The Thumping Noise

[Bob Figaro 0]

That continuous thumping noise just wouldn’t go away. Every second it was going off and it was really starting to get on his nerves. There had been enough headaches for one day, one week, hell even the year. Glancing around, it took the human of twenty-nine years to figure out the source of the disturbance. Legs crossed, his foot was nervously kicking the edge of the nearby armrest. The figure sighed and let out a deep breath, attempting to release the tension he was feeling and not to show how nervous he really was.

 

 

So far, the last five days had gone relatively smooth. The first test for him had been the travel orders issued back on Starbase 32. The Maxia system’s activity had made it a good transition point. The base itself featured over four hundred ships coming through every two days. This presented some unique advantages and options if the need existed. However, the backup plan had not been needed. Records had been transferred on schedule, medical documentation revised accordingly, paperwork updated and his credentials cleared him to board just as they should have. Like dominos, things had fallen into place from there. By the time his ship had departed, the transfer orders had also permeated the Starfleet computer network. The universe now knew he had a final destination, although the man had made the decision himself days before.

 

 

The key part here had been the lack of any change in Starfleet protocol for the last hundred and fifty years. If someone had materialized from the 23^rd Century, they wouldn’t have a problem knowing what forms to file and how to get on a new starship within the fleet. This was a good thing, since it had been so long since his last transfer. But it also created another problem. Given all of the options available to him, something that was actually comical when you really thought about it: where would he go?

 

 

For awhile, the thought of taking a posting on Earth at Starfleet Command seemed like a good option. After all, there was something to be said for travel and being as far away as possible. Yet, the concept of actually going home was not as appealing as it might have been to others. Some reasons were obvious, others were more complicated. Baggage might be a concern and ever since the entire neural parasite thing in 2364, well, enough said. There then was the option of taking up residence on Communications Relay Station 194. They were small, would give him a lot of time to himself but they were also…small. The one available assignment was near the Klingon border. This also provided some advantages but transportation could be an issue. If he ever wanted to leave, it would take two days for Starbase 212 to send out a shuttle. Given recent events, that probably wasn’t the best idea. Besides, it wasn’t as if he really liked Klingons all that much anyway.

 

 

In the end, it seemed the most logical option to keep a lower profile at this point in his career. So, the assignment orders had put him aboard one of the most unappealing ships there were…a tugboat. This seemed to provide the best mix for him at this point. He would be mobile, something positive given his previous accommodation, and would be someplace that he couldn’t screw up that badly. I mean, after all, an eleven year old could figure out how to recalibrate the targeting scanner of a tractor beam, right?

 

 

Now there was a nagging question in the back of his head. During the processing of the assignment orders there seemed to be a hiccup, initially causing a moment of panic the orders might not have actually gone through. No one wanted to have to take their second choice, especially him and especially right now, nor did he really want someone taking a second look at anything. But why had it required a secondary verification from the Inspector General’s office? It wasn’t as if getting that had really been a problem for him, but why had it asked? Maybe it was because he moving with such a low rank, but that didn’t really make sense either.

 

 

Regardless of the problems, one fact remained. He had a destination and was set is move forward with life. Lieutenant Junior Grade Bob Figaro was ready to get going, again.