Posted by Cadet Wiles Osten (Security Officer) in Solo Thread: A Quartermaster’s Query (Cadet Osten)

Posted by Cadet Wiles Osten (Security Officer) in Solo Thread: A Quartermaster’s Query (Cadet Osten)

Posted by Captain Felix Rhodes (Captain) in Solo Thread: A Quartermaster’s Query (Cadet Osten)
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻
OOC Note: This is a solo thread written as a short story to develop my character. If you would like to contribute to the thread in some way, please contact me via Discord at Zenbe10 before doing so! I hope you enjoy reading!

Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
“Computer, what is a feijoa?” Cadet Wiles Osten buttoned his golden uniform’s collar and plopped down with a small ‘oof’ on his cot as he pulled his shoes out from under the bed.

“A feijoa is a green, egg-shaped fruit native to South America, Earth,” the computer’s ever-pleasant voice recited promptly, “the fruit pulp has a sweet flavor while the rind is tart and sour.”

“Thanks, computer,” Wiles muttered as he furrowed his brow while absent-mindedly slipping on his second shoe. He had awoken to a security assignment from the quartermaster, of all people, about investigating inventory in cargo bay three. Apparently, the feijoa stock in specific was of concern.

Wiles was sure that one day such an assignment would be boring. But for now, he was excited to have his first solo mission ship-board. Even if it just amounted to opening crates in cargo bay three all day to find this missing mystery fruit.

Swiping his PaDD from his bedside stand, Wiles hopped up and headed out of his quarters, throwing a casual “lights off” over his shoulder as the doors slid shut behind him. Oddly, his roommate was up even before Wiles today. Perhaps he had gotten his first assignment from medical as well. Did he mention starting his shifts in sickbay today, or was that tomorrow?

Cargo bay three was deserted when the doors parted in front of Cadet Osten. Crates of different sizes and configurations littered the large room. It was apparent from the styles of the containers that their contents had a variety of different origins, likely from many different worlds. This made sense, considering the inventory list Wiles scrolled through on his PaDD as he stood just inside the bay doors, which hissed closed. Cargo bay three stored many items of cultural importance for the crew of the Challenger for ceremonies and celebrations, but it also stored fresh vegetables and fruits for use in the Officer’s Mess. A perk of the rank, Wiles supposed.

Investigating the missing feijoa would be easier than Wiles had anticipated, considering that only about half of the fifty different containers in the cargo bay were refrigerated. If some poor dockhand had been overwhelmed by the task of restocking the Challenger’s inventory at the last starport, hopefully they had at least determined that the fruit should be refrigerated while they misplacing them.

Wiles flailed his arms and sent his PaDD flying as he fumbled a feijoa that fell out of the refrigerated storage locker as he opened it. He winced as the PaDD clanged to the ground on the other side of the cargo bay and loosened his grip on the feijoa he had just barely caught, and likely bruised. Glancing back up at the shelf, Wiles’ eyes widened and his other hand shot up to the brim, using his forearm to stop a second and third fruit from rolling out. With a small sigh and a roll of his eyes, Wiles collected himself and the unsecured fruit, placing their container within the storage locker back upright and gingerly setting them down inside it.

With a sigh, Cadet Osten crossed the cargo bay to retrieve his PaDD, holding his breath as he picked it up. A fresh dent, but the screen was not cracked, thankfully. Refocused, Wiles checked the inventory. The Challenger was slated to have 21 feijoa onboard. Wiles had only encountered three. So he had better start searching.

The next two hours proved unfruitful. The other 24 refrigerated units had no misplaced produce to be found. Wiles hopped up onto one of the crates, letting his legs dangle as his placed his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his palms. He glanced across the room at the feijoa’s rightful container. Then with a frown, he jumped down and walked over to it again, reinvigorated.

The bucket of feijoa had been knocked over when he first opened the refrigerator. There was no way Wiles could have caused that. And he sincerely doubted that anyone would purposefully leave the fruit rolling around on the shelf. Much less the regular mess staff or the quartermaster. Wiles blinked at the remaining three fruit through their clear bucket. Why had they been left like that?

“Computer,” Wiles said cautiously as he followed his line of thinking, “who has access to this cargo bay?”

“Cargo bay three is unrestricted, all Challenger personnel are able to access its contents,” the computer responded.

Wiles groaned and tapped his PaDD. “Computer, who has accessed cargo bay three in the last 48 hours?”

“Over a dozen personnel have entered cargo bay three in the past two days. Transferring information to your PaDD now.”

