Job Vacancy

It looks like I'm going to have to put an advert in the Galactic Gazette for some more crew members. Too many are getting themselves killed when they go one an away mission. It's like the evil alien paints a target on their backs.

I know that in the 23rd century, when James Kirk was gung ho-ing around, shooting everything in sight, his red shirted crewmen were filling the morgues in droves. Fortunately we stopped that, but we still get casualities every now and then.

Now let's see. What shall I put?

Wanted: Crew members for galaxy-class starship.

That sounds good. Let's press on.

We are looking for crew members to help populate our ship as many previous ones have been killed on missions.

No, that will turn them off. I'll change that to moved to higher positions.

Now let's see what else...

Sex is not important.   No, that sounds dreadful. I'll rephrase it.

The posts are open to all genders and races within the Federation., and will will be awarded pending both a competancy and medical exam.

Good luck to Bev on the latter. There are some races within the Federation she would not want to examine with a bargepole. Fortunately the Breen aren't in. They stay enclosed in those awful suits!

"What ARE you doing, Jean-Luc?" says a voice from behind me. It's Bev. She looks at what I have written so far and laughs out loud.



"You have no idea how to write a job vacancy for someone, do you?" she chortles, "No wonder no one ever comes here!"

The red-headed doctor pushes me out of the day and starts typing.

Wonderful opportunities for all those in the Federation seeking a life of excitement and adventure around the galaxy! Be part of a team on the flagship in Starfleet. We are waiting for YOUR call. Come and join us!

"There!" she smirks. "They'll be coming soon. You'll get all the people you want."

I sigh, and delete my own entry.