Transporter rooms on starships are truly the most disgusting and dangerous places you’ll find anywhere. How do I know this? I’m Transporter Chief Kyle stationed on U.S.S. Enterprise 1701. I have seen it all – and then some. Trust me, what I’m about to tell you will gross you out. You’ll probably have nightmares too.
I’ve been serving on Captain Kirk’s starship for over three years now. Before this assignment, I was Transporter Chief on various other Starfleet vessels. I know firsthand the physical state and the often predatory attitude people assume after or before transport. So many bizarre stories to choose from, but I’ll start with a little death.
That’s right, I’ve beamed corpses into my transporter room. This happened during our mission to Pyris VII. The corpse was Lieutenant Jackson. That god forsaken world – the entire mission was so incredibly spooky. Jackson hailed Enterprise to beam him aboard. I’ve done it a thousand times, so I thought nothing of it. Immediately after materializing on the platform, he drops dead. Jackson just keels over dead as a door nail. But that wasn’t the end of it. No, not by a long shot of a phaser on kill.
Jackson starts ‘talking’ – yes, his corpse spoke – in this spine tingling, booming ghost voice. “Your ship is cursed! You must leave or all will die!” Can you imagine what kind of insane mind screw like that does to your sense of self? To one’s concept of solid reality and of stability? And the smell! The stench! I can’t tell you what it’s like to have deceased things smelling up on your transporter pad. Yeah, we have a bio-filter. Yes, it’s soon cleaned up. It takes time. You smell it. You just can’t imagine the overpowering stench for the time in between. And the awful, creepy feelings you get from it all. Just absolute horseshit.
Transporter Chief Equals Physical Assault
Now let me tell you about the times I’ve been threatened with phasers and brutally assaulted. That tyrannical nutcase Khan assaulted me. He did some kind of neck throttle move – like a more violent Vulcan neck pinch, I guess. The shit just floored me. Next, only a few months removed, my own crew mate, Dr. McCoy, violently attacked me. McCoy had been shot full of a potent drug – cordrazine. We experienced all kinds of bizarre time travel bullshit thereafter. So, yeah, I can’t take it personally, but still, the drugged out bastard really hurt me!
Look, I’m a happy kind of guy. I really am upbeat most of the time. I try to always have a smile on my face. It was so thrilling to land this gig on Kirk’s ship. But around this place, doing this crap job, it’s almost impossible to keep in a good mood. I really need therapy.
I could go on and on, but I won’t. Why should I? Maybe I’ll simply write a book and make some profit from the pain and sorrow I’ve endured as a Transporter Chief. Here’s my urgent plea to you. Considering a career in Starfleet? If you want to handle corpses and get viciously assaulted or threatened all the time, then go for my job. In fact, you can have it. I feel like quitting this miserable place. Bastards. Beam up your own rotten asses!