right? Computer, close log and save….”

Either... He has no one to talk to... OR...other people just don't cut it for quality convseration. Either way... ::shakes head::

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean Chief Engineer USS Reaent- NCC 3345-G 0402.23 “Skepticism and Nineveh” George was skeptical. As he carried out the Captain’s orders he could not help but to question those orders. Not that this was anything new to him. George had frequently questioned the decisions of Captain Michaels throughout the current “mission,” if you could call it that. Michaels was lucky, far too lucky than George was comfortable with. His orders were often erratic and the heroic impulses beat strongly within his breast. Individuals like Captain Michaels scared George the most, especially when they have authority over him. He was almost sure, but not completely, that he’d rather serve under a passive coward than an erratic hero. George had a feeling it would be Michaels that would eventually cost his life. As he made the final preparations to the shuttle, George wondered if once again he’d have to stare death in the face. It had become almost a daily occurrence since the Reaent was brought ten years away from home. He recalled those moments still vivid in his mind and dwelled upon them. Death was too familiar. Each day seemed to be dominated by decisions that were preparation for dying versus living. Oh for a quiet normal day! Oh for shore leave! When was the last time he relaxed? Despite the mental anguish, his soul remained somewhat tranquil. George knew that Michaels might be sending four of his finest officers off to die, but those officers were the best chance for the preservation of the Reaent crew. They had to find out whether they could use this probe to take them home. Even if they died trying, at least they would know that the only option was to trek home. George walked out of the shuttle in Shuttle Bay Two with Engineering kit in hand. He gave his appreciation to Lieutenant (Jg) Keraz and Ensign Graham along with the assistance of Lieutenant Kroells and Ensign Lacroix. They were ready to move out. George tapped his combadge, “McLean to Ridire,” he spoke confidently, “we’re ready to enter the belly of the whale.” McLean hoped that the ironic Biblical allusion would hold true to their situation, the salvation of the shuttle and the salvation of all of Nineveh.

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean Chief Engineer USS Reaent- NCC 3345-G 0402.20 “Tempered Frustration” Despite a miraculous change in attitude, George could hardly keep secret the external manifestations of his inward frustration. It seemed that ever since power was restored to the majority of the ship, the motivation for action deflated. Sure, some departments were making progress, but the efforts were largely independent. Coordination is what they needed. George recognized this and he hoped Captain Michaels would concur. Yet, what could they do? What more could they try? Would their situation change? George hoped so, but he wasn’t all that optimistic. They were outmatched, outgunned and even out-reasoned. There the Reaent sat near this ever so mysterious, but deadly, probe, knowing little more than when they started following it. They also knew well that this probe was their only ride home. Yet, communications had for the most part failed and the hull of the probe was impenetrable to the Reaent’s scans. “Finally,” George spoke while releasing a large quantity of air. The com from the bridge had beckoned all Department Heads to report to the bridge. George hoped that this staff meeting would produce the solution to their problem. The chances seemed slim, but George allowed himself at least a few strands of hope in his fellow officers. He knew through science and tactical reports that efforts were underway to analyze the hull of the probe more extensively. George agreed that this was the right course of action. It seemed that low on resources and out of options, that it was time to take a proactive approach to the situation. George figured that the key to defeating this probe at worst, or using this probe, at best, would be the solution even if it meant being lost in the vastness of space for many years. It was time to do something.

“Downright Masculine” George hadn’t felt this good in several years since long before he went on probation for inappropriate conduct with a female officer. There was a strange hop in his step. The half empty world suddenly flipped and dripped half full. Where was all this energy coming from? What had led him to this moment of near complete fulfillment? George sat back and smiled recalling the moment. It had only happened about an hour ago so his hand still throbbed. It was perhaps the hardest punch he had ever delivered. Even better the receiver of the punch was none other than the Chief Science Officer, Travis Kroells, or former Chief Science officer; he didn’t really care. There had been some weird irony down there in Main Engineering. For once it was George who was following orders, not trying to play the hero he was not cut out to be. For once it was George who preserved his dignity and actually deserved the respect he so often demanded out of others. For once George was free of any accusation, lacking of any blame. His actions were not lacking in rewards. In fact, the rewards for George would be longer lasting than he could have possibly imagined. Somehow that moment in Engineering that had culminated in the lashing out against Travis triggered something in his brain. More importantly, however, it had triggered something deep within his heart. When humanity began to slip from George’s grasp, he lost many things. He lost the ability to love and he lost the ability of hope. Those closest to him, which were dwindling in numbers in recent days, would even say that he had lost the ability to feel. Yet, none of his loses affected him like the loss of his sense of masculinity. He had forgotten what it was like to be a man. He had let go from his hands the very meaning of manhood. How could one barely significant punch bring such revelation to a bitter man? There was the key in itself. Alone at night, George knew he was bitter. George knew he was hopeless, loveless…helpless. What be began to realize was that he was more than hopeless, he was a hopeless man, and he was more than loveless, he was a loveless man. The rediscovery of his own masculinity was that key. With that clenched fist he not only reconfirmed his existence as a human, but even more reconfirmed his very essence of masculinity. The scales fell. George began to see himself through the eyes of man again. The initial conviction was almost overwhelming. “Some man I am,” he repeated over and over again in his mind. Every action, every decision, he reevaluated in his mind, each disgusting him to no visible end. George wondered if he could ever find redemption. He knew that by and large most people were like himself, cold, corrupt and without purpose, but he also knew that there were things out there beyond his comprehension that really mattered. “What price must I pay,” he cried out in his heart. Something not so distant seemed to answer and comfort his aching heart. A peace that surpassed all understanding swept over his heart. Sitting there waiting for the crew to return to Reaent, he decided in that moment that he would try to become what he was intended to be, what he was created for. He smiled, genuinely for the first time in years. Despite the cost and hardship, he was going to try to be a man, one of honor and dignity, one who could truly be respected, one with a purpose to life and a reason to live it and most of all, one who was downright masculine. B)

