« on: January 06, 2012, 11:17:58 pm »
Wesley lives in fanfiction now. The eternal space cadet, he bounced from adventure to adventure, full of good spirit and energy. Until he hit 27. Star Fleet was falling on hard times by then. It seems man had gone everywhere where no man had gone before. Also, the funny colored, squiggly headed aliens were all either in line with the Federation plan, and happily screwing the latest uber-chin lead actor, or were safely annihilated by ray-gun fire and antimatter warheads.
Wesley was sitting in the pilot’s chair, beaming as usual, when the papers came through telling him that his commission was up, and Starfleet would not require his service any longer. He refused to stop beaming. It must be a joke, right? Starfleet would NEVER get rid of him.
Well, yes, they would, like the admiralty told him later. See, with the budget cuts they had people to preserve. The admiralty, or course, was not going to shrink one bit. Captains couldn’t go, of course. Careening around known space with untold megatons of destructive power, it just wasn’t SMART to give them the axe. That damned old James T. Kirk was still out there too. He was a loose cannon at the best of times, so best to just let him keep going on, no use risking him going rouge. Janeway probably got the best out of it. Her little “Lost in space” grift kept her crew in salary for seven years while they faked records of horrible alien encounters. (It turns out they parked the ship on the far side of Risa, and spent the whole time drunk on the beach. She was promoted to admiral just for having the gall and the smarts to pull it off.) Then there were senior commissioned officers with families to support too, but this was only, as always a secondary concern.
Everyone else who could be spared, and a few who couldn’t, were out. Scotty was among them. Like so many hard working, highly specialized warp-drive experts, he was expensive to employ. He had seniority over most of the fleet too, but was still just a wrench flipper in the engine core. Expendable. A recruit with a hydrospanner and a flowchart could fix MOST of the common issues, and wouldn’t have to be paid like he had a doctorate in warp field theory. (Never you mind the "safety incident" ratios increasing, or the replies of “Uh... that would violate procedure” to Kirk requesting more power.)
So young space cadet Crusher was out of a job. Unemployable too, as he soon found out. Well meaning and energetic honesty do not get one far. He tanked out of sales rep. gigs and spots selling Mini Sportshuttles. Yeah, honesty goes over WELL in those professions. He eventually landed doing data entry in a cubicle farm. He still dreamed of his glory days blasting through the stars, and never really found much to replace it. He took up writing, and spent every night on a bulletin board retconning his own departure form Starfleet. Him and Sisko, both cooking up self pleasing fictions about their dues ex machina exit from a galaxy that no longer wanted them, and into a world of wondrous adventure where they had destiny, and purpose, above all respected and appreciated for who they were, not where they ended up on the wrong level of the wrong totem pole.