Steroids

[Bob Figaro 0]

What in the name of everything holy was going on here?

 

This was supposed to be someplace where he couldn't screw up too badly. Someplace that he could just fit in to put some time between him and, well, himself. It was to be a period for adjustment, contemplation and other psychological rubbish that one might find spewing from the mouth of a counselor. That was the reason for the assignment aboard a tugboat in the first place!

 

What the hell was a tugboat doing with a synchronized secondary warp reactor and sensor reflective multi-layer hull plating?!?

 

What the hell was a tugboat doing with, wait a second, did this footnote actually say cloaking device?!?

 

What the hell was a tugboat doing with a…with a…with whatever the hell that was on Deck 13?!?

 

This wasn't a tugboat!

 

This was some Admiral's perverted attempt to compensate for being bullied as a child by building a planet killing spaceship on steroids!!!

 

He was having the sudden urge to reach out and kill someone. Again.

 

Though, for all this, his actual posting within the engineering section did not really bother him all that much. The duty schedule already showed signs of being able to be easily manipulated. In the first fifteen minutes, Figaro had been able to identify at least ten junior officers so bent on impressing the department chief, who possibly had the entire "mightier than though" complex developing, they would handle almost all of his duty shifts for the next month alone. At least that aspect of Starfleet seemed consistent aboard this "thing" that was attempting to pass for a Nebula-class starship: everyone wanted to suck up to the boss. It seemed the people aboard this ship might be taking that to an entirely new level. Well, almost everyone.

 

Bob was going to have to find a balance, and do so quickly, to deal with the newest developments. He had been a survivor and today had been no different. Of course, his best acting job had likely been the attempt to pretend he had been briefed about the "modifications" that had come to light. It wasn't as if this was a bad thing, there clearly was some potential for advancement here. In addition, in the long run this posting might give him everything he wanted and more.

 

But the long term might also present problems. If he was reading this correctly, the entire ship only had a crew of about two hundred. He might actually have to work here, something that was to be avoided at all costs given the circumstances. Why get tired working only to be promoted so you can do more work? Why open yourself up to the possibility of…well…that. Figaro was starting to understand the potential benefits to his rank. His lack of a pre-assignment briefing was starting to become a problem though, although it was doubtful it would have much impact.

 

But there wasn't really time for that at the moment. He needed to read this executive summary on the ship's command and control systems. For some reason, Bob was certain it was going to be needed in the future…one way or another.