Unde Sequitur
Posted on Mon Jan 27th, 2020 @ 4:37pm by Lieutenant Commander Feyd Relor
Mission:
Coming Aboard
Location: Various
Timeline: Current
Off:
[Cracks Knuckles - it's been a while]
On:
[USS Independence]
Lieutenant Commander...who the hell thought he should be in charge of people?
That's what Feyd was thinking as he made his way through the empty corridors of his newest assignment - the USS Independence. He traveled light, probably due to his background as a guerrilla fighter way back before he joined Starfleet. It had taught him, among other things, that growing attached to possessions was a quick path to disappointment.
Glancing at his Padd to identify the quickest route to Sickbay, he heard a ruckus coming from somewhere down the corridor. His curiosity getting the better of him, he followed the noise to the Captain's ward area, also known as the 'kitchen'. Amid the chaos, his back to him, stood an average sized man with long black hair, spouting orders as if he owned the place. Crewmen ran around to obey, earning a raised eyebrow from Feyd. He chuckled to himself, reminded of someone he used to serve with.
As if he had heard his thoughts, the long haired man turned slowly, and locked gazes with Feyd.
Turning from directing the symphony of engineers he sees a Starfleet officer in blue standing a few yards away. It takes a few moments for him to recognize the man as he was not expecting to see someone he knew on board the Independence.
Taking a step towards him he says “Dr Relor, I appreciate you coming all the way down here. However, the crewman was not injured that badly and he has already returned to work.” Turning back to the work crew he points and says “you, yes you there, be careful with that” returning his focus to Feyd he says “perhaps we can meet for drinks later and catch up. Excuse me, no no no, your installing that upside down...”
Feyd nodded at the crewman as recognition of who he was clicked into place. John Sunfeather, perhaps one of the only people in Starfleet that understood him, was his uncle.
"Thomas, what's it been, six years? It's nice to see you. Let's definitely grab a drink sometime."
He turned as the crewman went back to his orchestrations, hesitated, then continued down the corridor toward Sickbay. Time to get his house in order.
[[Sickbay]]
Feyd had barely set his gear down and started making a circuit of sickbay when two men in Starfleet Yellow entered.
“Are you the Doctor?” One of them, a man of average height and build asked tersely. He was clearly infuriated, and refused to make eye contact with the other man. He was tall, with short cropped dark hair and a polished look about him.
“I am,” Feyd said, “What can I do for you two gentlemen?”
The shorter man started to speak when the taller one cut him off. “He says he’s the Chief Operations Officer on this ship, and I have orders here that says it’s me.”
Feyd went ahead asked the obvious question. “Did you check with the ship’s computer?”
“The computer is wrong.” The taller man practically shouted.
“The hell it is!” The shorter one countered. “Anyway, the Captain isn’t on board yet, and we figured Sickbay would have an independently verified record. Can you look it up against the medical roster?”
Feyd sighed heavily as he tapped the commands into his padd. “It says here, the Chief Operations Officer of the USS Independence is Brooks Balrog.” He said, looking up expectantly.
“Ha!” Said the shorter man. “In your face, beanpole!”
The taller man looked confused. “Then what…”
Feyd rolled his eyes. “Can I see your orders?”
The man handed them to Feyd and he quickly scanned it. “It says you’re assigned to the USS Independent. The is the USS Independence,” Feyd said, over-pronouncing the last syllable. “You’re on the wrong ship.”
Off:
Feyd Relor
Chief Medical Officer
USS Independence
