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An Awkward Thank You

Posted April 20, 2021, 3:47 p.m. by Lieutenant Charles Fordham (Security Chief) (Nathan Miller)

Posted by Ensign Rand Farquharson (Yeoman) in An Awkward Thank You

Jenkins just stared at her. “Yeoman,” oh super formality…he was mad, “there is a difference between rudeness and…and this blatant harassment of a fellow officer. His behavior not only crossed the line of inappropriateness,” and here he replayed the clip watching as he chucked the data disk at Rand, and had her reflexes been a second slower it would have caught her in the face probably cut her, “it was violent. This has nothing to do with earning their respect. I expect you to sign this.” Role reversal was a favorite joke of Jenkins’ but this time he found nothing funny in it. He’d already filled out the report and now passed the PaDD to Rand, handed her the stylus and expected her to read it, make any changes and sign it.

It had been a week since that little meeting. Sentinel had left K3 and was on the way to their destination when she received an official communication about the report Jenkins had made her sign. It was a good lesson for her. Rudeness was one thing, but Hitnel had crossed the line to violence despite no harm coming of it. Rand would have been the head of Jenkins yeoman corp if she hadn’t been snagged for the position as Carmichael’s yeoman. It was her job to set the example and she hadn’t done that very well by allowing Hitnel to go unchecked. Of course Randy was the only officer serving beneath her at the moment and he was more than capable of holding his own, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other yeoman that she was responsible for in future. But all that were thoughts for another day.

Right now Rand was in a bit of quandary of what to do. She might be socially inept but she was not without a very sharp mind. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out that Ford…deep breath and sigh…Lt Fordham had reported the incident, and right in front of her too. She wasn’t sure if she was touched, thankful, embarrassed, shy, or something else by his actions. And she was equally puzzled by what had motivated him. She hadn’t told him, specifically, what had happened in the cargo bay, so what had motivated him to look at the security feeds? If she had told him she could understand the professional protocol that made him report the incident, but she hadn’t. So had it been professional curiosity to look or something personal? And if it was personal, why? Actually either way she was curious as to ‘why’; though she wasn’t curious or brave enough to ask him. She felt the need to thank him. Now normally she’d ask Randy what exactly would be the correct way to do that, but Randy was just acting odd about Ford for some reason and so she kept this to herself. So in the end Rand did the only thing she knew how to do, but had no idea if it was the correct thing to do. Rand wasn’t sure if her motivation was professional or personal, if she was honest, with herself at least, it was both.

The next morning, along with the regular returned sift reports, Ford would find an additional report on his desk. This one listed out deck by deck, section by section, word for word every comment and observation Ford made during his ship tour with Rand. Where he wanted officers, how many, and why. Such as wanting two officers on deck nine for the crew galley and another two for the recreation room because most altercations occur during off duty hours. There were even a few comments about the physical layout of the security offices that Ford would be surprised were noticed.
Yeoman Rand

Ford nodded to the shift supervisor he was relieving, signing off on the evening’s reports and listening to the Vulcan drone about reports of suspicious activity in the area of the galley. “I think that’s just the breakfast kitchen crew,” he told the man. The Vulcan made a sound that - in anyone else - would have been annoyance before leaving.

Ford sighed, lifting the stack of other reports from his desk, including the day’s shift rotations. He flipped through before one sheet caught his eye, and his brows furrowed.

What is…, he thought, before the words “most altercations occur during off duty hours” jumped out at him. “Well, yes, they do,” he muttered, before he remembered saying those exact words during his tour of the ship. “That woman must have an eidetic memory,” he muttered again, scanning the document with a chuckle.

“Well, thank you, Ms. Farquharson,” he said, making notes on the duty roster. “I had forgotten some of those.”

COS Ford


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