A Day in the Life of Crewman Tucker

Disclaimer: Star Trek, Star Trek: Enterprise, and all affiliated characters, titles and names are registered trademarks of Paramount Pictures, CBS Television and VIACOM International. This work is not intended for distribution for profit or publication. Even if I am better at it than them.

Notes: This is a very special and important day in the life of a young man who enlisted at 18 but always had a desire - and a talent, for something more.

September 3, 2140
0515

Two hours before the rest of his team would arrive; young Charles Tucker III was already hard at work.

"Crewman Tucker?"

The voice of Commander Schopenhauer echoed through the engineering bay as he took a few tentative steps forward, craning his neck to peer about the large, cluttered hangar. In the center of the hangar lay a cannibalized shuttlepod, its hull plating stacked against the lift holding it suspended a meter above the deck-plating, its innards splayed out like a gutted fish.

"Crewman Tucker??" he snapped once more.

Answered by the clutter and clang of tools, Commander Schopenhauer strode forward intensely, glaring at the shape beginning to emerge from the far side of the shuttlepod's dilapidated undercarriage, riding upside down on service cart from the underside of the shuttlepod. Once he cleared the shuttlepod, a dirty and disheveled 19-year old Crewman Third Class Charles Tucker III stood at attention, straightening and wiping off his uniform as best he could.

"Aye. Sorry, sir."

Commander Schopenhauer huffed a long sigh as he narrowly fixed his gaze on young Tucker.

"At ease," Schopenhauer allowed. Trip's feet spread by exactly twelve inches, hands clasped at his back.

"What were you working on, Crewman?" Schopenhauer asked.

"The new plasma tolerances sent out by Command, sir. I was refitting this old shuttlepod to find out what effect the new specs might have on the power systems."

"I was not aware of this order, Crewman..." the commander challenged.

Tucker fidgeted. "It came out this morning, sir. I got the message just a few minutes ago at my station."

Schopenhauer nodded, pursing his lips. "Very good, Crewman," he acknowledged dryly. "As you know," he began, shifting his weight. "I am to be relieved when Commander Jefferies takes command of our department this afternoon."

Tucker nodded succinctly. "Congratulations on your promotion, sir." Tucker responded officially.

Commander Schopenhauer paced forward, his hands folded at his back, eyes turned downward in thought.

"I know that we have not always seen eye-to-eye, Crewman Tucker. I disapprove of your tinkering methods... But your service record has been exemplary."

Tucker nodded soberly, blinking through the pain of his own bit lip as he withheld any one of the choice responses trickling through his brain.

"That is why I have informed Commander Jefferies that he is to release the hold on your application to the Starfleet Engineering Officer Battery Exam. Your test results were... impressive enough and I think it's time I allowed your application to be processed."

Trip was elated. The grin growing ear-to-ear betrayed the fact as he shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to jump for joy.

Commander Schopenhauer's face drew into a hard, wind-swept edge. "The exam is extremely tough, Crewman. It is the hardest entrance exam of the four Starfleet divisions, and few enlistedmen successfully pass and become Starfleet officers," he warned Tucker in a parental tone. "You would be the youngest crewman to pass the exam..." Schopenhauer said, doubtful of Tucker's chances of success. "So you face no small challenge."

"Aye, sir. I understand, sir."

"Don't you let me down," Schopenhauer ordered with grim seriousness.

"Aye, sir," Tucker acknowledged through the knot wound up by the Commander's steely glare.

There was a long pause in which Commander Schopenhauer watched Trip Tucker's expressive face play from excitement to anxiety to resolve. Finally, Commander Schopenhauer meant to take his leave.

"Atten-SHUN!" he called in his loud, military-honed bugle-of-a-voice.

Tucker snapped to attention smartly.

"Dismissed!" Schopenhauer ordered.

The End!