Hey! Wasn't My Tool Right Here?
Posted on Friday July 5th, 2019 @ 8:24pm by Lieutenant Camm & Ensign Qualt Vonn & Lieutenant Chris Wayne & Lieutenant Junior Grade Jordan Emerson MD & Lieutenant Katherine Briggen & Civilian Neleph Parma & Lieutenant Phelan Sabrehagen
Oh Where, Oh Where, Has My Everything Gone?
Location: Union Mining Station
Timeline: October 4th, 2421
Ensign Qualt Vann had been struggling with a console most of the morning. When he had reported for duty he was told that the whole panel was down and that it was his responsibility to find out what was wrong with it and fix it or report what was wrong to someone who could. To Qualt, that sounded like a challenge and he felt he was more than up to it.
Several hours later, he was jammed up underneath the console, sitting on the floor with his right arm deep in the panel that contained all the wires and power relays and he still didn't know what was wrong with the panel. Somewhere, it wasn't getting any power, but he couldn't find the faulty wire. He had finally decided to look at each, one at a time. He had all the tools he was using spread out around him and he'd been using them, all of them, most of the three hours he'd been there.
He had just managed to reach the wire that he thought might be the culprit. Carefully, he worked it loose and pulled it up out of the panel to look at it. It came loose rather easily, so that was worrying and when he lifted the end up so he could see it, it was totally frayed. He tipped his head to one side, staring at the wire. He was pretty sure that he hadn't done that to wire, pulling it loose, because that also wasn't exactly where it was frayed. A wire that deep in the console shouldn't be frayed at all. There was nothing rubbing against it, the console had no moving parts, nothing was overheating, which could also cause fraying.
The good news was that he knew how to fix a frayed wire. He reached for his wire stripping tool, but his hand touched his pliers. He continued to feel around with his left hand and when he still didn't find the strippers he pulled his head out to actually use his eyes. The tool was nowhere to be seen. Qualt frowned. He was pretty sure that he had brought the wire strippers with him when he came over to the panel, but he was totally unsure as to how they had managed to not be there now. Frustrated, he crawled out from under the panel and got up to find another tool.
He returned a few moments later and looked down at his tools, the new wire stripper in hand. His pliers were gone. Qualt looked around. There were people, moving all over Engineering, busy with whatever they were busy with. No one was even paying attention to him. He sighed. He just wished that when they took the tools they would tell him. He set the wire strippers down and went to get another pair of pliers. Returning for a second time, pliers in hand, he looked down at his tools. The wire stripper was missing. Qualt screamed. It wasn't girly or frightened, it was the roar of a very frustrated man. "STOP TAKING MY FUCKING TOOLS!"
Kat had been working on another console when the shout from Qualt brought her head up, smacking it hard on the underside of the open console, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON NOW!!!!!", she yelled finally standing up rubbing her now aching head. "Qualt what the hell you hollerin' about laddie?", Kat said.
Qualt gestured to the ground in frustration, with both hands, his words failing him for a moment. "There's a frayed wire... I was gonna fix it. I bought all the tools... over here! They were right here! First the wire strippers... then when I went to get new ones my pliers disappeared. I mean... I don't mind people borrowing the tools I'm using, but damnit... tell me!" He gestured to the ground again in frustration, his hands going everywhere.
"SHIT! Who is the son of a bitch stealin' the tools huh? Anyone see anything? Come on! Don' tell me ye nare be seen' no one stealin' the damn tools?" Kat hollered.
Qualt looked around when Kat looked around. "I didn't see anyone take the tools, but I did step away from my station, cause I had to get more pliers." He scratched his head and continued to look around.
Lieutenant Camm had been meditating with his patient for about an hour. He had been seeing her since she came onboard. Something to do with an anxiety disorder. Lieutenant Camm believed that she just didn't really know how to relax anymore, so he had been teaching her different kinds of meditation techniques and she had responded rather well, but their session for the day was almost over. He opened his eyes and reached for a little chime that he used to signal the end of the session. The chime was a simple tool. It was one note and had a little striker that was used to sound it, but the striker was missing. Camm immediately started to look for it all around the table it had been sitting on, when he was still unsuccessful in finding it he cleared his throat and his patient opened her eyes with a look of surprise.
"Ooh... is it time?" she asked, smiling a little. It was good to see her smiling and relaxed.
Camm nodded. "Indeedy do it is! I can't seem to find my little chime ringer. Such a bummer. I swore I put it right here." He chuckled and shrugged. "Oh well! I can replicate another one!" He grinned. "Did you enjoy your meditation?"
She nodded. "Thank you, Doctor." She stood and stretched a little. "Same time Friday?"
