Topic: Cleaning

Space, the Final Frontier...” That had been the logo that flashed across the holo outside the Starfleet Academy recruiting station. An appropriately diverse trio of young recruits gazed offscreen at the adventure that awaited them upon completion of their training. There was a Vulcan female, a Terran male, and of course an Andorian, seeing as it had been on her home world of Andoria that Shas Irralla had made the fateful decision to sign up and “boldly go where no one had gone before.” She was given to understand that the third recruit rotated from planet to planet, just in case one were inclined to forget which side of the tearbark the Federation spread its angafruit jam on. 

Her antennae twitched at the memory and the twinge of homesickness it inspired. Her mood wasn’t improved by the sweltering heat and humidity of San Francisco. The doctor insisted that most of her species adjusted to the weather,  but prescribed her an anticholinergic to prevent her from sweating through a days worth of clothes each morning and advised her to keep hydrated. He had been wearing a sweater at the time. 

She blew out a tired sigh and resumed mopping. 

Her father and two of her mothers had been against the move. Thalia and Threm were conservatives, convinced that the Federation was an elaborate scam of some inexplicable sort meant to benefit the Terrans and the inscrutable Vulcans. Jenna was just worried about her chances at grandchildren. 

“It will be hard enough finding a compatible Quartet here at home, let alone out there chasing after glory in the stars,” she had warned.

Only Sderra had understood that his only daughter had dreams too big for their frozen little moon, and had eventually convinced the others to give her their blessing, if begrudgingly. Which had led her finally to her destiny, wielding a primitive cleaning instrument against the carbonized gunk that coated the floor of the main steam vent beneath Starfleet Academy.

“Ain’t this slice of ancient history Shas... this here tunnel must be a least four centuries old if its a day.” 

Shas winced as she was brought back into awareness of her other most significant aggravation at the Academy, Cadet Fairlane Fairbanks, her roommate. A gangly Terran youth, still growing into his frame, Fairbanks was thin, blue eyed and had a shock of that blonde fur that they grew on their heads, currently smudged with gunk. He had the most irritatingly sunny disposition of any sentient she had ever encountered. And he was the reason they were here.

“Cadet Fairbanks, I did not think the subterranean architecture of San Francisco would be germane to my studies, so no... I have no idea how old this tunnel is... nor its purpose for that matter.”  The latter had bothered her since she and Fairbanks had been assigned this dubiously valuable task. This tunnel deep beneath the academy didn’t appear to go anywhere important, nor did it connect to any vital systems. This further cemented her opinion that this task was meant to be a humiliating punishment. One far out of proportion to the offense of breaking curfew it seemed. 

“Well I dunno about that, does have a certain atmosphere don’t it though?” He stiffened his back and performed a spot on impression of astroarcheology instructor Stivak’s rigid delivery, “And what purpose might the ancient Terrans have built this structure? Speculation based on logical analysis of the available evidence only please...”

Shas stifled a laugh so as not to encourage him, but her mood quickly turned to black humor.

“It’s obviously a place of ritual humiliation, where offenders are reduced to the role of scullery slaves. Obviously at the end of this interminable orifice there will be facilities for the disposal of their used up carcasses.” She gave her best look of exasperation and returned to her mopping with equal parts renewed vigor and disgust. 

Cadet Fairlane evidently took the hint and they continued their task in silence for some time. 

“You mad at me Shas? Cause I’m starting to think you’re mad at me.” 

Her antennae drooped despondently. 

“Why on Terra would I be mad with you,” she snapped, “ I’ve only been mopping this floor for the past 5 standard hours, developing blisters on my hands and a pain in my dorsal endoskeletal fin because you just had to see the Monty Bergman Trio” 

“The Monty Bergin Trio, and they are the best Mid 20th century West Coast style jazz trio in California. And you had a good time! We’d have made it back in time if that air taxi driver hadn’t hit that waste disposal carrier. You would think that by the 23rd century traffic accidents would be ancient history.”

Shas was about to snap back, Andorian invectives to describe the kind of feckless Terran bumpkin she had been saddled with arose to her lips. But she deflated. He was right, she had accompanied him willingly, perhaps in a vain attempt to keep him out of trouble. The irony being of course that if she just let him get into enough trouble Starfleet might be kind enough to disentangle him from her antennae. 

And the music had been pleasing, jazz sharing many stylistic similarities to the kind of doppa quartet that her mother Jenna played in back home. And the atmosphere, the crowd an eclectic mix of Terrans and aliens, synthahol and more noxious intoxicants had flowed freely. She had even learned to snap her fingers like the Terrans. It had been a good idea and a good time and for a brief period she had not been annoyed with Cadet Fairbanks.

“It’s not you I am upset with, Cadet Fairbanks... Fairlane, it’s myself. This is not exactly where I expected to be, heading into my second year.” 

“So what? This ain’t the first punishment detail we been on, prolly won’t be the last.’’ He had stopped mopping and was studying her quizzically, “you’re really worried about something ain’t yah?” 

She was taken aback by his suddenly keen perception. 

“Worried, worried is perhaps not the right word. Disappointed? Frustrated? Maybe all at once? I don’t know.” She waved her hand to indicate the disused old tunnel around them. “Does this look like the place a Starfleet Officer ends up? I simply can’t help but feel that we have taken a dreadfully wrong turn to have ended up here.”

“Well I guess I can see that... I been led to understand that you Andorians is a bit more high strung than most species, but,” he raised his hand as she made to respond to that stereotype and made his own gesture, behind her.

“Speaking of ending up, looks like we’re all done here.” 

Shas turned in surprise to find that they had indeed come to the end of the tunnel, just beyond the pool of light from the last fixture was a wall, a dead end. She sighed and made to join Cadet Fairbanks in the long trudge back to the entrance when something caught her eye. 

“Bring that hand light over, will you?” She approached the wall as Cadet Fairbanks brought over illumination. The wall was a dead end still. But scattered across its surface there were carved, painted or laser burned names. Hundreds of them. 

“Wow...” 

“Wow indeed... Look! It’s Dhas Irasa, he was one of ours, first officer on the Lexington!”

“Yeah! Holy crap, that’s Commodore April. And look here... wow.” 

She knelt down to join him as he brushed dust from two names, one above the other. 

“George Kirk, James Kirk...” the legendary caption of the Enterprise and his father had made this trek as well. She stepped back to take it all in. 

“Ain’t all of ‘em famous, but all of ‘em were here, same as us.” He looked at her with that mischievous grin that apparently disarmed the female of his species. “Guess being here ain’t that bad an indicator of your future in Starfleet.”

“I suppose not,” she smiled and gathered her mop and bucket. 

“Hang on Shas! We ain’t finished here yet!” He produced a pen laser and dialed it down for writing. He picked a clear spot next to someone she had not heard of, Gary Mitchell. He signed with a flourish and handed her the pen. She hesitated then found a space near Commander Irasa, the familiar Andorian script bringing a smile to her face. She signed and handed the pen back to Cadet Fairbanks carefully. 

“Buy yah a beer Shas?” 

“Why yes, I think that would be refreshing Cad... Fairlane. Refreshing indeed.” They gathered their tools and headed back down the tunnel into the future.