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Post by Kossuth on Jul 26, 2014 10:11:06 GMT -5
My name is Tiberius Asada. I perform a much-needed job on our little ship called the Sentinel. Our ship clocks in at 170 meters in length; the old Constitution class was 289 meters long. 466 for an Excelsior. 642 for a Galaxy. So you might think that not a whole lot happens on our little ship. But you'd be wrong.
A lot happens behind closed doors. Sure, every crew breaks regulation from time to time. But we keep it all in-house. Reports and demerits are created, but sometimes they don't make it past the hull, so to speak. Why's that? Chalk it up to mistakes, maybe. Maybe we're bad with paperwork. But we all know the reason why this happens. And hell, I've been a part of it more times than I can count. Because out here, you need to be a cowboy. It's easy to play by the rules when you're in a ship so large and heavily armed that you rule the skies. When you dig a little deeper out here, you can see what we sweep under the rug. What would be unusual elsewhere is a daily business for us.
You might be surprised, but we don't permit everything here. It's come to my attention that my chief of security may have engaged in conduct amounting to excessive force against our own officers. That's where my job comes into play.
My name is Tiberius Asada. You'd normally call me the executive officer, but today, you can call me the Investigator.
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Post by Kossuth on Jul 26, 2014 22:10:34 GMT -5
"No time like the present", I said as I downed the last shot of my whiskey and stubbed out my cigar in a dirty ashtray. I don't usually smoke, but under the circumstances, I had to dip into Werner's stash. He thinks I don't know where it is, but I do. Then again, there's a lot that this crew thinks I don't know. Unfortunately for them, it's my job to see everything that happens on the Sentinel. Unfortunately for me, it makes me want to puke.
Once my cigar was good and dead, I tucked my Type 1 phaser into my belt pocket. My Academy teacher told me there were two things you needed to worry about when you worked security: girls and guns, and our ship had a problem with both. It was the kind of boat where you could tell if anything is out of whack: I could smell when Mr. Cameron ate too much garlic or when Joy put on too much talcum powder. But today, I smelled something rotten.
I stopped by the cafeteria to get some coffee. I ended up just watching the crew for a while, looking for any signs of suspicious behavior. There was Lt. Xethrill, waving at me from the other side of the room. He had more curves than a racetrack and he knew how to use them, but I had to be careful. When you have this job, you can't trust anyone. I just nodded. I had to head back to my quarters and maybe find another cigar on the way.
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Post by Kossuth on Jul 26, 2014 23:07:02 GMT -5
I figured that I might as well start with the personnel file of one Erys Murai. When she wasn't stealing shuttlecraft or assaulting Federation personnel, she was a damn fine officer. Everyone has their demons. For Erys, it was anger. It would bubble up inside her until she just couldn't control it anymore. She was probably the best security officer I had ever known, but a criminal five times over.
It's one thing to rough up a prisoner. Sure, we have regulations against it, but things are different when you're out in space. Sometimes prisoners take a tumble. Sometimes faces get re-arranged. But there were rules to the game. And, yet again, Erys wasn't playing by the rules.
I took a long drag on my cigar and blew out the smoke. It got in my eyes, made them hazy. Well, maybe that was the whiskey's fault. I was slamming shot after shot of the cheap stuff.
Most people keep their demons inside. Erys wears them on her shoulder. I already know what she'll say. She'll say it wasn't excessive force. Then again, is there anything too excessive for her?
I put the PADD down for a moment. It was going to be a long night, and it had just started.
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Post by Vice Admiral Nyoko Honda on Jul 27, 2014 1:09:08 GMT -5
<3 Koss
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Post by Kossuth on Jul 27, 2014 10:13:51 GMT -5
I've got to take a break. I'm all out of whiskey, but I know I have some cognac here somewhere. While I'm away from my desk, let me tell you how I went from a bright-eyed Ensign on his first starship posting, to just another dirtbag in a Starfleet uniform.
It all began when I was transferred from Starbase 39 security to the USS Adagio -- no bloody A or B. I had been the "Designated Marksman" of my squad on Starbase 39, which meant I was a sniper. But in reality, all I did was perform security sweeps of cargo. That was, at least, until I got my first starship posting. They tell you all about combat in the Academy, but you don't know the reality until you get out there. You never forget the first time you knock a ship's shields down and finish it off with a barrage of quantum torpedos. You never forget wrapping your hands around a Klingon's throat, and watching intently for the light in their eyes to fade away. Welcome to Starfleet, kid.
That kind of stuff leaves a grime on you, the kind of grime a Sonic Shower just can't take off. It gets in your pores, and when you've been around as long as I have, you can smell it on people. And I smell it on Erys more than anyone else. That's what's got me bothered.
So I'll set my cigar down next to a few of his dead buddies and pop open this cognac. If I didn't know better, I'd say the fluid pumping through my veins was more whiskey than blood. Luckily for me, nicotine and alcohol were like matter and antimatter, and my liver was one big warp core. I don't even want to know what time it is. I got work to do.
Oh, there's more to my Adagio story. There was a girl involved. Isn't there always a girl in these stories? She was the helmsman. I don't know what she saw in me, but she still gives me those eyes when we run into each other at the Starbase. But that's long in the past. I had a girl on the Adagio; the problem was, she had one too. And that's all I have to say about that.
Tomorrow the interviews begin, and I'm not nearly caught up on reading these reports.
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Post by Captain Joyaus Dalun on Jul 27, 2014 18:53:02 GMT -5
To: LtCdr Asada From: Capt Dalun Subject: Investigation
Mr. Asada, we have enough information for our proceedings. Cease immediately and provide your findings to me. Though I suspect they were not necessary at all. I hope you enjoyed your work, because from here on our, I expect much more of it.
Addendum: Also technically, I believe your relationship with Mr. Xethrill does constitute as a conflict of interest. Therefore, I am concerned that this may cause your findings to be invalid.
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Post by Kossuth on Jul 27, 2014 19:09:09 GMT -5
It was 0800 when the call came in. The Captain said she had enough information for the proceedings. Either that, or she had enough of the cigar smoke and alcohol stench coming from my quarters. The problem was, the investigation is never over.
The Captain is the only one I haven't turned my eyes toward. Maybe because she's my superior. But maybe because she has the worst secrets of all. The worst scars are the ones you don't talk about, and her lips were tighter than a stuck antimatter regulator. I wonder what's bouncing around in that head of hers. But even more, I wonder where my other bottle of cognac went to. It was going to be a long day.
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