Personal Log, Lieutenant Junior Grade Pavel Chekov, Stardate 6234.6. The Enterprise remains at Starbase 67 for extended maintenance and system upgrades that have been scheduled to take approximately six weeks in total. Many of the crew are taking the opportunity to spend some accumulated leave time. As a trip home to Earth is not convenient from this location, I have decided to avail myself of one of the training opportunities available at Starbase 67, an advanced small unit tactics course. Colonel Miller, the CO of Marine Training Command here, thought it an odd interest for a starship navigator but saw no reason to deny my request to join the course even before he saw Captain Kirk's approval on the application. I will admit that the course has been challenging, but, aside from the new skills I am gaining, I have developed a new appreciation for the life of a combat soldier in the Starfleet Marine Corps, of which most of my course mates are members. Of the four of us who are not marines, I am the only non-Security officer. It has been an... interesting experience.
The inner door opened onto Colonel Miller's office and the shaven-headed marine commander looked up from his desk with a raised eyebrow and a lopsided smile. "Lieutenant Chekov, come in please. Have a seat."
Chekov stepped forward far enough for the door to close behind him, eying the single, too-comfortable looking chair before moving towards it. "I had not expected to be called so soon, sir."
With a grin, Miller leaned back in his chair a bit. "Just making use of the alphabet, Lieutenant. Comes in handy sometimes."
"Aye, sir." It hadn't occurred to him that Miller would be looking at his students results alphabetically. Chekov had somehow always thought that things were done by service number order, but he'd never been one to organize a training course of any kind. He wondered how the alphabet worked when dealing with members of truly different species but supposed phonetics would come into play.
"Have a seat, son." He pointed at the chair again.
Chekov slid into it and found the chair was as comfortable as it looked, which he thought was odd, considering where he was and whose office he sat in. "Thank you, sir."
"I recall expressing some surprise when you requested to enrol in the course, Lieutenant." Miller leaned forward again, just a bit. "It's very rare to get a bridge officer interested in small unit tactics. I believe your words were something to the effect of 'a good officer should be well rounded.'"
Which rang a bell, and he still agreed. "It was a valuable experience, sir. Thank you for allowing me to participate."
Miller shook his head. "You did more than just participate, Mister Chekov." He glanced at the pad on his desk. "Actively soliciting advice and assistance from your classmates. Studying classical and modern texts in your off hours. Offering assistance to others at the potential expense of your own scores." He looked back up. "These are all comments in the file from your instructors during the past several weeks."
"I- thank you, sir." Embarrassing praise, but he thought he managed to keep the colour from his cheeks, at least.
But Miller shook his head again. "I'm not finished, Lieutenant. In the final practical, you were one of only five team leaders to think of hacking into the base computer system in advance to find out exactly where the Ambassador was held, and the only one to put a phaser in the Ambassador's hand to have extra firepower to facilitate reaching the extraction point."
"Knowing Mister Spock's capabilities, I may have had an unfair advantage in that regard, sir." He'd actually been shocked to find out the Vulcan Ambassador had been the first officer of the Enterprise, but it was a good surprise as far as he'd been concerned.
"Commander Spock was one of several volunteers to be an actor in the final scenario and we allowed him to be the prisoner in yours precisely because of your three plus years of service with him. It was considered a possibility that any friendship you might feel for a shipmate could potentially cloud your judgement once it was time for extraction."
"I don't see how it could, sir."
"No, maybe you wouldn't. Looking at your psych profile, I can see the possibility, but it never seemed in line with your displayed personality." Miller grinned suddenly. "I was personally impressed by how well you adapted to having a grouchy Tellarite non-com on your team. Not easy for most people."
"A little vocal, perhaps, but he has a surprising outlook on many things. I found Warrant Officer Grev to be a fine fellow, Colonel. Refreshingly pleasant."
Laughing, Miller slid back from the desk a little. "I may have to tell him you said that, Lieutenant, though I'm not sure how he'll react."
Chekov grinned back. "I'm fairly sure."
"In any case, you have done more than just participate. You scored the highest of any non-Security Fleet officer in the ten years this course has been offered at Starbase 67, and comfortably in the top two percent overall. The appropriate notations have been made in your dossier."
