Posted by Captain Calvin Marius (Captain) in Make sure you know where to go to meet the CO

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Vanessa Slade (CNS) in Make sure you know where to go to meet the CO

Posted by Captain Calvin Marius (Captain) in Make sure you know where to go to meet the CO
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Vanessa exited the transfer shuttle looking more like a tourist than a Starfleet officer. In her left hand, she was pulling a rolling luggage case that had not one but two large duffle bags strapped to it. This monstrosity was ungainly and hard to maneuver by itself, and yet that was not all that the woman was carrying. On her right arm was a duffle bag like the ones strapped to her luggage only smaller. On her back, Vanessa also sported a backpack. No one would have looked twice if she had been arriving at Risa, Hawaii, or some other locale; however stepping foot off a shuttle and onto a ship, everyone looked twice, thrice, and at times just plain stared.

After apologizing again to several people that she had bumped, knocked, and whacked with her luggage, Vanessa moved off to the side and pulled out her personal communicator. Twenty messages were flashing in her mailbox. Letting out a groan she leaned against the wall and began to play them.

Message one flashed and played. “Yo call ma,” Dennis’ message was short and to the point.

Message two flashed and played. “Ness call ma. I’m tired of Dalton blowing me up,” Dexter said followed by the clatter of some tool on a concrete floor. The closing was not I love you or some other term of affection but a flurry of curse words indicating whatever was dropped had caused an injury.

Message three flashed and played. “Hey thanking me yet. If not suck it. You will tonight. Flight came through an’ hour ago and all the people lost their luggage. Stop whining. You got your bags. Never trust the blokes working at Logan,” Duncan Slade’s voice rang deep and gruff. Vanessa rolled her eyes hating she listened to her brother not trust the Starfleet quartermaster. Dropping the duffle from her shoulder she rubbed it as she listen to the next message.

Message four flashed and played. “Vanessa remember to sit by the fire extinguisher. Duncan said he was fixin’ one of those Federation jalopies that caught fire. Packed you one in place of your hairdryer.” Danny’s voice said eliciting a groan from Vanessa. If he tossed her hairdryer she was going to kill him. Looking around however she stopped playing the messages on speaker. It would not make a good first impression to have one of her knucklehead brothers question the construction of her new home or the pep of the warp engine.

Picking up her bag, she glanced down at her watch. Vanessa would never admit to anyone in her family there had been some shuttle issues. She would never hear the end of it. The problem was if she did not get moving, she was going to be late for her check-in with the new CO and that would be a problem. Grabbing her duffle and hoisting it onto her right shoulder she grabbed her luggage with her left hand and moved down the hall looking for a turbo.

Vanessa Slade

Moving down the hall, Vanessa felt like a cadet and not a senior officer. It was not that the hallways were narrow. It was more that Vanessa was so wide. Pulling the suitcase with two duffle bags strapped to it and the one on her right shoulder gave her the breadth of two people. This meant whenever a pair of people came towards her she would have to hug the wall to let them pass. By the time she had done it twice and politely refused the help of several crew, Vanessa was really hating that she listened to Dalton about not leaving her bags to the quartermaster division. As if there was a psychic link between her and her brother, Vanessa’s personal communicator trilled in her pocket playing the updated tune of Bad Boys by the Andorian Punk-regae band Outer Circle.

Dropping her duffle bag she hastily picked up her communicator as the lyrics rang out Bad boys, bad boys whatcha gonna do?
Whatcha gonna do when they come for you? Answering the comm, the song immediately cut off. “Dalton,” Vanessa said in a firm tone. “I just got here and no I have not called Ma yet. Can you just tell her and the rest I got here safe and I will call you all later?”

“No. How was youh trip? Do you have youh luggage? You know the TSA ah always five-fingah discounting from travelahs,” Dalton’s thick Bostonian accent seemed to almost amplify over the communicator. The sound of chewing also indicated he was eating something so he was probably bored on patrol. Her guess was it was a hot dog off the cart vendor on Fifth and Main. Part of her felt a pang of homesickness. Being this far away, there would be no 3 pm hot dog break as he cruised the area.

“Dalt’n I am not going on a vacation.” As typical with Vanessa, as soon as she talked to her family, her accent appeared as if by magic. “I am checking into my new pawst and it’s Stahfleet, not Stahwest shuttle lines.” Shouldering her bag, she let out a grunt and began heading to the turbo at the end of the hall. “If you ar’n’t going to tell Ma I got heeuh why ah you calling? I am kinda busy at the minute.”

“Cause Ma would kill me if you got mugged on the way theyah. Just checking up. Don’t moan,” Dalton balled up the tin foil from his hot dog and tossed it in the paper bag letting the crinkles of the foil and paper echo through the call. In the background the sounds of the city played like a soundtrack. Horns, shouts, and chaos clearly showed Vanessa was right guessing Dalton was on patrol.

“Hanging up,” Vanessa rolled her eyes and slipped the communicator in her pocket. As much as she loved her brothers, there were times she wished she could change her number. The positive was five out of her nine brothers had reached out. That only meant she had four left to field calls from in the immediate future. Reaching the turbo, she looked at the crew member beside her. “Do you know what floor the Captain’s ready room is?”

Vanessa Slade

The ensign turned slightly pointing up as if that would give a good bearing. “Its off the bridge, so,” he shrugged. “Deck 1, his door is always unlocked but don’t just walk in. He won’t say anything but he doesn’t like it and he never forgets anything.”

