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chaletianTitle: The Starfleet Annual Budgetary Memo: An Enterprise Tradition
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: Money makes the world go round (and keeps the Enterprise flying). Village!verse.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that even a Constitution-class starship needs to get its funding from somewhere. Warp drives do not, after all, grow on trees. (Well, not that they’ve ever found. Scotty has dreams about it, sometimes: they will beam down onto a planet of metal and levers and gears, and warp drives drip from overhanging branches and dilithium crystals dance in formation and sing happy, high-pitched songs about their shining blue glory. But it’s just a dream. (And only when there’s been cheese.)) And though Earth may be edging closer to social utopia, bureaucracy is still alive and well.
Year One
Chekov is eating breakfast in the mess when Captain Kirk slides into the seat opposite him. He looks up, a little warily. He has vague memories of an alcohol-fuelled evening during which he told Sulu at great length about his tragically doomed romance, and such evenings always seem to lead to the captain telling him a new story of high school passion gone awry.
“Keptin,” he says in greeting.
“Chekov!” says Kirk. “Quick question, whizz: if we undertook this mission at a speed averaging” – he checks his padd – “warp 2, how long would it take?”
Chekov stares at him. “Our… five year mission?” he clarifies. Kirk winds his finger encouragingly.
“Ballpark?”
Chekov is still staring, but he automatically calculates the answer. “Uh, about eighty years, keptin.”
Kirk stares back. He checks his padd. He nods a bit. “So,” he says eventually. “The crew all really like Enterprise, right?”
oOo
Scotty pats the warp console lovingly. “Don’t you listen to the captain, ma poor darling,” he croons. “He doesnae mean it.” He frowns suspiciously. “At least, he’d better no.”
oOo
McCoy finds Jim in his quarters, surrounded by Starfleet manual print-outs, padds, and even paper with some sort of prehistoric chicken scratchings on them which McCoy deduces is Jim’s handwriting.
“So, Jim,” he says, sitting on the bed, which happens to the only available surface, “how come half the crew thinks we’re gonna be out here for the rest of the century? Because I’m gonna be up front with you here and say I AM VERY MUCH NOT PREPARED TO DO THAT.”
Jim doesn’t even look up. “Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to replicate pecan pie?” he demands, scribbling down more figures.
“I like pie,” says McCoy fiercely. “Pie makes this tin can tolerable.”
Jim is clearly not listening, otherwise he wouldn’t have said what he says next. “I’m thinking of rationing it,” he says.
McCoy stands up. “Do that and I declare you unfit for duty,” he says. “Don’t push me, Jim, because I will crack like an old-fashioned lunatic and paint the walls of this miserable ship in blood!”
Jim looks up. He surveys McCoy, who is now actually, literally bristling with rage. “OK,” he says peaceably. “We’ll keep the pie.”
“Well, now,” says McCoy, sitting down and smiling. “That’s all right, then. So, where’s this penny-pinching coming from?”
Jim sits back, rummages through the paperwork on the floor, and pulls out a padd, passing it to McCoy.
“Starfleet Annual Budgetary Memo,” reads McCoy. He raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”
Jim shrugs. “Apparently, it’s this big deal. I have to do a review of ‘allocated resources’.” He frowns. “Y’know, I totally don’t remember this coming up at the Academy.”
“Sure you do,” says McCoy, tossing the padd back. “Starship Administration. Third year. Monday mor--- yeah, you probably don’t remember it.”
Jim sighs, and looks a little sad. “I really thought there’d be more sword fights in space and less paperwork,” he says.
“I wish there were,” lies McCoy. “But, hey, since you’re looking at resource allocation, we could really do with a few more things for Sickbay…”
Year Two
Yeoman Rand stands in the doorway, arms crossed, expression dubious.
“I don’t know, sir,” she says. “I never heard of anyone taking that memo too seriously.”
Kirk nods. “Yeah, so I found out.” He scowls a bit. Some of the other captains had ribbed him for a while over that one. How was he to know Starfleet issued the memos by rote, and ships in action were never expected to pay much attention? Unless it had been covered in that class Bones swore he took, in which case, fair enough.
“So, shall I tell everyone to calm down?” Rand asks.
Kirk just grins. “Aw, why spoil their fun?” he says. She shakes her head, and leaves him to his own devices.
oOo
Later, Gaila appears at the door of Jim’s quarters.
“Hey, Captain,” she murmurs, at her most sultry. “I wondered if you had a little time to discuss a small proposal Mr Scott has?”