Now he couldn't keep the flush out of his cheeks. Having no duties while the Enterprise was in dry dock, he'd applied himself completely to the course and had hoped to do well, but didn't think he'd possibly score so high, particularly considering the general competence of the marine officers he'd seen around him. He expected he'd approach things very differently due to his very different career path, but fully expected that to make things more difficult for him. "Thank you, sir. And, as I said, thank you for allowing me to participate."
"I'm glad you showed the interest, Lieutenant. You were a valuable addition to the course and there might be a few tweaks to happen going forward." Insert some kind of emotive action here. "It's traditional for graduates of the course to take a turn as actors or even instructors in the next round or two, depending on their deployment. That's often particularly difficult for Fleet officers, but I hope you'll keep it in mind if you're ever in the neighbourhood again."
Miller stood and Chekov followed suit. "Thank you, sir. I would be honoured."
The marine commander extended a hand. "And let me offer my personal congratulations. I hope what you've learned here will help you in your time on the Enterprise and further in your career."
Chekov found the handshake warm and firm, and he returned it as best as he was able. "Thank you again, sir. I'm certain it will." Not that open combat was something he normally found on a landing party, but there had been a few moments in the past several years and could easily be again. Even if he never found himself in a situation that warranted it, he still felt that no time spent learning or improving skills was ever wasted.
*
There was no place to drink like a Starbase bar filled with uniforms.
Chekov could, and did, drink anywhere with anyone, and he held his alcohol with the best of them, but enjoying a well-earned beverage surrounded by other service members brought a comfort to the process he didn't feel very often. Starbase 67, being a forward base very close to the Klingon border, had a larger Marine contingent than bases not so near a hostile power, so the uniform mix was a bit different than he was used to, but that just made conversation more interesting. This particular bar seemed just noisy enough to make the background music fade into an indistinct audio blur.
Lieutenant Zhenko raised his glass, filled with something a little on the green side. "To graduation!"
Chekov, along with two other classmates, raised his glass. "Graduation!" He took a big mouthful of vodka, enjoying the cold bite against his taste buds and the pleasant burn as the liquid made the trip to his stomach.
Ensign Oddell smiled as she lowered her beer, raising an eyebrow at the man across the table. "Sure you want to be hanging out with us Fleet weenies, Lieutenant?"
Morrison, in the odd, almost-camouflage patterned Marine dress grey tunic shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. "Why not? The three of you survived Tactics III. You're all honorary marines now."
Zhenko grunted. "I'm not sure whether to be happy or insulted?" He set his glass down and leaned on both elbows, carefully avoiding any condensation rings.
Not quite willing to surrender his glass to gravity, Chekov took another sip and swallowed quickly. "I'm sure." He grinned as much at the reactions around him as at the secret of the repeated joke.
The other two Starfleet officers laughed, but Morrison shook his head and held up a hand. "There is no higher compliment I could possibly bestow. Besides, I'll be spending a lot of time with Fleet weenies for the next couple of years."
"And why's that, Mr. Morrison? Slumming?" Zhenko bit down on his cheek from the inside, maybe trying to control the grin a bit.
"No, Lieutenant, because I'll be commanding the Marine contingent that's about to be stationed aboard the USS Marathon."
Reaching across the table, Chekov tried to grab his friend's hand for a shake. The marine didn't hesitate in a firm grip. "That is excellent news, Kristofer. Congratulations!"
"Thank you, Pavel. At least someone has my best interests at heart."
Oddell raised her glass in salute. "When did you find out?" The sip she took was quick, though.
With a shrug, Morrison reached for his own again. "My orders were waiting for me when I got back to my quarters after my course debrief with Colonel Miller. It's going to be weird, stuck on a ship for longer than it takes to get from one place to another, especially something that size."
"The Marathon is a Larson class destroyer, is it not? I was not aware they carried troops." Actually, Chekov thought it was something typical of only the largest ships, aside from a few specialized cruisers.
Oddell shrugged. "It's a pilot project. A dozen or so ships in the class have been designated line units and are having their passenger cabins replaced with destroyer-sized crew cabins to bunk a platoon of marines." She looked around at the sudden stares of her drinking companions. "Oh didn't I mention? I'll be joining the Marathon as Security 2IC when it arrives next week."
