Career Re-evaluation

Holodeck 2, USS Daniel Boone
~ 4 years prior to current mission time
Authors: Ensign Jita Kejal

In the initial weeks of Crewman Apprentice Jita Kejal's first year at the Technical Services Academy, entertainment fell into three categories: books, socializing, or sports, the latter of which were accommodated by cells with just enough holographic functionality to simulate the necessary venue. Springball courts were one of the more requested thanks to exposure fueled by Bajor's deepening ties with the Federation, and while she dabbled in the sport later than most of her generation, her yearning to have some sort of connection to her people along with the experience and athleticism gained from playing team handball throughout her childhood helped her quickly develop savvy she thought would hold up in a game against Erne Sisqua, her roommate and burgeoning friend. While she indeed managed to make a good account of herself, Kejal ultimately proved unable to go the distance in the past two matches. . .

She was trying not to add another.

Darting about in hopes of advancing a 2-4 score that favored Sisqua, she managed to pull off a relative rarity given the game's emphasis on minimizing an opponent's touches. A shrill buzzer and successive double chime met her swift, strong swipe from the back left corner in short order, and a third cyan bar illuminated on her score indicator.

3-4.

"Dah!" exclaimed Sisqua, frustrated, but not angry. "I keep forgetting you're left-handed! I'm all trying to check-block over here," she wagged her racket at a section of the court, "and you keep getting the reverse."

"Keep?" her younger opponent chortled. "That's nice of you."

"You're about to fall into my trap," Sisqua teased, lifting her helmet to wipe sweat from her face with a sleeve. "I build up your confidence and then destroy you."

Kejal in turn drifted to Sisqua and playfully nudged her. "Hey! I'm actually giving you a hard time for giving me too much credit. I may be getting points here and there on being a lefty, but it's a weak consolation to looking three straight losses in the face. So leave my confidence be. It's an endangered enough species without your mind games."

Sisqua bounced the ball and caught it, testing the action. "Endangered? Somebody pickin' on my friend?" she asked nonchalantly as she lined up a serve.

"Other than you? A thought brought on feeling better off giving my opinions to an open airlock in that last mission." Kejal’s eyes locked steadfastly onto her friend. "What do you think about me becoming an officer?"

Sisqua completely whiffed the serve, startled by the question, and looked askance at Kejal. "What?"

Kejal's shoulders fell, albeit more in the spirit of her successive quip. Tilting her head and folding her arms across her chest as best as her attire permitted, she let it fly in deadpan.

"You're not old enough to be one of those jaded head cases that resents anyone who isn't an enlistee, Sisqua.”

"Oh, I," Sisqua shrugged, prevaricating a bit. "Nah, I don't resent anybody. Just a surprise. I mean, I tested when I applied to the academy, but I didn't make it into an officer track. But you're more together than me—why *didn't* you get on the officer track right off?"

"I could've tried," Kejal acquiesced. "It isn't harder so much as the additional year or two in school is spent mainly on abstract concepts like leadership and analyzing people. Or at least that's what my mother says. Not sure how much stock I should put into that as far as what I should expect though. She's way smarter than I am."

The prolonged intermission inclined Kejal to pull off her helmet.

"Anyway, I passed for several reasons. One of the biggest was that even if I got in, I didn't want to be one of those cadets held to the kind of standard set by an overachieving parent, or rather adoptive parent, that served with like. . .half the faculty. I think being a refugee made some of my parents' colleagues think I needed more outreach in order to feel more. . .rooted." She squinted. "Hated it. And the last thing I wanted or needed was for one to come out of the woodwork and play instructor, friend, and surrogate parent for four years."

"But now," Sisqua added, visibly working it out in her head, "those people wouldn't be around."

Kejal shook her head. "There you go, making me sound smarter than I am again. But you're right. There's been a refreshing shortage of people who've greeted me with, 'wow, you're Kirby Womack’s kid?!’"

Sisqua laughed, a reaction at odds with the words immediately following. "Nobody ever asked me anything like that. My mom was a drug addict who couldn't keep a job."

The revelation blindsided Kejal despite conforming to what she’d offhandedly suspected. Sisqua was rougher-hewn than she, and while Kejal learned in the weeks successive to their becoming roommates she didn't mean any harm by it, she’d guessed not having her parents in her life played a hand in it given how common it was of Bajorans born during the span of the occupation. Their circumstances weren’t quite flush with Sisqua’s mother being more absent than taken away, yet Kejal thought she heard the familiar void in her friend's voice. Despite having no way to anticipate her conversation unearthing such a sensitive matter, Kejal winced and reached for Sisqua consolingly.

"I'm sorry. . ." Unsavory an opinion as it forged about Sisqua's mother, Kejal decided to withhold any implication of it. Good or otherwise, relationships with parents were often fraught with feelings not solely defined by their misdeeds. And any number of things could've broken her mother's spirit since she was around during the Occupation.

"It's not a big thing," Sisqua shrugged and waved off Kejal's concern. "I made my peace with it a long time ago. But we're not talking about me. We're talking about Ensign Jita Kejal. How does that work, when right now you're, y'know, *Crewman* Jita Kejal?"

"I'd have to ship out to either San Francisco or another ship with a training division if we didn't have one here. But we do, so I can use it to request enrollment in the OCP to take the third year curriculum remotely if I'm approved and with CO approval, write off some, if not all of fourth year with the time I've already put in."

"So you could ask Barim in the training division? That's great! I won't have to break in another roommate," Sisqua joked. "I'd offer to help you, but I barely got through the PO3 exam. The whole Officer hasperat's not my bag."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll have your uses," Kejal coolly acknowledged, dismissively fluttering her racketed hand. At the point in which one might've bought into her seriousness, she flashed a smile. "Seriously, though. . .just having you around does a lot of good for me."

Sisqua grinned. "So you won't hold it against me that I'm about to beat you right now, then." She dribbled the ball with her racquet a time or two in preparation for a serve.

"Nah," Kejal replied, slipping her helmet back on. "I guess a little sportsmanship isn't too much to ask for a free 2-0 run."