The Voyage to Surmac

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Day 2

 

Corizon tapped his claws gently against the glass desk in his office. It was blessed relief to get off the bridge. Paperwork quickly took his attention away from staring aimlessly into space.

 

In just under 48-hours of being on the Morningstar, already the crew managed to completely cover his desk with complaints, reports, requests and just about any other imaginable source of paperwork.

 

He glanced at the particular one in his hand. “Sir, with all due respect, I request I be allowed to move to a different barrack…” he stopped, shook his head and skimmed on. The author of the letter, an Ensign Hataki went to explain how she should not have to live with a room full of “messy, irresponsible males.” …Right…

 

Dear Ensign Hataki,

 

While I appreciate your…initiative in attempting to change a situation, there is little I can do to…alleviate your quandary. I am afraid you’ll just have to learn to live with a little mess. Perhaps you could speak with your barrack mates about the situation. Not to mention we’ve only been on the ship for less than two days, perhaps after they’ve had a chance to settle in, they’ll clean up?

 

With Regards,

Commander Ah-Windu Corizon,

Executive Officer, USS Morningstar

 

Next came a letter from a crewman in engineering. It got a response similar to the one he sent Hataki. After about the fifth “I don’t like my roommates” letter…Ah-Windu decided he wasn’t even going to respond to them at all. Amazing what modern technology could do. “Computer sort incoming mail…please directs all incoming mail that is in regards to quarters to the trash can.”

 

It was mid afternoon, 15:42, when he finally finished going through all the pads on his desk. His stomach grumbled lowly. In all the commotion he hadn’t bothered to eat since he went on duty at 0600.

 

The officer’s mess was eerily quite. A few scattered officers were eating at various tables. Unlike other Federation Vessels, Morningstar had only two messhalls…which was where most of the crew would actually eat. Not only that, but they ate real food…none of that Replicated junk they were probably use too.

 

Corizon’s well attuned nostrils caught the smell of whatever the chef was preparing. He’d glanced over the man’s file. One of the few non-essential personnel on the ship, however he was an enlisted officer. It occurred to Corizon that really, they didn’t need him…but given the lack of creature comforts on Morningstar he supposed giving the crew real food softened the blow.

 

The line was short…maybe three or four long. He grabbed a tray and waited his turn. Sure he could have skipped line…he figured none of the crew would have the fortitude to stop him, but there wasn’t any reason to pull rank.

 

The cuisine distinctly had human flavor. Roasted Chicken, mashed potatoes, some sort of green vegetable…he wasn’t entirely sure…he thought he heard one of the crewmen call it “green beans.” On the side was a red gelatin with fruit in it…cranberry salad…that what it was called.

 

He didn’t mind the human cuisine, after spending almost thirty years on Earth, he’d gotten rather used to it. Though he preferred raw meat to the cooked variety they served in most establishments, human crew tended to be…repulsed at the thought, let alone the sight.

 

Ah-Windu ate quietly by himself, and then headed back to his office. By 1800, he was ready to head back to his quarter, but not before a quick evening jog in the gym. Dinner was a short and quite affair, a simple meal he replicated in his quarters.

 

After he wrote his daily log, he headed to bed early. Tomorrow would be busy, and he wanted to be well rested.

[Ens_George_Pickett 0]

Nice Log, glad you get all the paperwork ::Smile::

[Cptn Corizon 0]

Day 3

 

Corizon leaned back into his office chair, he glanced at the clock. 0805. He’d already been up for three hours, and he still had a long ways to go before he would find the restful slumber of his bed.

 

In the background, soft gentle music played. In front of him were the gamma and beta shift reports. It had been a quite evening. Medical had even been slow…apparently the crew was taking it easy…not that their was exactly a lot they could do in their leisure time, but Corizon still liked that no one had gotten injured badly yet.

 

He smirked slightly to himself, by this time in his last ‘command’ they were drifting aimlessly in space waiting to be rescued, ironically by the ship that carried him now. Funny how the universe works itself out sometimes.

