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Posted on Mon Dec 15th, 2025 @ 3:59am by Lieutenant JG Miles Mercer

663 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: 1 - Third Contact
Location: Various
Timeline: --tbd--

On:

There was a saying in Starfleet intelligence, Wait long enough and you'll be reassigned. Miles had served his time to this point behind a desk missing out on much of the Dominion war fighting. His job wasn't glamourous, as he picked up his bag, he looked at the pad that held his orders, USS Quebec he smiled, he'd been to Quebec city on a couple of occasions, the mixture of architectural styles, people and other things made the memory feel pleasant, he picked up a picture, it as of his brother and him on graduation day from the academy. He it on top of his belongings closing it.

As he turned to exit his office, he looked back one final time shaking his head, he was out. Intelligence was downsizing analysis's in the post war era, and to be honest he needed the change, he came back after a brief and much needed vacation he spent another three years in limbo waiting for his orders to ship out, going from one meaningless project to another he gladly took the next assignment. He'd never been aboard a Parliament Class ship so it was going to be an experience in that aspect, turned off the lights of his former office, as he walked down the hall he ran into another intel type, "Shipping out?" he asked

"Yeah, I got the Quebec." Miles commented.

"Nice, third contact jobs, engineering, maybe some good hands on stuff beats being stuck behind a desk these days." the man commented.

"Yeah, it's time to get out there maybe do some good in a better way." Miles said, "What about you?"

"The Wellington for the peace keeping force then some space station." the other man commented.

The two men shook hands as walked in separate directions, as he stepped out on to the grounds of Starfleet head quarters he looked up at the natural sunlight, "Mercer to orbital ops, one to beam up."

====

The Starbase travel level was busy even for this particular time of day, Miles was hoping he could hop a ride with a California class ship that would be passing close too his new assignment, no luck, the closest ships were an Excalibur class ship that was on a direct travel plan and couldn't take him even close too the Quebec was a transport that was going to be in that specific sector was an Iris Class transport, the ship wasn't much for creature comforts as he laid his bag on the bunk he looked around the space, it wasn't really a room, Iris class ships are not designed with creature comforts in mind, four bunks, a common area that had a limited replicator selection and not much else.

He took a seat at the small table, he began reading the mission profile after a few sentences he froze, 'These California class ships are crewed by idiots!' he thought to himself, then again they'd probably look at his title and freak out, intelligence officers were met with either total contempt from those who'd survived some disaster or had won some victory and felt they owed every intel type a drink or twenty. He closed the report and went back too his bunk laying back.

Miles rolled over looking at the time displayed on his pad, he was about three hours from his final destination he rolled out of the bunk and staggered his way too the rest facilities to clean up. As he exited the lavatory he pulled a clean uniform shirt over his head only to be interrupted comm system, =^="Mr Mercer we've caught up with the Quebec!"=^= the voice called out

"Give me two minutes and I'll beam over." he said as he adjusted his uniform shirt and picked up his bag, he walked down the short corridor too the five pad transporter room, "One to beam over."

End.

Lt jg Miles Mercer
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Quebec

 

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