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Dennis Wilder

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About Dennis Wilder

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    Salt this, buddy!

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    In Training/Unassigned/On Leave

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  1. ((ON)) ((Starbase 118, Arrival Hall)) There was always a heightened moment of anticipation building inside her when the docking clamps attached to the vessel and the lights turned off. It meant the end of another journey and another place to discover. Several Starfleet crewmen were overseeing the disembarking personnel, noting their presence on the station in the process. Kaerae stood patiently in line behind a Vulcan Lieutenant who towered over her. As most Vulcans, he seemed patient and unwilling to hurry himself through the procedure. She barely avoided groaning out loud when the officer told the starbase crewman his full name, rank, former assignment, personnel number and species. There were moments like these when she felt like correcting the man. It was quite simple to locate someone on a PADD using merely someone’s full name. The other details were merely present to ensure no confusion could occur. Finally it was her turn. “Cadet Kaerae ap Rhys,” she said. The crewman took the name and frowned when his PADD came up empty. She wondered if he had truly tried to type her name rather than repeating it and let the PADD sort out the spelling. “Could you spell your last name, please?” “A-p, space, R-h-y-s,” she said. This happened to her more often, but she felt slightly embarrassed after her own reaction to the Vulcan’s earlier tardiness. “Also possibly under Price.” Again a moment passed. “Ah, yes. Cadet Price,” he repeated her common name. “You are to report to Lieutenant Dasher as soon as possible. He has been informed of your arrival.” “I will find him immediately,” she replied. “Thank you, crewman.” She moved away from the queue and started up the deck she was on. She accessed a nearby wall station and located the Lieutenant a few decks down. With a station the size it was, doubtless it was crammed full of important numbers she should recall. Yet she had never really bothered to memorize them. There was always a nearby penal, computer or friendly local who could help you on your way. This time, she relied on the database, which also allowed her to locate the Lieutenant. “Kaerae. Kaerae! Wait up!” As she heard the call, she turned to find fellow Cadet Beatrice Taylor approaching her. Beatrice was one of those fellow cadets you would love to hate, but couldn’t. She was tall, busty and had a perfect hourglass figure. Kaerae had known girls like that in Brussel, but they had always been as dumb as a brick. Beatrice certainly wasn’t. She had graduated cúm laude from high school, added to that a bachelors in medical biology and attended the Academy when she was only twenty one. Her academy run had been spectacular. Not only had she done really well in theoretical subjects, she had a talent for engineering, flying and communication. That would be enough to make anyone jealous if she wasn’t so incredibly nice and caring. Whenever someone in class was struggling, Beatrice would come and help. When you worked together with her, she would adapt to your work ethic and do her share. Cadets who fell ill would get a personal ‘get well’ card and she would make sure she sent the notes she made during class. All of this came from a core of complete selflessness and she never expected anything in return. So Kaerae could only smile when Beatrice caught up to her. “Do you also need to report to Lieutenant Dasher?” Beatrice asked. “I do,” Kaerae said. “I have located them three decks down from us.” “Oh, that’s great!” Beatrice smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you on the way down.” “Of course not,” Kaerae said and they moved together to the turbolift. If Kaerae’s instincts were right (and they usually were), Lieutenant Dasher looked very much like one of those officers who felt promotions and fame should have fallen their way some years ago. He was chewing his lip and surveyed the assembled cadets with a look of distain. His nails were also chewed short, he had not shaved in a few days and the first signs of grey hairs showed he was approaching at least forty years of age. The cadets kept themselves busy, waiting what would come next. Most of them were fourth years and Kaerae recognized a few of them. With Beatrice in tow, she approached the Lieutenant and saluted. “Cadet Price and Cadet Taylor reporting, sir,” she said. “There you are,” the Lieutenant replied. “You are late.” “Apologies, sir,” Beatrice said with a smile that could melt titanium. “We came as soon as we were clear of the shuttle, but there was quite a queue.” The man could not help but to smile in return. “I see. Luckily we have not started yet. You can join the others.” Sitting together on the side of the group of cadets, Kaerae eyed some of the others. Quite a few of the men were actually peeking at Beatrice, ignoring her. So she pretended to be busy with a tangle that had come into her hair. Her companion seemed oblivious to the attention that she was getting, instead opting to start a talk with a Bolian cadet that sat next to her. It was not long before the two of them were deep in discussion about some news from a distant planet where a strange virus had broken out. None of it seemed really relevant to her current situation, so she instead focussed to see what officers were already around them. There was still a long day ahead of them. ((OFF)) Cadet Kaerae J. ap Rhys Operations Trainee
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