From: "Nora Rivkis" 
Date: Thu, 20 Mar 1997 00:36:27 -0500
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: David Shachor Reporting

SD 90320.0617
*Once more into the breach. Good lord, this organization is
big. Never thought I'd have to report to four different places for
one assignment.* David shrugged. *Five. Counting home. Well,
this ought to be the last for a while.*
Reaching the docking bay for the Chesapeake, David took a
solid half hour just watching other people come and go, study-
ing the habits of the security staff at the entrance. He knew 
that in Starfleet and its related services, Security and the Marines
worked closely together and usually got along rather well. He
didn't care. At home, at least half of a military man's work had
been keeping the incompetence, shortsightedness, and irrationality
of internal security from screwing everything else up. He would
proceed with the assumption that he had similar work here; all
it would mean was extra work for him. That he could handle. And
for his troops. That, they'd better be able to handle.
He gave himself maybe ninety seconds with a memory of the proud,
driven men he had worked with once along the northern border. Then
he shook it off hard and went on briskly. But for all its tailoring, the 
unfamiliar uniform sat very strangely on him as he presented his 
credentials to the security guard and was sent onboard to look for the XO.
It was later than he'd realized. He tracked Brennan down over dinner.
*Better wait.* Drawing back into one of the corridor's few shadows,
beside the entrance to the dining room, he stood still enough to be
nearly invisible to the casual eye and waited for the man to finish his
dinner.
Respectfully submitted,
Naomi Rivkis
1LT David Shachor
MCO, USS Chesapeake

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