Mixed Review

Posted on 16 Sep 2022 @ 11:37pm by Commander Calliope Zahn & Ensign Marcello Wiser & Lieutenant JG Maxwell Tilmer
Edited on on 15 Oct 2023 @ 7:37pm

Mission: M3 - Into the Deep
Location: Holodeck, Pathfinder
Timeline: MD 06 afternoon
2091 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure

The holodeck door was in the same place, looking as benign as it had yesterday, but Marcello nonetheless trudged towards it with a weary step and, pausing, brushed some fine dust off of his shoulder which puffed into a little cloud of particles in his wake. He'd been standing in a supply hold down the hall, waiting for the sensors to show the rest of his team of Ensigns were assembled before he made his own arrival. Everything he had to say would only be more difficult if he had to make small talk before delivering it.

And now they were all inside. Waiting on him. They were probably having a good heckling too, likely at his expense. He knew a few of them could be especially cruel as long as they got the laugh they were after, and now he was feeling foolish for participating in their mockery in the past. One more inhale, and one more exhale and Marcello held the review padd up against his chest, like a small buckler to shield him from the arrows sure to rain.

"Look who finally decided to show up." The stout Bolian woman punched Wiser in the shoulder as he entered the holodeck and passed by her first. He resisted the reflexive urge to wince. She really had an arm on her.

"Hey Cello!" Max called out. "Did you get lost somewhere between decks three and four?"

"I saw him walk into a supply closet down the hall," the flaxian pilot, Zletze, claimed.

Ensign Wonai quirked her head, the twist of fine braids piled up on top shifting a little with the curious tilt. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, I came in from lift C, and he was darting into it."

"Cello," Max Tilmer was belly laughing. "Did you walk into a supply closet thinking it was the holodeck and start pep talking a bunch of cleaning bots?"

"He's a pilot, what can you expect?" The Ferengi Ensign, Jup, said between snorting laughter.

"Yeah he's— hey wait. I'm a pilot," Zletze stopped himself mid chuckle in realization, and everyone had a secondary laugh at his expense.

"Alright, alright," Wiser said, unsure how to get his friends to take him seriously. "Let's get this done before Commander Zahn arrives. I have everyone's reviews. Sabba," He called out, picking someone easy to review first. She was still smiling from their fun, but loosely presented herself with some decorum. It wasn't hard to do. Ensign Sabba was a sturdy bolian woman capable of rolling with Klingons on the mat. If Wiser was honest with himself, he was a little intimidated by her. "Your response times were all excellent, you have good recall on all tactical systems, and you've got the right mix of leadership and support skills. Frankly, there's not a fight I wouldn't go into without you, Sabba." He listed off her scores and everything was nearly perfect. Sabba nodded proudly, accepting her review. She never seemed to have trouble handling praise, either. Wiser could tell from the jockular body language of the rest of this team that they expected the whole process to go as smoothly for them.

He moved on. "Ensign Zletze, good work at helm. For the most part I couldn't have done better myself. You're great at taking direction and at coordinating with Ops and tactical. You're communicative, alert, and efficient. My only input would be that you should push the limits a little more. When measures are desperate you don't have to be as worried about taxing the margins."

Zletze looked a little taken aback by that, thinking he had pushed the envelope, but even he knew that the red bars scared him and he was worried about burning systems out since he had limited faith in his judgement when the instrumentation was blaring warnings.

"What do you want me to do about it?" Zletze snarked.

Wiser took the comment seriously, however. "I'd say more simulator time, especially on the Intrepid. Not all helms respond the same, you already know that. You need to marry knowledge and sensory feedback for the class you're flying. Bone up on the flight manual and know the limits and what the engine, maneuvering, and power tolerances really are, as opposed to what the computer is crying about."

"Okay, Wiser." Zletze practically rolled his eyes as he gave his comrade a mock salute. But he was happy enough with his scores; the additional study, he had to admit, was necessary. He didn't resent it really, except for the fact that it was coming from Wiser.

Wiser walked past Wonai, leaving her wondering if she'd been overlooked, and coming instead to his friend and roommate, Max Tilmer. He started off by reading Tilmer his simulator scores, which were all high marks. Tilmer smirked like this was a dumb exercise. Of course his bridge scores were great. "Look, Max," Wiser said as he finished with the official metrics. He lowered his voice, even though he knew everyone there was honed in to listen. "You pass, okay, everything about the simulation performance was fine. But I've gotta tell you— You're sloppy on regular duty. You cut corners and skip stuff you don't think is worth your time. And that's gonna hurt later."

"Look Cello, you don't know anything about starship maintenance. You're just trying to find fault."

Wiser held out an accusing index finger, working on his courage to call out Tilmer. It was as difficult as talking to one of his older brothers. "You think you work hard. But you had orders from Commander Quinn to align all the power cycling nodes in grid B7, and I checked your work."

"You crawled through the entirety of the mezz on deck seven?"

"You only aligned the first and the last nodes, because you're smart and you know that's the only place the diagnostic sensors are set to sample detect. You left the other nodes between out of alignment. If I go check the rest of your work, what am I gonna find?" Wiser was visibly worked up and continued without giving Max any actual chance to reply. "How about this, you check your own work, Max. Everything you've been assigned to since we launched, and I won't have to file anything about you slacking off. Quit setting us up for failing by trying so hard not to do your job."

