Jazmin Goes to Camp

Posted on 12 Apr 2018 @ 3:52pm by Lieutenant JG Jazmin Parks
Edited on on 13 Apr 2018 @ 10:49am

1,516 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: History
Location: Starfleet Academy
Timeline: 2383

Jazmin Parks had no idea what she was in for. Less than a week after resigning from the New York Ballet Company, one of the oldest and most prestigious ballet companies on Earth, Jazmin picked up her travel bag and stepped off the shuttle and onto the grounds of Starfleet Academy.

Standing 165 centimeters (just under five-and-a-half feet tall) and 48 kilograms, she was by far the smallest cadet on the shuttle. Never-mind that her short, black hair styled in a short bob and her warm brown eyes made her look almost childlike. She looked around, taking in everything. Her future was here and she would make the most of it.

The trip from New York was stomach-churning for the young Chinese woman. She was a wreck emotionally and the sudden switch from her normal routine had her body screaming in protest. However, she knew that physical training at the academy was going to be almost brutal, at least at first. She looked forward to it with almost masochistic anticipation.

John, the cadet that had been seated to her right was the first to talk to her, and his interest in her was more than just casual, she noted immediately. “What’s your major going to be?”

Jazmin took a breath. “Security, with a Comm/Ops minor.”

John laughed despite himself, a sharp dismissive laugh that told her all she needed to know. She wondered how many more people would feel the same way. “I’m sorry, but Security? Aren’t you a bit…small?”

“We shall see.” Was her only response and she proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the flight.

One person did catch her eye, and that was a beautiful red-headed human woman sitting in front of her. She turned her head to look at Jazmin. “I couldn’t help overhearing, but I have to say, good for you for following your dream.”

Jazmin laughed, “Dream? No, not really.”

The woman patted the empty seat next to her. “Let’s talk.”

Jazmin slipped to the new row as quickly as she could. She didn’t know if it was against the rules to change seats, but she was taking no chances. She looked at the other woman, she had striking green eyes, a scattering of freckles across her nose and Jazmin figured she was at least 12 centimeters taller than her. She felt small, but oddly, she didn't mind.

“I’m Kelly.” The woman said, extending her hand.

“Jazmin.” She answered, and she let her guard down a bit, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. “So what’s your major?”

“Oh, I’m going to be a pilot. Shuttles, runabouts, fighters and any ship Starfleet wants to let me try.”

Jazmin smiled. “Sounds good Ace.”

Kelly looked at her. “Ace. I think I like that. So, if security isn’t your dream, what is, and why aren’t you doing it?”

“My dream,” her eyes got misty. “was to become the Prima Ballerina at the New York Ballet Company.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yes, a couple more years and I might have made it. But, now, here I am.”

“Injury?”

“No, a mugging.”

Kelly arched and eyebrow. “So, you got mugged and now you want to join Starfleet Security?”

Jazmin giggled despite herself. “No. I stopped a mugging, Starfleet recruiters saw it and they made a strong case why my talents were wasted outside of Starfleet.”

The two women talked until they landed and were pulled in different directions for processing, Kelly off to the pilot’s center while she was moved into place with the other Security Cadets. They were put into formation, all thirty of them and they waited. Jazmin would later learn that waiting was one of the favorite pastimes of cadets.

An intimidating Master Chief Petty Officer closed in on them. He looked like he wanted to punch every one of them in the nose. Jazmin’s stomach churned and it was all she could do to focus.

“I am Master Chief Petty Officer Tye Manning! I have served in Starfleet security longer than any of you have been alive! You may be training to become officers but you are NOT officers. You’re not even first year cadets.” He folded his arms and walked back and forth.

He reminded Jazmin of every single stereotypical drill sergeant she had ever seen in a vid, or read about. But, then again, stereotypes have a basis in reality. Suddenly he rushed Jazmin, stopping inches from her. She forced herself to remain calm and not jump, but she DID flinch.

“Wrong class,” he paused and looked down at a PADD, “Parks. You don’t belong here. I’ll put you in the Undecided Group until you pick a new major.”

“No, I’m where I signed up to be.”

“No? That’s No, Master Chief”

“My apologies. I meant, no, Master Chief, I’m right where I signed up to be.”

“You have a burning desire to get your ass kicked on a daily basis?” He looked down at her. He was at least sixty centimeters taller than she was.

“No, Master Chief.”

He pointed to the track. “See that track, lap it once and then straight back here. It’s two kilometers. You have nine minutes. If you can’t do it, you pick a different career path.”

Jazmin didn’t answer. She dropped her bag and took off running. She was glad she had chosen leggings, t-shirt and athletic shoes. She had almost worn a dress but thankfully had dismissed that notion. She knew he thought she would fail, but she was determined to prove him wrong.

She hit the track hard, her feet pounding out the distance. She passed cadets and instructors in their official Academy gear, some of them quickening their pace to match hers, but dropped back when she ignored them and outpaced them. It had been a long time since she had run for speed. However, she knew two kilometers, knew what to expect and in her mind she knew exactly how far she had run, and had yet to run. She pushed all thoughts of her running time out of her mind. The course is my enemy, not the clock.

She rounded the first bend in the track taking the curve hard, and the fact that everyone was watching her barely registered. By the time she hit the one-kilometer mark, her muscles burned and her lungs cried out for more oxygen than she could provide. Her body was telling her that she needed to quit the pace she was at.

Her first ballet instructor had taught her how to push past her limitations. She had not thought herself capable of the stretches and flexibility that would be needed, or would be hers. Then came her training for en-pointe. Brutal was not even an accurate word to describe it. She had learned, she would not forget.

She passed the kilometer mark, her pace slowing only a fraction and she pushed herself even harder. She would beat the course. The price of failure flashed in her mind, if she washed out because of this, what would she do?

“Shut up Jazmin! Run!”

She dug deep, gasping for breath and pushed, her pace quickening once more. Then she knew she had passed the kilometer and a half mark. People were cheering but she heard none of it over her heartbeat as it thundered in her ears.

Then she saw it, the end of the track and the path back to her class. She called on reserves she never knew existed, forcing her body past the point that it told her there was no going back. Like a gazelle that knows the lion is inches away, she ran not slowing her pace until she had reached the class. She slowed, her speed decreasing gradually and she turned back towards the class.

Her heart pounding so hard she thought others could hear it, her lungs taking deep, gasping, dying breaths, her muscles burning, her hands shaking, she took her place and waited. Waited to find out if she had thrown away her ballet career for nothing.

It was only after her heart slowed that she heard the applause of her classmates. The Master Chief Manning stared at her. She could see that he was dumbfounded, trying to process what he had just seen.

“Seven minutes, Cadet. Congratulations.”

“Thank,” gasp, “you,” gasp, “Master Chief.”

“I’m also forwarding your name to the Academy Track Team.” He turned to the others. “Now that the entertainment is over, fall in by twos and I’ll take you to the processing center.”

Jazmin was in the very last row, the Master Chief approaching, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “You’re in. I don’t think you’ll make it through, but you got your shot.”

He moved to the front of the line, leading them across the campus.

It would take three years for Jazmin to finally prove herself to the Master Chief and the other instructors.

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