 

But his train of thought got derailed rather abruptly by the knocking on his door. “Enter”

 

Ensign Hataki strode through the doorway as though it were her office and not the commander's.

 

Corizon looked up, then back down. "Can I help you....Ensign?"

 

"Commander, I object to my barracks assignment!" she declared, standing boldly before his desk with her arms crossed. He continued working on the PADD in his hand, looked up again, letting his ears sand to attention. Then looked back down, as if she wasn't there.

 

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and she shifted her weight uncertainly. "Uh...Commander?"

 

"Yes," he said, finally acknowledging she was in the room.

 

"My barracks assignment," she prompted him. They'd said the commander was weird, but no one had mentioned 'absent-minded' or 'hard of hearing', even when they were griping about him losing the Excalibur.

 

"I heard you the first time, Ensign." His voice was scathing, almost chiding. "I also read your letter...and replied."

 

By now he'd paused the recording, and placed the PADD down, looking up at the Ensign with his full attention, ears standing straight up to either side.

 

"Yes, sir," Hataki answered, frowning, "but you don't understand. These guys are pigs! I've asked them to pick up their part of the barrack, but they just laugh. And they leave their stuff all over my bunk, too."

 

Corizon rolled his eyes. "And this is my problem...how?" Placing his elbows on his desk, and clasping his fist. She blinked at him, expecting that to be obvious. "You can change the assignments, sir."

"Oh...I could...but I'd have to have...real reason to do that," retracting his elbows and sitting straighter, tapping a claw against the table. "But for some reason, a messy bunk mate just doesn’t seem to be something that is urgent."

 

She broke down. Spreading her hands imploringly, she said, "Commander, please. They won't listen to reason. I'm going insane trying to deal with them. Please, sir, just let me swap barracks...

 

Corizon grinned, slightly, but enough to show his fangs. "Well as I look at this...I suppose we do have some options."

 

Brightening immediately, Hataki smiled. "We do? Great! Thank you, Commander!"

 

"Yes...I hear the broom closet on Deck 12 is open...or maybe the storage closet next to waste treatment." All the while motioning with his hands as if were pointing to where the rooms were located.

 

Pleased with himself, he leaned back into the chair, grinning from ear to ear, showing his fangs fully. Groaning mentally, Hataki added 'bad sense of humor' to her list of Corizon's traits. "Commander, c'mon! I'm serious here."

 

"Listen, Ensign." His tone switching from sardonic to a more kind, yet firm tone. "Wait it out a few more days. If nothing changes, let me know...and I'll have a chat with your bunkmates, okay?"

 

This time, the groan wasn't just mental. "Yes, sir," she sighed. Then looked up at him hopefully. "You're certain there isn't some other slob on the crew who'd be happy to trade with me?"

 

Corizon grunted lowly. "This is the best you’re going to get," firmly, "Listen. This isn't anything against you. If I let you switch, then everyone else will want to trade. And I am not playing musical bunk beds for the next 20 days."

 

Kicking at an inoffensive bit of decking, she nodded. "Aye, sir."

 

"Now," he said, ending the coversation about her moving. "Is there anything else I can do for you Ensign?"

 

"No, sir," she replied, drifting backwards towards the door.

"Dimissed."

 

"Yes, sir." She turned and headed out. In the threshhold, she paused to glance back.

 

"Hey—what if I found someone willing to trade with me...?"

 

Resisting the urge to bark at her. "I'll take it under consideration."

 

"Yes, sir." She hurried out before he could start growling.

 

When she left out the room he let out a low ‘Arwwwgh,’ pleased to have her out of his office. He turned the music back on and went back to his paper work. Humans. For supposedly being the Galaxy’s ideal race…they could be so petty.

 

Had this been a Dameon Defense Force vessel, and an officer complained about Barrack’s being messy, and wanting a transfer. She’d gotten laughed right out of the Commander’s office. But this was a Starfleet ship. And the Federation reminded him of root beer. All, bubbly and happy…and if you drank enough of it, it started to taste good…just like the Federation. So, instead of growling at her and throwing her out of his office…he appeased her. What had he become.