At first, the information on Wiles’ screen did not appear to be particularly helpful. There were assorted cadets from various departments and a couple ensigns as well, along with the standard mess staff. But as Wiles read the list again, his eyes narrowed. There were ASSORTED cadets from VARIOUS departments listed on the access log. Why were medical, engineering, and science cadets going into cargo bay three?

He flagged the outliers. Three cadets from engineering, two from science, and one from medical. Cadet Osten was not fond of the idea of following this train of thought through. But the feijoa were missing, and he found it highly unlikely that they had been taken by mess staff without the quartermaster’s knowledge. But perhaps…

Wiles decided it was time to start questioning his fellow cadets.

OOC: Don’t forget to sign off on your posts!

James

“I was getting incense for a memorial service for my grandmother.”

Wiles’ ears burned as he replayed Cadet Ongsteadlea’s pained words in his mind over and over. He sat slumped over a bowl of clam chowder in the mess hall, absent-mindedly stirring the thick substance as he stared into its pale folds. Maybe he had been overzealous. Asking his peers about their personal comings and goings was proving invasive. And unproductive.

The PaDD in front of him had three of the six names crossed off. Another medical cadet had claimed he had wandered into cargo bay three by accident, thinking he was a couple decks up at the medical cargo bay. And an engineering cadet had claimed that he was doing routine checkups on the refrigerator motors. Wiles had considered reaching out to the chief engineer to confirm the assignment, but it seemed like a drastic measure on account of some missing fruit.

The quartermaster had not seemed particularly concerned about locating the vanished produce when Wiles had told reported their absence to him. He had waved a hand and muttered something about hoping the next starbase had some. But Wiles felt like his job was not done until he had at least figured out what happened to the feijoa. And he still could not shake the feeling that something fishy was at play.

Wiles placed the untouched clam chowder into the resequencer. He wanted to avoid another incident like with Cadet Onsteadlea if at all possible. Which meant he was headed back to cargo bay three. He still had 25 storage containers to check, after all.

As Wiles rummaged through crate number 41, the cargo bay doors whooshed open. He paused, bending back and sticking out his neck to try and see who had entered from behind the large cargo containers. The containers still blocked his view, so he opened his mouth to greet his fellow personnel. But Wiles’ security training made him pause. It was quiet in the cargo bay, aside from the hum of the ship. There were no self-assured, confident steps of someone with purpose. This person was scampering.

Cadet Osten slowly pulled his hand from the crate and slinked around the container between him and the closing door, peeking around the corner as he did so. An olive-skinned cadet in science-blue was creeping toward the refrigerated units, tossing looks over his shoulder toward the bay doors as he went.

Behind Wiles, something shifted in the crate he had been rifling through, sending a soft thud through the bay. The intruding cadet jumped and turned quickly, catching Wiles’s gaze. Wiles flinched.

The cadet, who Wiles did not recognize from his own personal knowledge or the list of suspects, offered a nervous smile. “I guess neither of us are very good at this, are we?” He glanced again at the door.

Wiles did not quite emerge from behind the crate. “Good at what?”

The science cadet winked. “Right, exactly. Did you find them? They should be in a fridge.”

Wiles’ eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he stepped out from behind the crate, causing the other cadet’s eyes to widen in turn as they flickered down to Wiles’ golden uniform.

“Wait,” Wiles quickly stated, putting his hands up, “wait let’s talk about this.”

But the other cadet had quickly put the pieces together and practically ran out of the cargo bay. Wiles cursed under his breath as he watched him go. The cadet had not admitted to anything, and more frustrating still, Wiles had not had the opportunity to ask him WHY he might be stealing feijoa of all things. Especially considering he could undoubtedly replicate them in the mess hall.

Wiles sighed and crossed the room to the refrigerator that was supposed to contain 21 of the missing fruit. He stared at the door for a moment. What the science cadet had said… referring to ‘we’ as if they were doing something together and asking Wiles where the fruit were… did not make sense. It was entirely possible, of course, that the Cadet had been in the cargo bay for some completely different clandestine reason. Maybe more than just the feijoa inventory needed to be inspected.

Wiles absent-mindedly opened the refrigerator door with a small sigh, wanting to inspect what it was about this fruit that made it worthy of abduction. But as he reached for them, he paused. There were only two feijoa in the bin. Yesterday there had been three.

Making assumptions was not Cadet Osten’s favorite method of assessing situations. But in this case, he had no choice. Answers were not coming easy, and his interaction with the other cadet had just made the whole predicament odder… and more concerning. Wiles reluctantly decided he needed to operate under three assumptions: one; that the feijoa had been stolen, two; that the cadet was involved, and three; that he was not acting alone.

