Space, the Final Frontier…

 

Star Trek: Personal Logs

 

“First Assignment” By Chris Post

 

 

Ensign Xin Zhadesh, personal log, stardate 63424.5:

I’ve finally graduated the Academy and received my commission as a Starfleet Officer. I have also received my first deep space assignment and will be the newest operations officer on board the USS Bellerophon.  I am scheduled to leave Earth for my new ship in two days.

I can scarcely believe it; an Intrepid class ship on my first assignment!  Adventure awaits!

 

 

            “You’re going to serve on the Bellerophon?” asked Tom Seaver.  The young Terran’s voice rose with a note of disbelief tinged with jealousy as he said the ship’s name.

 

            “What can I say?  Starfleet Command knows talent when they see it,” said Xin Zhadesh with a smile.

 

            “With your grades, they must not,” Seaver chided his Efrosian friend.  “They probably just took pity on you because of your advanced age, Old Man.”

 

            “Hey, I got a late start, but I’m making up for lost time,” Zhadesh bristled.  At 33 standard years, he was the oldest cadet in his class.  But Seaver did have a point.  Zhadesh’s grades had not been exceptional.  He could not help but wonder if Hu Tanrhi, his old mentor, had played a role in his new assignment.  Did an Efrosian ambassador have that kind of pull?

 

            “Regardless,” Seaver said, interrupting Zhadesh’s line of thought.  “Tonight we celebrate your good luck.  How about a game of dabo?”

 

            Zhadesh’s thoughts immediately drifted to Kendra, the dabo girl who worked at Seaver’s favorite bar, one of the few on Earth managed by a Ferengi.  “You’re on,” he said.

 

*          *          *

 

            Several hours later, Seaver was convinced that Zhadesh was in possession of some good luck charm.  They were up several hundred slips of gold-pressed latinum, were feeling the effects of some rather nice brandy and had attracted the attention of more than one female admirer.  Their luck was about to change, however.

 

            “What do we have here?” said a brusque voice from behind the pair.

 

            “Looks like a couple of cadets out past curfew,” answered a second voice just as gruff as the first.  Seaver turned on his heel, but Zhadesh kept his back to the voices.  Glancing sideways he saw Seaver’s eyes widen and knew things were about to get interesting.

 

            “For your information, this is an officer’s pip,” Seaver said, pointing to the single gold circle on his uniform collar.  “And I think we were just leaving.”  Seaver then tapped Zhadesh on the shoulder.  Rather than turn, Zhadesh finished his brandy and held the glass up as if to study it.  He saw two Tellarites reflected in the curved surface.  Both were stout, but neither appeared to be armed.

 

            “C’mon, let’s go,” Seaver said in a hushed voice, tapping more urgently.

 

            “Yeah, we need to talk to you boys outside,” said one of the Tellarites.  Zhadesh could see the man’s leer in the reflection.

 

            Without a word and in one fluid motion, Zhadesh whirled around and launched his brandy glass at the forehead of the leering Tellarite.  Before the other Tellarite even had a chance to realize what was happening, Zhadesh lowered his shoulder and lunged forward.  Both men were carried off their feet by the impact and although the Tellarite took the brunt of the trauma, Zhadesh took more of the blow than he would have liked.

 

            As he tried to shake off the daze, he was knocked completely prone by a double-fisted slam to the back of his neck.  Bleeding from the forehead, the Tellarite Zhadesh had hit with the glass was looking for revenge.  Zhadesh heard the sickening sound of a knife clearing its sheath.  He looked up to see a rather menacing-looking blade in the Tellarite’s hand.  But before any damage could be done, Seaver leapt onto the Tellarite’s back.  With Seaver’s arm wrapped around firmly around his thick neck, the Tellarite was unable to do more than choke and flail.  Zhadesh was getting back to his feet as the Tellarite finally lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

 

            The second Tellarite was starting to move again, but was knocked out cold by a liquor bottle wielded by Kendra, the dabo girl, who moved up unexpectedly from behind. She smiled coyly at Zhadesh, whose fully-arched eyebrows conveyed his surprise.

 

            “Okay, we’ve really got to go now,” Seaver said over the sound of approaching sirens.  “If security catches us, you’ll start your Starfleet career in the brig!”

 

            Zhadesh stepped over the fallen Tellarites and wrapped an arm around Kendra’s waist.  He pulled her close and leaned in for a kiss.  After a brief moment he wished could have lasted much longer, he pulled back, looked into Kendra’s smoldering brown eyes and asked, “Which way to the back door?”

 

            Following her outstretched arm, Zhadesh spotted his escape route.  He stole another quick kiss and darted into the cool San Francisco night.

 

*          *          *

 

            Geez, Zhadesh,” Seaver panted once they were safely back in their dorm room.  “That was insane.  I feel sorry for your next commander.”  After a moment of silence, Seaver added ruefully, “I can’t believe we left all that latinum!”

 

            “Oh, we didn’t leave it all,” Zhadesh said with a smile.  Reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket, he produced a handful of shiny bars.  Dabo!” he laughed, tossing the bars into the air.  As the last tinkling faded and the bars came to rest on the floor, Zhadesh sat down on his bed and wondered what new adventures he would encounter aboard the Bellerophon.

 

The End

 

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