USS Sentinel
After Viewing the new ship (Tag Ford)
Posted by Lieutenant Charles Fordham (Security Chief) in After Viewing the new ship (Tag Ford)
Posted by Ensign Rand Farquharson (Yeoman) in After Viewing the new ship (Tag Ford)
Posted by Lieutenant Charles Fordham (Security Chief) in After Viewing the new ship (Tag Ford)
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻<snip>
When she was free? Oh, that was nice most security personnel she’d met were more concerned with maintaining training not giving new training. “Usually at the end of alpha shift and before 1800. we can go straight to deck 5. That’s my next stop.” She stepped off the turbo lift. “All of the fore section is dedicated to security. I need to grab a report from the quartermaster in the cargo bay.” She didn’t know if she should offer to catch up with him or not. Of course if he made any comments or notes she wouldn’t catch them, but then again he may not appreciate her making note of all of that, or maybe he expected her to. She moved aft to the cargo bay and walked in. She found the station quarter master overseeing the unloading of the ship’s supplies. She waited for him to finish. “Lt Cmdr I’m here to pick up the daily report.” The man snorted and ignored her. Rand waited to see if he’d address her not. And the answer was not. This was why she preferred to be in uniform to collect these. Lt Cmdr Hitnel had a chip on his shoulder and took it out on lower ranking officers and enlisted. She took a step to the side and clasped her hands behind her back. “Lt Cmdr I’m here for the daily report.” Again he ignored her. “Lt the report, please.” He finally turned to look at her, a thorough once over and grunted. “Get out of my way, missy.” She could feel those cold heat waves again and the tunnel vision. But she was right and he was wrong. He was breaking protocol and SOP. And that put her in the right and she was the captain’s yeoman and that gave her a different kind of rank that was like armor. She sighed, “Cpt’s Yeoman Farquharson not missy. SOP Lt Cmdr. Daily reports are due for the CO by 1800 hours. If you’ve neglected to write it, I’m happy to take a verbal report.”
“I don’t answer to Carmichael,” he was working himself into a nice little show of rank. She could feel Rand interrupted him. “No you don’t, but you do answer to Cpt Jenkins of K5. I am more than happy to let him and Cpt Carmichael know you didn’t file your report because you didn’t like ‘missy’ asking for it. Now you can give me the report, or I can write a report of my own: harassment of a junior officer by a ranking officer. I report directly to Carmichael and before yesterday directly to Jenkins.” Hitnel didn’t like it but he threw the data disk at her. She snatched it out of the air. “Thank you Lt. I appreciate your assistance.” She turned and walked out of the cargo bay, once out of ear shot she whispered to herself, “Bidh a h-uile càil ceart gu leòr.” She focused on her steps and walking, even with feigned confidence, out of the cargo bay with her last report collected.
Yeoman randFord considered staying with her as she retrieved the report, but figured by this time a little room alone would be good. He nodded to her as they split and he turned toward the security areas. The first he came upon was the brig, where a couple of K-5 engineers were closing up panels following the last inspection. He watched them test the fields on the last one before he moved on. The phaser range was empty, the stalls and target display systems all turned off. The weapons lockers were locked, he was pleased to see, indicating weapons were present within. He’d need to get the access code.
The next room on his tour was the armory, where a lone lieutenant in security red was writing on a clipboard. He glanced up as Ford entered. “May I help you?” he asked, not recognizing Ford as one of his men currently assigned to guarding and preparing the Sentinel.
Ford shook his head. “Sorry to bother you,” he replied. “I’m Lieutenant Fordham, I’ll be security chief on the Sentinel.”
The other man flipped a few pages in the clipboard, looking back and forth from whatever he saw there to Ford. “Good timing,” he said, releasing the pages and dropping the clipboard onto a desk. “I can transfer the locker codes to you now.” He pressed a series of buttons on the physical keyboard on the closest locker, then pulled a rod about a quarter-inch in diameter from his pocket and inserted it vertically into the bottom of the lock pad and turned it. The pad beeped.
“Enter a new code,” he told Ford. He did so, and the other officer removed the rod. They repeated this at the other lockers in the room. The security officer made a note on his clipboard and handed it to Ford. “Please sign acknowledging you are now in control of the armory locker codes and,” he handed the rod to Ford, “the security key for resetting codes. It will only work when a panel has been unlocked with the correct code already.”
Ford pocketed the rod and signed the document. “All done then,” the fellow said. “The rest of the controls will be transferred via computer to you tomorrow during the handover ceremony. I stand relived.” Well, he didn’t stand long, rushing off out the door. Ford opened the nearest locker and examined the rifles within, the copper tubes gleaming in the light. He closed it and went to the next - phaser pistols. He made sure the rest were locked before exiting and heading for the cargo bay to find Rand.
