Deep Shit 69 - Chapter 1-2

The whine of a transporter beam interrupted Krisko's thoughts. He looked to his right to find O'Brother standing next to him.

KRS: O'Brother, you've been down here already, haven't you?
MOB: Aye, sir. What's on your mind, sir?
KRS: What is that woman in my office yelling about? And what is she doing in there?
MOB: Oh, that would be Major Keepyer Handsoff, sir. She's your Majoran liaison, sir. I can't make out exactly what she's saying, but I know she's had a bug up her ass all week about the transfer of command, sir.
KRS: Oh,is that so? I guess I'll have to do something about that.
MOB: Uh,...sir, one word of caution. Have you ever dealt with a Majoran woman before>
KRS: No, O'Brother, I haven't. Is there something I should know?
MOB: Have you ever wrestled with a Vulcan sehlat, sir?
KRS: What is this, O'Brother, twenty questions?
MOB: Well,...wrestling with a sehlat is easier, sir.

Krisko paused at the chief's last statement. Building himself up to muster all his courage, he walked into the command room. The Major was still berating someone on the other end of the commlink when he entered. It was several moments until she looked up and noticed him. She placed the commlink on hold and addressed Krisko.

KPR: And what the hell do you want, Fed?
KRS: I'm,...uh, Commander Krisko. Just thought I'd,..ah,..introduce myself and say "Hello."

The Majoran looked flustered for a brief moment, but recovered and gave Krisko a sarcastic look.

KPR: "Hello." I'll be with you in a second. (To commlink) I'll deal with you assholes later. Keepyer, out.
KRS: Thank you, Major Handsoff.
KPR: It's "Keepyer," dammit! Typical human,..can't be bothered to learn Majoran patrynomes! Nevermind, I suppose you're here to assume command?
KRS: Yes, Major,...Keepyer. As of now, 1117 hours, I assume command of DS69. Computer: make the appropriate log notifications, command code Krisko Alpha 1-1-1.
KPR: Good. Take it. And may the Prophets help you!
KRS: Major, I think we need to sit down and discuss your attitude about this whole situation.
KPR: What's to discuss?? You Feds are just replacing the Hardassians as our new masters!
KRS: I take exception to that remark, Major. I lost my wife to the Hardassians and I don't exactly relish this command, either. I'll be more than happy to leave when the Majoran government gives the word.

The two officers glared at each other. They were interrupted by a signal from the commlink. Krisko acknowledged the signal.

MOB: O'Brother here, sir. Sorry to interrupt the fighting,..I mean your briefing, but the rest of the Federation officers have arrived, sir. They're awaiting your orders, sir.
KRS: Have them report to my office, Chief.
MOB: Aye, sir.
KRS: Any word on my son, O'Brother?
MOB: Aye, sir. Jerk beamed down with the rest of the officers, sir. I believe he went straight to your quarters, sir.
KRS: Very good, O'Brother. Krisko, out. Now, Major, if you'll excuse me,...
KPR: Aye, sir. I'll go help O'Brother get his act together.
KRS: Why don't you do that, Major.

With that, the two parted company. Krisko sat wearily into the command chair. While he was trying to sort out the array of his console, which was only in Hardassian and Majoran script, someone knocked on his office door. Krisko sighed and ordered the officer to enter, almost immediately regretting the order. The young man tripped as he came in, dropping his duffel bag at Krisko's feet. When the arrival stood up, Krisko recognized the man as the new Medical Officer, Dr. Bashful. He wore the rank insignia of a lieutenant, junior grade. That marked him as fresh from the Academy. Krisko made a mental note of this. When the doctor composed himself, Krisko addressed him.

KRS: Can I help you, son?
BSH: I,...uh,..gosh,..Commander,..sir. I didn't mean to make quite an entrance, sir. I'm Dr. Julius Bashful, sir,..uh, Lieutenant, junior grade, sir.
KRS: Very well, Doctor. Have you checked in with Medical, yet?
BSH: Oh, gosh, no, sir. I,...thought I ought to come here first and introduce myself, sir. Starfleet regulations state protocol...
KRS: Yes, yes. Well, I'm glad to meet you, Doctor, But may I ask you a personal question?
BSH: Why,..of course, sir.
KRS: How does a "fresh-from-the Academy" med graduate get posted this far into space?
BSH: Well,...my, um, specialty was xenophysiology, sir. I always dreamed of practicing medicine out in the frontier, relying on brains, and sweat, and luck as much as advanced medical technique, sir!
KRS: A 'frontier' doc, eh? (Chuckling) Very well, Doctor,..dismissed.
BSH: Aye, sir.

As Dr. Bashful backed out of the Commander's officer, he attempted a proper Academy-standard salute during his exit. As he did so, he lost his balance and fell backwards. Bashful let out a cry, but before he hit the ground, someone caught him from behind. When he composed himself, he looked up to thank his savior,...and promptly fell in love. As Bashful stood up, he saw the most beautiful women he'd ever met: she was tall, well-endowed, had long brown hair, and slightly greenish skin. Leopard-like spots just below the hairline completed her beauty. She smiled slightly at him and extended her hand to greet him.