Ensign Info

“So he doesn’t have an open-door policy,” she asked the ensign stepping into the turbo. Letting out a sigh, she twisted getting into the turbo with the ensign still banging him slightly with the duffle bag on her arm. Once in she planted her feet and gave her oversize suitcase a hefty tug pulling it in the door. “That is going to be a chance. “Clancy at the Veterans Affairs didn’t even have a door,” she let out a laugh tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “He was my old CO. I had my brother Dallas try to install one but it didn’t fit the opening. This caused him to bring in my brother Dylan who widened the opening which then was too big for the opening. Dylan also sliced through an electrical junction which brought in Dane.”

“Well, its open-ish.” it wasn’t much of an answer as he looked at the lights spinning upward on the turbolift. “I don’t think Veterans Affairs was on a starship.” He wasn’t familiar with this new officer and he wasn’t about to talk trash about his CO to a person he didn’t know.

“No it was not,” she let out a laugh. “This is the first time I have ever served on a starship. I think I am going to miss seeing the sun every day but a benefit is I can walk to work compared to my nearly hour commute to Veteran’s affairs back in Boston. Always gotta find the positive right?”

Looking at the poor ensign now trapped with her, Vanessa let out a laugh. “Sorry. When I am nervous I ramble. Vanessa,” she introduced herself extending her hand.

Vanessa Slade CNS

“I usually drink,” He offered perhaps too honestly. He glanced at her collar. “Are you the new head shrinker? Perhaps that wasn’t the best answer.”

Ensign Info

“As to drinking, who doesn’t drink or succumb to a vice when you are down. Booze, nicotine, pot, chocolate, sex,” she shrugged it off, “none of it is necessarily bad as long as it is in moderation and not used as a crutch.”

Vanessa smiled and relaxed back against the wall. “To answer your question yes I am the new head shrinker but I prefer to think of myself as a life advisor.” Her tone was as confident as the smile on her face. “People dread coming to the counselor because they think we are going to somehow crack your head open and steal your private thoughts or make you do something. Very important to note and you can spread the word to your friends that I am not telepathic so I am not going to know anything you don’t tell me.” This was not entirely true. You didn’t have to be telepathic or psychic to be in counseling. People were predictable with mannerisms and defense mechanisms. It was like poker. Once you found the clients poker tell, you knew when they were lying or hiding something. “Second this is I can not make you do anything you don’t want to. The only person sitting across from you at a desk in Starfleet that can make you to do something is the one sporting commanding officer pips. A counselor is can listen or suggest but in the end, it is up to you. My job is to figure out how to get you to be the best you that you secretly imagine. The you that takes the universe by storm, waking up every morning and saying oh hell yes I am here and going to accomplish whatever I set my mind to. So spread the word…doctors are scarier.” Vanessa hoped her little speech didn’t scare the man in the turbo with her. It was how she felt and how she was going to interact with the crew.

“Life Coach?” The Ensign said in an unconvinced manner. “Isn’t that a new wave way of saying you give advice on what I want?” He had seen a coach working once, they did a lot of planning and organization, less therapy. Not that the ensign thought he needed either.

She shifted against the wall getting comfortable. “My job is to give you what you need. Sometimes that is a kleenex. Other times it is a good swift kick in the pants. When I was working at the VA there was an ex-CO there. Lost his entire command in a battle. The man could not hold a job, connect with anyone, or function past the zombie phase due to profound depression. Eat, sleep, and run,” she listed the man’s only focus. “Nothing I was going to say was going to ever fix his loss. I could not heal that wound but I could find something else for him to focus on. So I went to his house and for six months we did nothing but run at 0600 am. We didn’t talk. We didn’t psychoanalyze. We did stop for coffee though. It’s Boston,” she let out a laugh. “I sucked at running. I had no stamina. I had no endurance but I just kept trying to keep up. He left me for a month straight in the dust. There was no way I was going to keep up but I had studied his route and ended back at his house an hour after him. About six weeks in he started jogging at the crosswalks so I could keep up. Long story short, he taught me to run. One day we were running by a store and he saw a flyer needing someone to coach a program called Girls on the Run. I explained to him was a local program to help underprivileged kids build self-confidence and self-esteem. The next day we did not run the loop but ran to the local Y. He volunteered. Two years later I ran into him. He told me thought his life was over when he lost everything but the Girls on the Run showed him his life was just on a new path. I guess I see myself as someone who gets people what they need.”

Lifting her head off the wall she looked at the Ensign. “For the record though…there is a bar on this boat right?” The tone of her question indicated Vanessa was really hoping his answer was an emphatic yes.

Lt. (j.g.) Vanessa Slade CNS

“Yeah, but for the most part it serves that Ferengi synthahol stuff. You have to be off duty for two consecutive shifts after the one you are drinking during for you to have access to the real stuff and there is a known consequence for coming on duty disheveled. That being said, maybe make friends with the Captain, its believed that he has the biggest bar on the ship in his room.”

Marius

“Are you serious or is this some kind of hazing thing for the new guy,” Vanessa looked at the ensign raising an eyebrow and letting out a full-bodied laugh. Oh God I hope this is a hazing thing, she thought silently to herself. There was no way she was going to make the next two years on synthahol.

“If that is the truth I am in a whole lotta trouble. Captain’s rarely if ever admit to needing a shrink. Counselors are also never really off duty. Maybe I should have had a second drink on the flight over,” Vanessa joked good-naturedly.

Vanessa Slade