He heard raised voices as he approached and quickened his pace, nearly bumping into Rand as he turned a corner toward the cargo bay entrance. There was no one else nearby. “Pardon me,” he said, taking a step back, eyes sweeping the corridor. “I thought I heard an argument.” He settled back on her, cocking his head. “Everything all right, Rand?”
COS Ford
She’d been repeating something, and she wasn’t running but she was obviously eager to be moving. Away or to somewhere was a guess. Rand, for her part, had been walking by memory and was startled by Ford’s sudden appearance. He heard? Oh that was embarrassing. She hadn’t yelled had she? No, she was certain she had not yelled, though she probably did raise her voice a bit to get the Hitnel’s attention in the end. Everything alright? “Yes of course Lt.” back to that formality. She flexed her hands more checking that there was no tingling than anything else. She glanced back at the cargo bay. “Sometimes ranking officers don’t like dealing with yeoman.”
Yeoman RandFord’s face hardened and he looked toward the cargo bay doors. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax, and then a smile broke across his face.
Rand turned back in time to catch his smile, but not the sudden hardening of his features. She smiled slightly in return. She had her report and Hitnel would be off the ship in a day at most.
“Miss Farquharson, I would very much like to see my office, but I have not yet been given access to it. I’m betting that you, as captain’s yeoman, have. Would you be able to help me with that?” That same smile was still in place, and it could, perhaps, remind someone of a shark.
COS Ford
Her smile widened genuinely. “That’s very good. Most people butcher my last name, it’s why I go by my nickname, Rand. It sounds a little more formal and people don’t get hung up on trying to pronounce it.” She looked around and didn’t see anyone. “Yes I can get you in, but I could get in trouble for it.” She turned down the hallway, back the way he had come and stopped at a door on the interior side of the corridor. She totally missed the sharkiness of his smile in her focus on the task and putting Hitnel out of her mind. He was a senior officer, she knew who he was and she was allowed to assist the other senior officers. She turned to him with a grin, hoping he didn’t write her up for this. “I’ll help you anyway.” Something a yeoman was never without? Her access keys. They were assigned to her the moment Sentinel arrived by Cpt Jenkins of K5. She pulled them out of her pocket, slipped a small cylinder like object into the bottom of the access panel and entered a code. The door slid open to a rather spacious office. Big enough to hold a conference if needed. She stood aside to let him enter and then followed. “What I do not have access to is that panel behind the desk. It opens into the main jefferies tube access. You can get anywhere from in there.”
Yeoman RandFord stepped into the office, looking around. The layout was much as he expected: a desk, a chair on one side and two on the other; a screen, a button panel beneath it; and two data tape ports, one of which was occupied. He stepped up to the screen and pressed the button on it which snapped, and the screen lit to life with a view of the bridge, with a crewman wiping off displays.
The interface was simple enough, and one he was familiar with from monotonous duties on other vessels: two buttons to move to different views throughout the ship, like a ring. Eventually, the view of the cargo bay snapped into view with a button press, and he shifted to the second set of buttons, holding one down. The man on screen began walking backwards, and soon Rand was visible walking backwards into frame, spinning around, and throwing a data tape at the man, who slammed it on a table. Rand then stood there, and without sound on it was awkward as she seemed to stare at the man’s back, until she walked backwards out of frame again. Ford released the button and opened a drawer in the desk - this setup always had blank data tapes in the same location. He placed one into the empty slot, pressed the button beside it with a snick, and then another button beneath the display, and the same footage played again, forwards this time.
Once past-Rand had left the room again, he hit another button and then ejected the data tape. The view on the screen reverted to the man writing something in the cargo bay. Ford turned the display off and pocketed the data tape.
“Thank you, Rand,” he said. “You are a most excellent tour guide. What is our next stop?”
COS Ford
Rand waited quietly while he inspected the office area and manipulated the controls on the console. She watched with curiosity as he recorded something to a data tape. She made the correct assumption that it was images he wanted to study. She made the incorrect assumption that it was to determine where to place security and determine areas of weakness, not about her. “Oh…you’re welcome. I’m glad I could help.” She led the way down the corridor pulling out her watch. “Well deck 4 is next and where your quarters are located. I need to get these ready for the captain, but I’d be happy to finish your tour after I drop them off.” And she really wouldn’t mind. She was agitated at the behavior of the quarter master and had reacted more personally than she normally would have because of her behavior in the lounge, but she was feeling on more even ground now. She entered the turbolift with him, hit the button for deck 4.
Yeoman Rand