Chapter Text
Star Trek: First Duty
By Lord McCovey Cove
"Trial of Transfer"
Part One: De Novo
Starbase 8
In orbit of Memory Alpha
Main Landing Bay
January 16, 2318 (Stardate 138947.33)
The large transport shuttle Doubleday touched down on Starbase Eight, its reaction control thrusters firing with a resonating roar. Once the post-landing sequence finished, the egress doors to the rear slid open, allowing its passengers to disembark. Everyone departing the shuttle carried their personal effects in various forms of luggage, except for one: Lieutenant Commander Leo Verde.
Leo stepped down from the side doors, his gaze drawn to the gleaming gold and silver lettering above the bank of turbolifts, displaying the starbase's identification underneath the seal of Starfleet's Starbase Operations division. As he observed several people waiting for an open car to arrive, ready to whisk them away to parts unknown, his eyes wandered to the vast expanse of the landing bay spread out before him. Shuttles and personnel transports landing and lifting off, the entire bay bustling with activity, and the hum of energy permeating the air filled him with anticipation and excitement.
"Sir?" said a human petty officer second class, her black utility uniform showing her enlisted status. The Windsor green tabs on her shoulders revealed her membership in the local constabulary. Her sharp alto tone carried a touch of formality. "May I help you find your way?"
Leo, adorned in civilian attire for the long flight from Spacedock, responded with a toothy grin, his rich and smooth baritone voice exuding confidence. "Yes, please," he said as he reached into the inside pocket of his reddish-brown jacket and produced a tan folded case, unfolding it to reveal his office and rank, which he offered to the petty officer. "I'm new here, and I'm not sure where to go to report in."
The petty officer stiffened to attention upon realizing she addressed a badge-carrying officer. Her eyes fell on the display within the case, which showed Leo's name, role, and badge number. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize," she stammered, returning the case to him.
Leo accepted the case, placing it back inside his jacket with a light chuckle. "No apologies necessary; you weren't to know. I like to travel in comfort," he said with a soft pat against his jacket to show off his style.
Managing a slight grin, the petty officer gestured toward the central bank of lifts, her raised hand showing the way. "This late in the base's cycle, most of the command-level officers are asleep, sir. I would head toward the Quartermaster's and find the Billeting Office. The night duty officer will find you a place to rack out for the night. Take the lift down to level thirty-seven. Head toward section gamma; you'll see the big Q logo on the bulkhead to your left. Billeting's inside, to the right side; it'll have a big sign, you can't miss it."
"I will do that. Thanks for your help, Sheriff…" His voice trailed off, prompting for her name.
"Lois. Uh, Lois McLaren, sir. Master-at-Arms Second Class," she supplied, her tone now playful.
The mention of McLaren softened his reaction, as the surname also belonged to his mother. "Leo Verde," he replied, pronouncing his name as 'bear-day.' Tapping the top of his ID case, he added, "But you already saw that."
"Uh, yes, sir."
The conversation paused, and Leo held a frozen smile for a moment. "I should leave before this gets awkward," he admitted, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "See you around."
McLaren nodded once as he departed, her gaze lingering behind him, reflecting a mix of curiosity and anticipation. Leo entered the nearest open lift and verbally ordered his destination while peering at the base map on the rear bulkhead to orient himself with his new assignment. Upon it, he located the local JAG office, a veritable closet compared to the sizable headquarters of the Shore Patrol and the base's armory.
As Leo arrived at the entrance to the Quartermaster's section, his eyes swept across the expansive office, noting its three distinct areas. The atmosphere within changed from the bustling landing bay he left. The few people working in the office appeared unoccupied, their actions contrasting with the hectic energy he became accustomed to. Above the reception counter, a placard displayed the name "Billeting Office," its arched bulkhead casting a shadow over a bored-looking ensign who absentmindedly tapped on a PADD. The ensign's attire, an excursion jacket layered over a sky-blue turtleneck shirt, showed his affiliation with the special services division.
