Editor’s Note: This story takes place at the same time as the events related in “Time Slip.”

The new Ensign burst into his dorm room, tore off his uniform, pulled on his civvies, quickly packed what little of his personal belongings still remained in the room into his bag, and ran back out into the hall. The graduation ceremony had ended almost thirty minutes before. Ahead lay eight weeks of fun and relaxation, and Ensign Xavier ‘Xenon’ Adosh did not want to waste a minute more of it.

Star Trek: Personal Logs

“How I Spent My Summer Vacation” By PJK

with Eric Schutt

Personal log, stardate 49590.0:

I placed my first real pip on my collar this afternoon. Now Ensign Adosh [Boy I like the sound of that!] finally gets the time to vacation on Risa for almost eight weeks before I have to report to my first deep space assignment aboard the USS Dauntless at Deep Space Nine. I’ve been saving up for this vacation my entire senior year!

Xenon, out.

‘Xenon’ Adosh made his way down to the tram station located below Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. He held his pack over his shoulder, and as he rode down the escalator to the main level, his first day as a real Starfleet officer, he truly noticed for the first time the many exotic sights that caught his eye. Girls, strange aliens, girls, the new surroundings, girls... There was just so much to look at!

As he reached the main level, a particularly attractive Andorian girl smiled at him as she passed. Turning around to watch as she walked away in the other direction, Adosh dropped the padd that contained the travel plans he had been holding. He bent over, grabbing the padd, glancing at it briefly before returning his gaze to the departing Andorian’s posterior. “Gate 6,” he said to himself, then started looking around for Gate 6. It was only a few steps away, so he quickly boarded the tram and found a seat. Programming his holonovel onto the screen of the padd, he settled in, oblivious to the fact it had been a large number 9 that had been displayed on the viewer moments before when the padd was seen right-side-up.

The tram quickly filled with people, most of whom seemed to be around 18 Earth years of age. The males, mostly human and Centauri, but with a mix of Tellerite, Andorian, and Tamurillian as well, were all large, muscular types. The few females, two Terran, an Andorian, and a Rigillian, were likewise rather brawny looking. Much more powerfully built than the new Ensign seated among them.

The tram’s doors closed, and the small shuttle took off, heading over San Francisco Bay and speeding east.

* * * *

An hour later, Xenon turned off his book and glanced out the window of the tram. It puzzled him to see the blue sky of the Earth’s atmosphere rather than the black of space, and puzzled him more to notice the tram descending to the ground rather than docking at the orbital station where he would transfer to the passenger ship that would take him to Risa.

“Something wrong?” he asked the young man next to him.

The other man looked at him, than said, “Yeah, the last trip does seem awfully short, don’t it?”

Before Xenon could ask what the young man meant by that, the tram’s door opened and a man wearing black coveralls with a green stripe across the chest and a broad, flat-brimmed hat entered. He looked over the gathered people, some of whom shifted uncomfortably.

“Welcome to South Carolina, ladies and gentlemen,” the newcomer said with a warm, friendly smile. Xenon was about to raise his hand to ask the question, ‘Why am I in South Carolina?’ Instead the newcomer’s smile faded, to be replaced by a gruff, harsh voice.

“AWLRIGHT MAGGOTS! UP! UP! UP! OUT! OUT! OUT! GO! GO! GO!”

All the people in the tram quickly grabbed their belongings and ran out the tram door to take places on sets of painted footprints out on the tarmac outside. Xenon paused to ask what was going on, but the glare he received made him rush outside to join the others.

By the time Xenon took a spot on the footprints, the newcomer, who wore the enlisted pips of a sergeant on his collar, was walking in front of the group, who all stood at attention. All except Xenon.

The sergeant stopped in front of Xenon, who did not flinch in the slightest. The Sarge glared at him, and the people on either side of Xenon imperceptibly moved away from him.

“What’s your name, recruit?” the Sarge asked.

“Adosh. Xavier Adosh, but my friends call me...”

“Shut up, Adosh! I ain’t your friend! Drop and give me 10!”

Xenon’s confusion increased. The man’s hesitation caused the sergeant to get angrier.

“Awlright, wise guy. Drop and give me 25!”

“Twenty-five what? Where am I? I’m supposed to be going to Risa for...”

