Thrusters In Station Keeping
Posted on 02/15/2020 @ 10:37pm by Lieutenant JG Salynn Oram
Edited on 02/15/2020 @ 10:49pm
It didn't look like a department head's office at the moment. In fact, it didn't look like an office at all. That's because there was a greasy, half fused thruster valve from a Type 10 shuttlecraft strewn across the desk. The woman behind the desk looked like a mechanic, with dirty overalls half-off and a halo of unkempt hair framing a grease-streaked face, nearly obscuring her spots that radiated down from her temples. Sal Oram had bitten off more than she could chew, and she needed a break.
"Computer, start recording. Chief Conn Officers Log, Stardate... wait, computer, do you recognize conn officer, or do I have to say Helm officer, or flight control officer, or what?"
The chirruped a discordant tone, which to the mind of one who liked to anthropomorphize inanimate objects, sounded like a haughty retort. "Flight control, helm, and conn are all analogous terms for the same duty post. They can be used interchangeably for both personal recordings and for official computer queries and commands."
Sal rolled her eyes, not that the computer cared one whit about her exasperation, even if it had the capacity to care in the first place. "Fine. Computer, start over."
"Chief Flight Control Officer's Log, Stardate... damn, what's the stardate? Computer, add a timestamp after recording is completed. We need a shuttlebay manager. Or, more precisely, I have to remember that I'm a better pilot than an engineer, and stop trying to do it all myself. One of the support craft pilots told me about a problem with one of the Type-10s, and I was all like 'Yeah, I can take care of that!' Turns out I can't. Also turns out I have some to learn about delegating.
There might even be a shuttlebay manager assigned to the Crazy Horse, a CPO that I've missed in my mad dash from one corner of the shuttlebay to the other. How would I know, I haven't even tried to lead the department yet!"
Sal wiped her hands on a dirty rag, throwing it in the corner of the office and grabbing a cup of coffee that was about two hours past steaming. It had resurrected itself as the worst cup of stewed tepid sludge it could ever have hoped to be. It was delicious. With her feet up on the desk, she continued dictating.
"Those I have met in the department so far are all good officers and enlisted crew. If things run smoothly in Flight Ops for the foreseeable future, it will be due mostly to these fine folk rather than my leadership skills. There's a certain... carefree aspect to piloting, the visceral response to just making sure that you have the bow pointed in the right direction and a steady hand on the throttle. It's not easy to fly a starship, but compared to running a department? Well, let's just say I wouldn't be able to turn a ship to port if I was focused on minute input control to ventral Reaction Control Thruster section 12, cluster 4. I need to bring that mindset into my new role. Sure, I'm a good pilot, but that's not why I got this position, and it won't keep me in this position if I can't allow myself to see the forest for the trees. Now I know why Olixia preferred the kitchen."
Olixia, the host of the Oram symbiont immediately prior to Salynn, still had the strongest influence in her mind of the previous hosts. Olixia ran a bakery for a good portion of her life, and excelled at it. She even had a staff that she had to direct, which was lost on Sal during her internal course correction.
"Computer, end recording." Sal had just needed to verbalize the bad habits she had started to form in her first few days on the Crazy Horse. The ship launched on its inaugural mission in just a few days, and Sal was determined to ensure that her department would be ready. That started from the top down, with proper leadership... and proper delegation. She rose from her chair, stuck her head out the door of her office, and spied the pilot she had most recently spoken to. "Hey, Ensign! Come here!"
The ensign approached with trepidation, not assuaged by the smirk on the Trill's dirt-streaked face. He contemplated the strewn parts on the desk that Sal indicated with an outstretched arm. "I changed my mind," asserted Sal. "Get an engineer in here to collect these and get that Type-10 back online. Then post a notice in the flight lounge, I want a list of flight proficiency dates from the support craft roster. Finally, find out for me who is the shuttlebay manager and let them know they can check in with me at 0800 hours tomorrow, right here. Got that all?"
The pilot seemed taken aback by the laundry list of tasks, but nodded all the same. Sal clapped him on the shoulder, and with a whistled jaunty tune she strolled along the gangway overlooking the shuttlebay to go to her quarters to freshen up. She had a department to run, and she was going to look the part.
OFF
LtJG Salynn Oram
Chief Helm Officer
USS Crazy Horse
