It's a Trap!

Posted on 30 Aug 2016 @ 9:28pm by Petty Officer 1st Class Aurora Aries
Edited on 30 Aug 2016 @ 9:37pm

686 words; about a 3 minute read

[ON]

Aurora sat down at her desk, thumping down an empty glass and a cheap looking bottle of liquor. She poured herself a double, then pushed the bottle aside. She stared at the glass for a long moment, either searching it's contents for wisdom or mustering the strength to consume it. In actuality it was both. She emptied the glass in one go and visibly cringed. It took several moments for her facial expression to resume its normal composure.

"Computer..." She began, then cringed again, as the liquor worked its way down her throat. The replicator unit in her quarters produced a plate of Klingon mealworms in response to her wordless growl, which had apparently sounded just enough like gagh.

"No! I mean, computer! Begin audio log!" Aurora sighed.

"I've got to stop doing this... drinking cheap tequila I mean. But when your bunkies like to nab your stuff, you're faced with two options, stop drinking, or drink something so vile no one else can stand it. I chose option two. And here I am, drinking the cheapest stuff latinum can buy. That Ferengi brand that comes in the plastic bottle. Tequila spelled with a K, you know, to avoid copyright infringement. And I'll tell you... you don't want to go down that road."

Aurora sighed again, realizing she was giving her personal log drinking advice. Not a good road to go down indeed.

"Anyway, it's finally happened, and of course it wasn't my fault. Starfleet demoted me. There was another... incident, in a nightclub. How am I to know that I'm allergic to the only Orion cocktail ever sent my way? I blacked out and fell off my stool. That Marine guy who'd been harassing me all night for my comms number, he'd apparently tried to reach out to grab me, a second too late. My wingman apparently didn't like the look of that when he glanced over. He thought the guy had pushed me. Next think you know, twenty people are throwing hands."

Aurora paused and held her head in her hands, stretching her skin in exasperation. "Apparently inciting a riot while unconscious doesn't hold up in the local courts, but when you go before one of Starfleet's disciplinary review boards, being at least connected to four off-duty altercations in fifteen months does.

"I don't know what exactly Starfleet hopes to accomplish with this... demoting me from lieutenant junior grade to petty officer first class. Now instead of leading people I'm expected to train them in my own image. As if I now have a diminished capacity for causing irreparable damage to the chain of command. Where is the logic in that? Maybe I've been drinking cheap Tequila for too long, I just don't see it."

Aurora stood and after a moment started pacing, preparing herself to go into full rant mode. "I'm now the most hated person in Starfleet. It's official. They've posted me to a Nova-class... a science vessel! I used to be called upon to fly fancy and blow stuff up. Now I conduct guided tours for a bunch of teal shirts who can't help but act like a bunch of toddlers surrounded by shiny objects. It's just.... sad."

Aurora looked toward the bottle, as if wanting to pour herself another drink. She decided against it, and merely sat down again.

"I don't even want to get into this mission. It's a trap--it's obviously a trap! But no one seems to see it. Or they don't want to. 'Oh we've got to rush in and save those poor people!' After twenty years? Get real. They're probably dead. Long dead. And the Recluse is probably long gone too, salvaged and broken up for scrap. Someone just left the distress beacon active to screw with us. Or attract more salvage.

"Nothing good ever happens in a nebula. And what happens in a nebula, stays in the nebula. Everyone in Starfleet knows that. Yet here we are." Aurora sighed with finality.

"Kids and shiny things. Computer, end log."

[OFF]

PO1 Aurora Aries
Flight Control Officer
USS Galileo
[PNPC Kirilova]

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