Ensign Jocelyn Marshall - The Life and Times of Operations

[Jo Marshall]

(( Operations Division, Starfleet Headquarters, Earth ))

:: It was a nice day. There hadn’t been a murky day since they’d arrived back on Earth. The sun seemed to be shining for them. Rain had managed to keep to an agreeable distance. The grass never seemed greener, the sky never bluer. The crisp walkways were trimmed at the edges, the stone beautifully laid to lead between the housed divisions and outbuildings of the Headquarters. The air was clean, the life support was natural.::

:: And Jo watched it all through the window of the Operations Division building on the south side of the complex.::

:: She blew an exaggerated sigh and rubbed her eyes with the pads of her thumbs, opening them widely to try and prevent the stupefying monotony of the task ahead from serenading her organs of sight to sleep.::

:: If anything could be said of Starfleet Command, they were definitely true to their word. Want to see the galaxy? Join Starfleet. Wear a crisp white uniform, smile in the face of adversity, give misadventure the cold stare of defiance, then come home to mounds of paperwork that would certainly not be overlooked simply because the Operations Officer was suffering in another universe. A poor excuse for shoddy administration, according to the Records Clerk.::

:: Jo had refrained, and even she didn’t know how, from asking just how she was supposed to file anything on systems that wouldn’t work while fighting off Dominion boarders. Her penmanship was not that good.::

:: Not only were there operational reports to compile, there were ration accounts, system reviews, logs, stocks and barrels. At the end of it, there was the other task; the one she had tried to put off until she knew she could do it without launching a PADD on it’s maiden voyage across the room. She had to name and assemble the details of those who had fallen. The Captain had kept an accurate anthology, and with a comparison of her own it wouldn’t take long. There were just so many.::

:: She felt incredibly lucky. She had come out of the tail end of it with a few scars and a dislocated shoulder. She didn’t think she could have been more lucky if she’d bathed in four leaf clovers.::

:: She watched the door where shadows of other Officers walked around on the other side, punctuating her reality with so many other beings. It had been so quiet on the Gorkon for so long. When she had first boarded it was thriving with life. Her operational tasks had included requests for extended quarters for families, special dispensation for replicators, and a whole host of the mundane she wished would apparate in front of her again.::

:: Coffee. Her brain needed waking up. The replicator was nearby.::

Marshall: Computer; coffee, black.

:: The computer complied, replicating a steaming mug which she picked up by the handle, wincing when it burned her thumb.::

:: About to recommence the mountainous task she picked up one of the PADDs and glanced out of the window at the golden day she could’ve had, just in time to see Captain Reynolds start to undress in the middle of what looked like a power rage. Her jacket was flung into the neatly trimmed bushes, a few gold flecks of something following shortly after.::

:: Jo swore and dropped the PADD onto the desk. For that she received a sideways glance from the Andorian Officer on the other side of the small box office, but could definitely have cared less. By the time he had opened his mouth to say something, the door swished open and she was gone.::

Ensign Jocelyn Marshall

Operations Officer

USS Gorkon

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