(Wiles Osten, Security Cadet)

OOC: Nice writing Ben

-Dave

OOC: Thanks Dave!

The cadet’s name was Garn, and he looked extremely nervous standing on the edge of the Academy pool. Wiles gave him a small wave from the other side, then plunged into the lane, breast-stroking the fifty meters to meet him at the pool’s edge.

Wiles put both hands on the concrete border and hoisted himself up, placing one knee on the tile and pushing up to place his other foot next, rising to stand as water rolled off of him. Chlorine wafted from his skin as Cadet Garn stepped back, trying to avoid being splashed.

Cadet Osten offered a small, hopefully disarming smile. “Fancy a swim?”

The science officer, still dressed in his uniform, shook his head as his eyes glanced over Wiles’ lean, glistening physique. “No thank you. I didn’t come dressed for the occasion.”

Wiles shrugged and grabbed a nearby towel, shaking it through his hair aggressively so that when he pulled it away, it stuck up in all different directions. “I DID tell you that I’d be running a pool simulation.”

The cadet gave a sneer. “Maybe another time, when I’m not being summoned by blackmail.”

Wiles frowned and wrapped the towel around his shoulders, sitting down on the closest pool-side bench. “It’s not blackmail. You know as well as I do that I have no ‘evidence’ against you. And you didn’t even do anything, I stopped you remember? AND even if you did, I’m not even sure we’d be talking about a crime here.” He shrugged, “So I’m pretty sure you’re only here because having me looking into things more on my own would cause more trouble for you than just talking it through.”

Cadet Garn crossed his arms, uncrossed them and slumped his posture forward slightly, then joined Wiles on the bench. “Yeah,” he sighed, “exactly. I don’t want you thinking this was my idea. You shouldn’t be acting like I’m some prime suspect.”

Wiles put his hands on the bench beside his knees, pulling his shoulders upwards and looking to the high white ceiling. “I mean.... you kinda are.”

The other cadet threw his hands up. “You should be interrogating Hawlane, she’s the one who put me up to it! And she made Ongsteadlea, Perr’le, and Twildie do it too!”

The green of Wiles’ eyes looked out of the rippling water of the pool, unfocused. “Why feijoa, of all things?”

Garn put a hand on his forehead. “I don’t know, it’s just an initiation for boarding the Challenger.”

Wiles stood and threw the towel back behind him to land on the bench beside Garn as he stepped toward the edge of the pool. He glanced over his shoulder at the other cadet. “Thanks. I’ll talk to Hawlane.” And with that, he dove into the water, hands above his head in a point. As he surfaced, he spun onto his back, and began backstroking across the pool, mind elsewhere as his eyes dragged along the simulated ceiling.

(Wiles Osten, Security Cadet)

Wiles winced as the feijoa smacked Cadet Hawlane on the top of the head when he dropped it down the Jeffery’s tube. “What the phaser?!” the engineering cadet below him exclaimed in irritation, recoiling from her work on a bulkhead to rub the back of her head, hand slipping into short blonde locks. She looked up and scowled at Wiles.

Perhaps his dramatic stunt had not had the intended effect. Honestly, Wiles was just relieved that she had not hit her head on the inside of the bulkhead. He corrected his expression quickly as she looked upwards, steeling his gaze. “We need to talk,” he called down.

Hawlane scoffed. “Nice to meet you too,” she growled. She reached into the bulkhead where the feijoa had bounced, and she paused as she pulled it out and inspected it. She looked back up. “Well, come on then.” She crawled completely into the opened bulkhead.

Cadet Osten hesitated as she disappeared from view, then climbed down the Jeffery’s tube ladder to peer into the bulkhead. Cadet Hawlane sat scrunched into a space barely high enough to fir her tall seated frame, curled into a ball with her knees at her chest. She jerked her head toward the other half of the space, which Wiles climbed into. They sat knees to knees, bent necks forcing them to meet eyes.

“So?” She asked, brown pupils unwavering. She peeled the feijoa with some difficulty and bit into it awkwardly in the confined space.

“I was told to talk to you about that,” Wiles stated calmly, nodding at the fruit. “Are you the reason they’ve been going missing?”

Hawlane chewed for a moment before swallowing. “Replicated ones really don’t have the same taste, do they?” She placed the fruit Wiles had made earlier under her raised knees, apparently finished with it. “I’m Amadna.”

Cadet Osten blinked. “Wiles.”

“Look,” she sighed, “I’m sorry we didn’t include you. But honestly, it’d be too easy for security cadets. And of course we’re worried you goody-two-shoes wouldn’t be able to keep quiet.”

Wiles opened his mouth, but did not speak for a moment. “I’m confused.”