“That’s it! Drop and give me 50!” the Sarge shouted and knocked Xenon’s legs out from under him. The new Ensign landed on his hands and knees. He looked up at the sergeant, genuinely confused.

“But, Sergeant...”

“Shut up, Adosh. Gimme 50!”

Xenon shrugged to himself. This was a mistake and he would soon clear it up. But until he could, he would play this Neanderthal’s game. He started counting off his push-ups. As he did, the sergeant smiled and looked at the rest of the group.

“Welcome to Parris Island Starfleet Marine Corps Boot Camp, maggots! I’m Sergeant Paone. I’ve been called the toughest Drill Instructor since the days of Chesty Puller. And for the next 10 weeks, you maggots are mine!”

* * * *

In the weeks that followed, Xenon took every opportunity he could to explain there was some sort of mistake. The usual response he received was that the only mistake was Adosh thinking he was going to become a Marine, but still he had been placed in a Company, marched around the entire base, sent to training classes, worked out incessantly, and quickly became Drill Sergeant Paone’s personal pet project. At least ten times each day, from early morning to late evening, the words, “Shut up, Adosh! Drop and gimme 50!” would ring out. And while Starfleet Academy stressed physical training, his four years as a cadet did not prepare him at all for what he was enduring at the hands of Sgt Paone and the Starfleet Marine Corps.

* * * *

“...48, Sir! ..........49, Sir! ..........50, Sir!”

It was the middle of the sixth week of training, and Xenon finished counting off his latest set of push-ups, waiting in the ready position for Paone to tell him to get up and rejoin his company or start over again, as he often did. The sweat dripped off his nose and chin, and his arms shook slightly.

Paone, his hands on his hips, watched Xenon a moment, then growled, “On your feet, Adosh!”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!” Xenon said as he stood and assumed the attention stance.

“I can’t hear you, recruit!”

“SIR, YES, SIR!” Xenon shouted out.

“That’s more like it. I’ll make a Marine out of you yet, Adosh,” Paone said. “…Given a few decades.”

The Sarge smiled at his own joke, than started walking in front of the remainder of his Company.

“Today, maggots, you will be placed in the care of Staff Sergeant Mitchell. Today your retina scans and DNA will be entered into the Starfleet databank so that when you’re stupid and get yourselves blown up securing some worthless rock ten-million light years away from here we can identify who that puddle of goo was.”

“Uhh, Sarge...”

Paone’s eyes snapped onto Xenon. Almost as a reflex, Paone said, “Shut up, Adosh...”

“I know, I know...,” Xenon said under his breath, then finished in synch with the sergeant, “Drop and gimme 50!”

Xenon dropped to his hands and toes and again began counting off push-ups.

“One, sir! .....Two, sir! .....Three, sir! .....”

“As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted,” Paone said, ignoring Xenon’s strained workout. “Report to Building 71, room 109, and have your retina’s scanned. Dismissed!”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!” all the recruits responded, than double-timed off toward Building 71.

“...21, Sir! ......22, Sir! ......23, Sir! .....”

“Adosh.”

“...24, Sir! .......25, Sir! ...”

“Adosh!”

“...26, Sir! .......Yes, Sir? .......27, Sir! ...”

“That means you too, Adosh! Move it move it move it!!”

“Sir, Yes, Sir!” Xenon responded, and started darting off after his Company before he even was standing straight.

* * * *

“The process is simple, recruits,” SSgt Mitchell said to the dozen beings seated at the terminals in front of him. “You place your head into the reader, the scanner takes a picture of the blood vessels in the retina of your eye, and matches a computer pattern to it. Once you’ve been scanned, the computer will ask you to identify yourself and state your serial number for the record.”

Mitchell looked at the group to make sure his instructions had been understood. No questions were raised.

“Okay, one at a time. Begin.”

Each recruit in turn leaned into the monitor on their desk. Their left eye was scanned, matched to a computer pattern, and then the recruit would state name and serial number, linking the pattern to Starfleet records.

Eventually it was Xenon’s turn. He leaned into the machine and his eye was scanned.

“Retina scan already on file,” the computer informed both Xenon’s station and Mitchell at the front of the room. Mitchell looked up and said, “There must be some mistake. Retina scans are like fingerprints on humans. No two can be alike. Computer, identify file.”

“Adosh, Xavier. Rank: Ensign. Starfleet serial number: 311-212-488-N,” the computer stated.

