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The Big Change-over

Posted on Sat Apr 22nd, 2023 @ 9:39pm by Ensign Jyl-eel Tor & Petty Officer 1st Class Amber Hartree & Petty Officer 2nd Class Joselyn Brand
Edited on on Sat Apr 22nd, 2023 @ 9:40pm

Mission: On the Road Again
Location: Non-Commissioned Residence
Timeline: Mission Day 2 at 0700

[NCO Quarters]
[Deck Six]
[MD 02: 0700 Hours]

"Seeing it for myself," Tor said, casting her hazel eyes around the hallway, "It's a little... Spartan I think the Earth word is?" The plump Botanist was sitting on a lower bunk of a two by two cubicle, with the same directly across the corridor-like structure. A pair of Petty Officers strolled past Tor's line of sight and she craned to see where they'd come from. It appeared to be a public shower of some kind. "You sort of live in a hallway?"

Amber Hartree secured up her jumpsuit version of the uniform and was about to reply. She started fixing her rank insignia to her shoulder when the doors to the outside corridor hushed open. The pale-to-the-point-of-blue Joselyn Brand stepped inside. "Belay that attire, Yeoman." Brand said with her traditionally sour, pinched look.

"... What?" Amber asked- that was, especially from Brand, a strange deadpan.

Brand drummed fingers on the back of her PADD. "Its that time."

"Time for...?" Tor played along, her eyesight angled up at the Lunar. Brand swept harshly at her PADD face like she was brushing away an insect. The PADD's edge went alight in cool white and projected an image. The projection was holographic, typically of a slightly inferior quality compared to the Holodeck. A female Starfleet officer stood relaxed with hands at their sides. And at first little seemed amiss. But their rank pips were suspiciously absent on their shoulder- and that drew eyes to the only other traditional spot in Starfleet. That was the neck. There was no banded collar.

Tor and Hartree's eyes scanned the other changes- double breasted. Black turtleneck. Where Tor winced was the shortness of the tunic. "Please tell me there's a Skant version?"

Brand wrinkled her nose, "Sort of."

"Did they change the cadets too?" Hartree asked to which Brand shook her head.

"No, they're still in that grayish onesie with the collar and the off-kilter shoulders." Brand said. "Just officers and non-commissioned."

Tor, still staring at the new reality, rested her chin on her palm, "Good. Some cadets look good in that onesie. In that-" and Tor circled her open hand at the seat region of the image. "Area."

Hartree joined Brand in wrinkling her nose. "Moving past that," Brand sighed curtly, and mirrored the Valt's hand move at the seat, "Image I don't need." Tor smiled like a pleased cat. "Same commbadge. Same pips, relocated. You're expected to make the changeover while on duty."

Hartree sighed and unzipped her single breasted jacket, shouldering it off. "It's nice to know Starfleet Material and Supply is looking out for our welfare. We're all wearing the same pajamas."

Brand smirked coolly, her nose twitching. "At least its not those maroon... things," she made a hand gesture that, although inhibited by her PADD, imitated projectile vomit.

Hartree had dropped into a sit with Tor and was wedging off her ankle boots. "Very Retro. I wouldn't mind. The whole fleet's on a retro-kick at the moment. Excelsior II's, Ambassador retrofits. There's a big rumor that they're bringing back the four-nacelle design for some scout class. Maybe it'll be a Centaur II."

"Mmm," Brand made the noise noncommittally. "Kotri was moaning about the phasers we're supposed to get next time we put in to Pathfinder Station. They won't fit the Armory's configuration."

"I'd like one of those old-fashioned tricorders," Tor said dreamily, "Like those you have a strap for and can put on your hip. That's the image of Starfleet you see on Valt."

Brand made a noise in her throat. "Anyway. To get back on topic. The matrices are in the garment replicators. So... suit up." And with that she withdrew.

"You know," Jyl-eel stretched. "I think I prefer ranks on my shoulder. Attaching metal pips to something thin on my neck in the morning," she shook her head. "They're usually kind of cold."

Hartree shivered. "Yech. Yeah. The morning kiss from a cold fish. Can you imagine what it must be like for t'Nai or Kodak? More pips, colder, wider wake up."

Tor chuckled. She slow nodded. "Alright let's... try this." The Valt's nose had its turn at wrinkling. "I don't like turtlenecks. They're fine for people like you... Noah... that Orion pilot.. Irynya. But some of us have short necks."

"The washroom is through there. The garment replicator is inside," Hartree pointed. Tor stood up, lips pursed in the beginnings of a shaking head and a "No." "Huh uh. I have my own bathroom in my quarters. I'll change in there. See you at Lunch?"

Hartree nodded. "Lunch. 1200 hours, the Pool."

Tor did a flip of a joke salute and headed out the same set of doors that Brand had.


A Post By

Yeoman Joselyn Brand
Chief Yeoman

Yeoman Amber Hartree
Medical Yeoman

Ensign Jyl-eel Tor


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