Tarik, Jackson, and Piccolo were in Tarik's office, sizing up the latest addition to the 28th MEF, 1st Lieutenant Shar.
"Lieutenant Shar," Tarik said. "You are Bajoran but don't appear to have a family name. Is there something you wish to explain here?"
"No, sir."
"I see you're missing your earring. In light of the fact that you don't appear to have a family name, I'll assume that you did not in fact convert out of the Bajoran religion. Your service record is, shall we say, interesting. How exactly did you come by that vessel of yours?"
"Won it in a game of dabo, sir?"
"Yeah, right... I suppose you were going to pay your docking fees the same way?"
"Docking fees, sir?"
"For a ship of that class it costs on the order of 1500 credits a month for a berth on the Senator's ransom we pay our junior officers." Piccolo and Jackson snickered at the comment. "Now, I know very well that no first lieutenant can afford that for very long, not if he wants to drink beer and chase whores in his off-time. So, either you're extremely good at dabo or have an inheritance stashed away somewhere."
Shar looked down at the deck.
"Look me in the eye when I am talking to you, Lieutenant!" Tarik snarled. Shar's gaze shot straight forward.
"As it so happens, I have just the assignment for you, Lieutenant no-family Shar. It'll even solve your ship-berthing problem for a while." Tarik handed Shar a PADD.
"Thermopylae, sir?"
"Yes, Thermopylae. You're going to be the Federation Liaison Officer to the La'Kon Legion, a group of G'kar volunteer fighters we've been... ah... 'advising' for want of a better term. You will observe and report on their activities, and fight whenever and wherever required. You will report directly to either Major Jackson or me. Have your ship ready for departure at 0600 hours tomorrow. Not 0605 or 0610, 0600. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Very good. Now, go finish tearing up the Promenade. There's not much to do on Thermopylae so I suggest you get your hell-raising out of your system now. Dismissed."
Shar left the office.
"Impressions, gentlemen?"
"I don't like the punk," Jackson said. "He's spent most of his career in rear-echelon positions and can't seem to function properly there. The only reason he's even in the Corps is because his very wealthy family disowned him for his antics. Even at that he wasn't exactly the best officer the Academy ever turned out. We should have sent him back, but we need the people no matter how troublesome or incompetent to start turning them away."
"I sense that he is sincere, just a little too bold for his own good," Piccolo said. The androgynous alien had been monitoring Shar during the interview. "If I may, Major, most of his previous units were notorious for their laxity. Consider the case of the 78th MEF, which was decimated by the Maltorians -- only a barely warp-capable race -- because Captain Carreras refused to listen to intelligence intercepts. Or the--"
"I see where you're going, Piccolo. This is his first serious combat unit under a competent command structure. Maybe this will make a difference, but only time will tell. Let's hope that not too many of the vounteers -- or Shar himself -- gets killed before enough time has passed," Jackson replied.
"If in fact Shar is killed, then enough time will have passed by definition. Still, I must concur with Lieutenant Piccolo. Shar needs experience, discipline, and above all maturity before he'll be anything resembling even an average junior officer. But in the meantime why not use his penchant for troublemaking in our favor?" Tarik asked, leaning back in his chair.
He liked Shar, in the same sense that he liked Paul Deveraux. Both men were well-meaning but incredibly unlucky. But whereas Deveraux had learned or was beginning to learn to be more circumspect about his ations and behavior, Shar still had a way to go in that department. Hopefully he'll make up the time quickly, Tarik thought.