"Excuse me?" Leo's voice cut through the monotony, capturing the ensign's attention. Startled, the ensign's widened blue eyes darted upward, meeting Leo's gaze. Leo raised his hand in a gesture of apology. "Hey, I'm sorry. I'm reporting to my new job tomorrow, but I hoped to find a place to sleep tonight. My name is Lieutenant Commander Verde."
"Geez, sir. I wasn't expecting anyone this late," the ensign explained, his surprise clear in his tone. "Okay... spell that for me?" With Leo's compliance, the ensign redirected his focus to a nearby terminal, entering the information. "Okay, Verde. Right. One moment."
Leo nodded, finding solace in resting his hands atop the counter, his gaze wandering across the office. Amidst the paperwork and computer screens, he saw a weathered baseball occupying a small pedestal on the desk behind the counter. Though he couldn't discern the lettering on the base from his current position, Leo's lips curled into a smile as he appreciated the ubiquity of the item. The discovery of another baseball enthusiast sparked a surge of warmth within him, a shared connection that transcended the confines of formalities.
"Verde, okay, okay. I got you down on level sixteen, section bravo, number twenty-two," the ensign recited the details from the screen, his voice projecting a mix of professional efficiency and earnestness. "If you give me a moment, I'll inform the computer to activate your access."
"Hey, by chance, are you the baseball fan in the office?" Leo's curiosity permeated his words as he nodded toward the desk, his eyes upon the treasured baseball.
The ensign's attention shifted, his gaze drawn back to Leo's indicated spot. A softness crept into his voice, carrying the warmth of a shared passion. "That is indeed me. Been a fan since I was a little kid," the ensign replied, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he now gave Leo his undivided attention. "Baseball is an amazing sport. Shame they don't play it anymore."
Leo's eyes sparkled with delight, his natural wit and humor gleaming through his response. "I couldn't agree more. I was six when my parents showed me Willie Mays' catch during the 1954 World Series. Mays' sheer athleticism as he ran the ball down still resonates with me."
"Yes!" The ensign's voice brimmed with enthusiasm, his genuine passion breaking through. "If we're talking Giants, what about Thompson's home run in '51?"
Leo's tone turned reverent, his love for the game pouring forth. "The 'Shot Heard 'Round the World.' You know your history."
In that moment, the burdens of their respective roles fell away, replaced by a shared love for the sport. A respite from the monotony of duty unfolded as Leo and the ensign exchanged stories, reliving legendary moments and engaging in spirited debates over the game's intricacies. The connection forged in their mutual admiration for baseball revealed a more profound understanding—a recognition of the beauty and camaraderie that the sport brought into their lives.
The ensign's distracted air dissipated, replaced by a genuine warmth and camaraderie. "You know what, Commander? I may have a better berth for you. Some VIP quarters on the edge of the base have just become available. Level six. It's on the quieter side of the base. It'll be much more to your liking than slumming it down on sixteen."
Leo responded with a touch of humor, his sharp wit shining through. "Stop mining, you've hit dilithium!"
The ensign began changing the system, his fingers tapping away with purpose. "By the way, my name is Tom. Tom Maroni."
"I'm already more than pleased to make your acquaintance, Tom."
"Hey," Tom said, handing over Leo's new location on a chip, "you like poker?"
Leo's grin widened, his playful nature clear. "I've been known to hold 'em or fold 'em from time to time, yes." He placed the proffered chip into his pocket.
"Me and the flyboys have a regular weekly game going. You are most definitely invited, sir."
"Call me Leo," he replied, his hand waving nonchalantly. "And if you need anything, come find me on level four during office hours."
Curiosity shone in Tom's eyes as he contemplated Leo's suggestion. "Level four? Shore Patrol?"
Leo shook his head, a mischievous look in his eyes as he retrieved his badge for the second time since his arrival. Facing the inside of the case toward Tom, he revealed his true identity. "I'm with JAG. I'm going to be the new lawyer around here."
Tom's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a chuckle escaping his lips. The unexpected revelation added an extra layer of intrigue and amusement to their encounter. "It seems some rather interesting company has arrived on base. Welcome to the Crazy Eight, Leo."