The Former New Guy

[Tachyon 0]

Duty Log

Stardate 0407.01

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Arthur sighed. Commander Hawke had told him to find a word to use rather than ‘juggle’ when referring to the docking arrangements. In a fit of stupidity, he had contacted the Federation Thesaurus Service. Their response had been simple:

 

“Hello, this is the Federation Thesaurus Service. Please hold.”

 

Now Arthur sat in his quarters, off duty. Light classical music played in the background . . . something by somebody or other. He sat in an ordinary grey chair, one of those metal ones that Starfleet supplies every room with, the kind that collapse inexplicably during battle situations. To keep himself busy, he was tossing a tennis ball against the wall and catching it absent-mindedly.

 

Arthur was forlorn. Not forlorn in the melodramatic, soap-opera sense; more like the typical, ‘new guy’ sense that any new arrival feels. He felt as if he didn’t fit in, but that might just be normal. Big things were happening, and he had just been thrown right into the middle of them with inadequate preparation. Apparently all of those grizzled sages were right: you don’t really know how to deal with real life until you experience it yourself.

 

The Cardassian representative filed a complaint. That was interesting, because it gave Arthur a glimpse into the diplomatic relations here, more so than any diplomatic relations class at the Academy could have taught him. As he sat back and bounced the tennis ball off the wall, he pondered about how this would affect his job . . . and came up with nothing. Sighing again, Arthur decided that he needed some tea.

 

Two new crew members were coming aboard, both assistant engineers. Soon Arthur would no longer be “The New Guy,” but instead “The Former New Guy,” which might be worse depending on how you look at it. Oh well, he would just have to wait and see.

 

Bounce, bounce, bounce . . . crash. The tennis ball ricocheted off the wall at the wrong angle and hit a standard Starfleet ornament that sat atop the dresser. As Arthur looked around, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not yet unpack his personal possessions. In one corner of the room, his entire luggage was neatly stacked, untouched. Everything else was pristine and . . . Starfleet.

 

At this point in time, it should be mentioned that Arthur found little to no significance in his unpacked luggage. It in no way symbolized an unwillingness to call Aegis home, nor did it symbolize acceptance as Arthur thoughtlessly began to unpack the luggage. He quickly filled up his dresser with clothing and scattered various objects about the room with some disarray. This he gave no thought, it was a simple forgotten chore.

 

Once that was finished, Arthur sat back down on his chair and absently began to bounce the tennis ball again. Bounce, bounce, bounce . . . crash. The ball had ricocheted yet again, but this time it had hit a prized statuette given to Arthur by his parents before he left for the Academy. Arthur turned to the shattered statue, and remarked, “What a shame. I really liked that.” He put down the tennis ball and walked over to it, carefully picking up the fragments.

 

Something else distracted him. The console at his desk beeped with irritation, a quite unusual thing for it to do. Or so Arthur thought. Bewildered, he went over to the console and pressed the blinking button. He had not been on Aegis long enough to learn that pushing blinking buttons was usually dangerous.

 

A window appeared, with a starburst logo on it and the letters FTS. Music played, and a voice announced: “Congratulations, you have reached the Federation Thesaurus Service. Please enter the word for which you would like to find a synonym. We specialize in over 3000 different languages.

 

Arthur selected “Federation” and entered the word “juggle.” The screen blinked affirmative and the voice again announced:

 

“Thank you for using the Federation Thesaurus Service. Your inquiry is being processed. . . . Please hold.”