Thursday, March 1, 2012

symbols

Does everything always have to mean something? I don't think so.
Sometimes a train is just a train.
Other times, of course, it's not.







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Interregnum Four





                The handsome, fair-skinned young man is standing at the podium, his black hair perfectly groomed, his deep grey eyes glistening. His uniform is flawlessly pressed, the insignia on the collar twinkling in the bright stage lights, and it fits him as though he was born to wear it. He is addressing the assembled crowd, in a clear, confident voice.


                “...and may we all find our dreams in the Stars. I know I shall. Congratulations and best wishes to all. Good Night.”

                The crowd cheers as the young man steps back. Their admiration for him comes through in the thunderous applause that continues for minutes, even as the next speaker approaches. The domed chamber, large enough to accommodate several thousand people, is full to standing room for this event.

                The beautiful blond woman in the front row is watching with great interest. She smiles as the young man moves away from the podium and glances her way. He nods to her, briefly, then shakes his head in confusion as she blows him a kiss.

                As he makes his way off stage, the new graduate of the Fleet Officer Training Class is hailed by a familiar voice. He stops and waits in the wings, bright stage lights on one side, the darkness of backstage on the other. The symbolism is not lost on the speaker as he approaches.

                “Excuse me, Lieutenant Bianchi. May I have a moment of your time?”

                “Of course, Captain, Sir. What can I do for you?”

                The approaching speaker is quite tall, with blond hair, perfectly groomed. His pristine uniform boasts gleaming performance awards and medals on the chest, in addition to the Captain’s Rank insignia on the collar. His intelligent blue eyes look appreciatively at his protege.

                “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are now officially the youngest graduated Officer in the history of the Federation, with the rank of Lieutenant. Quite an accomplishment. Have you been notified of your coming assignment?”

                The young Officer shakes his head, smiling at his mentor. His eyes are shining with happiness, and pride. He has done well and he knows it. He has been working toward nothing but this day for many years, as many as he can remember.

                “No, Sir. Not yet.”

                The older, more experienced Officer looks at the younger with pride of his own. He knows more about this young man’s life than he has ever let on. No-one but the two of them know how very difficult it was for this Lieutenant to get to this point.

                No-one but the two of them know how anxious he is to begin his assignment, nor why he feels so strongly about leaving this planet. No-one except, perhaps, the young blond woman, still in her seat in the auditorium, waiting.

                “I believe you will be assigned to the Scorpius at this time, Lieutenant.  I am not on the committee but that was my recommendation.  You will get your orders by tomorrow, as that is when the Scorpius is due to depart.”

                The younger man looks at the older, trying to determine whether he is hiding anything. There is no deception. There is only the pride, and anticipation. He salutes the Captain, standing straight as can be, the perfect example of a Fleet Officer.

                “Aye, Sir. I look forward to getting under way.”





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