"Just Boimler? Ain't you Officer Boimler, or am I getting my purple-haired folks confused?"
No amount of explaining what Star Fleet does could ever get Dan to want to do anything but run screaming from the whole concept - ranks, policies, directives, the fucking horror - but from what he's gleaned in his twenty-odd years of being a person with basic observational skills, people in these sorts of organizations feel proud of both their own accomplishments and the work they do. If Boimler earned himself a rank of sorts, then Dan wants to honor and acknowledge that.
"Well, even by my world's standards I'm a bit behind the curve, but we ain't been to space yet in my world so knowing this sort of thing ain't been a top priority for me." Dan's pretty sure they haven't been to space. Someone at a dive bar once told him that NASA was a giant federal money laundering scheme and he drank that conspiracy theory up like it was elixir from Heaven.
He looks at the circles on the tablecloth. He suspects Boimler's about to tell him about what's inside the sun, as if the solar system were the same as a digestive system, and that that's what this drawing is about to elucidate.
"But if you ever need help doing something real analog, like catching a calf or picking a lock, I'm your man."
no subject
No amount of explaining what Star Fleet does could ever get Dan to want to do anything but run screaming from the whole concept - ranks, policies, directives, the fucking horror - but from what he's gleaned in his twenty-odd years of being a person with basic observational skills, people in these sorts of organizations feel proud of both their own accomplishments and the work they do. If Boimler earned himself a rank of sorts, then Dan wants to honor and acknowledge that.
"Well, even by my world's standards I'm a bit behind the curve, but we ain't been to space yet in my world so knowing this sort of thing ain't been a top priority for me." Dan's pretty sure they haven't been to space. Someone at a dive bar once told him that NASA was a giant federal money laundering scheme and he drank that conspiracy theory up like it was elixir from Heaven.
He looks at the circles on the tablecloth. He suspects Boimler's about to tell him about what's inside the sun, as if the solar system were the same as a digestive system, and that that's what this drawing is about to elucidate.
"But if you ever need help doing something real analog, like catching a calf or picking a lock, I'm your man."