Lt. Cmdr Robin Hopper: Shindig
Robin Hopper
((Hopper’s Apartment, Beijing District, Habit Ring – Amity Outpost))
As the Ambassador stood and reached to pin the pip on her collar, a surge of excitement emerged from Robin’s tightly-pressed lips in the form of an enthusiastic hum. Before, her leg had been jittery. Now she felt like her whole body was vibrating. She tried to take a few calming breaths before reaching up and touching her collar, feeling the three pips that officially made her a Lieutenant Commander.
Hopper: Oh… It’s real. ::To Rivi, eyes glistening:: Thank you. I um, I don’t know what to say. ::Shrugging, bewildered:: I guess, um, what’s next? I mean, I know it’s probably just back to business as usual – and that’s great, but, um… Is there anything else? Anything I can do for you? I mean, not just for you – for the station? For all you. You all. ::Closing her eyes for a second, small shake of her head:: Okay, I’m babbling and I need you to interrupt me or something.
Fortunately, Rivi did.
Vataix: Well! Before you get back to "business," I could use your help actually. You're not the only one getting recognized, and Wil mentioned this being cause for celebration. Would you be interested in helping me come up with an idea of what that might be?
Robin nodded enthusiastically. Wil Ukinix had such a sweet nature – especially for a Starfleet Commander. There was a stereotype, one which Robin was keenly aware of, particularly given her own incremental rise through the ranks, of how a Starfleet Officer was expected to be; How a Lieutenant, or Captain, or Admiral of Starfleet was expected to behave.
She’d heard her fair share of those ideas when she’d told her friends at Berkeley about her acceptance to the Academy…
((Flashback – 239302.12, Triple Rock Brewery & Alehouse, Berkeley California, Earth))
The oldest bar in Berkeley California was lively, packed with university students celebrating their end of term – and, for some, their graduations. The voices of Darryl Hall and John Oates graced all ears in attendance. Emily Park, carrying an array of shot glasses carefully between her two hands, made her way back to the table surrounded by the “Masters of Physics” – a group nickname that had started as an aspirational, if tongue-in-cheek joke, but now was simply a literal statement.
As she reached the table and began depositing the glasses filled with the alehouse’s house whiskey, she noticed a strange silence overwhelming the group.
Park: What just happened? ::Looking around the table, confused:: What’d I miss? Everyone looks stunned. ::Very short pause:: Why isn’t anybody answering me?
Robin took one of the shot glasses eagerly and downed it, setting it down on the table next to the personal datapad that displayed her acceptance letter.
Makarov: Hops is going to the Academy.
Park: ::Taking her seat:: The Academy? Like Starfleet Academy? That Academy?
Robin nodded, her eyes wide and her mouth on fire. She pressed her lips together, unsure what exactly to say. The message had come that morning – and she’d been processing what it meant for her since. She’d never in a million years expected them to accept her application, especially when it had been made on such a whim.
Park: Holy @#$%! For real? ::Picking up the datapad, reading it over:: Weren’t you wasted when you submitted your application?
Hopper: Mm-hmm.
Makarov: ::Picking up a shot, herself:: You’re going to have to straighten yourself out, Miss Hopper, if you’re going to be a Starfleet Officer. ::Snickering, taking her shot, coughing:: Uzhasnyy…
Robin scoffed, then looked around the table at the dubious expressions on her classmates’ faces. Crossing her arms and sitting back in her chair, she countered, with a wry (and slightly incredulous) smile.
Hopper: Excuse me? I’m very organized. I seem to recall you all mocking how coordinated my schedule was. I read the news. I’ve always wanted to be an explorer. I’m very motivated. Maybe too motivated. ::Nodding, unconvinced:: I’d make an excellent Starfleet… Officer.
The last word caught in her throat for a moment. While the thought of exploring the cosmos, working the frontier of discovery using cutting edge techniques and equipment was certainly appealing – the reality of having to… wear a phaser, and potentially use it, wasn’t lost on her.
Preloc: ::Reaching over, patting Robin’s hand:: Sweetie, you’re a vegetarian.
Robin scowled at the Cardassian.
Makarov: Yes, you’re the queen of the nerds, Hops. But that’s not what I meant. ::Gesturing over her shoulder at nothing in particular:: Have you seen the Starfleet recruiters who camp out near Springer?
