Personal Log 3-10: Reporting for Duty

How I Flunked Out of Starfleet Academy Part 10
The Voyager shuttle bay was a zoo. Officers hurried everywhere, barking orders at the cadets and crew members. The mood of the ship was controlled panic.
"General Studies? Good. Alex, report to deck seven. Special Ops Commander Raphael needs a new gadget tech. The last one disintegrated after playing around with the weapons settings. Wyatt, report to the bridge. They need an errand boy. Christine, report to Sickbay as an assistant. And Adrian," the duty roster CO paused to glare my way, "report to Mess Hall C. You're on KP duty."
Alex danced away, like a kid who's just been handed the keys to a candy factory. Wyatt, unfazed as usual, slouched his way to the nearest turbolift.
Christine squeezed my hand. "It's not serious. It's just a training flight."
"You're in Sickbay. You'll be fine."
"But I faint at the sight of blood."
I couldn't dredge up much sympathy for her. She wasn't going to be up to her elbows in dirty dishes. At least it wasn't toilet scrubbing duty. I squeezed her hand back as we walked along the corridor. We reached Sickbay. She let go, glancing over her shoulder as she entered. I faked a smile for her.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. Kitchen duty wasn't too unpleasant. It was the only thing I'd shown any aptitude for so far. It made sense that I would be assigned there. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was walking. I figured I'd find the Mess Hall eventually. Or somewhere more entertaining. I walked into someone.
"Pardon me," he said. "Stevens, isn't it?"
"Sir." I swallowed a knot the size of a full-grown tribble and snapped a salute. Just my luck to bump into the Captain.
"I've seen your reports. Interesting reading, Ensign. I trust there will be no incidents of short-sheeting, or inexplicable plumbing malfunctions while you are on board. Do I make myself clear, Stevens?" Captain Stanbol speared me with a steely gaze.
"Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir." I floundered for the right response.
He smiled. "Good. Because if you screw up here, you'll be talking to me, not Admiral Williamson. And I'm a lot meaner. I believe you are needed in the galley which is that way." He pointed down the corridor behind me.
"Thank you, sir." I saluted, standing stiff at attention until his footsteps faded. Only then did I dare relax.
I didn't care if we were at war with the Klingons, Romulans, Andorrians, Ferengi, and the Paklids. Captain Stanbol made it clear he was at war with me. He was a lot closer and more dangerous. I'd have to watch every move I made, because I knew he was going to be watching, too.