A Changing Guard

Posted on Sat Jun 10, 2017 @ 8:44pm by Master Chief Petty Officer Thomas Barnes & Commodore Michael Aravan

Mission: Shore Leave
Location: Starfleet Headquarters, Earth
Timeline: MD 13 || 0900 Hours

Command Master Chief Petty Officer Lars Xoro, a blue-skinned Bolian male who looked as if he had spent the great majority of his career in a war zone as testified the the look in his eyes and the scars which criss-crossed his skin, looked at the PADD which had been brought to him by an aide. He frowned as he skimmed through the PADD and then pressed a button on his desk. "Get the others," he said simply. Any time those three words were uttered, there was no ambiguity on what he meant.

Soon, five other Master Chief Petty Officers gathered in a room and Xoro distributed copies of the PADD to the others. "It seems that one of our own has been noticed," he said. "As such, it's up to us to make a determination of what is going to happen next. Ladies and gentlebeings, let the board come to order."

The other MCPO's settled down in their chairs and began to review the information given to them by the Command Master Chief. Murmurs came from each of them, but other than that, the room was silent as they scrutinized the information

Ten minutes passed with a great deal of computer access occurring before Xoro looked at the others. "Well?" he asked, being a Bolian of few words.

MCPO Silen was the first to speak, his tone as dry as the sands of his home planet of Vulcan. "He has the time," he observed. "Do we wish to add another to our ranks? His service record seems erratic."

A human female looked over at Silen. "The life of an enlisted is no different than the records for the rest of us," she stated.

A rather short Betazoid male arched a thin eyebrow. "Be that as it may, we have a specialist in the field of transporter operations already."

"None that went through the Dominion War and lived to tell about it," Xaro noted. "We could use that experience."

An Andorian Zhen cleared her throat. "I note that he's serving on the USS Triumphant as the Chief of Operations. It is admirable that one of our own has achieved department head status."

"They were probably desperate," a Tellarite male grunted. "The ship has gone through several department heads and was sent out before it was ready more than once. Now it's in port getting repairs."

"He's completed all the required training and he has time in grade," Xaro stated. "He has no black marks on his record, and he's proven himself to be very useful several times over according to his record, including the most recent as noted by his Commanding Officer, who recommended him for promotion."

Another thirty minutes went by before a decision was reached. The Command Master Chief counted the votes that were given in secret and then pressed a button on his desk. "Have Senior Chief Petty Officer Thomas Barnes report," he told his aide.

===USS Triumphant===

"Incoming message for Chief Barnes," Ben Efits said as he was thinking about shore leave. Before he could do that, though, he had a ton of PADDwork to turn in and several other duties before he could find a nude beach and relax under the warm rays of Sol. He transferred it to wherever the Chief of Operations was and headed to finish his own duties.

===Transporter Room===

Tom, clad in typical beach gear, entered the transporter room with sunscreen already applied and a duffel bag around his shoulder. Maddy had already gone ahead to Tahiti, which worked out just fine since Tom had a few loose ends aboard the ship to tie up. He'd just finished that all up, and now he planned to join her.

"Chief," said the transporter operator, waving him over to the controls. "A message just came through for you."

Of course it did, thought Tom. He approached the panel and looked down. All he could do was sigh. "I'll be back," he said, his tone dejected. He left the room and returned ten minutes later. The sunscreen had been removed, and his beach gear exchanged for a uniform.

"Petty Officer Lantree," Chief Barnes said, straightening his posture and wondering what this all was about. "One to beam to Starfleet Headquarters. Permission to disembark."

"Granted, sir," said the Petty Officer, reaching for the controls. Tom was immediately surrounded by iridescent light. His surroundings shone blue and morphed into a transporter pad at Starfleet Command.

A Yeoman in Command red stood there with a PADD and looked at it, then at the man who had just beamed in. "Senior Chief Petty Officer Barnes?"

"That's me," Tom said, stepping down off the pad. "I don't suppose you know what this is about, do you?"

"No, Sir," the Yeoman, a female human, said. "If you'll follow me, Chief." She turned and headed down the corridor to a turbolift and waited for him as she entered her authorization code.

Tom followed her down the corridor and stood beside her as she worked the control panel. His eyes wandered around the room, and all he could think was about how magical a place Tahiti was.

The Yeoman entered the turbolift. "Section seventeen," she said. "Recognize Chief Petty Officer Deliah Breel."

"Chief Petty Officer Breel recognized," the female voice of the computer responded before the turbolift set in motion. In no time at all, it came to a halt again and the door opened. The Yeoman stepped out and headed down another corridor before she stopped in front of a door simply labeled CMC Xaro on it in embossed lettering.

"Step right in, Chief," Breel said as she stepped aside. "You're expected."

Expected? Tom thought. He had caught the Yeoman's rank when he'd beamed down. In another time, he might have struck up a conversation with her during the walk and might have even asked her out for a drink afterwards. All he could think about was getting this over with and meeting up with Maddy. "Thank you, Chief," Tom said, before stepping up to the door. Tom took a deep breath and pressed the chime.

The door swished open silently to reveal a spartan office with a desk with a chair in front of it and one behind it that was occupied by an older Bolian male with the rank insignia of Command Master Chief. He rose to his feet and came out from behind his desk to extend his hand. "Welcome to Starfleet Headquarters, Senior Chief Petty Officer Barnes," he said. "I'm Command Master Chief Xaro."