Who else? Why me of course!

“A space shot cannon” A Lt. Travis Kroells & Lt. George McLean production. Travis quickly walked out of the bridge, determined to head for engineering and figure this thing out, if any one needed to get back to earth, it was him…. The turbo lift ride was short, as he quickly jogged into engineering, the hustle and bustle of engineers trying to bring the ship back to peek performance. He looked around for McLean, where else would he be? Travis walked around the lower level of engineering, looking for any sign of the chief…he walked around the warp core, watching the colors swirl around. He looked up towards the second level, to see McLean yelling at a crewmen a few feet away from Travis, something about antimatter injectors and such…Travis smirked and climbed up a nearby ladder to the second level. George looked away from the sad crewmen that had a hard time holding padds together, to something else he didn’t want to see, Travis Kroells. He watched Kroells walk up with him, with a smirk on his face, obviously amused by his way of getting ordered down here…no wonder all those people on his staff acted like hippies… “Why are you bothering me?” Travis smiled at him, and then mock punched him in the shoulder, “Oh come on George, you’ll like what I have to tell you, I think it’ll interest you…” George forcefully took Travis’s wrist and stared him down, “you do that again and this hand won’t be touching anything again….” George let go turned away from his perch looking down on engineering, and walked back towards a set of panels, and started them up. “I say it again, why are you bothering me?” Travis quickly tossed him the padd he was holding, “Tell me you’ve looked out the window since our fall into the fissure?” McLean looked back, seeing the odd smirk on Travis’s face, “Well…unlike you Mr. Kroells, I don’t spend half of my life staring out the window. We’re in some sort of bubble…and you’re here to do what…tell me that you saw some sort of new prom dress floating out of the window?” Travis folded up his arms, his look getting even smugger, “Well…I’m pretty sure I know what’s causing it.” McLean turned back to his panel, “oh?” Travis stood behind him, his arms still crossed, “Really…This subspace bubble is a space shot cannon.” McLean chuckled, quite annoyed, and turned around again, to Travis, “Listen…this isn’t a freakin’ game ok? I don’t care what you’re talking about…just leave me alone so that someone can say they’re working on this ship.” Travis sighed, “Look McLean, maybe if you’d be quiet for a moment, you’d understand why the captain ordered you to work with me.” McLean groaned under his breath as Kroells started up again, “At first, I thought that this subspace bubble could have been the warp field of something huge, like the space probe…but at that effect, the probe would have had to been sitting there, not moving, other wise, the bubble would have moved.” McLean nodded, Travis continued, “Then, I relised, that this planet right out our window, CAR 238-A was the region of space, where first contact was established, and it was lost…the probe came from here, and disappeared here. So, say that the probe enters this bubble, some sort of device is activated, and it’s shot across the galaxy, to some other bubble.” McLean finished twiddling his thumbs, and looked up at Kroells. “Well, that’s interesting and all, but what proof do you have?” “None at the moment, that’s why the captain wants us to find some,” replied Travis. McLean sighed, “Fine, let’s get to work, you take that console over there…, how is it that you convince the captain that this was what the bubble was?” Kroells sat down next to him, and looked over… “You know, I don’t honestly know, maybe he just wanted a simple answer for once…” McLean turned and faced him, “Simple? We’re not talking about seeing which bean sprout plant plants in petry dishes.” Kroells chuckled, “You’ve never been to the science labs have you?” McLean turned back, “No, but I have made a cake.”