Camm nodded, still looking a little for the striker, but he stood as well. "Thank you for coming and yes, same time on Friday would be totally awesome. Do you want to try painting? I find that it often takes my mind off the bustling day and gives me something to be totally happy about!"
She nodded. "We could try. I can't say I'm much of a painter though."
Once she was out the door, Camm returned to his search. His office was cluttered. He hadn't even been on the station that long and it was cluttered. He had never been very good at housekeeping, but he did know where most of his things were. Everything except the striker for his chime. It was true that he could replicate another one, but it was the principal of the matter that kept him looking.
As he looked, he started to notice that some other things in his office were missing as well. Things that he knew he had been using earlier, things that he knew where he had put them when he was finished with them. He frowned and turned in circles in his office for a few moments before heading for the door. Maybe there was a problem he wasn't aware of. His office door opened directly into the medical bay and he looked around for the Chief Medical Officer.
Jordan had been reading a rather interesting medical thriller, about a hospital administrator on Mars who had rigged operation rooms to malfunction, so certain patients died so he could harvest their body parts.
He had just gotten to the point where the protagonist had been drugged, made to look like he had appendicitis and was about to undergo surgery in one of the rigged operating rooms when he'd sat the novel down for lunch.
Now, when he had come back from lunch, the tablet was missing. He was usually very meticulous about such things and knew where he'd put it. But now it wasn't there. He cursed silently under his breath and was about to start retracing his steps, just in case, when the doors slid open.
"Yes," he said with an uncommon hint of irritation."What is it?"
Lieutenant Camm bobbed his head as if he was listening to music, but if he was only he could hear it. "So, you're missing stuff too? Totally not cool, man. I was meditating in my office... with a patient... and the little striker for my chime totally went missing!" he proclaimed. "Like, totally gone! Matter of fact, I had some really groovy little rocks... and some of those are totally gone too." He looked at Jordan. "So, you're the doc? Cool... I'm Lieutenant Camm, the counselor."
Some of Jordan's irritation ebbed away as he listened to the counselor. With a small smile now playing at his lips, he held out his hand. "Yes, I'm the doctor. I'm Jordan Emerson. Nice to meet you."
"Totally groovy, man," Camm said with a grin. He took Jordan's hand and shook it, letting the handshake go on a little long and moving the doctor's arm a little much. "Really nice to meet you, man. Really nice. Do you like painting?"
Jordan raised a brow at the question that seemed to come out of the blue. "I like art," he replied. "Though I've never tried painting myself. Why do you ask?"
Camm grinned. "Cause art is groovy. I like painting. I was going to teach my patient to paint. Art can help a lot with anxiety, but some of my brushes are also missing. We seem to have a mystery, Doctor." He raised his hands, wiggling his fingers at Jordan. "OooOoo... spooky!"
Jordan laughed in spite of himself. "You're right, we do have a mystery, the book I was reading went missing too. Any idea what is going on?"
"Not a clue," Camm replied. "Maybe we have a thief amongst us! We should investigate," he suggested, not that he really knew how to go about investigating something like this. "Maybe we should tell a security dude... It's not like I can't totally synthesize new brushes, of course, I don't know why they would want my brushes in the first place. I mean, they could like, totally synthesize their own. Why take mine? Not cool at all."
"No, I agree with you, not cool at all. Maybe we should talk to a security dude, like you said. Lucky for us I know one. I've flirted with him."
Camm's bulbous head bounced up and down. "I haven't flirted with any security dudes, lately, but that might be useful if you could call your flirty security dude," he drolled.
It was impossible for Jordan to keep a straight face. "I will call him. Tell me do you flirt with a lot of security dudes, or for that matter dudes in general?"
Camm was still nodding as if he was listening to music no one else could hear. "I like dudes. I like females too. I like diversity. It is important to experience everything we can." He grinned. "Totally everything is awesome, dude."
"Well, yeah, everything except being stuck here at the ass-end of nowhere, or having our things go missing, or, well there are a lot of things that are less than awesome. Though I do happen to agree with you about being into men and women."
"I think even the ass-end of nowhere can be a good thing," Camm said with a grin. "So are you gonna call the flirty security dude?"
"Yeah, I'm going to call him. He reached for his communicator and then cursed half under his breath, "DAMN IT! That's gone too. Can I borrow yours?"
Camm pulled his comscanner and handed it to Jordan, but he also doubled over laughing while he did it. The laughing got so bad he was slapping one knee. His laugh wasn't totally obnoxious, but he did a lot of wheezing and gasping, sometimes the gasp for air was rather loud. When he finally managed to stop laughing and breathe again he straightened up and grinned at Jordan. "Woo... Do you think someone onboard might have a ferret?"