“That’s impossible,” Mitchell said. “This is Recruit Adosh. Computer, verify.”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell everyone for the past six and a half weeks,” Xenon said as he leaned back into the monitor. His eye was scanned again.

“Adosh, Xavier. Rank: Ensign. Starfleet serial number: 311-212-488-N. Current assignment, Assistant Chief Engineer, USS Dauntless NCC-74658.”

Mitchell’s jaw dropped. The Staff Sergeant excused himself from the group and walked into the next room. The other recruits looked at Xenon and looked at each other. The room was very quiet, until a voice from the next room shouted, “HE’S WHAT?!?” A moment later Mitchell returned.

“Adosh.... I mean, Mister Adosh, could you please come in here?”

Xenon smiled and walked into the next-door office. His fellow recruits just stared after him.

* * * *

“Adosh, where have you been?” Paone shouted as Xenon walked into the Recruit Company’s compartment. “The rest of the Company returned an HOUR ago!”

“I was...”

“Shut up, Adosh! Drop and gimme 50!”

Xenon rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but he was once again interrupted.

“Do you want to make it 75?” Paone asked.

Xenon dropped and began counting off.

“One, Sir! .. You .....Two, Sir! .. won’t .....Three, Sir! .. want ..... Four, Sir! .. to be ..... Five, Sir! .. doing ..... Six, Sir! .. much ..... Seven, Sir! .. more ..... Eight, Sir! .. of ..... Nine, Sir! .. this ..... Ten, Sir! .. Sarge .....”

Paone watched Xenon’s push-ups with mild amusement, ignoring the words placed between each push. Xenon just gritted his teeth and for the time being, bore it.

* * * *

Another hour passed before Xenon was called to the Boot Camp’s Commanding Officer’s office. Lt Colonel Copeland had finally received the report and the ‘recruit’ was summoned right out of the obstacle course.

Hours later, the rest of the Company finished its typical daily routine and returned to their compartment, Paone complaining the whole time about the missing Adosh and just how many push-ups the recruit would be doing that evening. A few minutes later, Adosh returned to the compartment. Rather than the Marine Corps workout suit, he wore his normal Starfleet duty uniform, the single gold pip prominent on the collar above the gold shoulders.

Paone did a double-take when he saw the Ensign walk in, than shouted, “Adosh, what in Vulcan’s name are you wearing? Who in hell do you think you are? A Starfleet Officer?!? HA! Only in your dreams, Recruit!”

“Actually,” responded Xenon, “I am a Starfleet Officer.” The Ensign handed Paone a message from LtCol Copeland and flashed his Starfleet ID, which had been stored with the rest of his civilian clothes and belongings the evening he arrived at Parris Island. Paone’s jaw almost hit the deck. He did not blink. Did not speak. He simply stared at the officer standing before him.

“I came back to collect my belongings, and say good-bye to the Company,” Xenon explained. “I wish you all the best. And no hard feelings, Sergeant.”

The Company all responded with jumbled good-byes and thank yous. Paone managed to croaked out a mere, “... Sir?”

Xenon packed the few remaining belongings from his footlocker into his bag and started walking out of the compartment. He passed the still-silent and motionless Paone, stopped three steps beyond him, and turned slowly to face the Sergeant.

“Oh, one last thing, Sarge,” Xenon said.

Paone reluctantly looked at the Ensign, a drop of sweat winding its way down the side of the drill instructor’s face.

Xenon smiled and said, “Drop and gimme 200!” Paone’s eyes widened in shock and humiliation, than the sergeant dropped and began counting off. And Xenon smiled through each and every grunt, groan, and curse of those two-hundred push-ups.

* * * *

Personal log, stardate 49725.5:

I have only a week and a half to reach Deep Space Nine to report aboard my new ship, the Dauntless. So much for relaxing on Risa. And would you believe they won’t refund my deposit?

I’m boarding a shuttle, the right one this time, that will take me to the new USS Enterprise-E, which is heading to DS9 to attend the Dauntless commissioning. I’ll be joining my new ship very soon.

I must note, the last few weeks have not been a total waste. I’ve learned a new sense of discipline that I hope will come in handy in my new position as Assistant Chief Engineer.

Ensign Xavier Adosh, out, Sir!

The End

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