Leaving Max Tilmer fuming silently and shaking his head, Marcello moved to the Ferrengi. "Ensign Jop."

"Yes Sir?"

Marcello froze. He wasn't used to any of them calling him Sir. He felt something shifting between him and his friends and looked back over the row of them. He stood apart. It was obvious now. Marcello deflated slightly. "You did fine, Jop. Great marks. Good communication, excellent demonstration of skills with systems. Adapted well to change."

"I think I could complain less." Jop volunteered, eager to avoid Max Tilmer's fate and cut Marcello off at the pass and just evaluate himself instead. But Wiser didn't have any more detailed comments, it turned out, and as he moved away from the Ferengi, Jop decided he was fine with that. No news was good news in his book.

Wiser had his hand in his hair. There was still one evaluation left.

"What about me, Wiser?" Wonai asked, her arms folded, eyes blinking judgmentally behind the thickly painted makeup. "Did you forget my Eval?"

"You don't pass, Kaiki" He said quietly.

She started to chuckle. "Don't be silly, Marcello. I've already qualified. Just give me my marks from yesterday."

"You're no longer bridge qualified."

"You... you can't just revoke my qualifications."

"Your marks were low enough that I didn't have a choice. You wait until too late to run analysis when you should have it at the ready before it's called on, and you're not adapting to new situations. You just get hung up worrying about the ones that are no longer relevant. You don't pick up other duties when stations around you become unmanned... I could go on. Suffice to say, for the purposes of this mission, I'm requesting you be taken off of bridge duty and put back in lab rotation."

"I can't believe *you*, of all people, would do this to me, Wiser!" He had to know what the set back would look like on her record.

"I'm sorry, Kaiki, believe me, I didn't want to."

She didn't ask to be excused, but stormed off the holodeck. Wiser felt a shock-wave of betrayal in her eyes as she left and he knew it was unlikely they'd ever have another friendly conversation.

The doors closed behind her as Ensign Wiser muttered a "Sure, Wonai, you're free to go," and cleared his throat, just to make sure she hadn't technically done anything wrong by leaving abruptly.

Everyone stood silently for a much too prolonged time. Marcello could tell Max was siding with Kaiki Wonai's sentiments, only Max couldn't leave without risking Marcello marking him out. It was even worse holding Max on the bridge training team than it was releasing Wonai. At least that damage between them was over and done. Marcello was not just going to have to work with Tilmer in this mood now— he was going to have to share quarters for the remainder of the mission too.

The holodeck doors parted and an Orion in Command red entered via the arch which formed a door in the simulated bridge, making her appear to have just returned to her bridge post. They all straightened up and formed a neater line as she looked them over, some of them less disturbed in their countenance than others.

"You seem to be short a woman," Calliope observed, trying to keep her voice neutral, while secretly relieved.

"Ensign Wonai, Commander, was relieved from training exercises." Marcello passed the Commander the completed reviews... minus a record of Tilmer's sins outside of the simulation. Max still had a chance to redeem himself there. "Her scores from yesterday's simulations excluded her from bridge duty."

"Alright, then. This all looks to be in order. I noted each of you logged your personal messages for the flight box. I trust yours, Ensign Wiser, is just waiting to be logged tonight."

"Yes ma'am," Marcello said earnestly. He felt very curious what each of his friends had recorded and to whom they had addressed the notes. But he also felt it very unlikely any of them would actually talk to him about it over the next galley meal. He very much doubted any of them at all would even sit with him.

"Very good." Calliope tilted her chin up and spoke into the ether, the way that it always seemed to make sense to speak when addressing the disembodied voice of the ship's computer. "Computer, generate a junior officer for science station." A holographic man in teal science stripes appeared as if he had always been at the science station, entirely unconcerned with any other goings on.

Calliope looked Wiser in the face, taking him by one shoulder. "Now." She said, shaking his shoulder to try to instill new courage. "Now, you are ready to begin."

Marcello rolled his shoulder as the Commander released it, still sore from Sabba punching him. "Everyone..." he said, "Take your stations."

"Everyone but Wonai..." Tilmer took a verbal potshot via a grumble on his way past the command chair up to the auxiliary Engineering station.

For a moment, the two young men tracked each other's eyes with invisible beams, heads rotating to maintain the weapons lock as they moved. Marcello wasn't sure how to react in font of commander Zahn, as Max challenged him out in the open like that. But when he checked his periphery vision, Zahn seemed completely unconcerned. She hadn't heard the little snipe. Marcello broke eyeline first, giving Max the imaginary win for the moment. Meanwhile, Marcello consoled himself with the truth. Wonai was far from washed up. This early in her career she had more than enough runway ahead of her. She could achieve her own Command just like DeHavilland had in spite of her own setbacks. Or become an Admiral. Or run Daystrom someday. Become president. Who knew? All Wiser was sure of was that her future wasn't up to him. That was up to Wonai.

Quiet but sure, Marcello took his seat in the center of the bridge and awaited the next test.

Commander Zahn sneezed, and then brushed her hand off, unsure how she had picked up the fine dust. "Computer. Begin training simulation, Zahn Eleven-Seventeen-Delta..."