03-04-2011, 02:44 PM
Starfleet Academy
En Route to Commandantâs Office
0630 Hours
Ethan strolled along the paved walkway leading from his personal quarters with a mug of coffee in hand. A slight steam wisped from the top of the mug due to the few degrees difference between the contents of the mug and the morning air. Sipping as he walked, he thought about the few changes he had in store for the Academy. A new class of cadets had recently begun their training, and there were a few who already had to have some âissuesâ resolved.
Ethan loved this time of the day the most for the simple reason of the tranquility of the morning. Even the birds were just beginning to whistle their morning songs. Most were still asleep, people and animals alike, and the few that were awake made almost no noise at all. Continuing on the path, he passed a few benches, which had been placed for the cadets as memorials to Commandants past. He wondered where the bench would be placed for himself when he left this place.
Smelling a slight sweet change in the air, he looked across the grass knowing what he would find. Though early, the groundskeeper always began much earlier than Ethan. âGood morning, Boothby,â he said, âWhat are we planting today?â
âJust some replacement bulbs that a couple new cadets being late for some class decided to trample to lessen their tardiness.â The gardener retorted.
Those who didnât know Boothby would find that remark as one from a miserable, miserly, gardener who would kill as soon as he found out the names of the culprits. Ethan, however, knew better, and replied, âYou say the word, and the entire Botany class will be out here helping you replant.â
Nodding with a slight smile, but also with a visible thought running through his mind, as though contemplating exactly what he would do with said Botany students, Boothby simply waved and returned to planting. Ethan continued along, arriving at his office complex.
Starfleet Academy
Administration Office Complex
0703 Hours
Ethan stepped to the sliding doors as they parted, granting him access to the main floor of the building. He loved the looks of this floor, no expense spared, made to simply dazzle and awe future cadets and their parents who came to register for the Academy. To Ethan this was home away from home.
Entering the lift, he took it to his floor, and made his way to his office. Entering, he said, âlights, low level.â and made his way to the back door, stopping only to refill his mug at the replicator. Once filled, he took another sip, and walked to his office where he would get a jump on the pile of applications, disciplinary papers, and other various forms piled higher than he would have liked. This was why he liked this time of the day, from now until 0845 he would be free to work, uninterrupted, until his secretary came in, and the rest of the world began their work days.
Sitting in the chair, he set his coffee aside, most likely to be cold before he remembered to sip at it in between papers, and grabbed the first pile, those marked âStarfleet Academy Applicationâ. These were always fun reads, many cadets having impressive credentials, resumes and references. Picking up the first of the pile, he immediately set it in the rejection file, due to improper spelling on the cover letter. This may end up being a shorter pile to get through than he thought if it continued on like the first application.
En Route to Commandantâs Office
0630 Hours
Ethan strolled along the paved walkway leading from his personal quarters with a mug of coffee in hand. A slight steam wisped from the top of the mug due to the few degrees difference between the contents of the mug and the morning air. Sipping as he walked, he thought about the few changes he had in store for the Academy. A new class of cadets had recently begun their training, and there were a few who already had to have some âissuesâ resolved.
Ethan loved this time of the day the most for the simple reason of the tranquility of the morning. Even the birds were just beginning to whistle their morning songs. Most were still asleep, people and animals alike, and the few that were awake made almost no noise at all. Continuing on the path, he passed a few benches, which had been placed for the cadets as memorials to Commandants past. He wondered where the bench would be placed for himself when he left this place.
Smelling a slight sweet change in the air, he looked across the grass knowing what he would find. Though early, the groundskeeper always began much earlier than Ethan. âGood morning, Boothby,â he said, âWhat are we planting today?â
âJust some replacement bulbs that a couple new cadets being late for some class decided to trample to lessen their tardiness.â The gardener retorted.
Those who didnât know Boothby would find that remark as one from a miserable, miserly, gardener who would kill as soon as he found out the names of the culprits. Ethan, however, knew better, and replied, âYou say the word, and the entire Botany class will be out here helping you replant.â
Nodding with a slight smile, but also with a visible thought running through his mind, as though contemplating exactly what he would do with said Botany students, Boothby simply waved and returned to planting. Ethan continued along, arriving at his office complex.
Starfleet Academy
Administration Office Complex
0703 Hours
Ethan stepped to the sliding doors as they parted, granting him access to the main floor of the building. He loved the looks of this floor, no expense spared, made to simply dazzle and awe future cadets and their parents who came to register for the Academy. To Ethan this was home away from home.
Entering the lift, he took it to his floor, and made his way to his office. Entering, he said, âlights, low level.â and made his way to the back door, stopping only to refill his mug at the replicator. Once filled, he took another sip, and walked to his office where he would get a jump on the pile of applications, disciplinary papers, and other various forms piled higher than he would have liked. This was why he liked this time of the day, from now until 0845 he would be free to work, uninterrupted, until his secretary came in, and the rest of the world began their work days.
Sitting in the chair, he set his coffee aside, most likely to be cold before he remembered to sip at it in between papers, and grabbed the first pile, those marked âStarfleet Academy Applicationâ. These were always fun reads, many cadets having impressive credentials, resumes and references. Picking up the first of the pile, he immediately set it in the rejection file, due to improper spelling on the cover letter. This may end up being a shorter pile to get through than he thought if it continued on like the first application.