Working Lunch

Posted on Sat Mar 3, 2018 @ 6:00pm by Master Chief Petty Officer Thomas Barnes

Mission: Falling Star
Location: Operation Office
Timeline: MD 33 || 1200 hours

With six hours left to go before the Triumphant arrived at its destination, Tom stole an opportunity to leave the bridge and handle a few administrative tasks in his office on Deck 30. The Master Chief withdrew the fresh meatball sub from the replicator along with an ice water before taking a seat at his desk. Though he hadn’t been out of his office for too long, a mountain of paperwork awaited him.

He often wondered which was the most trying. Sitting at his station on the bridge and staring at sensors and systems readouts, or approving the various requisition forms and reports from around the ship. Tom had never served in a major capacity aboard a starbase, but the Triumphant certainly came close. The pile of paperwork alone made him consider his future. He was one promotion away from being pulled to Starfleet Command, and that was all that was left for him: paperwork. No more training. No more active service. Just being a paper pusher.

Never before did the chevrons on his collar feel so heavy. He loved his job. The stars themselves called to him every day. Exploration was why he enlisted in the first place. In more than twenty years, he had as nearly as many deployments and assignments. Not a single one to him had been as enjoyable and intense as the Triumphant.

Even the paperwork had been unusual. This requisition form in particular involved additional replicator energy for the administrative department to create decorations for a Hawaiian luau-themed birthday party. Part of him wanted to reject the request outright. The other part of him recalled the prank he and Maddy were currently well committed to in the CO’s Ready Room. A quick check of the diagnostic revealed that the tree had been reset eighteen times already. Tom winced, worried about the tree’s pattern, knowing that there had to be some decay by now, even if it was negligible. Surely Aravan would have figured it out by now.

In the spirit of fun, Tom approved the request and placed the PADD aside. He took a bite of the sub, continuing to review and approve, or review and acknowledge, depending on the PADD. Before long, his PADDwork had been completed, and his lunch fully consumed. Tom downed his water before standing up and brushing any crumbs off his uniform. He checked himself in a nearby mirror, only to find that a small bit of marinara had dripped onto his jacket. Scowling, Tom traded the jacket for a clean one, being careful to affix his com badge before leaving his office and returning to the bridge.

His days of starship service might be numbered, but Tom was sure as hell going to enjoy them while they lasted.