Cadet Christianson was running early for a change even though the replicator misheard his request for coffee and instead gave him some tepid, blood-like, Klingon drink. So he walked, faking confidence, without coffee straight to his new co’s office. At least he wasn’t, or didn’t feel nervous at any rate. He had been dreaming and preparing to be a starship security officer ever since he was a boy. He was the latest in a long family line of starfleet security officers going back to the early days of the Federation, not that it mattered much. Christianson caught himself daydreaming while staring at the Lieutenants door, composed himself, and buzzed into the office and confidently said “Cadet Matthew Christianson reporting as ordered.” Wishing he had coffee, he waited eager to meet his new commanding officer.
-Cadet Matthew Christianson, Security