Act 4

Ensign Jonathon Lendon stepped off the transporter pad, taking a wide-eyed look around the transporter room. He couldn't believe it. He had graduated from the Academy a week ago. And he was now serving aboard the most advanced starship in the Fleet. Not that he had wanted to be here. Everyone in his class had tried to get onto the Defiant or Enterprise. They were after all the most famous ships in the Fleet.

"Move along son," the transporter chief, a skinny and curly-haired blond man said, "I need to beam up some medical supplies and our CMO."

"Oh," Jonathon said, hurrying off the transporter pad, "I'm…I'm sorry."

"Listen son," the man said, "If you are going to make it out here. You had better figure out that you need to be quick on your feet."

"What's CMO?" Jonathon asked as he walked to the doors.

"Chief Medical Officer," the man said, keeping an eye on him, "My name is Transporter Chief James Gardner."

"Ensign Jonathon Lendon," he said smartly, then looking around asked, "I thought an officer was supposed to meet me here?"

"Another thing you'll learn," Gardner said, "Not everything happens like they say in the Academy."

Jonathon's' eyebrows rose in surprise. He had never thought about that before. That maybe things in the real world were different. Perhaps. But, his professors had never really talked about it.

No, Jonathon thought. This guy is nothing. He's not even the tactical officer.

He turned and walked out of the room, into a corridor. He barely left before he crashed into a man walking with strides down the corridor. He looked up and saw the commander's pips and he dropped his jaw.

"I'm…I'm…so sorry," Jonathon blubbered, "I…I didn't mean to."

"Calm down Ensign," the man replied, "It's all right."

"But, if I had been taking care," Jonathon was shaking his head, "I could have seen you there."

"Just got out of the Academy?" the officer asked, knowing full well that he was.

"Yes sir," he replied, "Last of my class."

The officer frowned slightly. "A bit of advice," he said, "Don't advertise that around."

Jonathon reddened and dropped his head slightly. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm Commander Adam Tryke," the man said, "The tactical officer here. And you are?"

"Jonathon Lendon," he replied, still not looking up at him, "Ensign Lendon. I'm going to be the helms officer."

"Very good Johnny," Tryke nodded, "Let's go to our quarters. They're in the same vicinity. Then perhaps we can have a meal together in the mess hall."

Jonathon looked up, his eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

"Of course Ensign," Tryke clapped him on the shoulder, "This is your first assignment. Nothing helps put a young Ensign on the straight and steady then an officer with experience.