"A ferret?" Jordan laughed not quite getting the connection at first. "You mean you think this is someone's pet doing this?" he asked still holding the comscanner without opening it.
"I dunno, man." Camm shrugged. "I haven't seen anyone steal anything though. Have you?"
"OHHHHKAAAY," Jordan said, stretching the word out. It seemed more than far-fetched to think a rodent was responsible, but he was too polite to say so.
Phelan was usually on time; it was a matter of some pride for him. Today, however, he was running late. Part of that was because he'd had to synthesize another towel when he hand apparently grown legs and walked off while he was in the shower. After that, he had discovered that his comb had joined the towel in some kind of shared adventure elsewhere on the station. He had frowned, sighed, and synthesized one of those as well -- he did not have time to find them now.
He had then finished dressing and gone to his post in the Hangar Bay only to find that the shift notes data tablet had vanished. "What the hell...?" he muttered. Was today some kind of weird holiday for objects?!
He began a thorough search for the data tablet but was brought up short by the arrival of his boss. She looked at him oddly. "What are you doing under that console, Phelan?" she asked.
He sighed; he must look foolish on his hands and knees under the console as though he was praying to the Dust Bunny Gods beneath it. He stood and dusted off his uniform pants, unnecessarily, and looked at Maerynn. "I was looking for the duty shift notes data tablet, Ma'am," he answered, hearing the irritation in his own voice and sighing again, this time at himself.
"It's--" She broke off as she reached over to where it should have been only to realize that it wasn't there. "Odd..." she muttered.
"Yeah. If it was just the data tablet, I wouldn't be so weirded out. But the stuff in my quarters was missing too." He studied her for a moment. "You didn't have that problem?"
She looked back at him, and he saw some confusion in her amber eyes. "I... don't have as many possessions as you do, Phelan." she reminded him.
He wanted to smack himself in the forehead but didn't. "Right, sorry. What do you want me to do?"
Maerynn shook her head. "Well, for now, forget about the data tablet. You know what your assignment for today is. Just go ahead and get to work."
"Yes, ma'am," he answered, moving off but secretly wondering if one of the shuttles was going to disappear next. Hopefully not while I'm in it. he added very privately as he headed off.
Chris was compiling a report. Nothing too big when he felt an urge. One that only nature could bring one. "Dang tea." he crumbled as he got up. Intent on making a quick pit stop. "Should I take this stupid thing with me?" he asked himself. "Nah, It'll be fine," he said
He went to his office bathroom. one of the perks of being a department head. "He breathed a sigh of relief as he came out. When getting back to his desk he scratched his head. "I could've sworn my report was there. That's waird. Weird even."
Linear Spectrum Alehouse
The tavern had come together nicely in a short amount of time. He had picked a name only in the final hours before the job was completed, leaving just enough time to synthesize the sign, the menus, which had been finalized long before the names itself was decided, and other paraphernalia to go along with the name. Nothing of the theme inside would be affected.
The Linear Spectrum Alehouse.
It was a truly pretentious, perfect to act classier than it would ever be. The low lighting only added to the feel that this was a place designed and perfected by a master, sold for the lowest price. It was the perfect place for a creature like Parma to call his own, and in his softly glowing light accented robe, he was the master of his domain. In his mind, the whole of the universe spun politely around him. He walked the floor with a magnanimous grace, like a king strolling his palace.
And then one of the servers hurried up to him. "My Hanjo, there is a problem," the server said nervously, quickly moving alongside Parma, who had not stopped his stroll.
"It is our first day in operation on this station, I should hope there is not," Parma said, his tone almost dangerous.
"Well, sir, 25% of our glasses are missing," the server said awkwardly.
Parma stopped. "25% of our glasses?"
"Y-yes, of the 400 glasses kept in the backroom, about 100 of them are missing," the server replied.
Parma frowned, not a good sign. "Limit the usage today to only 100 of them, get one of the kitchen staff on dish duty to ensure rapid turn around," he said quickly, his brain working to account for what would need to be done. The glassware of the tavern was not synthesized as one might expect but instead had been ordered from one of the few crystal glass manufacturers working in drinkware. It had not been a cheap purchase, but Parma believed in doing things right. No expense should be spared unless it had to be. "I want someone to call a member of station security. I want this matter looked into, but do not raise too much of an alarm. I do not want any of our patrons to be aware of anything being wrong. Understood?"
The server nodded and hurried away.
Parma's frown did not leave his face as he looked around the tavern. So far only a few patrons had come in and ordered anything. He had hoped word of mouth of the opening of the tavern would have attracted more patrons. It the glassware was truly gone, he would need more patrons to simply recoup the cost of the lost merchandise, let alone replace it.