The Naked Now
2381-02-04 @ 1455
Stardate 56343.26
See, this is the kind of thing that really pisses me off about Starfleet.
I'm on an Away Team yesterday, and two security guys get their brains blasted all over me by some Jem'Hadar who were totally off their shit... like, their White had run out or something after crash landing.
Don't respond to Dominion distress calls. I can't stress this enough. It's really not worth it.
So I have to get me a new uniform, because my last duty threads are covered in brains, right? So I go to the requisitions guy to get a new uniform. Now, normally you can replicate your own clothes, but uniforms have to be replicated and distributed by the req-guy to insure that they conform to regulation, so that paperwork gets filled out, and so that the req-guy has something to do, since he's usually the idiot son of some admiral. I swear, ours is some fucking clone-gone-bad or something.
So he asks me what color turtleneck I need, and I tell him I need a yellow one. So he fucking lays into me! He says that uniform colors are not red, yellow, and blue, but rather "cranberry," "mustard gold," and "dark teal," and every first year cadet knows this, and fucking bla bla bla, right? These middle managers, the ones who always stay on the ship, their brains are going stale in their skulls like a fucking loaf of bread left out in the Vulcan sun. I guess I only exist to get yelled at by rumpswabs like him, or eaten by mutant purple goats.
It's not worth thirty-eight a year, it's really not.
Stardate 56343.26
See, this is the kind of thing that really pisses me off about Starfleet.
I'm on an Away Team yesterday, and two security guys get their brains blasted all over me by some Jem'Hadar who were totally off their shit... like, their White had run out or something after crash landing.
Don't respond to Dominion distress calls. I can't stress this enough. It's really not worth it.
So I have to get me a new uniform, because my last duty threads are covered in brains, right? So I go to the requisitions guy to get a new uniform. Now, normally you can replicate your own clothes, but uniforms have to be replicated and distributed by the req-guy to insure that they conform to regulation, so that paperwork gets filled out, and so that the req-guy has something to do, since he's usually the idiot son of some admiral. I swear, ours is some fucking clone-gone-bad or something.
So he asks me what color turtleneck I need, and I tell him I need a yellow one. So he fucking lays into me! He says that uniform colors are not red, yellow, and blue, but rather "cranberry," "mustard gold," and "dark teal," and every first year cadet knows this, and fucking bla bla bla, right? These middle managers, the ones who always stay on the ship, their brains are going stale in their skulls like a fucking loaf of bread left out in the Vulcan sun. I guess I only exist to get yelled at by rumpswabs like him, or eaten by mutant purple goats.
It's not worth thirty-eight a year, it's really not.