Jim smiles sunnily at her. “By all means, Lieutenant. Shall we discuss it over dinner in the mess?”
oOo
“Uhura’s in Sickbay; McCoy’s with her; Scotty’s dealing with that tiny issue in the Jefferies tubes – nice work, by the way – and Spock’s trying to work out why the transporters aren’t working. We’ve only got a five minute window on that one, so we’ve got to make this snappy.” Sulu’s speaking quickly and quietly as he and Chekov half-walk, half-run to the observation deck.
Captain Kirk stands in front of the wide viewscreen, hands clasped behind his back. The room is otherwise empty. Sulu and Chekov approach from behind, and Sulu claps him on the back.
“Captain! What a coincidence!”
“Is wery fortunate,” says Chekov, “we were just saying, oy, we need Keptin Kirk.”
“You see, Captain, it’s about the navigational array…”
Year Three
“Memo from Starfleet,” says Uhura.
Everyone perks up. It’s been an uneventful month, and the annual budget memo always adds spice to Enterprise life. As long as no-one gets carried away, of course. Crewman Winters is still complaining about being “accidentally” locked in waste disposal for three hours so four junior Security officers could ambush the captain over new phase pistols.
oOo
“So, Captain,” says Sulu. He and Chekov have cornered Kirk in the lounge. “Hansen on the Reliant was telling us about some mods they’ve seen done to thrusters.”
“They increase manoeuwerability at impulse,” adds Chekov. “They make the ship… um…” He looks over to Sulu.
“Zippy,” supplies Sulu.
“Zippy?” says Kirk.
“Wery zippy,” says Chekov.
Kirk looks from one to the other. They both look very enthusiastic, and enthusiastic crew make good crew. Also, he likes zippy. “Go for it.”
Year Four
Spock and Bones are playing chess whilst Kirk watches, and bitching away at each other. Uhura watches them fondly, and considers how much Spock’s changed since the first day on Enterprise. She wonders if he’s even noticed, so gradual has it been.
The conversation is clearly growing more acrimonious, and she raises a quick, querying brow at her companions.
Chekov shrugs. “Is that time again,” he says, and Uhura rolls her eyes.
“Don’t tell me they think anyone pays attention to the budget memo, least of all the captain?”
Sulu grins, quick and bright. “Ignore budget memo week, that fine Enterprise tradition? I know you don’t mean that, Uhura! Scotty’s been preparing a proposal for transdimensional beaming for a month now!”
“Is that even possible?” she asks sceptically.
“He just wants to see if Captain Kirk will go for it,” says Chekov. “We’re offering 5-1,” he adds hopefully, but Uhura just laughs.
“No, thank you, gentlemen,” she says, and rises gracefully, to stand behind Spock, one hand lightly on his shoulder, as he and Bones argue the merits of enhanced astrophysics sensors versus some of those nifty intradermal bonders, as Jim pretends to listen while he checks out – very, very subtly, she has to admit – one of Engineering officers.
Year Five
“Is this a ploy for swords?” asks Kirk.
Sulu considers his options. “Yeah,” he admits eventually.
Kirk claps him on the shoulder. “Fair enough, Lieutenant.”
THE END
Author:
chaletianFandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None
Summary: Money makes the world go round (and keeps the Enterprise flying). Village!verse.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that even a Constitution-class starship needs to get its funding from somewhere. Warp drives do not, after all, grow on trees. (Well, not that they’ve ever found. Scotty has dreams about it, sometimes: they will beam down onto a planet of metal and levers and gears, and warp drives drip from overhanging branches and dilithium crystals dance in formation and sing happy, high-pitched songs about their shining blue glory. But it’s just a dream. (And only when there’s been cheese.)) And though Earth may be edging closer to social utopia, bureaucracy is still alive and well.
Chekov is eating breakfast in the mess when Captain Kirk slides into the seat opposite him. He looks up, a little warily. He has vague memories of an alcohol-fuelled evening during which he told Sulu at great length about his tragically doomed romance, and such evenings always seem to lead to the captain telling him a new story of high school passion gone awry.
“Keptin,” he says in greeting.
“Chekov!” says Kirk. “Quick question, whizz: if we undertook this mission at a speed averaging” – he checks his padd – “warp 2, how long would it take?”
Chekov stares at him. “Our… five year mission?” he clarifies. Kirk winds his finger encouragingly.
“Ballpark?”
Chekov is still staring, but he automatically calculates the answer. “Uh, about eighty years, keptin.”
Kirk stares back. He checks his padd. He nods a bit. “So,” he says eventually. “The crew all really like Enterprise, right?”
Scotty pats the warp console lovingly. “Don’t you listen to the captain, ma poor darling,” he croons. “He doesnae mean it.” He frowns suspiciously. “At least, he’d better no.”