Morrison's eyes lit up, and Chekov wondered if he read too much into the expression. "That's great, Kezia. It'll be nice to know someone on board, even if she is a Fleet weenie."
"Gee, thank so much. Considering we'll outnumber you about six to one."
"Federation Marines are never outnumbered."
She stuck her tongue out at the marine before looking away. "You're staying with Enterprise, Pavel?"
"I certainly hope so. Colonel Miller certainly didn't say anything about new orders and I do not have any desire for a transfer at this time."
Zhenko nodded his agreement. "From a Constitution cruiser? Who would? Especially the Enterprise. But I'd guess you're almost the only one in the course who isn't coming out of it with new orders."
"Where are you headed then, Marlowe?"
"Deep Space One. Just about as far from everything as you can get. I'm hitching a ride on the Sagan, day after tomorrow. The frontier. The far frontier. Technically along the Romulan border, but so far out they haven't shown any interest in local space, yet."
"Well, seems like a lot of excitement in store for everyone." Morrison raised his glass for another toast. "New adventures."
Chekov couldn't help but join in. "New adventures." Glasses clinked together and he had another sip. Before he managed to lower it again, Oddell nodded to get his attention.
"So what's it like on Enterprise, Pavel?"
He hated that question. "I'm not sure I know how—" And was suddenly saved from any more details in answering it by the appearance of the course coordinator, Lieutenant Commander Sarin.
"Excuse me. I hope I am not interrupting your celebration." The typically impassive Vulcan expression seemed to subtract the little intonation Chekov normally expected to find in the words.
"Not at all, Commander." Awkwardly, Zhenko gestured to the tiny space still available at the table, a stool shoved underneath probably noticeable to no one but a Vulcan. "Would you, um, like to join us?"
Sarin shook her head. "It is a considerate offer, Lieutenant, but no thank you. I was merely passing by and recognized several voices present. I thought it might be an opportune moment to congratulate the four of you in person. Each of you exceeded my expectations for the course and I expect you to continue to do so as you return to active service."
Chekov fought the urge to whistle. In the 12 years since Sarin had graduated from the Vulcan Science Academy, she'd served for five as a liaison and observer to the Marine Corps Training Command before spending a full five-year tour as a junior officer on an advanced exploration cruiser. The Commander's braids might have been fairly fresh, but Sarin had the experience to back them up. "That is high praise, ma'am. Thank you."
A slightly stuttered chorus of, "Thank you, ma'am," followed.
Sarin nodded. "It is well-deserved, Lieutenant. All of you. That is all I came to say. I do not wish to intrude further. Please enjoy your evening. Live long and prosper." She held up a Vulcan salute. The group chorused a second round of thanks and Chekov barely stopped himself from what he thought might be the traditional response of, "Peace and long life." It would have seemed weird, somehow, when he'd never said it to Mr. Spock.
All four of them watched the Vulcan walk through the light crowd and out of the bar into the corridor, no one managing to find any words until Oddell finally gave voice to the collective feeling. "Wow."
Shaking his head, Morrison reached for his glass again, wrapping a hand around it without lifting it to his mouth. "Recognized our voices walking by the bar? Good thing we weren't trying to pass notes in class."
Three of them laughed, but Chekov merely shrugged. "I assumed we all knew better with a Vulcan instructor."
"I think you've got an advantage there, Pavel. There aren't all that many Vulcans in Starfleet and most of them are on research vessels."
He reached for his own glass. "I suppose that's true. I hadn't really thought about it." A sudden flashback to the Intrepid. He wasn't sure if that made an argument for or against integration, though he generally thought mixed crews were a very good idea to keep people well aware that there were other viewpoints than their own. The Federation was a big place with many peoples in it. He watched Morrison lifting his glass, and felt another toast coming on.
"Well, with the strong words of approval from our senior instructor, exciting assignments ahead, and plenty of drinks available. I do believe we have adequate reason to celebrate. The frontier!"
Glasses clinked together, and they repeated the toast. The vodka still felt pleasantly warm on the way down.