Last Chance

Posted on Sun Dec 1st, 2024 @ 9:17pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel

549 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: Lost Out Here in the Stars
Location: Chief of the Boat's Ready Room - Deck 16, USS Ahwatukee
Timeline: Current

“We’re transferring you, Crewman Gardel.” The words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate, like a summer storm rolling in slow and sure. The Chief paused just long enough to let the silence sink deep into the room. Her voice carried a weight that left no room for doubt. “This decision shouldn’t come as a shock, given your track record. Starfleet’s Personnel Management Department—bless their hearts—didn’t agree with my recommendation to discharge you outright. Why, I can’t say, but there it is.”

She stood up, rounding her desk with a measured grace, and leaned against the edge, folding her arms. Her eyes locked on Gardel with an intensity that could peel paint. The young man kept his gaze fixed on the floor, stubborn as a mule.

“Eight assignments in two years, and not a single one lasted more than six months. I knew what I was signing up for when you landed on my roster, believe me. I read your file—every word of it. Talked to your past commanding officers, worked with your department head and the counselor. We even put together a plan to help channel all that defiance of yours into something useful. I thought maybe you were just misunderstood. Maybe neglected, even. I figured we could mentor you, help you grow into someone Starfleet could be proud of. Lord knows we tried. But you…” She exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re one hard-headed son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. Turns out, I let my ego get the best of me thinking we could do what nobody else could. And you know what? You humbled me, Gardel. So you can quit smirking now.”

Her eyes narrowed as she caught the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth. “I mean it. Wipe that grin off your face.”

She straightened up, pacing slowly. “Now, normally, I wouldn’t waste the effort transferring someone like you. No point in playing musical chairs with a problem everyone sees coming. But, for reasons beyond my understanding, Starfleet thinks you deserve one last shot. They’re sending you to the William Dawes. Little courier support ship, running supply routes between Starbase 129 and some backwater places. Nothing glamorous, nothing fancy, nothing special. Just like you, I reckon. Probably figured it’s a good place to park you where you can’t stir up much trouble.”

She stopped and turned, her voice dropping a notch. “You’ll be shipping out in an hour, which can’t come soon enough for my taste. And just so we’re clear, I’ve made sure the Skipper of the Dawes knows exactly what they’re getting. Every last detail. Invited them to call me if they need clarification on any of it.”

Her eyes softened just a bit, but her tone stayed firm. “This is it, Gardel. Last chance. You either shape up or ship out—for good this time. And if it’s the latter, believe me, I’ll personally escort you to the nearest airlock with that same smug smirk on my face.”

She let that sink in, then nodded toward the door. “Now, get your things together and pray we never cross paths again. You’re dismissed.”

 

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