Park: ::Still reading through the acceptance letter:: She’s always flirting with them.
Hopper: ::Offended:: I am not! ::Thinking:: Not always. The uniforms are cute. Shut up.
Makarov: They’re all so stiff, so military. ::Imitating:: Unleash your potential in Starfleet, charting uncharted galaxies, advancing your career, and securing a future where the mysteries of the cosmos become your legacy!
Sabra saluted ironically.
Preloc: Plus you’ll have to kill people.
Park: ::Setting the datapad down finally:: Niska, Starfleet doesn’t kill people.
Preloc: How are you so smart and yet so dense? The Dominion War. The Maquis. The Tomed Incident. ::Sharp emphasis:: The Federation-Cardassian War… Need I go on?
Park: No.
Emily took her shot while Sabra chuckled to herself. Niska, meanwhile, turned her attention to Robin, whose brow was now furrowed with worry.
Preloc: We’re scientists, not soldiers. I’ve seen your arms – very small. Starfleet is a military, Robin.
Hopper: I know… But–
Makarov: You’re smart. Just get your PhD and seek a position at a research base or something. You can still work on the bleeding edge without all that trouble.
Hopper: Yes, but–
Makarov: Unless you just want to work with all the boys in their cute uniforms.
Hopper: It’s not that, I just–
Park: Robin… This isn’t an admission letter. It’s an acceptance letter. ::Looking at her curiously:: You already decided, didn’t you?
Three sets of eyes fixed on Robin. She nodded, slowly, slumping slightly in her chair, then cleared her throat before muttering the slogan of Starfleet Academy.
Hopper: Ex astris, scientia…
((End Flashback))
They’d had a point – and certainly there were officers like that. But it wasn’t all protocol, or pomp, or rulebooks. Yes, sure, the Federation and Starfleet loved their rulebooks and, at the end of the day, signing up meant taking on a weight of responsibility to defend the tenets of the Federation with your life if necessary… but that weight didn’t necessitate severity. Not at all times or in all things.
Despite her own initial misgivings, Robin had been quick to learn (and to demonstrate) that Starfleet Officers weren’t all shaped in a mold. Most of them knew how to have fun. Amity Outpost seemed like perfect proof of that. It felt only right that they should have some sort of celebration. She responded as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the universe.
Hopper: Um, of course. ::Chuckling:: I figured New Years would have proven my dedication to throwing parties – even with minimal time to plan. Besides, I feel like after our last mission, everyone could use a bit of a morale boost. ::Centering breath:: I know I could.
Vataix: I can tell you that at least one of the others we're celebrating recently lost someone very dear and near to him... the Targhee.
Robin felt her heart flutter at the mention of the Targhee. She had been right by Nathan’s side as he’d made the choice to scuttle her, prevent her from falling into enemy hands. It had been like watching a piece of their relationship explode on the landing pad. Since they’d been back, they hadn’t had a chance to talk about it… Or anything for that matter. In fact, there was a significant backlog of ‘unfinished business’ between the two of them that would need to be attended to sooner or later.
Hopper: ::Nodding:: Nathan deserves it. The promotion, I mean… and I’ve been meaning to talk to him about the Targhee and, um, a few other things as well. ::Nervous smile:: Either way, I’m sure he’d be happy to help, if we wanted someone tall to help put up decorations. ::Chuckle:: Or we can make it a surprise.
Rivi grinned at her co-conspirator.
Vataix: All right, so then do you have any suggestions?
Taking a seat across the table from Rivi again, Robin crossed her legs and rested her clasped hands atop her knee. She tilted her head to the side, chewing her lip and staring off at nothing in particular as she thought.
Hopper: Well – that depends. ::Back to Rivi:: How many people are we thinking for this little shindig? Or is it a big shindig? Because I could offer my apartment if we want something on the cozier side – ::smirk:: plus you’ve already had a chance to play host for Wil’s promotion party.
Vataix: Response
Hopper: ::Shrug:: But if you see this as a bigger affair, there’s always the lighthouse, or Peace Park… Oh! Or the SRC’s lounge. We truly have no shortage of options.
Vataix: Response
Hopper: In that case, is there anyone we want to loop in on our scheming? ::Grinning:: Maybe Keehani?
Vataix: Response
TBC