Amadna raised her eyebrows in amusement. “Questioning skills are still in development, got it. It’s just a prank me and some of the other senior cadets made up to haze the new brass. Claimed it was an ‘initiation’ to make it feel more official.”

“So you told them to steal feijoa,” Wiles confirmed, “why?”

“This is privileged information that took some digging, so don’t go spreading it around,” Amadna warned, “but it’s the captain’s favorite fruit. And they keep fresh ones for the officer’s mess in cargo bay three.”

Wiles nodded slowly. “I see. So it’s rebellion, then.”

Amadna shifted, taking up more space and squeezing Wiles in a bit more. “Don’t be dramatic. It’s just fun to see the new cadets grapple with defying authority for once in their lives.”

Wiles raised an eyebrow. “What happens to the fruit once they get them?”

The other cadet pursed her lips. “We eat them.”

“So maybe there’s a little bit of rebellion involved,” Wiles suggested with a glint in his gaze.

Amadna rolled her eyes. “Look, I get it. You figured us out. Good for you. But listen, it’s harmless, really. It’s good bonding for the incoming class, helps them adapt to the stress of a starship, makes them less likely to be mindless drones to the senior officers on the Challenger. And having fresh feijoa for the captain is far from important. I bet he doesn’t even notice when the chef supplements with replicated ones.”

“You could tell,” Wiles pointed out flatly.

The engineer scowled, her plain features contorting. “And so what if he can? It’s a bit ridiculous that they don’t eat replicated food like the rest of us, right?”
When Wiles did not respond, Amadna shook her head. “Yeah yeah. You’re a stone-cold security cadet who prioritizes protocol over nuance. But remember, if you report this, you’re going to ruin a lot of peoples’ records over FRUIT. There’s a reason security cadets are excluded from these type of social things. Because of people like you.”

Cadet Osten climbed out of the bulkhead wordlessly, and began scaling the Jeffery’s tube. Cadet Hawlane was right. The harm of allowing this “hazing” to continue seemed minimal. Reporting it would cause a lot more problems than letting it continue. But it was also unethical behavior. Especially if it was coerced under the guise of tradition or social acceptance, Wiles had to make sure the ringleaders like Hawlane were held responsible.

“Wiles,” Amada called from underneath him, “if you’re a buzzkill here, that reputation will follow you to whatever assignment you find next. It’d be a lonely stint in Starfleet for a snitch.”

Wiles clenched his jaw. He had no idea what to do.

(Wiles Osten, Security Cadet)

“Well it sounds like you know what to do.”

“Thanks mom,” Wiles rolled his eyes with an annoyed half-smile. “I wish it was that easy.”

The woman looking back at him from the viewscreen tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. She seemed young, for fifty-five. And she was beautiful, in the way that all mothers are. “What you’ve told ME is that your job is to protect the ship and its crew from threats internal and external, I don’t remember you mentioning needing to win a popularity contest.” Wise, too. Her soft German accent was always comforting to Wiles.

“I just…” Wiles sighed. “Is it really protecting those cadets if I expose them to the potential for court martial?”

His mom gave Wiles a look of utter disbelief. “Seriously? So what, the alternative is to let them continue to be manipulated by this dreadful Amadna character for the remainder of their time on the Challenger? You know that’s wrong.”

Wiles stood and leaned against his desk on the palms of his hands, putting his face closer to the camera with a puzzling look. “I know, I know. But she doesn’t think she’s doing anything harmful. And the cadets might have been expecting this sort of hazing, maybe that’s why they bought into it in the first place.”

“Wiles.” His mother looked him straight in the eye, also moving closer to the camera so their faces were both blown up and distorted. “Stop overthinking. I know you hate when things are black and white, you’re always looking for those shades of grey. But there’s a reason you’re not letting this go. You know that the more difficult decision is the right one.” She said this forcefully, but with a gentle, caring tone. She was a good psychologist, for sure.

Wiles groaned as he plopped back down into the chair, arms falling onto the desk in defeat. “It’s just hard, mom.”

“I know, sweetie.” She frowned slightly. “How are you doing up there? Making friends?”

Wiles glanced to the side. “I’m doing alright, just getting settled in, you know how that goes for me.”

She smiled with a touch of concern. “Don’t forget that we’re always here, and that Lieutenant Commander Korczak seems like a great resource, I looked him up.”

“Of course mom, of course,” Wiles petered awkwardly. “I should be going, I guess I need to write up my report and talk to my superiors.”

“Alright, well I’m proud of you sweetie! Let me know how it goes! I love you!”

“I love you too, mom.”

(Wiles Osten, Security Cadet)