Tom plastered a smile of his own on his face. "Pleased to meet you, sir." He approached the CMC and shook Xaro's hand. "I must say, sir, I was surprised to hear that you wanted to see me, sir."

Xaro's grip was nearly crushing before he released Tom's hand and he went back behind his desk. "It usually is a surprise when personnel get called here," he said. "Your file came across my desk this morning. Have a seat, Barnes."

"My file, sir?" Tom asked, accepting the invitation to sit. "Am I in some sort of trouble, Command Master Chief?"

"Depends on what you call trouble, Barnes," Xaro said. "And drop the damned title here. It's just Xaro. Takes too much time to get the rest out. Your Commanding Officer put you in for consideration, Barnes and it brought your record to the attention of the Promotion Board. Have you ever sat in a meeting with a Tellarite, a Betazoid, a Vulcan, a human, an Andorian and a Bolian?"

"Tom, sir," he replied with a smile, thankful to be rid of protocol, at least for the time being. "And, I can't say I have. I can say that I've had the pleasure of teaching the same group of species and more in Operations and Transporter school. It's a... unique challenge trying to educate different species all at once."

"It's a pain in the ass is what it is," Xaro grunted. "Even more so when the Promotion Board is called in." He pulled up a file and looked at the screen, then over it at Barnes. "You have twenty-two years of experience as a grunt, Barnes. Twenty-two and a long career behind you. How long do you plan to keep going?"

Tom smiled. "As long as Starfleet lets me," he simply replied. "I love it out there. Exploring strange new worlds and such. I don't have any aspirations other than keep doing whatever is required of me."

Xaro nodded. "Well, Tom, I'm glad to hear that even if you aren't," he said. "We yelled at each other for an hour and there's only one thing that came up which prevented us from leaving you where you're at for the time being. Your commanding officer put you in for a promotion and normally, that's not enough for us to consider since most Captain's try to get uppity with the ranks of their department heads."

"However, it seems that Aravan has recently fallen foul of a promotion himself," Xaro continued. "Which means his recommendation has a lot more pull and caused more of a debate in its wake. That means you are now illegally wearing the wrong rank on your collar, Master Chief Barnes."

During Xaro's explanation, Tom's smile slowly faded, reappeared, and wavered. He wasn't seeking a promotion, in fact, he'd never sought one aside from the regular testing that he'd performed over the years. After, who all would allow a thirty-year old Crewman?

Ignoring the fact that Xaro had just called the rank insignia on his collar illegal, Tom asked, "Captain Avaran got promoted? To what, sir? Does this mean he's off the Triumphant?"

"You couldn't be so lucky, Barnes," Xaro said. "He's now head of whatever task force you're in or something like that, but he's still your commanding officer on Triumphant. Commodore Aravan will fill you in on that." He reached into his desk and pulled out a small box to hand to Tom. "Here you go. Don't let it go to your head because it'll soon be too full of headaches and bureaucracy once you settle into your new rank."

Tom was thankfully relieved that he wouldn't be reassigned as a part of this, but he could only wonder what sort of escapades the Triumphant would be on with a Commodore at the conn. "I can't imagine it's any worse than it is now," he said a bit tongue in cheek. "Thank you, sir."

"Just wait until you're called back to Earth to step in and fill one of our shoes," Xaro grunted. "Master Chief's don't grow on trees and one day, you'll be hanging the hat of some Admiral or grousing at some Senior Chief who's about to be promoted. That, and being neck deep in PADDs every single day to the point where you may begin to suspect that it would be easier to let them bury you instead of trying to dig your way out. Now put on that new tab and get back to doing what you were doing."

"Looking for a replacement that quickly?" Tom asked. He accepted the box and began the process of switching out the tab.

"No chance," Xaro said. "Don't think you're that lucky. It takes a special breed to be here at HQ. First, you have to piss off the wrong Admiral, then you have to kiss the right Admiral's behind. You also have to be a glutton for punishment, be a telepath, see the future and get things done before you're asked for them. Can you do all of that?"

"That's quite the job description," Tom said with a smile. Whether or not he could do it was irrelevant. If this promotion was already hotly debated, then it'd be best to keep a low profile until such a time ever arose. "Honestly, sir, I have a keen sense of adventure. I plan to be out among the stars for as long as possible."

"Then make yourself indispensable to your Commanding Officer," Xaro suggested. "Not many get to serve under a active ship commander who's a Commodore. When he makes Admiral, they're going to try to shove him behind a desk and if that happens, go with him or risk breaking in someone else."

He smiled and nodded, having finished replacing the tab. He placed the retired insignia in the box and closed it. These normally weren't returned, so he held the small box with both hands in his lap. "Consider it done, sir."

"Good," Xaro said. "Now get out of my office. You've taken up enough of my day. Remember, one day you may be in my shoes and I don't envy you. Congratulations, Master Chief Barnes."

Tom rose from his seat and stood at attention for a moment. "Thank you, sir." With that, he performed a perfect about face and departed the office. He thought about heading back to the ship, but there was a small appeal in beaming straight to Tahiti just the way he was. He could pick up what he needed on the way.