McLean’s Logs Lieutenant George McLean Chief Engineer USS Reaent 0311.06 “So Lost” McLean was loyal, but he wasn’t stupid. George had learned very young that when it came down to saving his own skin versus the needs of the whole, he was the only thing that mattered. And why shouldn’t it be that way? The only thing in the universe that was keeping him around was himself. He had no purpose for living and dying was cowardly. He liked being an Engineer, but only to the point where it was keeping him occupied, keeping him from sinking down into the depths of depravity that he knew surrounded him. He was not surprised that he caved in when he ordered Aaron to raise the shields at the last moment. This was not the first time George had gone against the wishes of the command structure, nor did he reason, that it be his last. Yet, George knew that it was likely that the Bridge was unaware that he had overridden the command codes. Still, his last minute decision nagged on his mind. “What am I so afraid of?” McLean asked himself. George knew the answer, but he enjoyed being philosophical and never coming to a definitive answer. Someday, though, he knew he would have to face his worse fears. He was afraid of dying; a phobia he perceived plagued all men of all races. He had read all of the major philosophers of his native world and had explored all of that world’s religions. He decided that he might call himself at least a nihilist…or at most an agnostic. Still, none of his studies brought any remedy to this phobia. Staring down at his console, he realized that once again he had escaped death. It was in these very brief moments before that almost made George believe in a higher power looking out for him. Yet, he rejected any and all sovereignty above him, even to the point where he saw the command structure as a façade. It was all about him…all about keeping George distracted from death…so that he could live. George unclenched his fists for the first time in several minutes after feeling his nails dig into his skin like daggers. Finally the blinking lights he was staring at meant something. Radiation levels had almost subsided, but the ship was still so lost.

You have to imagine such a thing? In my department, I have my subordinates do that frequently. :laugh:

Biographical Information: (Version 3.0) Lieutenant George McLean Chief Engineer USS Reaent NCC 3345-G ****ON PROBATION until 0402.02**** STATUS: MIA General Information: Full Name: George Alden McLean Gender: Male Birthplace: Kokomo, Indiana, Earth Species: Terran Age: 35 Height: 6'2'' Weight: 195 pounds Eyes: Gray Hair: Light Brown Skin Tone: Light Physical Identifiers: None Star Fleet Service: Current Rank: Lieutenant Highest Rank Held: Lieutenant Position: Chief Engineer Assignment: USS Reaent NCC 3345-G Years of Active Service: 13 Years Star Fleet Record: 9105.05: Graduated from Star Fleet Academy, 97th in class, and promoted to Ensign. 9108.25: Assigned to USS Ticonderoga, Galaxy Class, as an Engineer under Commander Stephen Marcus, Chief Engineer (Commodore Kris Davis, CO) 9307.17: Promoted to Lieutenant (Junior Grade). 9401.31: Reassigned to USS Reagan, Norway Class Specialized Refit Class, as Assistant Chief Engineer under Lieutenant "Bubbs" F. Brown. 9612.13: Promoted to Lieutenant. 9703.29: Promoted to Chief Engineer following an attempted coup in which Lieutenant Brown was apart of. 9711.19: Suspended from Active Duty for gambling with fellow officers while on duty. 9804.30: Demoted to Lieutenant (Junior Grade). 9804.30: Reassigned to USS Juno as an Assistant Engineer under the command of Lieutenant Commander Phillip Dawson, Chief of Engineering (Commander Paul Mitchel, CO). 9804.30: Placed under Star Fleet probation for the duration of six months by Admiral Kevin Stuart, Star Fleet Tribunal Chairman. 9812.30: Removed from Star Fleet probation. 9907.15: Promoted to Assistant Chief Engineer. 0004.12: Promoted to Lieutenant. 0007.16: Promoted to Chief Engineer. 0111.21: Suspended from Active Duty for improper relations with a crewmember of the opposite sex while on duty, and for bribery of a fellow officer. 0202.02: Demoted to Lieutenant (Junior Grade). 0202.02: Reassigned to Star Base 21 as Assistant Chief Engineer under Lieutenant Commander Cheryl Vanderpoel, Chief Engineer (Rear Admiral Joseph Jenkins, CO). 0202.02: Placed on Star Fleet probation by Admiral Kevin Stuart, Star Fleet Tribunal Chairman, retroactive for two years. 0301.01: Reassigned to USS Reaent as Chief Engineer (Captain Frederic Michaels, CO) 0305.05: Promoted to Lieutenant. 0402.02: Missed Star Fleet probation review due to the MIA status of the USS Reaent last seen near the Romulan border. Important Dates Last Physical: 0301.02 (administered by Lieutenant Matthews) Last administered treatment by a Star Fleet Medical officer: 0210.20 (administered by Lieutenant Ceronne, diagnosis: Stress Fracture in the left fibula) Last Psyche Evaluation: 0209.30 (administered by Lieutenant Commander Scandora at Star Base 21) Additional information Classified per order of Star Fleet Head Quarters

Hmmmm...since McLean isn't listed, I'll have to go with Fred. :(