Ricky, having exchanged his uniform for a square-necked t-shirt and comfortable pants, walked into the conference room and decided that about half of the ship's crew complement of 22 people was there already. On the right side of the room, four people were standing shoulder to shoulder, in what appeared to be a greeting line. Ricky walked to the first man in the line, a man in his thirties with a trim moustache.
"Welcome," the man said, and Ricky immediately noticed a Spanish accent. "I'm Commander Alex Flores, Captain of the U.S.S. Capistrano."
"Crewman Richard Bateman, Sir. Security," Ricky added, as the Captain shook his hand. Commander Flores quickly introduced Ricky to the other three people in the receiving line. Lieutenant Virgil Hendricks was the First Officer who Ricky had already met. Beside him was the ship's Chief Medical Officer, Adelle Bick, a kindly-looking black woman with curly graying hair. Having just celebrated her twenty-fifth year in Starfleet, she was the most experienced member of the ship's crew. The final senior officer was Lt. Harry Colman, an older man with unkempt white hair and an air of fractured brilliance about him. He was the ship's Chief Engineer; he had entered Starfleet at the age of forty-three, when his private ship-repair business had gone under. It seemed, the Captain explained, that he had undergone a sort of midlife crisis in reverse; he had decided he needed more structure in his life, and that's how he came to join.
Having met all of the ship's senior officers, Ricky turned away from the receiving line and toward the refreshment table. That was when he saw her, standing by the punch bowl, and he thought it impossible that he hadn't noticed her the second he had walked through the door. The young lady in question was wearing a little white dress, with a lace pattern that brought to mind those frilly wedding dresses that women so seldom wore in the 23rd century. With everyone else in the room wearing casual clothes, she would've hardly been more noticeable if a beam of light was shining down on her.
Before Ricky could fully realize it, he was moving toward her. He was typically a very shy person, and didn't usually approach strangers, especially attractive ones. And yet, here he was, trying to nonchalantly pour himself a cup of the bright blue punch as he tried to think of something to say.
"Hi," he said finally, though it wasn't the most brilliant opening line.
"Hi," she replied, smiling politely if not sincerely, and Ricky realized that his nervousness must have been evident on his face. He struggled for something else to say.
"That's a ni—" he said, beginning to comment on her dress, but then realized that would most likely be the worst thing to say; certainly she had heard it too many times already. Stuttering for a moment, hoping she wouldn't notice, his mind seized on a more typical introductory question. "What division are you in?"
"Communications. Except in this ship, the science officer handles comm. traffic, so I guess I'll be getting the advanced course in scanners and tricorders."
"That's interesting," Ricky said, trying to casually sip his punch. "Why'd they assign to this ship, then?"
The young woman made a wry facial expression that indicated she had been asking herself the same question. "I really don't know. But, I guess I'll have to make the best of it."
"Yeah," Ricky said, hoping he had made up for his near-fumble. "I'm sure you'll do fine. What shift are you?"
"Beta. You?"
"Beta!" Ricky said, smiling a little too widely. "I mean, hey, always nice to know somebody on the bridge, right?"
"Sure," she said.
Just then, a young man came toward them on the other side of the table. He was a handsome Asian, and seemed to be full of energy. "Man!" He said, to the young woman. "That's quite a dress!" The girl turned toward Ricky, and sarcastically smiled in way that indicated he was correct in his assumption that she had already experienced this ad nauseum. Something about the looked struck a chord with his own feeling of nervous discomfort, and for a moment, he felt like he had made a connection.
"I missed the part about casual dress," the young woman patiently explained.
"Well, you look great," the young man said, and then turned to Ricky. "You're Bateman, right? The First Officer pointed you out to me; we're gonna be roommates. My name's Lee Komura."
"Ricky Bateman."
"You security?" Komura asked.
"Yeah."
"Same here. I got Alpha shift, but I've been told Security doesn't have much to do most of the time. I'll probably end up helping around Engineering a lot. Have you cross-trained at all?"
"Only the basic electives," Ricky answered, as he chewed on an orange dessert cube. "I'm still not sure what department I really want to be in."
"Well, I don't think this is quite the place to learn," Lee said, leaning forward a little. "I've heard that all the duties are so watered down on a Dover-class that a crew of first-year cadets could run them. Blindfolded."
Ricky wondered where Komura was hearing all this stuff, but decided not to ask. "Well, that's fine with me. I'd hate to press the wrong button and blow up the ship."
Lee laughed. "Oh well, we're bound to see some kind of action some time. I wonder how long it'll be."