McCoy finds Jim in his quarters, surrounded by Starfleet manual print-outs, padds, and even paper with some sort of prehistoric chicken scratchings on them which McCoy deduces is Jim’s handwriting.
“So, Jim,” he says, sitting on the bed, which happens to the only available surface, “how come half the crew thinks we’re gonna be out here for the rest of the century? Because I’m gonna be up front with you here and say I AM VERY MUCH NOT PREPARED TO DO THAT.”
Jim doesn’t even look up. “Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to replicate pecan pie?” he demands, scribbling down more figures.
“I like pie,” says McCoy fiercely. “Pie makes this tin can tolerable.”
Jim is clearly not listening, otherwise he wouldn’t have said what he says next. “I’m thinking of rationing it,” he says.
McCoy stands up. “Do that and I declare you unfit for duty,” he says. “Don’t push me, Jim, because I will crack like an old-fashioned lunatic and paint the walls of this miserable ship in blood!”
Jim looks up. He surveys McCoy, who is now actually, literally bristling with rage. “OK,” he says peaceably. “We’ll keep the pie.”
“Well, now,” says McCoy, sitting down and smiling. “That’s all right, then. So, where’s this penny-pinching coming from?”
Jim sits back, rummages through the paperwork on the floor, and pulls out a padd, passing it to McCoy.
“Starfleet Annual Budgetary Memo,” reads McCoy. He raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidding, right?”
Jim shrugs. “Apparently, it’s this big deal. I have to do a review of ‘allocated resources’.” He frowns. “Y’know, I totally don’t remember this coming up at the Academy.”
“Sure you do,” says McCoy, tossing the padd back. “Starship Administration. Third year. Monday mor--- yeah, you probably don’t remember it.”
Jim sighs, and looks a little sad. “I really thought there’d be more sword fights in space and less paperwork,” he says.
“I wish there were,” lies McCoy. “But, hey, since you’re looking at resource allocation, we could really do with a few more things for Sickbay…”
Yeoman Rand stands in the doorway, arms crossed, expression dubious.
“I don’t know, sir,” she says. “I never heard of anyone taking that memo too seriously.”
Kirk nods. “Yeah, so I found out.” He scowls a bit. Some of the other captains had ribbed him for a while over that one. How was he to know Starfleet issued the memos by rote, and ships in action were never expected to pay much attention? Unless it had been covered in that class Bones swore he took, in which case, fair enough.
“So, shall I tell everyone to calm down?” Rand asks.
Kirk just grins. “Aw, why spoil their fun?” he says. She shakes her head, and leaves him to his own devices.
Later, Gaila appears at the door of Jim’s quarters.
“Hey, Captain,” she murmurs, at her most sultry. “I wondered if you had a little time to discuss a small proposal Mr Scott has?”
Jim smiles sunnily at her. “By all means, Lieutenant. Shall we discuss it over dinner in the mess?”
“Uhura’s in Sickbay; McCoy’s with her; Scotty’s dealing with that tiny issue in the Jefferies tubes – nice work, by the way – and Spock’s trying to work out why the transporters aren’t working. We’ve only got a five minute window on that one, so we’ve got to make this snappy.” Sulu’s speaking quickly and quietly as he and Chekov half-walk, half-run to the observation deck.
Captain Kirk stands in front of the wide viewscreen, hands clasped behind his back. The room is otherwise empty. Sulu and Chekov approach from behind, and Sulu claps him on the back.
“Captain! What a coincidence!”
“Is wery fortunate,” says Chekov, “we were just saying, oy, we need Keptin Kirk.”
“You see, Captain, it’s about the navigational array…”
“Memo from Starfleet,” says Uhura.
Everyone perks up. It’s been an uneventful month, and the annual budget memo always adds spice to Enterprise life. As long as no-one gets carried away, of course. Crewman Winters is still complaining about being “accidentally” locked in waste disposal for three hours so four junior Security officers could ambush the captain over new phase pistols.
“So, Captain,” says Sulu. He and Chekov have cornered Kirk in the lounge. “Hansen on the Reliant was telling us about some mods they’ve seen done to thrusters.”
“They increase manoeuwerability at impulse,” adds Chekov. “They make the ship… um…” He looks over to Sulu.
“Zippy,” supplies Sulu.
“Zippy?” says Kirk.
“Wery zippy,” says Chekov.
Kirk looks from one to the other. They both look very enthusiastic, and enthusiastic crew make good crew. Also, he likes zippy. “Go for it.”
Spock and Bones are playing chess whilst Kirk watches, and bitching away at each other. Uhura watches them fondly, and considers how much Spock’s changed since the first day on Enterprise. She wonders if he’s even noticed, so gradual has it been.
