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Tara Fillips

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About Tara Fillips

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    Salt this, buddy!

Fleet information

  • Current Vessel
    In Training/Unassigned/On Leave
  1. The entry doors from the shuttle bays to one of the many admissions areas for the starbase swung open and another group of arrivals swarmed into the area. Several spoke among themselves as the moved toward one of the stations manned by station security. Most seemed to be travelling alone, a suitcase following along behind one, more than one with a duffle slung over a shoulder, the look of a traveler on their face as they dug out the needed ID for the guards. One of them, a young lady dressed in a one piece Starfleet off-duty uniform, tugged her duffle over her shoulder as she got in line behind a family of Bejorans. On the tall side for a human female, she touched six feet when she stood up straight, she had red hair that skirted just north of the regulations for hair length, it currently was in a loose pony tail that fell done just below her collar. Her body filled out the uniform nicely, the blue of the uniform contrasting with her pale skin. As she waited in line she thought again about the last five years of her life. The last year of high school, the pace she set for herself as she finished out her career as a baseball player, pitching and playing first base for her school team, the Rocketeers, along with keeping her grades in the top three percent of her class, had been stressful. But nothing compared to the next four years of her life as she went through Starfleet Academy. Had it only been twenty days ago when she’d stood with the rest of her graduating class, listening to the speech given by the Federation President, pride bursting through her as she received her diploma, and then the party afterward. The thought of that party brought a grin to her face. “ID, Cadet?” The voice of the security guard snapped Tara out of the past. She focused and realized that the Bajoran family was gone. The security guard who had just spoken was looking at her with a patient look on her fact. “Sorry, sir,” she replied. She passed him her ID, then shifted the duffel again as he ran his tricorder over the chip. “Just in from Earth?” he asked as his eyes took in the information presented on the scanner. “Yes,” she replied. “It’s my first trip out of the solar system.” He nodded and handed her ID back. “Everything checks out here. You’ve just enough time to check in with the Quartermaster’s office and drop your things off in your quarters. You are due to report to your Cadet Training at 1400 hours.” She accepted her ID and tucked it away. A glance at the chronometer on the wall showed 1255 hours. “Thank you,” she replied, then made her way to a public terminal, where she downloaded the public schematics of the station to her padd. A quick search turned up the Quartermaster’s office on this level. Another tap showed her where she was and projected a route on the screen to get her to the office. She headed out, determined to get settled in before she had to report for duty.
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