The conversation is clearly growing more acrimonious, and she raises a quick, querying brow at her companions.
Chekov shrugs. “Is that time again,” he says, and Uhura rolls her eyes.
“Don’t tell me they think anyone pays attention to the budget memo, least of all the captain?”
Sulu grins, quick and bright. “Ignore budget memo week, that fine Enterprise tradition? I know you don’t mean that, Uhura! Scotty’s been preparing a proposal for transdimensional beaming for a month now!”
“Is that even possible?” she asks sceptically.
“He just wants to see if Captain Kirk will go for it,” says Chekov. “We’re offering 5-1,” he adds hopefully, but Uhura just laughs.
“No, thank you, gentlemen,” she says, and rises gracefully, to stand behind Spock, one hand lightly on his shoulder, as he and Bones argue the merits of enhanced astrophysics sensors versus some of those nifty intradermal bonders, as Jim pretends to listen while he checks out – very, very subtly, she has to admit – one of Engineering officers.
“Is this a ploy for swords?” asks Kirk.
Sulu considers his options. “Yeah,” he admits eventually.
Kirk claps him on the shoulder. “Fair enough, Lieutenant.”
THE END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 09:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 09:53 pm (UTC)***Snorts soda through nose.***
no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 10:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 10:34 pm (UTC)(Let's face it, if I somehow managed to get onto the Enterprise, I'd totally bring him pie. And other miscellaneous baked goods, as required.)
And awww, Jim fell for it. *snort*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 10:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 11:16 pm (UTC)<3333 oh man I love these series of fic.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 11:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 11:48 pm (UTC)I loved this movie. Which is wonderful, 'cos I am not, in fact, a TOS fan at heart.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 12:25 am (UTC)Okay, this was fun, and I would totally adore you for year five alone. *g*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 12:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 01:16 am (UTC)Oh my gosh--you've nailed Bones' voice! Hah!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 01:32 am (UTC)I love how you keep up with Chekov and Sulu being bookies and all.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 02:34 am (UTC)So, Jim,” he says, sitting on the bed, which happens to the only available surface, “how come half the crew thinks we’re gonna be out here for the rest of the century? Because I’m gonna be up front with you here and say I AM VERY MUCH NOT PREPARED TO DO THAT.”
I laughed so hard over that.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 03:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 05:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 05:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 05:42 am (UTC)HA!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 08:54 am (UTC)The warp-drive planet would be awesome... *g*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 09:45 am (UTC)And of course McCoy likes pie. What self-respecting Southerner doesn't? (I personally straddle the line between key-lime and strawberry-rhubarb.)
So loving this series to pieces!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 03:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 06:32 am (UTC)“Don’t push me, Jim, because I will crack like an old-fashioned lunatic and paint the walls of this miserable ship in blood!”
Only Bones would become homicidal over pecan pie.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 06:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 07:28 am (UTC)It kind of reminded me of the Scrubs episodes where they do this, except they only had a day not a week asking for stuff. lol
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 11:08 am (UTC)This made me snort my tea. I'm bookmarking this tag and rereading it FOREVER!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 03:22 pm (UTC)Oh the caps were so needed for that McCoy statement. I also loved his bristling over the pecan pie, that was perfect.
Also Year Five: oh my god, perfect.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 04:46 pm (UTC)Seriously. I love this series!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-13 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-17 09:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-19 03:18 am (UTC)McCoy stands up. “Do that and I declare you unfit for duty,” he says. “Don’t push me, Jim, because I will crack like an old-fashioned lunatic and paint the walls of this miserable ship in blood!”
roflmao
that is all.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 07:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-23 09:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-17 10:07 am (UTC)“So, Jim,” he says, sitting on the bed, which happens to the only available surface, “how come half the crew thinks we’re gonna be out here for the rest of the century? Because I’m gonna be up front with you here and say I AM VERY MUCH NOT PREPARED TO DO THAT.”
So, yeah. tears in my eyes, sounding like I was crying, I loved this piece so much XD
no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 03:42 pm (UTC)I am supposed to be in bed
- asleep
- i have work tomorrow - okay later today as it's 1.39am & counting
yet here i am still reading my way thru "The Village"
Arrrrggggghhhhhh!
...zippy... & ...swords... *chortle madly*
icon by ileliberte
no subject
Date: 2009-08-26 01:42 am (UTC)Also, I adore the whole concept of budgetary memos from Starfleet. I don't think I've ever seen anything like that in a fic before. :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-08-26 11:20 am (UTC)BRILLIANCE!
The McCoy and Kirk scene was just spot on for both of them, and I loved how it progressed from there. TOO FUNNY.